#Ironically enough I feel like this is every room he steps into; you could take a survey & these would be more or less the results everytime

[yeonban]

❛ Oh, wow. Mixed bag much? ❜ Not a surprise in the least, but certainly an ego booster. The very last thing an arrogant man is in need of. ❛ Can't blame you. I am a catch, no matter what angle you look at it from. ❜ And a catch he is indeed. A catch for the police, a catch for the mafiosi, a catch for the groupies, a catch for the oblivious, and most definitely a catch for those with a few screws loose. The variety is almost as vast as the options themselves. A pity that the obstacles one must clear to earn even a lingering glance from him are just as plentiful; never mind the struggles of maintaining it there afterwards.

[envy-of-the-apple]

The Monster You Know

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

Synopsis: For your own safety, the strongest sorcerer of today kidnaps you.

Word Count: 6.9k

(Warnings: implied masturbation, implied nsfw, implied noncon recording, death of a minor character.....im pretty sure i missed a warning so lemme know any pls)

Instead of waking up in a bed, you find yourself on the floor.

It's not a comfortable spot to sleep in. The carpet is clean, but it's odd because you don't have this type of carpet in your room. Actually, this isn't your room at all. 

But the panic doesn't really set in until you realize your arms are bound. 

You don't notice him until he speaks. You're too busy yanking on the metal, pulling your hand as hard as you could. The cuffs don't even budge. 

"If you keep yanking your arms like that, you might break 'em." 

He's tall, rivaling the door he just walked through. He looks a couple of years older than you, but his white hair can't be natural, not at his age. His blue eyes are lax. The worst part is how relaxed he looks. He has an eased posture and a pretty smile. He's amused, watching you like you’re a pesky mouse trapped in a bucket. 

You don’t know him. You’re stuck in an unfamiliar room, chained to the floor, and you don’t know this man. 

Escape isn’t possible. So you resort to the next best thing: you plead. 

“Who are you?” Your voice is light and wavers on every syllable. “Where-Where am I? Did you bring me here? Please don’t-“

”You always this talkative in the morning?” He dodges your question with a lax grin. “Anyway, uh, sorry about this-“ he gestures to your tied-up form “-I would've used a talisman, but those won’t work on you for obvious reasons. The handcuffs aren’t too tight, are they?” 

He steps closer, and you scream. It’s shrill, filled with a type of fear that makes your blood freeze because you don’t know this man, you don’t know where you are, and he’s getting closer. 

“Okay okay, I get it!” He manages to say over your pleas for help, but he steps back, and it’s enough to quiet your fear. “Obviously, you need some more time alone, so I’m gonna give you a couple more hours. Feel free to take a mint!” He cheerily points to the nightstand. 

He leaves as quickly as he enters. The door shuts but doesn’t lock. You’d be relieved if you weren’t still incapacitated. 

You look around the room. Nothing of value, nothing that you could reach and grab. Apart from a chair, the only other pieces of furniture were a heavy-looking bed and a bolted-down nightstand. Your kidnapper was certainly meticulous. 

The restraints have just enough slack for you to lean over. You peer at the nightstand. A plastic bowl, too flimsy to be made into a weapon. It contains wrapped-white candies. You gingerly pick one up. 

They’re sugar-free. 

He returns to the mints scattered all over the floor. 

“Okay.” He notes, gracefully stepping over the mess. “Clearly, you aren’t a fan of peppermint. 'you a wintergreen kinda’ person?” 

You don’t look at him. You’ve been in the same position you had been in for hours, sitting curled on the floor. By then, your desperation was starting to show through. 

“Please just let me go.” You mutter, your voice so low, it’s a miracle he can hear you. “I don’t have any money. I have nothing to offer.”

”Well, that’s good because I don’t want your money.” He says. “I know this looks pretty bad, but this is for your sake more than mine.”

You look at him just as he squats down to your height. You shift away. he smiles.

”Do you know what sorcerer's are?” 

You blink. 

“It’s fine if you don’t; we all start somewhere, right? A sorcerer is someone who can manipulate cursed energy. I’m a sorcerer! I don’t wanna brag too much, but I’m pretty good at it.” 

He laughs like he’s telling a joke, and you suddenly realize that you were kidnapped by someone who believes he’s a wizard. 

“Guess you’re still lost, huh? How about I just show you instead?” He points to an ironed-out shirt hanging on a rack. You follow his finger. 

He didn't move. There was no machinery. The shirt just crinkled by itself before it dropped to the floor. 

You gape. The man grins. 

"Pretty amazing, right? That's cursed energy, or, my power if you wanna be less technical." 

"Cursed energy." You whisper, a repetition of his words rather than any actual understanding. He beams regardless. 

"Yeah! Well, it's a little more complicated than that, but let's just start with the basics for now. Baby steps." 

Your dread doesn't fade. Earlier, you feared what a man could do to you, tied and defenseless. Now, you wondered what this man wouldn't do to you. 

"Okay, then....why?" You warily ask him. "Why tell me any of this? What's the point?" 

"An excellent question!" He commends you, as though he were your teacher and not your jailor. "See, cursed energy is a bit complicated, but it's extremely effective. In almost every case, it's the solution. Except for you." 

You shrink back. 

"What-what does that mean?"

His grin turns feline. He's enjoying this; seeing you shake, waver beneath his eyes. 

"Exactly what I said: you aren't affected by cursed energy. A sorcerer could use their technique on you, and there won't even be a scratch on your body. You're basically the Eraserhead of the Jujutsu World." 

You stare at him. He hums, drumming his fingers on his thigh. 

"I'm not great at explanations. How about we just have a hands-on experience?" 

He extends his hands. A purple orb crackles to life, slowly gaining mass. 

"Not too big," he says, though it's clear he isn't speaking to you, "don't wanna wreck the room." 

He adjusts his angle so it's facing you. Your eyes widen, and the desperation to wrangle yourself out of the handcuffs grows stronger. 

"Wait, stop!" You pleads fall on deaf ears. "Okay okay. I believe you. I believe you-" He flicks his fingers. You close your eyes just before impact. 

You expected something. Electricity, a shock. Pain. Your body being eviscerated in milliseconds. 

Nothing. Not even a gust of wind. 

When your eyes open, he's grinning at you. 

"See?" He says, "Not even a scratch." 

He's right. Your clothes aren't even rustled, but the evidence is there. The carpet below you is shaved and cleaned off. And the wall closest to you has cracks on it.

You look back up at him. 

"I said I believed you." 

He shrugs. "Doesn't hurt to make sure we're on the same page." His smile is starting to look less scary and more annoying. 

Your mind still struggles to keep up with all the information you've been given. The typhoon of anxiety is coursing through you. 

"So, then....why this?" You mention to the handcuffs. 

"Just a little confirmation you won't go crazy and destroy the place." He supplies happily. "If jujutsu doesn't work on you, then bindings and talismans definitely won't do a thing. Looking back, abduction probably wasn't the greatest idea in the world. I would've figured something else out, but time wasn't on our side in this case. Especially if we wanted you alive." 

You pale at that. He notices. 

"What, you thought I'd be the only person who noticed you? You're an anomaly. In our world, that's dangerous. Also, the bounty on your head is a pretty nice incentive for people to get the job done." 

"A bounty?"

He grins, and the number he gives makes your mouth hang open. 

"Yup, pretty crazy, right? Anyway, until everything settles down, you and I are roomies!" He claps. "Isn't that exciting!?" 

You glance at him. Then, in the room. Then, at your cuffs. Everything was going so fast. The only constant was him. 

"So, I'm not really a prisoner?" You ask. "I could just...leave, right?" 

"Sure you could. If you hear all that and still wanna go, I won't stop you. Promise." He nods. "But you'd be dead as soon as you step out of the apartment." 

It's not a threat. It's a promise. And not from him. That makes it worse. 

This is insane. All of this is insane; who'd believe any of it? But his powers....that can't be faked. As well as everything that he told you. Why would he lie? What reason could he have to deceive you? 

"Okay," you say hesitantly, "just one more thing." 

The man leans in. 

"What's your name?" 

He smiles. 

Becoming Gojo's roommate was an easy transition. 

You’ve always been someone who goes with the flow. Becoming someone's consenting captive isn't a struggle once you get used to it. A few days in and you and your 'captor' have fallen into an easy rhythm. It's easy to grow trusting of him, especially when there are others who can vouch for him. 

"You should be arrested." Ieiri mumbles, checking your wrists. 

"What? I can't believe you're upset with me." Gojo responds though he doesn't sound very panicked. "I was desperate!" 

Ieiri shakes her head, continuing wrapping your wrists. Amid your panic during the first few hours in Gojo's apartment, you managed to sprain your wrists, trying to yank yourself out of the handcuffs. You wince when she presses on your bruised skin. 

"Sorry," she says, voice flat. You smile anyway. 

Ieiri was also a sorcerer, but she had a different technique. Instead of Gojo's destruction, hers revolved around healing. You've never really seen it in action ("My technique won't work on you; even then, it's a sprained wrist. You'll live."), but it sounded pretty powerful. 

"I'm not upset." Ieiri continues. "But I'm surprised you're going along with all this." That sentence is directed at you. 

You shrug while trying to keep still for her. "He was pretty convincing." 

Ieiri raises a brow, before ultimately deciding she doesn't care. 

"Again, I'm very sorry about all this." Ijichi pipes up. Ever since he entered Gojo's flat, he's been doing nothing but begging for your forgiveness for Gojo's abrupt actions. Apologetic, but not very shocked. You're assuming this isn't the first time Gojo has done something like this. 

Gojo's allies were very different from each other, you ultimately decided. 

“We thought we’d have more time to approach you,” he continues with a nervous smile, “we never expected the clans to move so quickly.” 

“Clans?” You ask, “What clans?” 

Ijichi gives Gojo a look. Gojo looks away, whistling. Eventually, Ijichi’s shoulders drop. 

“Some minor clans with dwindling jujitsu sorcerers.” He gives. “And then the bounty happened and well…” he trails off. 

You nod. “So, when will everything go back to normal?”

Gojo grins. Ieiri sighs. It’s Ijichi who gives the most concrete response. 

You look at the three of them. “Or will things ever go back to normal?”

”It’s hard to say,” Ijichi says, “news travels fast in the jujutsu world, but it’s not improbable. Miyashiro will let us know eventually.” 

"Miyashiro?” 

To answer your question, Ijichi pulls out his phone. You stare at a picture of yourself. But you know you’ve never been in that restaurant before. 

“It’s his technique.” Ijichi tells you. “Flesh manipulation. For the time being, Miyashiro will pose as you and can hopefully air out any potential bounty hunters. He’s the perfect man for the job.” 

You nod, a bit skeptical. “Isn’t this a bit dangerous? Aren’t people trying to kill me?” 

Ijichi tucks away his phone. “Miyashiro is one our best. He'll be fine.” He assures. 

Satisfied with your answers, you nod. Ieiri pulls away after she finishes wrapping your hand. Gojo claps his hands together. 

“See, roomie? You’re in great hands!” He chirps. You nod, if only to seem compliant. 

Apart from Gojo himself, Ieiri and Ijichi are the only ones who know about your predicament, his most trusted people. The rest of the world is unaware that there's someone posing as you, nor that you've gone into hiding. Not your friends. Not even your family. ("It's for the best," Ijichi explained when you voiced your worries, "but we promise, once the bounty is down, we'll return you back to your life. It'll be like nothing ever happened.").

Settling in barely takes a week. Gojo's nice enough to lend you his room, more than happy to set up in the living room. Despite how you two 'met', he's quickly proven to be a nice guy. 

Nice. Just nice. 

To be honest, you don't know all that much about Gojo. He's letting you stay in his home, but you don't see him all that much. Gojo is gone pretty much all day. Sometimes, he's gone for days on end. The apartment feels more like yours than his. 

"I'm the strongest." He told you when you asked. You don't know what he means by that, so you didn't pry. 

Despite the awkwardness, you don't mind the distant relationship. The man probably has his day packed with hunting down demons and this school he talked about. 

The change doesn't happen until two weeks after you move in. 

You weren't allowed to have a phone, nor any internet access, so you mostly spent your time doing hobbies. You've always wanted to learn to crochet, and now you finally had time to actually learn. Drawing also took some hours out of your day. And eventually, you moved onto cooking. 

Ijichi was more than happy to grab you the grocery items when you asked. When you insisted on paying him back, he declined profusely. He was actually the one who organized getting your things and really moving you in. You have another thing you owe these people. 

Cooking was a steep learning curve. Before, you'd only made simple sandwiches and curries, so the food starting out wasn't the best. But you enjoyed the journey more, rather than the end result. Pretty soon, you became pretty good at it. 

Gojo wasn't home often these days, so you jump when the front door clicks open. He takes off that blindfold he's always wearing, blinking a couple times before his blue gaze settles on you in the kitchen. 

"What's all this?" He cocks his head. He isn't smiling. 

Oh no. You remembered getting permission to use his kitchen, but maybe he hadn't expected you to go this far? The kitchen is a mess. There's flour everywhere. You still hadn't washed the cutting board, nor the knives. 

"I'm sorry," you say, "I-I can clean up and-" 

He waves his hand. "It's fine. I'm not mad, I just..." He drifts off. 

You suddenly have a feeling that you might've misread this entire situation. 

"Would you like some?" You ask. "I think I made too much." 

"I could eat," he says.

You smile. 

A few moments later, the two of you are settled on the table. Gojo's never been so quiet before. In the short time you've known him, he's always been boisterous and playful. Now, he's silent. Staring at the food. 

You hold your breath when he takes his first bite. 

"It's good." He says, his mouth full. It's cute. "Really, really good. Damn." 

You laugh out of nerves. 

"You think so? I'm glad! It was my first time trying out this recipe and I wasn't sure if it'd turn out well and..." you're rambling, you know that. You can't help yourself. 

"No, it's good. Real good," he says. It's silent again, but not as uncomfortable this time. The only thing you hear is the clanking of silverware and the hum of the lights. Outside the window, the city lights twinkle. 

You're on your last bite when he speaks again. 

"'been a while since I've had a homecooked meal." He starts with a slight laugh. "Kinda' forgot what it's like." 

You think of the fridge. How it was only ever stacked with protein shakes and instant meals. Gojo was a sorcerer. The strongest. You think you get what that means now. 

"I wouldn't mind doing this more often," you say. 

He looks at you with the prettiest blue you've ever seen. The color of a bright cloudless sky. 

"I think I'd like that." 

Who ever said the phrase 'the quickest way to a man's heart is through his stomach' was onto something. Your friendship with Gojo bloomed after that night. On the seldom nights he came home, dinner was made and sitting on the table. It took a few days for the two of you to warm up enough to talk to each other. Once Gojo got going, it was a lot harder to shut him up. He talked about his school, his work as a teacher for other jujutsu sorcerers. You liked the way he talked about his students. Nothing but pride and affection .

On the nights he didn't come home, you'd save the leftovers in the fridge. They were usually gone by the morning. 

He was around a lot more after that night. Not that you minded, it was his house. You just didn't get a few things about him. For example, that blindfold of his. Why wear it when it was clear he couldn't see with it on? 

You decide to bring it up the third time he nearly runs you over.

"It's part of my technique." He explains. "The six eyes. They're basically cursed energy x-rays. The blindfold just limits their strength." 

You were lounged on the sofa watching TV while he was plopped right next to you. He's switched his blindfold for his glasses. 

"Oh," you say when it clicks, "and since I block people's abilities you..." 

"Yup! Can't see you at all!" Gojo happily fills in. "It doesn't help that you're so quiet. Maybe I should put a bell on you." 

You laugh, but it doesn't sound like he was joking. 

"What's it like?" You ask, turning to him, "Seeing the way, you see? What-what do you see?"

"Everything." Gojo shrugs. 

You frown. "That's not very descriptive." 

He laughs. "Here, wanna try?" He takes off his glasses, handing them over. "These things are real popular with the ladies." 

He's avoiding the question, but you don't bother chasing him for it. Instead, you grab the lenses, pulling them over your eyes. You expect to see the secrets of the universe. Instead, you see nothing but darkness. Though, that might be the point.  

"Everything, hm?" You ask, when you take them off. "That sounds exhausting." 

He takes them back with a grin. "It is! My eyes hurt so so much! You should pity me and make matcha tiramisu." 

You laugh, drawing back. "That's what this is about? To guilt trip me into making dessert for you?" 

"Did it work?" 

You think for a moment.

"Get me the ingredients, and I'll see." 

He cheers but doesn't fully answer your question until the episode ends when you've bid him goodnight and are about to return to the bedroom. 

"You're blurry from far away." 

When you look at him, his glasses are gone, tucked under his collar. It's night, but the sky still stares down at you. His usual smile is gone, stretched into a line you can't place. 

"I can see down to molecules, atoms. Not you." 

You look at him, his eyes. The beautiful curse they are. 

You force yourself to take the first step. Then another. Then another. When you're right in front of him, when he's towering over you, you open to your mouth. 

"What do you see, Gojo?" 

"Everything." He honestly replies. 

Everything. Not just cursed energy. Down to cells, molecules, atoms. You can't fathom how much that is, the essence of everything. What's that like? Being able to see the universe so much that it hurts? So much so that it makes him want to wear a blindfold and never see anything again. 

But you're blurry. Gojo can't see you the way he sees others. 

You reach your hands up slowly like you're approaching a wild animal. In some ways, maybe that's what Gojo is: unpredictable, able to wield the power of space—power that's useless against you. 

You cover his eyes. He doesn't stop you. 

"What do you see, Satoru?" 

He doesn't speak, and you're afraid he's forgotten how. 

"Nothing." Quiet, barely more than a whisper.

He slouches ever so slightly, leaning into your hands like some weight's been lifted. It makes you smile. 

When you try to pull your hands away, his wrap around your wrist, keeping you there. So you stay—for as long as he wants. 

It starts something of a tradition between the two of you. Not every night, not even most nights, but every so often, Satoru would grow quiet, shift in a particular way. You hoped it was therapeutic for him, a break rather than a glimpse of what could have been. You hoped you were helping. 

And, if you were torturing him, hopefully, you won't be for long. 

"How much longer do you think I have to do this?" You ask. 

He hums, clearly not paying attention. You two were in the kitchen, making some sweet he saw trending on the internet. Well, you were doing all the work. Satoru kept trying to steal the batter. 

"You know. Sleeping under your roof, eating all your food, stealing you bed." You urge, while whisking. 

"You're acting like I've been keeping you in the attic, roomie." Satoru pouts. "C'mon, I haven't been that bad, have I?" 

"I'm asking for your sake rather than mine," you tell him. "I'm sure you'll be thrilled to have your house back, and your bed. When will everything settle down?" 

His blindfold is on, as it usually is. To help him out, you've taken to wearing squeaky slippers around the house. He'd offered to buy you one of those cat collars with bells. You declined. 

He's looking in your direction. You know he can't see you, but you can still feel his eyes on you. It's a strange feeling. 

"There's talks of taking down the bounty," Satoru finally says, losing his playful tone, "just rumors, nothing concrete. Worst comes to worst, we'll have to relocate you somewhere overseas." 

Yeah, you were worried about that. Leaving everything behind, your home, your friends, your family, because your life was in danger. You hoped it wouldn't have to come to that. 

"We have a couple of options, though," Satoru says, "negotiations, for one." 

You perk up at that. "Negotiations?" You ask. 

He nods. "Right now, you're under my protection. Unofficially. I could pull some strings, get those old geezers at the academy to take you in as some special assistant." 

You tilt your head. "Like at the school that you teach, right?" 

He nods. "We have a case like yours attending the school, too. I think you and him would get along." 

"Your ability could be pretty useful to us. You might even get out in the field every so often." Satoru continues. "A special technique like that would be wasted down here." 

Special. He's said that before. You can't remember when, but you know he's right. You're an anomaly, but you can use your abilities for good. But could you really do that? Risk your life every day? Lose pieces of yourself like that?

"I don't really feel special," you say, "I don't want to be special either." You glance at him. "Is that a bad thing?" 

Even blindfolded, somehow, his eyes find yours. 

"No," he says, no judgment in his voice, "it just makes you human." 

Relief. You can feel it sinking through your veins. Part of you feels guilty. Satoru is right; you could do a lot. But you...you don't want to end up like him. 

That makes you feel even worse, but then you catch something in his tone. 

"You sound like you're not very human," you say back. You're teasing, but it falls flat. 

He hums. It's not quite the response you were looking for. It takes a second for him to start up again. 

"When I was younger, people used to call me creepy." 

You stare at him. 

"What?." 

He grins, but it's not his usual one. 

"It's true." He shrugs. "Mostly, it was 'cause of my eyes. They called them unnerving. Monstrous. My folks were always a creative bunch." He says it so casually, but you can hear the bite on his voice. It's phrased as a joke, but it isn't.

You put down your whisk, giving him your full attention. 

"That's not true," you respond, "you know that, right? You aren't a monster. Monsters aren't as kind as you are." 

"Oh?" He tilts his head. "Maybe I'm using my kindness as a lure to trap you. Guess you just fell for it, roomie. 'thought you were smarter than that." You roll your eyes. 

"Okay, fine, I yield. You're a monster. But out of all the monsters in the world, I'd pick you." 

For a moment, there's silence in the kitchen. Then- 

"So cheesy!" Satoru laughs. He reaches over, roughly pinching your cheek. "Who knew you could say such cute things, roomie." 

You slap his hands away, now extremely annoyed. 

"Nevermind. I take it back," you retort. "I'd run away as far as I could from you." 

"Good, you should," he replies. "I won't stop you." 

You scoff. 

"Maybe that's why everyone thought you were creepy." You go back to your whisking. "It's not your eyes, you just say a lot of ominous shit." 

Despite how peaceful it is, making desert, cooking, and acting domestic, it can't last forever. The world was still hunting for you, and it had no problems reminding you of that. 

One night, you wake up to the sounds of hushed talking. 

It's coming from the living room. Multiple voices. Quiet but urgent. You're used to the noise. Satoru has this habit of blasting terrible soap operas at 2 am. You don't think that man sleeps. Over time, you've gotten used to at least one disturbance. 

But this feels different. It's enough to rub the sleep out of your eyes, making you pad over to the hall. 

They hear you before they see you. Satoru's apartment has creaky floorboards. Ijichi tugs on the collar of his shirt nervously. Ieiri just looks away. Satoru is leaning back against the couch, legs crossed. He's frowning. That's how you know something isn't right. 

"Is everything okay?" You ask anyway. 

Ijichi gives a tight grin. 

"Everything's fine." He's quick to console. "We-we were just-" 

"Stop." Satoru immediately cuts in. He's wearing his blindfold. You can't tell what he's thinking. 

"We're not hiding it. Everyone involved should know." 

Ijichi deflates. You think Ieiri sneers. 

Satoru beckons you closer with long fingers. You step forward. They're sitting around a computer. You peek at the screen.

Instantly, you wish you hadn't. 

There were pictures of you. Dead. Your body parts were strewn across the floor. Your hands were broken in every other way. Your legs were in pieces. Your head snapped clean off, blood oozing from your appendages like you were just a packet of liquid. One of your eyes was missing from its socket. The other was crushed. But it wasn't you, it was- 

"Miyashiro. At least, what's left of him." Satoru gives.  

The doppelganger, the guy who was covering for you. He was supposed to be one of their best; what happened to him? 

What was going to happen to you? 

They're talking again. At least, you think they are. Their words are muffled, filtered through water. You can't make out what anyone is saying. Your heart's beating too fast. It's pounding through your ears. You can only stare at the picture, what was left of him. Someone's touching you. A hand on your back. 

"Roomie, hey," Satoru's voice comes.

The pounding stops. You look up at him. 

Angelic. It's the only word you could think of. His snow-white hair was pretty, falling elegantly down his face. He'd taken his blindfold off. Blue eyes, sparkling, cleansing. Purifying, like the Ganges river. 

How could anyone think a beautiful sight like this was monstrous? 

He calls your name, your real name, and you break. 

You cling to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. And you're sobbing, tears of everything flowing down your face. 

Hands, hesitant, unsure, rest on your back. And then Satoru's holding you as tightly as he can.

He's warm. It's all you can think as you shake in his hold. 

He's warm. 

"I won't have to worry about that if I just gave in, hm?" You ask. 

It was a couple of days later from your episode. Satoru had convinced you to give one of his soap operas a shot. On-screen, a woman slapped her cheating husband. 

Satoru was lounging beside you, feet propped up on the coffee table. You want to tell him off, but it's his house. 

"If you went to the school, you mean?" He asks. "Probably. You'd be a lot freer. Won't have to sit in a cramped apartment all day. 'sides, jujutsu tech is always on the lookout for fresh talent. The higher-ups would be ecstatic to have someone like you under their thumb." 

"But I'd have to become a sorcerer." You say the unspoken. 

Gojo nods. "Yeah, you would." 

And you don't want that. To face curses, to face death every day. You know you can't handle that. You aren't strong, like Satoru. 

"I'm sorry," you say. 

He laughs. "For what?" 

You shrug as the on-screen couple makes up again. "For being...a coward, I guess."

He thinks for a moment. 

"It's not about bravery," he says in the end, "being a sorcerer is just...that. A sorcerer. It's a job. A title. Only a special few can do it. The crazy ones." 

His tone gets a bit playful. 

"No offense, roomie, but I don't think you got enough crazy in you." 

"That's a compliment, actually." You correct. He ignores you. 

"'sides, I like you staying here." Satoru declares, stretching his arms out on the couch. "Who'd feed me? It'd be horrible to go back to ramen again." 

You roll your eyes. "Right. Who else will wake at 2 am because of your whining to make wagashi?" 

"See! You get it!" Satoru grins. You can't force the smile off your face. 

The husband's mistress has entered the set. The wife is confident that her husband will choose her. She's left heartbroken all over again. You don't get how she couldn't see it. The red flags were all there, and still, she was left blindsided. Never saw it coming. She trusts too easily, you decided. 

"Also, I like having you here," Satoru says. 

You glance at him. He's watching the screen. 

"It's...nice." He admits after a bit. "To have company like this. It reminds me of back when I was younger. When the two of us lived in the dorms." 

When he was a student? Who was he talking about? You don't pry. It's clear he isn't talking to you. 

"I'm glad you're here," Satoru says. 

Lightly, you bump shoulders with him. Infinity doesn't stop you. 

"You're a sweet monster." You tell him. 

He gives a secret grin. 

Every once in a while, Gojo peeks into the bedroom while you're sleeping. 

He's subtle about it, doesn't make too much noise. You're a light sleeper, so it takes little to nothing to wake you up. 

He doesn't do anything. He stands there, shuffles here and there, hovering by the foot of the bed. You just pretend to be asleep in those cases, evening out your breaths, closing your eyes. It's always the same. He loiters around for a minute, and then he's shutting the door behind him. 

It's strange, but you try not to think too much of it. He was probably looking for something. It's his room after all. 

It's just...strange. 

You find it when you're looking through his book shelf. 

He doesn't have anything interesting to read. It's mainly just historical novels. You're perusing through one before a photograph falls out of the pages. 

It's tiny, barely larger than your palm. It only takes a second to realize what you're looking at. 

"Found your baby pictures." You gleefully tell Satoru when he comes back. 

"What?" He tilts his head; you wave the photo in front of him. When he tries to take it, you pull back. 

"Tiny Satoru!" You squeal. "Who knew you were once so small? I always thought you were born six feet over." 

It's a simple photograph, a little aged, but still clear. Satoru looks about eight, standing between a man and a woman. His face is eerily blank. He stares with no emotion, not even a smile. He isn't wearing sunglasses or a blindfold. Doll-like blue eyes. You don't feel like you're looking at a child. He's too-

"Are those your parents?" You ask, letting him take the photograph from you. 

"No," he says, "my caretakers." 

Caretakers. Not nannies, or anything else. It felt so clinical. You lean against his shoulder, still staring at the photograph. 

"You look cute." You finally say. When you peak over, a hint of a smile is twitching on his face. "But I totally agree with everyone. You look creepy. Like one of those children from the exorcist. Climbing over the walls." 

"I never grew out of that phase." Satoru ponders. You laugh. 

"What was it like?" You ask. "You said you're from a clan, right?" 

"Exhausting." Satoru groans. "Never a break from training. I should go back and sue my folks for child abuse. I could get millions." 

"I could help you with that." You pipe in. "I've never gone to law school, but I feel like I'd make a great lawyer." 

"I'll keep that in mind." He promises teasingly before his smile fades. 

"But that's the norm for most kids in jujutsu." He sighs. "Gotta' be perfect. Gotta' be the best, right from the beginning. There's a student I know who had a rough start, but she's the best in her class. Her clan didn't care about her potential. Those kids are all scary talented, they just need a bit of nurturing, that's all." 

You stare at him. He catches you. 

"What?" He asks, before his eyes widen. "Do I have a pimple?" 

You shake your head. "For some reason, I feel like that's impossible for you." You tease.

"I'm just admiring you, I think. For being such a kind person." 

"I thought we agreed I was a monster." Satoru points out. 

This again. You roll your eyes. 

"Fine, a good monster." You correct. "A monster, I know." 

"The monster you know." He repeats

You want to ask him why he's so insistent on that. For some reason, you hold your voice. 

Satoru's apartment had two bathrooms. Lately, the one in the bedroom has had some issues. 

It's been awkward lately trying to share the only working bathroom. Satoru and you shower at around the same time, so you've opted to hold back your morning routine a little later. You still manage to catch each other. The amount of times you've accidentally caught him walking around with nothing but a towel around his waist would be too mortifying to admit. 

But, so far, it's working. And you can't complain since you at least have one working bathroom. It's the little things. 

Tonight, you wake up to your bladder urging you to move. And yet, your body still wants to sleep. You check the time. It's nearly 2 in the morning.

It takes a while to pull yourself up, unraveling yourself from the covers before you're trudging out the bedroom. Satoru's apartment is so dark. It's a completely different look compared to daytime. You feel your way with the walls, letting your eyes adjust to the dark. When you peek over at the living room, Satoru isn't there. He must not be coming home tonight. 

The bathroom is shut, but there's a sliver of light bleeding under the door. Fuck, you did not shut the lights off last time. You need to be less careless. 

At first, you think Satoru's hurt. 

He looks hurt. He's hunched over, shaking shoulders, harsh breathing. You can only see his back, but he looks like he's in agony. You're about to step forward, ask what happened, and then you catch a glimpse of what he's clutching. 

Pretty, blue, laced panties. 

Your panties. 

And you're close enough to hear his voice whispering your name. Over and over again. 

"Fuck, fuck, baby, need you, just lemme-just lemme, all mine, all mine-"

He doubles over, tightening his grip on the edge of the sink. Your panties are damp. 

You flinch, and in your moment of panic, you step back. Creaky floorboards. 

Satoru looks up in the mirror. You don't move. 

He takes his time. Placing his phone down. Adjusting his pants, washing his hands. You can only stand there, frozen. Staring. Staring until he's in front of you, looking right back. 

You might have forgiven him if he had fumbled, laughed it off, became bashful. A human reaction. His face is eerily blank. He stares with no emotion, not even a smile. His eyes mirror that photograph. Doll-like, absolutely empty. 

Monstrous. 

Your eyes water. He turns blurry for a second. 

Satoru steps aside. You wordlessly enter the bathroom, shutting the door behind you. You don't bother locking. 

You don't know how long you stay there, quiet, shaking, your mind trying to piece together what you just saw. You stay there for hours. You stay there for seconds. Time stretches on like infinity itself, yet even then, it's too short. 

You're alone with him. It's a thought you never even had until now. You're alone with him. 

Satoru is outside. You don't look at him, staring at the floor, looking at the carpet, counting each strand. You keep your head down when you return to the bedroom. 

He follows. You say nothing. You don't look. You don't look, even when the covers shift and he gets into bed behind you. You don't look, even when there's a hand on your shoulder. You don't look, even when there's a chest pressed against your back. 

You shiver, you shake. You don't look. He says nothing, even when you break down completely. 

You wake up alone the next morning. 

You don't waste a second. You're stumbling through the room, picking up your clothes, packing everything that you need. You're so panicked that you manage to knock over an alarm clock. 

It's habit to reach down and pick it up. Learned politeness to scrutinize it to make sure it isn't broken. 

A black dot stares back at you. 

A camera. 

Horrible memories of last night come back. He was watching something on his phone. 

You feel nauseous, about to give all over the floor. You need to go. You needed to get out of there. 

The apartment is silent, like it always is when Satoru isn't here. You just hadn't noticed how cold it was, lifeless. It makes the pit on your stomach gap. You expect the windows to be bolted shut. They aren't. Sunlight streams through the glass. The front door is unbarred too. 

It's easy to leave. 

You stop anyway. One question. 

Where would you go? 

You can't go back home. Miyashiro's body still haunts you. His soul in your body, torn apart with such hatred and vitriol. Those people were still looking for you. The only reason you were still alive was because Miyashiro took your death bed. 

You'd die if you went back home. 

You can't go to jujutsu tech. You'd be expected to lay down your life, serve a maskless force that pretended to do good. You'd certainly die. Ripped apart by curses. 

You'd be slaughtered if you went to the school.

Every route is treacherous, nearly impossible, full of dangers and unknowns. 

At least, you know what Satoru wants. 

He's made it clear since the beginning. You were just willfully ignorant. Oblivious on purpose. More than happy to ignore the red flags because you knew he was a kind person to his students, ignoring the dichotomy of his actions. 

Two things can be right at once. 

Satoru won't stop you if you run. He told you that himself. You could leave if you wanted, and he won't follow. But every other path is filled with an intangible value, and Satoru is the monster you know. 

Your hand falls away from the doorknob. 

You get started on dinner.

You're still there when Satoru comes back. You say nothing. Neither does he. Dinner is a quiet affair. He doesn't talk about his day, he doesn't talk about his students. When you wash the plates, he's quietly standing behind you. When you get out of the shower, he's waiting outside the bathroom. 

You can't bring yourself to look at him until you get into bed. Your eyes trail up, past his legs, his shoulders, his neck. Looking into Satoru's crystal blue eyes. 

Blank. Numb. Empty. 

You think of the cameras. You think of your stolen underwear. 

You think of how much his eyes must hurt right then. 

You raise one hand out, grasping the sleeve of his shirt. It's barely a tug, but the monster follows like he's weightless, crawling into bed. He's too big to hold properly, but he sinks into your body anyway. His forehead rests against your chest. His eyes close. You don't feel that ice anymore. 

“What do you see, Satoru?” 

“Nothing.” A pause. A stilted breath. 

“Nothing but you.” 

He was right in the end. Satoru is a monster. There's no other word that can describe him. Inhuman, far above humanity itself. But he's the monster you'd pick, every single time.

[azrielslittleslut]

Ok but I absolutely LOVED "bad hair day", and wanted to request another(same anon) small fluffy fic where reader is a librarian from Day and got sent to work with Rhysand, since he needs help with research? Azriel sees her for the first time and is like "Oh, wait, pretty" and stands there staring and Cassian observes since he was chatting nearby and is like "oh this is my next gossip topic." Fluff, ily and your work. remember to take breakss<33 feel free to change this up a bit, wasn't very specific sorry :,)

"A Day Court Crush"

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Warnings: slight language, fluff, the teeniest bit of angst if you squint hard enough

Word Count: 1k

a/n: I'm so happy you enjoyed the fic, and I hope you like this one as well!<3

Azriel groaned as he walked down the steps to the library in the River House. "Why are these books so heavy?" he grumbled to Cassian, who was also struggling to carry his stack of tomes.

Cassian grunted as he nearly stumbled on one of the stairs. "It's like they're filled with rocks."

Az readjusted the books in his arms as they continued to walk down the spiraling staircase. "Do you know why Rhys insisted on us bringing these? They've been collecting dust in the House of Wind's library for ages."

Cassian shook his head, his dark locks falling across his brow. He blew out a breath as a strand got stuck in his eyelashes. "Rhys hired a new librarian from Day Court to help with some research," he said, his deep voice echoing along the stone. "Nesta met her already. Apparently, she's the best librarian Day has to offer, and she shares Nesta's love for smutty books."

Azriel chuckled to himself. "A librarian who loves smutty books. I wonder how that conversation got started," he mumbled to himself.

At the bottom of the staircase, there was a set of grand double doors that reached high into the shadows above. With his hip, Az pushed the doors open, and he was immediately overwhelmed by the scent of aged parchment and polished wood.

There were high, arched windows lining the walls, allowing beams of sunlight to cascade into the room. Wrought-iron chandeliers filled with candles hung along the ceiling, making everything seem warm and cozy. There were also some tables and chairs scattered throughout the room, all neatly organized to make the most of the space.

Rich mahogany shelves lined every wall, filled with ancient books of various sizes. Some of them were bound in leather, while others were scrolls tucked carefully into illuminated nooks.

How the hell had Rhys built up such a collection?

"Azriel. Cassian," Rhys drawled, pulling Azriel's attention to the center of the room. He stood next to one of the large tables at the center. It will filled with stacks of large books, similar to the ones Cassian and Azriel had in their arms. "We've been waiting for ages."

Cassian rolled his eyes. "You couldn't have just used your magic to bring these down here?"

Rhys chuckled as he stepped aside to reveal the female who had been standing behind him. "I could have, but I wanted you to meet my new researcher." He gestured to the female with a hand. "This is Y/N. She will be working for me for the foreseeable future."

Azriel was unable to keep his mouth from falling open at the sight of you. You were wearing a fitted, flowing gown made of airy fabric that glistened like the first rays of dawn. It was made of the finest silk in shades of gold, pale yellow, and cream. Along the bodice and sleeves, there were intricate designs of sunbursts and delicate floral patterns, interwoven with shimmering threads of gold.

Your beautiful hair fell around your face, and it was adorned with tiny gemstones that sparkled in the sunlight. Around your neck, you wore a small sun-shaped pendant, and Azriel found his eyes glued to the way it rose and fell with your soft breaths.

"Hello," you said in a soft, sing-song voice. "It's so nice to finally meet you. Rhys has told me so much about you."

"All good things I hope," Cassian said with a grin.

You chuckled, and Az felt his heart skip a beat at the lovely sound. "Of course, of course."

You looked at Azriel, and your eyes widened as you saw the books in his arms. "Oh!" you exclaimed, rushing over to him. You placed a hand on the first book in the stack. "This is the one I've been needing. Thank you for bringing it!"

Azriel was still silent, unable to form words as he stared at the small freckles that dotted the skin of your face. His mind had utterly scrambled at your scent- citrus, lemon, orange... He was beside himself.

Rhys cleared his throat. "Az, I know you are not a male for words, but I think the lady deserves a simple 'you're welcome'."

Az blinked his eyes as he forced himself to say, "You're welcome." His voice was rough, and it sounded oddly like a broken-down piece of machinery.

You laughed as you slid the book from his arms. "You're Azriel," you said, your face forming into a beautiful smile that reminded him of the sun. "You're Rhys's shadowsinger and spymaster."

He hated that you knew who he was and what he did. He couldn't bear the thought of you being tainted by being in his presence. He desperately wanted to change the topic of conversation, so he said, "You're the librarian who likes smutty books."

Cassian roared, laughing so hard that the books fell from his hands and onto the floor. "Shit, Az," he said through his laughter, "maybe you should try resorting to poetry or something next time."

Rhys bit his lip, trying to contain his own giggles. "Azriel. Please do not make my new librarian uncomfortable. She just started working here."

Azriel flushed, looking down at the ground to hide his embarrassment. What the hell had he been thinking? He really had to bring up your fascination with smutty books?

You chuckled as you placed a gentle hand on his arm. "It's alright," you said. You winked at him as you turned away to walk back to the table. It took all of Azriel's restraint to keep his eyes on the back of your head as you walked away. "I can show you my smutty books if you're that interested, shadowsinger."

Az stepped back, his shadows wrapping around him, preparing to winnow him out of this place. As he faded into the world of shadows, he heard Cassian call out, "I hope you know that I'm never going to stop talking about this. I'm also never going to let you live this down."

As his shadows whisked him away, his chest tightened at the sound of your laughter, a melody that echoed in his heart. Despite his embarrassment, a smile tugged at his lips, and he hoped that Cassian wouldn't let him forget about this.

He didn't want to forget about you. In fact, maybe he would seek you out one day.

He had always been curious about the contents of those smutty books.

[the-xolotl]

What a Bloody Mess !

Alastor x Fem!Reader

ღ a/n: a special gift for my friend Cass over at the discord server~ thank you for the delicious idea. this is def a lil self-indulgent hehe

summary: Alastor's cannibalistic cravings go further than you initially thought. And he's gotten a particular appetite for you this time around.

ღ TAGS: no use of y/n, explicit fem anatomy descriptions, cunnilingus, menstrual oral, oral (fem receiving), scent kink, blood play, face sitting, courting rituals if you squint, scenting, primal habits (? kinda), Al mentions your fertility, explicit depiction of menstruation and ovulation, dubcon.

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED ON SIGHT. Thank you~♡

The past two weeks have been hell, ironically. The days leading up to your monthly cycle are always annoying and uncomfortable, not only because of the hormonal imbalance and emotional instability but because of the physical symptoms. Starting with ovulation being a drag, walking around with the constant squelching wetness between your thighs for an entire week that makes you feel embarrassed, it’s ridiculous, it makes you feel like you’re in heat—like an animal. Every step makes you grimace, unable to look anyone in the eye. Let’s not even mention the various lusty, dirty, lewd impulsive thoughts that came with it, the carnal need to be filled; You’re more nervous than usual but despite that, you try to push yourself to be sociable around the hotel.

But you only come to regret it when you notice a certain Radio Demon hanging around you. Like, a lot. Alastor is already usually very cordial and gentlemanly toward you, that’s just who he is and you’ve never given him a reason not to be, however, as of a few days ago, Alastor had been hovering over your general area; often standing or sitting next to you, striking up conversations, teasing you more than usual. What caught you off guard the most were the little acts of service he did. Even offering to accompany you places so you didn’t have to go alone. It came off as protective… And in an odd way possessive. Also, he seemed irritated anytime anyone else grabbed your attention away from him, not very obviously or outwardly so, but noticeable enough because you were so used to watching his behavior you could pick up on it.

You also noticed fewer people approached you, especially if he was around or with you. It was definitely odd behavior from the radio host to be in constant contact with you. And being you’re currently struggling with your own “issues��, it’s annoying and unpleasant having Alastor following you around. Because the idea that anyone could possibly smell the blood on you made you feel gross, even if realistically that’s not very likely. But the worst of it was by far when your actual period started. It felt awkward, your hormones were ramped up to a thousand, peak horny but not being able to relief yourself and not wanting to deal with the mess.

To avoid Alastor you opt to stay locked up in your room, occasionally going down to the kitchen to get a snack or some proper food. And that seemed to work for a little, until he showed up at your door with the excuse that he hadn’t seen you around very much, and became a little worried for you. So here he is standing at your hotel door, “I appreciate the concern, Al, I really do but right now just isn’t a great time—” there’s a hurry in your voice as you try to press him away from the door frame, trying to close it or get him to take a hint but this is the Radio Demon you’re talking about.

“Dear, it’s my job to ensure the comfort and happiness of all hotel residents, including you” his smile grew more conspicuous, instead he used the close proximity to wrap and arm around your lower back to keep you trapped against him. His face inches closer to you, sharp eyes fixed on your blushed face. You tried to recoil away from him but he’s got you pressed chest to chest—well, your chest to his torso more like because he’s stupidly tall— and his entire expression darken. Like he had planned this, like you had fallen into a carefully laid out plan. Heat rose up further up your cheeks and spread through your entire body as you still squirmed in his arms.

“Alastor please, I’m not playing your games anymore. I-I really want to be alone right now,” you can’t help the stutter in your voice. His warmth is so inviting, the way you fit perfectly against him you want nothing more than to be wrapped up in him. In more ways than one, especially with that hand that’s gently thumbing your hip as a means to soothe you. The demon leans in closer still, small cracks of feedback become louder as his mouth graces the shell of your ear and you swear you’re losing your mind. Because as is, he’s putting minimal strength to keep you where you are, so your mind wonders what else he could do, how much more could he make you do if he really tried. It send a shiver down your spine at the thought of feeling those slender claws digging into your flesh—

“Are you sure that’s what you really want?” that velvety voice is enticing, it’s making your already fuzzy brain even more hazy. No, is the honest truth you want to give him. Yet, the last shred of reason nags at you to not let the horny thoughts win. However, that thin thread is about to snap with how insistent Alastor is being. “Let me help you with your… Little predicament, darling,” the lilt in his voice is playful, alluring. Your body goes stiff, though.

“What are you talking about?” you ask nervously. The deer chuckles pulling away and fixing his low-lidded eyes once again on yours, those ruby eyes that seem to look into the darkest depths of your soul with a single glance. You feel paralyzed both from fear and anticipation awaiting his answer.

His free hand comes up to your belly, oh-so gently rubbing the expand of your abdomen. It makes you shudder, your gaze falls down to his hands curious and oddly aroused by the gesture. He doesn’t answer immediately and even when he does it’s not direct. “Last week while going about the hotel as I usually do… I caught a scent I had never quite smelled before. Sweet yet tart. I had wondered for hours on end where it could have possibly come from and how it came and went,” He explained slowly, as slowly as his hand rubbed your abdomen in wide patterns, “Until I realized it came and went as you did. You, little one, have been driving me insane for d̸̞̖̹̎̃̉͊͛̾͗̊̍͘̚a̴̢̼͔̗̬͚̺̠͖̹͔͕͈̭̳͒y̴̧̻̹͙̰̭̽̔̄͂̑̂̈́̔̂̋̌̀́͝s̸̨̙̲̰̲̞̯̖̮̪͌́̽͂͝.”

His voice became much more grave and the radio filter intensified, both hands grabbing at your waist tightly, almost painfully. You unconsciously squeeze your thighs together feeling a warm liquid start to pool. In a panic you tried to snap out of his grasp but that only made him hold on tighter. Did his hands grow? but you don’t have time to wonder how his two hands encircled your entire waist because he’s lifting you up as if you weigh nothing but a couple of grapes, then your back is against something soft— your mattress you suppose— and Alastor with elongated antlers, his body bigger than he normally is and eyes turned to radio dials. You should be fucking scared shitless but seeing his demonic form makes your cunt clench around nothing. There’s no helping you really.

Tendrils sprout around your sheets to hold you where you lay, his large hands come to encircle your thighs spreading them. “Alastor wait! Wait a second!” your face is hot and bright red, “I’m— Oh Satan don’t make me say it,” tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. Your mind is torn in half because dear unholy hell you needed relief, you haven’t been able to cum or touch there because of your messy little predicament but the shame of Alastor seeing the mess is too much.

Alastor laughs pushing your legs apart and further up nearly folding you in half, “Oh I know. I’m a cannibal, pretty girl, I can handle a little blood, now will you allow me to drink from you? You smell positively ripe for the taking,” Alastor presses his face against your still clothed pussy taking in the scent he’s been chasing for almost two weeks.

The action unconsciously made you moan, “Yes, yes fine!” your eyes squeezed tightly feeling entirely too shy and embarrassed to even look at him. His words made your heart skip a beat, this had to be the oddest form of cannibalism— Does it count?— you’ve ever seen, heard of or otherwise. For Alastor, that was all he needed. He’s now a one track minded being with nothing to stop his hunger until it is sated.

He quickly did away with your panties, but not before pressing the fabric against his nose one last time before disregarding it somewhere on the floor, your needy sex twitching for attention. It made you look away from him too many emotions bubbling inside you, it’s a little overwhelming how fast it’s happening and what is happening. It’s dawning on you that Alastor is asking to eat you out, to taste the blood—

Your thoughts are interrupted again but his tentacles lifting you up, Alastor had laid down at some point you hadn’t realized and you were being positioned right on top of his face. You tried to hover out of habit but Alastor wouldn’t let you, his radio voice crackled again, “Oh no, darling. Ỹ̵͇͕̕ō̸̪̟͐ȕ̸͇͎̆ ̶͈̃̂a̸̯̿r̶͓̈́̇e̴̱͑̓ ̵̡͈̿g̴̨͠ò̴̲͖ḯ̸̹n̶̢͚̈́͂g̷͇̎ ̷͖̅t̶̳͇̉̄ǫ̵̫̈́ ̵̮͚̋s̸̘͐͋i̴̜̓t̵̲͌̍,” using his hands he pushed you down on his waiting tongue and held you there as he didn’t hesitate to lap up your slightly bloodied folds.

“Alastor!” you whine loudly, again closing your eyes and even covering your face with both your hands. But you won’t deny how unbelievably good it felt, relieved you’d finally feel release and you couldn’t tell if it’s because someone else is touching you but your sensitivity felt like it had skyrocketed. Your whole body trembled, the tentacles around your waist and chest were doing all the holding up as well as keeping you in place. It’s a little horrifying to be eaten out like this but he’s licking at you like you’re the last drink in hell making you reel and throw your head back. Moans and mewls very soon filled the air and bounced off the walls along with soft sensual jazz that played just a little louder than your own voice. Just enough to mask them from being heard outside of the bedroom.

As Alastor sucked and lapped at your clit, tentacles press harder into your lower abdomen to coax out your sweet fluids enjoying the various noises and the ones you struggled to keep in, “What a shy flower you are, but be a good girl and let me enjoy you,” he cooed at you, his long tongue licking up and down your slightly then teasing your entrance before plunging it deep into your hole. Your eyes widen at the feeling once again squirming and hips bucking, it’s an odd sensations having his long, flexible muscle so deep inside. You could feel the tip reaching your cervix and not leaving a single part of you unexplored. Mind numbing pleasure of your orgasm building up made your ears ring and you knew you wouldn’t last. But Alastor didn’t seem to mind or even care about your impending orgasm because he didn’t slow down his strides. Mouthful after mouthful of your blood dripped down his tongue and into his mouth he groaned in delight at the taste.

“Darling, I’m not doing this entirely for your pleasure. I’m glad to you grant you some release, do cum as many times as you’d like by all means,” he informs from between suck and licks, “But I’m not stopping until I’ve had my fill,” he growled and went right back to his task. You gasped feeling his teeth grace your soft folds, making you keen and clench around his tongue. You felt his smile widen against you, he did it again. And again and again, his teeth probably nicked you a few times but you at that point didn’t mind, your orgasm is just over the horizon and the pain mixed with the immense pleasure only had your back arching against his tendrils that still held you up. Even your hands came to tangle in his hair and antlers holding on tightly feeling that coil in your abdomen about to snap.

And suddenly with a particular rub of his tongue against the little bundle of nerves inside you, your orgasm crashed over you like a ton of bricks. It was so strong it caused goosebumps to rise across your entire body and scream out in pure, unadulterated pleasure. Alastor groan some curses under his breath as you tug his hair when you cum, sucking feverishly to catch every last drop of your release and bloody. It’s dripping down his chin at this point but he can worry about the bloody mess later. He isn’t even near done with you yet. Your reaction to his administrations and the delectable smell wafting off you in waves now that you’ve finally came are making him even more ravenous than when he first shoved his face between your legs.

“I’m going to drink you dry, my darling. Give me everything, pet.”

ღ a/n: it took me days to be satisfied with this one akdkskald but i had so much fun writing it. so thank you cass <33

—

© 2024 the-xolotl — all rights reserved. do NOT alter, translate, or repost my works on any platform without my consent, do not claim my content as yours.

[quaithe-seastar]

His Queen

Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Aegon are trapped in an arranged marriage, but you've both done your best to deal with it. Aegon admits to you that he has his doubts about being king. You do your best to offer him comfort despite having your reservations.

Warnings: Smut, Oral (fem receiving), Slight angst, mentions of arranged marriage, mentions of infidelity

A/n: No beta, so I apologize for any grammar and spelling mistakes.

You groan, fluffing your pillow as you turn onto your side. Your eyes beg you to go back to sleep, but your mind seems intent on keeping you awake. You slide a hand over to the left side of the bed. The sheets where Aegon rested had grown cold. You frowned, longing for his warmth. He had been here when you went to sleep, just as he has been every night for the past week.

Since becoming king, Aegon has been different. He is taking a more active and involved role, not just as king but also as a husband and father. 

A great wave of weariness washes over you, taking your energy along with it. It leaves nothing but a sting of melancholy and humiliation in its wake. Perhaps you were a fool to think Aegon had changed. Had he slipped back into his old ways so soon? Where was he now, you wondered. In some brothel on the street of silk or in some filthy flea-bottom rat pit? You shake your head, trying to stop being so pessimistic.

Slowly, you got out of bed and pulled your robe over your nightgown. You pull your hair to the side as you slide on a pair of slippers. The castle was quiet and dark, though that was no surprise considering how late it was. You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to fight off the chill in the air. Maester Orwyle believed the summer was finally coming to an end.

Your eyes wander around, lazily observing the same walls you have seen a thousand times before. Your mind turns back to your husband. The marriage had been arranged by your father and the late King Viserys. Your mother had wished you to marry the Lord of Seagard, Lord Jorah Mallister, but your father refused. What is a lord compared to a prince, he said.

Neither you nor Aegon had been happy about it. But somehow, you managed to coexist; you had little choice otherwise. Over the years, you had found yourself growing quite fond of him. He was charismatic and very easy on the eyes without even trying. Though you were unsure if he shared your feelings, it was so hard to tell. He was always off doing whatever he did with his spare time.

The sound of clinking metal echoed in the air. Your eyes land upon an alert Ser Arryk. Though the tense knight relaxed when he realized it was you. He removed his hand from the hilt of his sword and bowed his head.

“Your grace.”

“Ser Arryk,” you greet him courteously.

 “Is he alone?” You asked, gesturing towards the giant closed doors that concealed the throne room. 

You could see how the king guard tensed up again; a look of pity flickered in his eyes. It was a look you had grown accustomed to over the years. Your husband's indiscretions were well known throughout the city.

Ser Arryk nodded, “Yes, your grace.”

You take a step forward, and the knight quickly takes the hint. He pushed open one of the doors just enough for you to slip past it before pulling it closed again. The room was so quiet. Even the soft thuds your feet made against the stone floor echoed. The walk to the throne felt like it stretched on for hours. 

You could see Aegon in the distance. His silver-gold hair contrasted beautifully against the grim, gray walls of the throne room. The man stands at the foot of the steps, dressed down in his nightwear.

The iron throne was said to be made of the thousand swords of the conqueror’s enemies. Regardless of whether that was true, the throne was certainly a ghastly thing to look at.

The iron throne casts a large shadow that stops at the bottom of the steps, right at Aegon’s feet, threatening to engulf him.

“You disappeared. I was worried something had happened,” you said, breaking the silence in the room.

Aegon turned his head to look at you. He had a startled look on his face. Had he not heard you coming?

”I apologize, my queen. I did not wish to disturb you with my restlessness.” 

You fiddle with the sleeves of your robe. The title of queen was something you hadn’t entirely warmed up to yet. In truth, you weren’t sure what you thought of all of this. 

“I wouldn’t have minded. It’s better than waking up alone.”

A look of hurt and guilt washed over his face. You quickly came to regret your words.

“I'm sorry. Just forget I said anything,” you added nervously. “I shall leave you be.”

You quickly turn to leave, but before you can take a step, a voice calls out, “Don’t go!”

The urgency and desperation in his tone make you freeze. You crane your neck to look back at him. His dark eyes are wide and glossy.

“I mean,” he cleared his throat. “I would enjoy your company.”

You remain frozen, at a loss for words. He had never actively sought your company before. Aegon’s cheeks grow red, and he quickly adds, “Though you’re free to go if you wish.”

He quickly turns back around, facing the throne. You stare at the back of his head, your eyes following the waves of his hair. It had grown out quite a bit. That was also something you were not used to. He usually preferred to keep it short.

The soft thuds of your slippers hitting the ground echo in the air once more. You slowly move to stand by his side.

“Do you think I can do it?” He asked suddenly.

Aegon’s voice wavers as the question leaves his lips. You turn your head to look at him. His body is tense, and he keeps his eyes forward, not looking at you.

In a way, he reminds you of a child, your child, your sweet little Jaehaerys. He is your husband's heir now. One day, he will stand in this very spot. You wonder if he will have the same doubts.

Your eyes follow his gaze to the throne. You had wondered the same thing many times before. A deep, weary sigh escaped from your lips.

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly.

From the corner of your eyes, you can see him wince at your words. 

“I do not wish to lie to you, husband. I cannot say for certain if you will be a good king. But I do believe,” you take his hand into yours. “that you have a kind heart. And if you try, really try , you may surprise us all.”

He offers your hand a little squeeze. “I want to try. I just- I don’t know how. My father never prepared me for this.”

“No one prepared him either, yet he found his path. In time, you will too.”

An uneasy smile stretched across his lips. He shook his head slightly before lowering it. His eyes trained on the ground. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Hey,” you coax as you move to stand before him. 

Your free hand gently cups his face, urging him to look up at you. His eyes are vast and glossier than you’ve ever seen them. You can see the slight tremble in his bottom lip. He leans into the warmth of your palm. You run your thumb up and down his cheekbone. 

“You are not alone in this, Aegon. You have your small council and your grandfather, who has advised two kings bef-”

“And you?” He queried.

Aegon’s violet eyes shift back and forth between your eyes as if he were searching for something. 

“Yes,” you nodded. “You have me.”

His hands rest on your hips, pulling you closer. Soon, your chest is pressed against his. You can feel his warm breath on your face. You catch a whiff of the sweet arbor red that lingers on his tongue. Aegon lowers his head, nudging his nose against yours. Your lips just barely graze each other. 

A heat climbed up your face, making it feel like your skin was on fire. Unable to handle the growing need in your stomach, you lift yourself onto your toes, pressing your lips to his. Aegon responds immediately, moving his soft lips against yours.

This kiss was different. Different from the chaste kiss you shared on your wedding day or the sloppy drunk kisses you shared during the few times he joined you in your marital bed. 

Aegon kissed you with a desperation and hunger that you had never experienced before. Your arms wound around his neck, needing him even closer to you if possible. You let him lead you through the kiss, primarily due to your lack of experience but also because you find yourself becoming lightheaded. 

You feel dizzy like the world is spinning. You're running out of breath, lungs burning from the lack of air, but no part of you wants to stop this.

Aegon takes the initiative to pull away first. A pathetic whine passes through your lips. You lean forward, eager to feel his lips on yours again, but he doesn’t let you. He grabs your arms, pulling them away from his neck.

“Come with me,” he said, taking one of your hands into his.

You struggled to keep up with him as he pulled you behind him. Your feet sluggishly climbed up the stairs to the iron throne.

“What are you doing?” You asked as you reached the top.

“Take a seat,” he replied, not answering your question.

You eyed him suspiciously, unsure of what he was planning to do. Your eyes scanned the empty throne room, ensuring no one was watching you. A devilish smile rested on his lips as he gestured towards the throne. You hold onto his hand as you lower yourself onto the throne made of swords. 

Your body is tense, and you struggle not to let the fear of being pricked overwhelm you.

“How does it feel?”

You struggle to come up with an answer. You were frightened, but you could not deny the sense of power and strength that filled your chest. Suddenly, you could understand why so many people lusted after the throne.

“It’s ... nice.”

Aegon lets out a hearty laugh, and you turn your head away, mortified.

“My sweet little wife,” he mused, leaning down to kiss your head.

You stay silent, reeling with embarrassment. You close your eyes, wishing this was all a dream and that you would soon be back in the comfort of your own bed.

Warm hands slipping under your nightgown make you gasp. Your head snaps forward to find your husband kneeling before you. Aegon’s warm hands rest on your calves. You squeeze your legs together as tightly as you can.

“What are you doing?!” You whispered harshly, taken aback by his audaciousness.

His eyes flickered up towards yours, staring at you. “I want to try something.”

The gleam in his eyes sends a shiver down your spine.

“What?” You asked, though you believe you have some understanding of what he means.

Some of the more... bolder ladies at court loved to gossip and share stories of their late-night trysts with their husbands and paramours. You have heard a few stories about men who enjoy... feasting on their lovers. It was something you had never heard of before, let alone experienced. A part of you wondered if it was even true.

You had thought of asking Aegon about it, as he was quite... familiar with the ways of lovemaking, but you could not bring yourself to repeat what you had heard.

“Trust me,” he said, a grin reaching his lips. “I believe you will enjoy it.”

You stare at him, taking a deep breath before nodding. His warm hands slid up high, caressing your knees as he pushed them apart. You gasped, knees immediately trying to clamp shut to preserve some of your dignity. But Aegon doesn’t let you. 

He keeps a firm grip on your knees, keeping you spread open for him. Your nightgown is hitched up above your knees. The cold night air makes your skin prickle with goosebumps. The heat that was climbing up your face earlier spreads throughout your entire body. You want to close your eyes and turn away, but you cannot bring yourself to look away from him.

His eyes no longer stare into yours. Instead, his violet eyes remained focused between your legs. He glides his hands up your thighs, inching your dress higher until, finally, your cunt is exposed. But he doesn’t touch it. Instead, he moves his palms down, rubbing circles on your outer thighs.

The way Aegon touches you now differs from his usual impatient and rough approach. His hands seem almost reverent as they fondle your soft, plush thighs.

“Aegon,” you gasped as he lowered his head, pressing his lips to your right inner thigh. 

His hair fell forward, covering his face, but you believed you could feel him smirking against your skin. Suddenly, you felt him nip at the sensitive skin of your thigh. A sharp cry leaves your lips.

“‘m sorry,” he murmured against your skin as he kissed the bite.

His lips move up higher to the crook of your thigh. Your mouth hung slightly open, and a shaky breath passed through your lips. Being naked and exposed to him was nothing new, but having him so close like this was. Having his eyes and lips so close to your most intimate area was very new.

“Can you open them a bit more?” He asked, looking up at you.

You swiped your tongue across your lips before nodding. You were finally able to shut your eyes as you spread your legs wider, hoping it was enough.

“You’re perfect,” he said in awe.

A hot wetness glides over your aching cunt, making your entire body jolt. You let out a noise that is somewhere between a gasp and a cry as you try to draw your legs closed, but you're unable to, not with Aegon nestled between your thighs. His shoulders keep you spread open for his view and pleasure.

Aegon’s tongue was delivering the most exquisite pleasure you had ever experienced. He lapped up and down your folds, savoring your taste, before caressing your clit, alternating movements from up and down and side to side.

You look down, finding him peering up at you. His violet eyes locked onto you, watching your every expression, listening to every sound as he unraveled you beneath him. Your whole body felt like it was on fire, from the top of your head all the way down to your toes. All the air that fills your lungs is gone in an instant.

“Aegon- mmm,” his name leaves you like a meager whine.

His tongue works ardently between your splayed thighs, feasting upon you like a man starved. You find yourself enamored by the soft, tantalizing, wet sound his mouth is producing. One of your hands reached down, entangling itself in his messy silver waves. He moans against you, and the feeling has you arching your back. 

Your eyes rolled back as the pleasure quickly began to overwhelm you. Your chest rose and fell repeatedly, your hard nipples rubbing against the fabric of your nightgown. You did not know how much more you would be able to take.

Sinful cries and whimpers echoed throughout the throne room, but you could not bring yourself to care. How could you possibly think of anything else when your husband was sending wave after wave of pleasure through your body? 

Then, he slips a finger inside of you. 

“Aegon!” You cried out, so close to reaching your peak, yet not wanting this to end.

He easily adds another. His fingers move at a torturous, methodical pace. The pads of his fingers rub against your spongy walls, favoring that spot that makes you gasp and squeal. He catches your clit between his lips, suckling on it as if it were a treat. You gripped his head, rocking into his mouth.

You could feel a familiar heat building up in your lower stomach. The tension was almost unbearable. The world around you seemed to blur; all your senses honed in on Aegon and the pleasure only he could give you. 

You panted out curses and his name, shuddering at the warm pleasure that filled your entire body.

A groan erupts from the back of his throat, so guttural, it makes you weak. You glanced down and found him still watching you. His dark eyes entranced you, not allowing you to look away. 

Your legs and back stiffened, your stomach tightened, and your breath halted. You clamped your eyes shut and moaned out his name as you finally reached your peak. 

You remove your hand from his hair and tap his shoulder. Thankfully he pulled away with little protest, allowing your senses to calm down as your peak reached its end. Your back is aching from sitting upright for so long. You lean back a little, hoping to find relief, but the iron throne offers none. 

You're unsure how much time passes before you can properly catch your breath again. Soft fingers interlace with yours, bringing you back to the present. You blink, trying to fight off the drowsiness that is steadily creeping up on you. Aegon is still kneeling before you, with a self-satisfying look on his face.

“I told you you’d like it.”

You let out a breathy laugh and tried to push him away. However, you lacked the strength to do so.

“Just... give me a moment. Then I shall help you.”

“Mmh,” he hummed. “That won’t be necessary, my queen.”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

He smirked and glanced down at his lap before looking back at you. You sat up and looked down to find a dark wet spot that covered the front of his trousers. Your face heated up again, and a coy smile made its way onto your lips.

“That’s too bad,” you sigh. “I was hoping we could play some more.”

Aegon’s smirk is gone, replaced with a more serious look. “I just need a moment. Then I’ll take you right here.”

You laugh at his enthusiasm. “I’m more than willing to go again, but not here. I prefer the comfort of our bed.”

Aegon nods and quickly stands to his feet. He helps you stand and holds you close to his side as the two of you leave the throne room. 

“Your grace,” Ser Arryk bows as the two of you make it out of the room.

You gulped, mortified, realizing what the poor white cloak had just endured. 

“Ser Arryk,” Aegon smiled. “The Queen and I shall be returning to our bedchamber now.”

The knight’s eyes flickered toward you before quickly averting his gaze. It was not hard to tell that the man was flustered. You shot him an apologetic smile even though he would not look at you.

“Yes, your grace.” He replied, dutifully following behind the two of you as you returned to your bedchamber. You’ll have to convince Aegon to find some way to make it up to him.

[papaya-twinks]

just an assistant - l.n

Warnings: Angst, swearing, sexism, degradation (I’m in a silly mood), sex (not between y/n and lando)

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

A/N - y’all are fucking feral Jesus 😍😍😍😍

Where to start, where to start?

Lando had a lavish house, but along with that, it was big, and had a lot of expensive furniture. “Y/N, don’t just stand there,” Lando rolled his eyes, sitting onto the sofa as he watched you look round nervously, your teeth nipping at your lower lip as you stood awkwardly in the centre of the living room. 

“Y/N, it’s a damn list,” Lando grumbled, flicking the piece of paper in your hand, “they work downstairs. Start with my room,”. His room. You’d be going to his room, a place that was usually kept for privacy, and he’d asked you to go there. 

Youd be lying if you said you didn’t find Lando attractive. Of course you did. He was heavenly, with his chocolate brown mass of curls, his emerald green eyes which sometimes changed to icy blue or deep brown, his slightly pouty pink lips and his rosy cheeks. But to you - he was just a celebrity crush.

Because to you, even though you knew Lando up close and personal, the chances of Lando falling for you were below even possible. But that was in your eyes. His bedroom was lavish, messy, but expensive and good anyways, his bed messy but tucked away with some signs of neatness.

You’d start on the bed. You tried to push the thoughts out your kind as you moved the hoodies and shirts off his bed, feeling oddly warm at holding Lando’s clothing. This was where he slept. Where’d he lay, and sleep, and who knows? He could sleep shirtless for all you knew, maybe even naked, and-

No!!

You couldn’t be having these thoughts about your boss. You weren’t like that. You tidied up the bed, fluffing the pillow (where he’d put his pretty curls), before collecting all the clothes, some dirty hoodies, which you placed in a wash basket to take downstairs. You’d always wondered how Lando managed to afford a new outfit for every race and just how much money he had for clothing.

So why miss out on the opportunity to take a little peek? Just to see a bit of it. And great. A walk in closet. You stepped inside, eyes wide at the masses of clothes, some thrown away, some untouched shirts and ironed items hung up neatly, ranges of shoes across little bars, from polished, clean black dress shoes, to dirty trainers which had originally been white at one point.

Surprisingly.

“Very productive, Y/N,” a voice said behind you, making you jump, turning round to see Lando standing behind you, your eyes wide as he stood there, arms crossed over his chest. “Seriously, I’m gonna need to think of some sort of punishment if you keep slacking off,”. Your eyes widened at his words, immediately shaking your head.

“No, I’m sorry, I just got distracted, and-,” you were cut off by Lando, his voice firm and stern. “You keep doing it, Y/N,” he said coldly, his eyes travelling up and down your body. “And seriously? Another minidress?” you watched as he rolled his eyes, scoffing at your outfit as you pushed your legs together, moving them together in embarrassment.

“Just…try and dress like an assistant and not some…stripper, god,” he muttered under your breath, the words not going unnoticed as you flushed. You thought you’d looked pretty. Not to look like…what Lando had said. The words hurt, use, but you brushed it off. Sometimes, Lando was a dick.

“And make fucking dinner whilst you’re at it,”. Suddenly, the wage he was paying you didn’t seem to be enough, and you’d have much rather had your shorter hours with McLaren. “Okay,” you mumbled, eyes on the floor as you walked out of the walk-in closet, eyes on the room round you, before moving to carry on cleaning.

Dinner would be made afterwards.

What you certainly did not expect to see, in your drawer, was the pack of condoms, or the lace panties on top of them. Right. Of course Lando had some girl over, you couldn’t blame him. And you certainly had no right to feel possessive, in any way. The rest of the night went by quietly, your mouth kept shut as you served Lando the dinner you made, eating your own an hour later after you finished cleaning up.

You heard the front door slam, some time during the night, around 10pm, when you were lying in bed. You didn’t make anything of it, Lando had probably gone to a party. Your eyes flickered open at shuffling around outside, a small ‘thump’, against your door making you jump. Maybe Lando had been drunk and walked into it.

A frustrated scowl crossed your face at the sound of a feminine giggle and Lando’s mumble of ‘shush, princess’. He just had to make out with his new little toy against your door, huh? Perfect. The sound of skin against skin echoed from the room opposite yours, the woman not even trying till quieten her lewd moans.

Surely he’s not that big, you thought, he can’t possibly be that good at sex to make her make those sounds. You tried to cover your ears, Lando’s groans spurring something inside of you, as you pushed it down inside of you, your hand on your ears, when suddenly, a single word made your eyes widen.

Well, not a word, a name. Your name. Y/N. That was your name. “Y/N, fuck,” Lando growled, an indignant shriek leaving the girls lips followed by a groan and a muffled snort. “Who the fuck is Y/N?” the girl shrieked, her voice annoyingly high. “Wait, please-,” Lando started, his voice muffled through the walls as you listened.

“You don’t even know my name!” the girl snapped. She was right. Lando didn’t know her name. He just needed someone to get off with, and she happened to be a little pretty. Lando groaned as the file stormed out, making no effort to stay quiet.

All Lando could do was hope the slam of the door hadn’t awoken you - let alone the moans, and you hadn’t heard your name on his lips as went to the bathroom to…deal with what had happened.

[ghosts-bandwagon]

could you do hc’s for the 141 + könig with a reader who has iron deficiency anemia? like maybe readers iron drops to a low level and they nearly faint and they take care of them after?

Ooh! I can relate! Except I haven’t fainted but I’ve definitely gotten close lmao whoops

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley:

My man has both eyes on you at all times, especially if you’ve told him you woke up with a headache that morning

He’s watching you to make sure you’re taking care of yourself but when advil doesn’t touch your headache, he starts to worry

I personally headcanon him as being hands off but always close, so he won’t be fretting about you, he gives you the space and the chance to decide when you need help

But when you start walking a little lopsided, with a hand against the wall for support, he’s sprinting towards you, his heart is hammering in his chest as he catches you before you lean a little too far off to the side

“Alright, back to bed with you.”

“Si, I’m fine.”

“I look like I’m muckin’ about? Bed. Now.”

It’s one of the few times he’ll assert himself when it comes to your well-being, not his fault you gave him a fright, darling!

Soon enough, he’s back at your side with a sandwich and some juice, he’s not sure what happened but some food is a good place to start, he crawls in bed next to you as your eating and turns on the tv to whatever you’re feeling (he’s particularly fond of Bake Off, so he won’t be opposed if that’s what you choose)

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish:

When you woke up that morning massaging your temples, he was a little worried but he shooed your hands away and started massaging your temples and your scalp instead, kissing the side of your head

It seemed to help a little bit but it wasn’t enough to chase the thrumming pain away, still it wasn’t that bad so you decided to go about your day regardless

That wouldn’t stop him from checking up on you every chance he had, he’d laugh when you elbow him and jokingly tell him to back off, he’d pull you against him and kiss the crown of your head

“Not on your life, bonnie.”

But then he saw you tumble to the side a little bit, arm reaching out to balance yourself and he was at your side in a heartbeat, steadying you by wrapping his arm around your shoulders and holding you against him,

“Alright, hen?”

“Yeah just a little dizzy that’s all.”

“More than just a little I’d say. Come on, let’s get you in bed and I’ll get you some food, aye?”

“But it’ll mess up the bed.”

“Then don’t be messy.” He winked and kissed the side of your head, you shoved him playfully before clinging to him again. Sure enough, you’re back in bed with Soap, half eaten sandwich on the nightstand, both of you back asleep with the tv lulling you even deeper.

John Price:

Sweet man doesn’t let you leave the bed for anything as soon as you tell him you have a headache

“Don’t bother liftin’ a finger, darlin’. Shout if you need anything.” He kisses your forehead and leaves a glass of water, a cup of tea, and some headache medicine, he’s in the other room if you need anything

At some point, you get bored and decide to do some chores you’ve been putting off for a while, so you’re folding laundry when John walks back in the room

“What’re you doin’, thought I told you to shout.”

“I’m not gonna shout at you put away the laundry, especially when I’m the one that started it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you know I love it when you shout.” He teased, you threw the tshirt in your hands at him with a laugh and a blush, he caught it with ease and started to move to put it away

He saw you take an unsteady step back with an arm outreached to balance you out, in two long strides he was at your side, gripping your arm to steady you

“Right. Enough of that, back you go.”

“John-”

“Don’t you ‘John’ me, back in.” He’s guiding you back in bed and coming back in the room with some fruits and a sandwich, he’s not leaving your side until you’ve eaten all of it. And when you’re done, he kisses your forehead and crawls in bed with you. Nothing wrong with a lazy day.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Gerrick:

He’s so extra omg as soon as you tell him you’ve got a headache, he’s wrapping you in your favorite blanket, brewing a cup of your favorite tea, he’s got you sitting on the couch, buried in blankets, and he’s got Uber Eats pulled up and ready for you to order

“Babe it’s just a headache, I’m not dying.”

“Irrelevant. Just order something, yeah? My treat.” He winked at you. You share a checking account. He loves making that joke. (So do I)

He walks away and comes back with your tea and some medicine, “No love of mine is going to have a headache and not be spoiled.”

On your way back from the bathroom, you start the feel the walls spin and the floor slip away from you. You called out to him and he was there in a heartbeat, he gently and slowly picked you up and carried you back to the couch

“Aren’t you glad you’ve got me here for you?”

“Don’t get an ego, just shut up and keep taking care of me.”

“That’s what I thought.”

He kissed your cheek with a big wet smooch and went to grab the door for your order, he settled next to you on the sofa and started laying out the food for you.

König:

Much like Ghost, he lets you get up and be about on your own but he hovers much closer

He gets you some medicine and some water, and he brings you those fruit gummies you love so much too

He’s ok with you moving about but he’s always close by, and by close I mean he’s attached at the hip (just bump him away with your hip and he’ll laugh enough to let you be for a little bit)

In one of those moments you managed to successfully bump him away from you, your dizziness seemed to hit. You nearly dropped the dishes in your hands as you took a few steps to the side, König was there in seconds to get you steady again

He took the dishes from your hands and gently put them in the sink,

“Come now, schatz, rest, please.”

“Köni, I’m fine, I promise.”

“Nonsense. Bed. Now.”

He never used that tone with you (ok maybe sometimes but this isn’t that context), so you supposed you wouldn’t fight him on it. Not that you could but you appreciated that he gave you the option.

So he carried you to bed, your gentle, sweet, mountain of a man, and set you down, burying you in blankets. He crawled beside you and started running his fingers through your hair, massaging your scalp, peppering kisses on your cheeks.

Before you knew it, you’ve dozed off in his arms and he’s kissing the crown of your head.

[hoshifighting]

so I had this idea about switch!joshua

idk why but I kinda have this fantasy in my head about Joshua and his partner having a power play during sex. they keep tryna a dom each other but they also enjoy being each others sub yk

could you write sth like this? I would love to read it :]

— Synopsis: You and Joshua both have strong personalities, resulting in power play whenever you're having sex. It's like witnessing a battle to see who can assert their dominance over the other. — WC: 2k — WARNINGS: Smut, power play, switch!reader&joshua, bickering, overstimulation, sex toys - (vibrator, handcuffs, blindfold), bondage, sensory deprivation, penetrative sex, degradation, clit stimulation, choking, face slapping, the fight for power.

the first time you met joshua, it was like striking a match in a room filled with gasoline. his confident, almost arrogant smile was mirrored by your own stubborn determination. you could tell right away that this was a man who was used to being in control, someone who thrived on dominance. and, ironically, that was the exact reason you were drawn to him.

you never asked about joshua’s past relationships. honestly, you didn’t want to know. you liked the mystery, the untold stories that lingered in his eyes. but one thing was clear: you were the first to challenge him, to refuse to let him take the lead without a fight.

the first time you had sex, it was a battle. every touch was a negotiation, every kiss a test of wills.

joshua, so accustomed to being the dominant force, found himself facing someone who was just as strong, just as determined. it took him a while to process it, to wrap his mind around the idea that he wasn’t the only one in control.

afterward, you lay next to each other, breathless and sweaty. the silence was heavy with unspoken words. finally, joshua turned to you, his eyes searching yours.

“so,” he began, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “this is new.”

you laughed, a light, airy sound that filled the room. “you didn’t think i’d just roll over and let you take charge, did you?”

“i was hoping,” he admitted, his smile widening. “but i guess i should’ve known better.”

today was one of those days where neither of you was willing to give up control. joshua’s hands were cuffed above his head, muscles straining against the restraints as you teased his swollen cock with a feather. his abdomen tightened with every agonizing brush, and his frustrated moans echoed through the room.

“you’re enjoying this way too much,” he groaned, his voice tinged with a compound of irritation and arousal. outside these four walls, joshua was a sweetheart, but here, he was your plaything.

you got up to retrieve a vibrator from your drawer, enjoying the sight of him writhing, desperate for more. the moment you turned your back, you heard the click of the handcuffs. spinning around, you saw joshua ripping the blindfold from his face, with a dark grimace.

“oh, fuck,” you muttered, knowing you were in trouble as he strode toward you with large, purposeful steps.

he wrapped his arms around you from behind, pressing you against the dresser and pinning your arms to your chest. “you don’t think you’ve teased me enough?” he growled through gritted teeth, his breath hot against your ear.

“you can’t handle a little feather?” you taunted, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “poor baby.”

joshua’s response was a low, dangerous growl. he yanked your head back by your hair, forcing your neck to arch painfully. “you like pushing me, don’t you?” he snarled. “you’re nothing but a slut who loves to be put in her place.”

you grunted at the sharp pain, feeling his cock slide inside you all at once. your legs threatened to give out, but joshua held you steady. “steady yourself, slut,” he commanded, his voice harsh and unyielding.

you had no choice but to comply. one hand escaped to brace yourself on the dresser, your moans strangled by the way he pulled your hair. despite your frustration at his breaking the rules, you couldn’t deny how much you loved being railed by him, being his pathetic slut. just as much as he loved being your toy when you needed it.

he pressed himself deeper, your balance faltering as your chest hit the dresser. the vibrator in your hand buzzed to life, and you cursed yourself for letting it slip. joshua paused, the sound catching his attention.

“well, well,” he teased, taking the vibrator from you. “look at you, thinking you could use this on me. what a desperate little whore you are.”

he turned the vibrator to its highest setting, the buzz loud and threatening. “no,” you pleaded, shaking your head. “please, joshua—”

“you don’t get to beg,” he interrupted, his voice dripping with disdain. “you’re just a slut who takes what she’s given.”

his cock stretched you, the burn from your unpreparedness mixing with the relentless throb of your heartbeat. when joshua turned the vibrator to its maximum setting, you gulped, knowing exactly where he intended to place it. your eyes widened in panic.

he lowered the buzzing device until it reached your clit, and you screamed, grabbing his forearm, your nails sinking painfully into his skin. the intense pleasure made him groan, your tightness around his cock almost causing him to lose his balance.

your clit felt like it was on fire, tears springing to your eyes. joshua started to move, thrusting into you with a new fervor, amplifying the overwhelming sensations. another scream tore from your throat as you whimpered, "josh, josh..."

as joshua's grip on your arm loosened, you felt your body slowly disassembling against the dresser. each movement seemed to send new shocks of sensation through you, your heightened sensitivity turning every touch into an electric charge. joshua didn’t seem to notice your extra-sensitive state, his focus entirely on his own pleasure.

you were torn, debating whether to let the knot inside you unravel and risk overstimulation or try to hold back and risk edging yourself too much. but as you wrestled with your thoughts, the decision was made for you. you felt the wave cresting, and with a sob, you realized you were cumming.

your sobs echoed off the furniture, a raw sound that combined with the rhythmic slap of joshua’s thrusts. his cock split you open, and you felt yourself dripping onto the wooden floor, the vibrator splashing the proof of your orgasm everywhere.

he resumed his thrusts, slower now, more calculated, each stir developed to push you further into overstimulation. the vibrator’s relentless buzz against your clit was torture, and you cried out, your body fluttering with the power of it all.

“please,” you begged, your voice breaking. “i can’t… i can’t take it.”

joshua leaned down, his breath hot against your ear. “oh, but you will,” he whispered. “you’ll take it, and you’ll love it, won’t you?”

you sobbed, your body betraying you as another wave of pleasure crashed over you, your legs buckling. “joshua, please…”

his grip on your hips tightened, and he pushed deeper, hitting that spot that made you see stars. “you’re such a good girl,” he taunted. “look at you, falling apart just for me.”

your nails scraped against the wood of the dresser, leaving marks as you clung to it for support. “i’m… i’m cumming again,” you gasped, tears streaming down your face.

“good,” he growled, thrusting harder. “cum for me, show me how much you love it.”

your body obeyed, another orgasm ripping through you, leaving you a trembling, sobbing mess. 

everything started to feel like too much—the relentless vibrator, joshua’s tight embrace, his cock buried deep inside you, his overwhelming presence. it was suffocating, and in a moment of clarity through the haze of overstimulation, you felt a surge of strength. you needed to take charge.

your spasms gave you the energy to pry his forearm away, sending the vibrator flying across the room. it stopped buzzing the moment it hit the ground, and you didn’t care if it was broken. you turned joshua around, pushing him onto the bed and straddling him, your hand finding his throat. you pressed your fingers into either side of his neck, watching his breath hitch and his eyes widen in surprise and pleasure.

a nasty smile spread across his face, taunting you. you slapped him hard, his head snapping to the side. when he turned back to face you, his grin was even wider.

you knew. he loved it when you lost control, when you took what you wanted. this was how the two of you thrived—fire and fire, clashing and igniting.

“you think this is funny?” you hissed, your voice low and dangerous. “i’m going to wipe that grin off your face.”

joshua’s eyes gleamed with excitement. “is that so?” he taunted, his voice rough with anticipation.

you tightened your grip on his throat, leaning in close. “you’re going to beg for mercy,” you whispered fiercely. “i’m going to ruin you.”

his breath hitched again, his smile faltering slightly. “do your worst,” he challenged, his voice barely above a whisper.

you didn’t need another invitation.

you moved with intent, your hand slipping from his throat to his jaw, forcing him to look up at you. your other hand trailed down his chest, nails scraping lightly, leaving red lines in their wake. joshua’s breathing grew ragged, his eyes never leaving yours.

“you like this, don’t you?” you murmured, your fingers tracing patterns on his skin. “being at my mercy?”

“yes,” he gasped, his voice strained. “i love it.”

you leaned down, your lips brushing against his ear. “good,” you whispered. “because i’m just getting started.”

you shifted your hips, taking him inside you again, but this time you were in control. you rode him with an enthusiasm that surprised even you. 

you set the pace, slow and willful, driving him wild with every move. joshua’s hands gripped the sheets, his knuckles white with the effort to keep still.

his hands gripped your hips, trying to match your rhythm, but you swatted them away.

“no touching,” you commanded. “you don’t get to touch until i say so.”

he groaned in frustration, his head pressing back into the mattress. “please,” he begged, his voice strained. “let me touch you.”

you leaned down, your lips hovering over his. “not yet,” you murmured. “not until i see that smile disappear.”

you increased your pace, your movements becoming more inconsistent, more desperate. his face contorted with pleasure, his cock twitching inside you. you knew he was close, and you wanted to push him over the border.

“beg for it,” you commanded, your voice firm.

“please,” he moaned, his hips bucking up involuntarily. “please, y/n.”

you slapped him again, the sound echoing in the room. “louder,” you demanded.

“please!” he cried out, his voice desperate. “please, i need it.”

a triumphant smile spread across your face. “that’s better,” you purred, increasing your pace, your movements more forceful. “you’re mine, joshua. all mine.”

“yes,” he panted, his eyes wild with submission. “all yours.”

you felt the power surge through you, the thrill of being in control. joshua’s moans filled the room, his body trembling beneath you. you rode him harder, pushing him to the edge, watching as his composure crumbled.

“cum for me,” you ordered, “now.”

with a final, desperate cry, joshua followed, his body convulsing as he came. you watched him, your eyes never leaving his, taking in every moment of his surrender.

joshua doesn't know exactly how much time he spends trying to catch his breath with his eyes closed. how do you do this? he had you overstimulated, railing you on the dresser, yet somehow you still ended up defeating him on the bed. 

every. single. time, he was amazed. amazed by how much of a freak you were, and how much he loved being your sub

he's pulled out of his thoughts when you emerge from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around you. your skin is still damp, and you leave a faint trail of steam in your wake. you glance at him, still sprawled out on the bed in the same position you left him.

"i've won this time too?" you tease, a playful glint in your eye.

joshua opens his eyes and watches you walk, noticing the funny, slightly limping gait you have now. he scoffs, a smirk playing on his lips. "do you think so?"

you pause, one hand on your hip, and arch an eyebrow. "well, i did end up on top, didn’t i?"

he laughs softly, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest. "only because i let you."

"sure, keep telling yourself that," you retort, walking over to the bed. 

he props himself up on his elbows, his eyes never leaving you. “and you’re barely able to walk straight. who’s the real winner here?”

“still me,” you say, leaning down to kiss him lightly on the lips. “because i always end up on top.”

"you know," he murmurs, "one of these days, i'm going to turn the tables on you."

you scoff, nestling against him, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest. "i'd like to see you try."

[myspacebrat]

Fooled round and fell in love (part three)

Eddie Munson x Fem!reader

summary: you’re in love with your best friend but your best friend thinks love is for losers, choosing to sleep around rather than settle down. You’ve had enough and you’re ready to move on from your feelings, luckily you find someone who might make that possible but does Eddie really hate love as much as he leads on?

warnings: lite smut 18+ MINORS DNI, cocky Eddie, some dirty talk, allusions to reader being depressed, cussing, smoking, use of y/n

A/N: I cannot believe the amount of love I’ve gotten on this series, i appreciate everyone’s kind messages and comments 🫶🏻 part 4 will be released sometime after the new year.

as always thank you angel baby @myobmaya literally my number one hype man, I love you so much 💋

The next morning you wake up feeling anxious and exhausted as the night before had you tossing and turning, playing out every scenario and every little thing that could go wrong when you get to Eddie’s

But nonetheless you decide to start your day, you go downstairs and greet your mom, who luckily just brewed a fresh pot of coffee, and you needed a pick me up

After taking a couple bites of bacon, you tread back up stairs with your nice warm coffee. You put some music on and clean up your room, your little depressive episode left it in pretty bad shape

Once you’ve cleaned to your liking, you pick out what you’re going to wear today, regardless of everything that’s happened you still love Eddie and you want to look good for him whether he notices or not, so as you skim through your closet while powerslave by Iron Maiden plays through your speakers you opt for a Metallica “metal up your ass” shirt with a yellow and black plaid mini skirt, you decide to leave your legs bare pairing the outfit with some slouch socks and white keds.

You take a shower and think to yourself that you should smoke the last of the weed you got from Randy, needing something to take away the jitters of seeing your best friend later, you keep going back and fourth with your self in your head, should I just rip off the bandaid and tell him? Or should I just go in there with a smile on my face like my life hasn’t been a shit show these past few weeks.

After getting high enough, you decide it’s a good time to start getting ready. Doing your makeup, keeping it natural but still accentuating the parts you want to stand out, you do your normal curlers in hair routine getting the perfect amount of body, once you throw on your outfit and decide you look good enough you make your way downstairs to ask your mom if you can borrow her car.

“Hey mom, I’m gunna head to Eddie’s to hang out, can I take your car? I’ll only be a few hours.” You say with the slightest set of puppy dog eyes

“Sure sweetie, can you just pick me up a carton of cigarettes on your way back?” Your mom asks

“Yes, I can do that!” You say almost relieved

You did not feel like calling eddie and asking him to pick you up even though you knew he would, you think bringing your own car just in case you do grow the balls to tell him your feelings and you need to get out of there as fast as possible, so taking your moms car was the best option.

You pull into forest hills, taking deep breathes before stopping in front of the familiar trailer you grew up hanging out in, you glance around seeing Eddie’s van, the van that is permanently ruined for you now. Before you get lost in those thoughts you decide it’s now or never you have to face Eddie sometime, the only consolation is that Eddie doesn’t know that you moaned his name while Randy was making you cum. With that thought you open the car door and get out making your way up the steps to the front door of the trailer

You hear music coming from the speakers in Eddie’s bedroom, so you try your best to knock loud enough for him to hear. After the 5th knock you hear foot steps and the lock being fiddled with

Eddie swings the door open, he’s shirtless with his sweatpants sitting low on his hips showcasing his delicious trail of hair leading down into his pants while an unlit joint hangs from his lips.

Jesus, you could feel the wetness pool between your thighs “curse him for looking so damn good!” You think

He looks you up and down eyes lingering on your legs and upper thighs, his eyes shoot back up to yours as he says

“Hey, princess. I wasn’t sure if you were gunna show up” he said while removing the joint from his mouth and shooting you a genuine smile, almost like he was excited to see you

“I said I was, didn’t I?” You didn’t mean for it to come out as bitchy as it did

You push past him walking into the trailer and heading to sit down on the couch

“Yeah, but you’ve mastered the art of avoiding me recently, so I just figured” he says while shrugging his shoulders

“For the 100th time I have not been avoiding you!” You say while rolling your eyes

You lie again for the 100th time

“Mmm, whatever you say babe.”

Princess, babe? What the fuck is up with these pet names today, you think to yourself.

“So,” you say trying to break this weird tension you feel in the air “what movie are we watching?”

Eddie looks at you confused for a second and then he remembers the excuse he used to get you here

“Oh um, you can pick, I left some movies out over there” he says while pointing his head towards the tv and where the vhs player sits underneath it

“Ok, cool thanks” you say

You can’t understand this weird awkward tension going on, you’ve never felt this with Eddie ever, and it’s making your stomach knot up even more then it was

He holds the disregarded joint back up and says

“Do you wanna smoke?” He asks but his eyes don’t meet yours

“Is that even a question?” You say trying to be funny and ease whatever the hells going on

He put the joint between his lips and takes out his lighter, lighting it up and taking a hit that seeps out of his nose and mouth.

After you decide on weird science you pop the video in and turn to make your way back to the couch you hear a clatter on the floor in front of you, some of the tapes had fallen, so you turn back around and bend over to pick them up, completely forgetting you have a short skirt on and that Eddie is right behind you on the couch with a great view of half of your ass cheeks and a black lace thong

His eyes go wide and as much as he wants to be a gentleman and look away, he can’t, his eyes are trained on your ass until you stand up and make your way back over to him

Snatching the joint out of his hand and bringing it up to your lips, you take a hit as you let the smoke bellow out from your mouth

Eddie turns to you and says

“Hey, I actually wanted to talk to you about something”

When he says that your stomach drops, what could he want to talk about that requires him to be so serious? He’s never serious.

“Okay, what about?” You say handing him back the lit joint

“Well,” he says and then takes another hit, once he starts talking the smoke seeping out between his words “I was at Ricks the other day, cause I was running low and anyway he um, he told me what happened between you and Randy”

Your eyes shoot up to his, looking at him confused

“What do you mean?” You say as you start closing in on your self making yourself seem smaller

“Oh my god no, no please no” you say to your self “this cannot be happening”

“Y/n, he told me you said my name while you and Randy were in the middle of I don’t know whatever you guys were doing.” Eddie says almost bitter

When Rick told him, he couldn’t help but feel jealous, yes you said his name but you were almost in the middle of having sex with Randy, that made his chest hurt, but apart of him couldn’t help but feel cocky about the situation.

Why would you say his name? Were you thinking about him while Randy was touching you? What does that mean? Does it mean you want to be with him in that way? Eddie had so many questions

“Oh my god, is this why you asked me here Eddie? To humiliate me some more?” You spit out

“No, c’mon I would never do that” He says sincerely

“Whatever, I shouldn’t have come over” you say while getting up on your feet

“Y/n, come on I’m just trying to see what’s going on, where your heads at?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it Eddie, I just wanna move on from it, ok?” You almost shout at him

“But-“ he starts before you’re interrupting him

“No, I can’t do this, I gotta go!”

“Why are you so angry about this?!” His voice becoming irritated

“You know what Eddie, fuck you!” You shout at him

“Yeah, you’d like to wouldn’t you?” He spits back with that cocky fucking smile you could just slap off of his face

You don’t even know what to say so you turn around and head for the front door but before you reach it eddie is grabbing you by the arm and turning you around almost smashing your body into his

You both look at each other for a few seconds trying to gage the others emotions

Looking up into Eddie’s eyes makes all of the anger in your body melt away, the look in his eyes is something you’ve never seen before, a look you wouldn’t mind seeing more of

“Is that what you want?” He whispers down at you

Instead of saying anything you decide fuck it, as you crash your lips in to his, his body tenses up at first, surprised at your actions but once he realizes what’s happening his body melts into yours, deepening the kiss, and grabbing your waist to push your bodies even closer. You swipe your tongue across his bottom lip and he allows you to enter, tongues meeting in a sloppy but passionate kiss, you let out a small moan telling Eddie everything he needed to know in that moment

He picks you up and wraps your legs around his waist taking you back to his bedroom that you’ve been in so many times, but never like this

He drops you onto the bed and stands back up staring down at you, like you were his prey

Your skirt was rucked up around your waist exposing your almost see through black lace panties, his jaw clenched when he looked over your body. Fuck, he wanted you so bad

He climbed back on to the bed slotting himself between your thighs grabbing them and opening them wider to accommodate him, he stairs at you directly in your eyes and says

“Fuck, you have no idea what you do to me”

Those words make your hips buck up towards his, feeling his hard dick against your already soaked pussy

Making you moan out the most sexiest of moans Eddie has ever heard, and he’s heard a lot

“Yeah? You feel it too baby?” He says with that same cocky smile

You don’t even care anymore about sounding desperate or really about anything in this moment

So you bite your lip looking into his eyes as you moan out an “mmhmm”

He leans down and begins kissing you again, it’s so hot yet sloppy, spit is coming out from the sides of both your mouths but it just adds to turning you on even more

You break the kiss as a line of spit still keeps your lips connected

“Please” you whisper to Eddie

“Please what baby? What do you need me to do?” He whispers back

“I need you to touch my pussy” you say with a burst of confidence

“Fuck” Eddie says to himself “you need me to rub that pretty little clit of yours baby?” He says so fucking sexy you could burst

“I bet your already so wet for me, huh?”

God he’s such a cocky son of a bitch, but you’re loving every second of it

“Yes, Eddie I’m so wet for you, only you”

He lifts his head up stopping his hand movement on your thigh

“Yeah? Only for me? Is that why you said my name? You wanted me to be touching you instead?”

Your cheeks heat up at that question you’re already so far gone to care about lying

“Yes, I thought about you the whole time” you moan out as his finger tips graze over your pussy

“Mmmm baby, fuck, you could’ve just told me you wanted me to fuck you”

“But s’kay, we’re here now and I’m gunna take such good care of you”

part 4

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[as-is-above-so-below]

The Captain - Simon Riley x Sniper!Reader, Wife!Reader

Part 6: Darling

summary: Ghost’s sniper wife (reader) joins Task Force 141 on an op, against his wishes call sign: Freyja warning: implied sexual content, MDNI Note: PART 6 HAS ARRIVED! Thank you for all of your support! A special thank you to @lethalchiralium and @peachesofteal for workshopping with me, per usual, and being my beta! Enjoy and blessed be! (p.s. ghost drinking an orange sodie lol) << Previous | Next >>

Simon could hear his daughter’s screams as he came up the walkway to their front door, duffel slung over his shoulder. He had returned from a month-long deployment an hour ago and only allowed himself enough time to debrief and return his weapons once on base before hopping in his car and heading home.

He entered the house, still in full gear (mask and all), to find his heavily pregnant wife pacing the living room, their crying daughter in her arms. Her eyes and cheeks were red when she turned to the door, sobbing in relief at the sight of him.

“Oh, sweetheart. What’s going on?” he asked, dropping his bag by the door and going to her.

“She has a-a cold.”

“I can see that.” He wiped at the snot and drool on Joanie’s lip with his glove. “Where’s Roach?”

“He went to pick König up. You didn’t see him?”

“No. Must’ve just missed ‘im.” When Price handed out assignments for their most recent deployment, Roach had offered (more like decided) to stay with Freyja for the duration of his absence. With König also deployed, it made sense for him to help her with the baby and housekeeping while Simon was gone. Better than staying on base – alone – for a month. Knowing someone was in the house with his family made him feel better about leaving for such an extended period, especially with his track record. The last time he had left the country, leaving his pregnant spouse behind…

Simon rubbed his daughter’s back, his heartstrings tugging at the thought of her being in pain. “Give ’er here, I’ll take a turn.”

“Si, no, you must be exhausted-”

“I am exhausted, which means I’m in no mood to argue. Go to bed, love, please.”

His pleading didn’t seem to affect her as she went back to doing laps around the couch. “The doctor said there’s nothing we can do. It just has to pass. I’ve tried everything. Chest salve, shower steam, saline – nothing’s working. Every-Every time we put her down or sit down, the screaming just gets worse. Can’t stop…moving, and your son is kicking the shit out of me-”

This was ironic, considering how Joan only kicked when Simon or one of their friends spoke or touched her belly. Now, their son only ever kicked for her.

“Freyja.”

She stopped her rambling and found he had stepped into her path; he firmly held her biceps and dragged his hands up and down. Freyja sniffled as another tear slipped down her cheek. No singular word could describe how she felt (and probably looked). Drained, fatigued, beaten, dog-tired; none quite did the trick.

“You look like shit. You need to get some rest.”

“No, Simon, please just go to…bed.”

Soon as Ghost took Joan and returned to massaging her spine, her wails simmered to quiet whimpers as she cuddled into him. She dropped her head onto his shoulder, little fingers hanging from the collar of his shirt to the top of his vest. Their baby was getting big, her senseless baby talk beginning to lean more toward coherent vocabulary. When Joanie cried a soft “Dada” against his neck, Freyja started to sob harder, the heels of her palms dug into her eyes. 

Shit. “What’s wrong? She stopped screaming bloody murder. That’s a good thing.”

“I’ve been trying to calm her down for hours! You come home, and after five minutes, you’ve fixed it. She hates me! She fucking hates me!”

“Frey, look at me.” He stopped comforting Joan for a moment to tilt his wife’s chin up, forcing her to listen to him. When she did, he took his hand back. “Babies see their mothers as an extension of themselves. She knows your heartbeat and breathing sounds; she gets food from you…”

“Who told you that?”

“…I read about it.”

Freyja softened, tears no longer flowing freely. “You read parenting books?”

“Of course I do. I want to be the best for them and you.” He pulled her into his chest with one arm, his covered lips pressing into her hair. “You are her mother. I could never take your place. You’re her home. But I’ve been gone for a month, and I’ve never been away from her this long. There’s something to be said about missing her dad and wanting some comfort.”

When Simon brushed her tears away, she turned to kiss his palm, then rested her cheek there. Freyja didn’t know how, but her husband sure had a way with words, always knowing how to make her feel better. 

“Better?”

“Mhm,” she hummed and, before she could reach to pull his mask up, Joanie whined in frustration, kicking her legs impatiently, about to start up again. Simon chuckled and let his wife go, his heavy boots thunking against the hard floor as he began what would be a long night of getting his steps in. 

“Good. Now do as Daddy tells you and go to bed. Don’t make me tell you again.”

.

.

.

Coming up on the end of her pregnancy, the ‘waddling’ stage was in full swing. If Freyja thought she was big just before Joan was born, she was almost certainly a whale now, and she was losing energy much faster than before. This time around, though, they were sure to schedule a c-section for the week before her due date. The OB didn’t put up much of an argument with her medical history and Joan’s early arrival.

Her phone pinged again as she rounded the corner toward her husband’s office.

And again.

Joan’s irritable whines became more evident as she closed in on her destination. “Si, I can only move so fast.”

“Oh, thank god.” Ghost detached Joan’s iron grip from his mask while she was distracted. She continued to kick her little legs against him, trying to get away. “She’s antsy. I can’t get her down for shit. She’s sick of me.”

He wheeled his chair around the desk and tugged her missing sock back on (to her protest) until he reached the other side and placed her feet on the floor. “See? Mum’s here. Go see her,” he cooed, her tiny hands gripping his thumbs for support.

“Dad Ghost” as she had lovingly coined Simon in his work attire, was a walking contradiction. An arguably massive man, a masked mystery to majority of the population on base, snapping otherwise cocky and egotistical soldiers back in line. Still, no one dared to laugh as he screamed at them for poor technique or a lackluster performance with a blonde baby on his hip or strapped to his back. It never failed to make her want to giggle, hearing such a soft, gentle tone from the big scary skull plate affixed to his balaclava. 

Freyja was halfway across the room when he stood their daughter between his comically large boots. “She won’t go that far,” she admonished. “If you give her too big of a task, she’s not going to even try-”

As if sensing her mother’s doubt, Joan took a steady step forward, still holding Simon’s hands in deep concentration. Then another, and another –

Until he couldn’t stretch forward anymore, and she let go, hobbling towards Freyja until she stumbled at her feet, letting out a soft baby grunt.

They both stared at each other in silence, eyes wide and mouths agape in shock. Neither spoke for a good minute, until Joanie pulled herself up again by Freyja’s cargo pants, babbling, “Mum mum mum mummm”, gnawing at the thick material and looking up with big, brown eyes.

“Did she just…?”

“I told you, she’s bloody brilliant.” Simon shot up to scoop the baby and place her in his wife’s waiting arms.

“My big, smart girl! I can’t believe it!” She squealed and giggled as Freyja peppered her face in fat, wet kisses and gently shook her. Ghost joined in, playfully nibbling at the rolls on the other side through the black material covering his face. Joanie smacked them both away, screaming with joy. Amongst all the commotion, Price stopped in the doorway on his way to their brief (which they were about to be late for). 

“What’s going on here?” he asked, fists on his hips in faux anger. “I thought we had an understanding! No fun at work without Granddad.”

“We officially have a walker on our hands!”

Price gasped and crossed the room in an instant. “And I missed it?!” He shoved the stack of mission folders at the lieutenant and stole his granddaughter from her mother, hiking her high up on his waist. “You walked without me? I’m offended, little miss, but I’ll settle for a victory lap.”

He plucked his green bucket hat off the top of his head and dropped it onto hers, earning a high-pitched shriek of delight when it covered her face. “Let’s roll, everybody. We’ve got a meeting to get to,” he commanded before marching down the hall. “Oi, lads! She walked!”

A chorus of cheers broke out in the distance, followed by a wall-shaking group chant, “Joanie! Joanie! Joanie!”

Freyja just stood there, pouting, arms crossed atop her belly. “Just once, I’d like to celebrate our baby’s milestones in peace.”

“You know that’s not possible, love.” Ghost chuckled next to her, offering a single pat to her ass as they headed to the briefing. While neither of them would be going, it was their job to know what was going on during their impending absence. The ruckus started to die down when the couple sat, and the others followed suit. Soap placed a mug of peppermint tea in front of her, which she thanked him for, and  Laswell, Gaz, and Soap filed around the table.

“Kӧnig and Roach should be here shortly,” Price said, bouncing Joan on his lap as Ghost passed out manila folders.

Gaz checked his watch with a furrowed brow. “It’s five past. Maybe they forgot?”

“Just give them a few minutes. I’m sure they’ll be here.”

“His office was closed, so he’s definitely in there. I can go grab ‘im. It’s no trouble,” he offered, the metal legs of his chair scraping against the floor as he stood up.

“Be my guest, Sergeant,” Freyja hummed, making eye contact with John as she sipped her tea, hiding her mischievous grin behind the cup. She waited for an appropriate amount of time, about how long it would take to take ten paces up the hall before she held up five fingers. 

“You’re a demon.”

“Five, four, three, two…”

“Verdammt nochmal!” 

There’s a loud bang, eerily similar to the sound of a six-foot-six body slamming into the floor. Boots thunder against the ground until Gaz appears in the doorway again, eyes wide and blushing like a madman.

“Genau deshalb habe ich das Militär verlassen, keiner von euch hat den Anstand, verdammt noch mal anzuklopfen!”

“Didn’t knock, did you.”

“Nope.”

“How bad?”

König stomped into the meeting, red as a tomato as he jerked his long, tangled (read: freshly fucked) hair into a knot at the base of his neck before slipping his hood on. Roach walked in behind him, grinning like an absolute idiot (read: clearly the one doing the fucking), albeit a bit flush, and his clothes untucked and wrinkled as he plopped beside John. 

“At least I didn’t get knifed this time.”

“Der Tag ist noch jung, Unteroffizier.”

“I don’t know what that means, but it sounded like a threat.”

“It was,” Freyja sang, her body shaking as she attempted to withhold laughter.

By the time Price had finished divulging the details of the op scheduled for the end of the month (which was also around the time of her c-section, which left Freyja and those deploying disappointed), Joanie had escaped his hold to crawl across the table and landed in her mother’s lap. She sat back against Frey’s round belly, happily gnawing on a teething ring while the captain combed her fingers through her soft, blonde curls. 

John cleared his throat and leaned back, tipping the chair on its back legs. “So…In a shocking turn of events, Roach is the top–”

“WHAT DID YOU SAY, CAPTAIN?!” Soap screeched after choking on his coffee, leaving a stain on his shirt as it dripped from his nose.

“Oh, mein Gott…” 

“I don’t know. What did I say, Sergeant?”

Across the table, Roach held his lips between his teeth as he wheezed, quickly signing, “Only for my king.”

“PLEASE PLÖTZE! Stop talking!” König, finally deciding he’d had enough, shot up from his seat and practically sprinted out of the room, almost bonking his head on the door frame on his way out. A moment later, he stormed back in and snagged his forgotten file awaiting him in Roach’s outstretched hand before turning back out.

Biting his lip, Soap muttered, “Interesting…” to himself, eyeing the Austrian’s retreating form before flicking back over to Roach. The Brit was already looking at him, probably having heard him being sat next to him. He winked with a devilish smirk, and practically purred, “S’alright, happens tae th' best o' us.”

.

.

.

A few days shy of their next mission, and the birth of the newest Riley, the gang gathered around their living room for one last game night before Roach, König, Soap, and John departed for another mission. Roach and König were less than pleased to be missing the birth of their godson, but it couldn’t be helped.

Kyle placed a red eight down on the stack of cards, ending his turn. “C’mon, mate, what’s the wildest thing you’ve done on a mission?” he prodded, raising a brow in Simon’s direction. “You know all our stories. It’s only fair.”

The two shared a knowing look, and Freyja giggled once before Kyle interrupted, “Besides that, you heathens.”

Simon pressed against the kitchen chair he had dragged in for himself, seriously considering what he would consider the most outlandish activity he had partaken in outside of combat. Particularly, that didn’t involve screwing his wife in places they shouldn’t, like public places, sniper lookouts, cars, or supply closets…

Before he could drift too far, he caught the saucy side-eye his wife was throwing him from her deep armchair.

“No.”

Soap peeked up from his hand with a quirked brow. “Does Ghostie have an embarrassing secret? Now we have to know!”

“It’s not a secret, and I’m not embarrassed by it just because I don’t flaunt it around,” he said, shot back the rest of his whiskey, and replaced his mask. Simon didn’t always wear it with their friends; he just so happened to feel inclined to it that night. There was no rhyme or reason as to when he needed the comfort; the urge just came and went as it pleased. 

He tried his best to sound completely disinterested, hoping the discussion would blow over as he threw down his card. “Blue.”

Unfortunately, his plan did not work, and all interest in their game of Uno was lost. Kyle threw his hand down on the table, completely giddy. “WHAT IS IT?! TELL US!”

Simon groaned, throwing his cards at his wife, who simply laughed. “See, look what you did.” He sighed and begrudgingly unhooked his mask from behind his ears, tossing that at her too. After a beat, he let his tongue loll out, revealing a silver ball.

Several (if not all) of their jaws dropped, save for Freyja’s, who was utterly thrilled that this was happening.

Johnny was the first to speak. “Is…that…” he stuttered, staring unabashedly in disbelief. 

He snapped his mouth shut again once everyone had had a decent look. “Alright, can we move on please–”

The Scot pounced across the space, clearing the coffee table as he knocked Simon out of his chair, taking them both down into a heap on the floor. They wrestled as he tried to dig his fingers into Ghost’s mouth and pry it open again. “LEMME SEE!”

“JOHNNY!” Simon roared, bucking and thrashing his hips in attempt to get the man off, but he quickly scooted up until he sat firmly on his chest, knees pinning his shoulders as he yanked the piercing back out.

“Awe, so that’s why you’re always fuckin’ like horny teenagers! Oh, ah bet that feels good on your cu-”

“SHUT UP, SOAP!” “THAT’LL DO!” 

Freyja whipped her slipper at Johnny’s head, which he swiftly dodged. Meanwhile, Gaz was face down on the floor, having a fit and struggling to breathe. Price looked like he would actually rather die than endure another moment of the scene unfolding at his feet. Kӧnig was carefully weaving between people and furniture to remove Soap before he got hurt, and Roach stayed in his spot, mouth open in silent laughter.

Thank God Joanie was a heavy sleeper.

“Are you gonnae sit there ‘n tell meh that a’m wrong? A husband should always eat arse!”

“JOHNNY, OH MY FUCKING GOD!”

Kyle finally caught his breath and cut back in, “But does it WORK?!”

Everybody froze, including Kӧnig, whose hands looped under Johnny’s armpits, about to extract him. From underneath him, Simon glared up at his wife (who started this whole fucking mess). “Freyja–”

But Freyja, being the brat she is and loving the chaos, “…It works.”

Simon covered his face with both of his now freed hands, so utterly sick of her shit as the sergeant shook his shoulders, he and Gaz both screaming like madmen. Kӧnig still hovered over them, ready to remove Johnny if Simon called for it, his red hair up in a neat top knot at the crown of his head. A few strands hung loosely by his ears and at the peak of his forehead, framing his pale skin.

“AAAAAYYYYYY, SO YOU DO GIVE GOOD HEAD!”

He removed his shield at that, looking up at Johnny with a confused expression. “Who said I don’t give good head?”

Price flinched with a crinkled nose and grabbed his hat from the back of the couch. “That’s my cue.”

“Scary guys either have monster cock or scary good head,” Kyle stated as if it were pure fact.

“But he has both.”

“I can’t fucking take this.” Simon finally shoved at Johnny and the Austrian lifted him with ease, standing the Scot back on his feet.

Soap dusted off his pants. “Damn, you’ll have’ta get one’a those, Köni,” he teased and turned to face the giant, looking up at him with a boyish grin. 

König’s skin, ever the shy one, immediately painted itself a rosy hue, unable to be hidden by any hood or mask. Even Roach was taken by his brashness and turned a little pink himself, choosing to sip his drink. König was, unfortunately, frozen in place, wide eyes staring down at Johnny’s proud face.

Three seconds pass.

Then two more.

Then three again.

“OH MY GOD, THAT WAS THEM?! The threesome you told me about a few weeks ago, was them?”

With nowhere else to go, König collapsed onto the couch and pulled the neck of his sweater over his face. “Verdammter Himmel, Johnny…” If he could crawl into a hole and die, he would.

“What can ah say? M’services are world-class.”

“Can confirm,” Roach added, having put his glass down so he could use both hands to talk.

Johnny raised a brow and dragged his eyes from Roach’s shoes, slowly up his shins, then his thighs and chest before settling on the challenging smirk on his freckled face. “‘S that so?” he asked, stepping into the space between Roach’s knees and the table.

Roach simply nodded, looking up at his boyfriend through hooded lashes, resembling a lovesick puppy with shocking accuracy. He knew exactly what he was doing, too, the tip of his tongue poking out between his teeth. Roach was a…talented flirt, to say the least.

His glass was carefully removed from his hand and placed on a coaster. Without a second thought, Soap wrapped his fingers around Roach’s wrist, dragged it behind his neck, and tossed the man over his shoulder. Gaz gaped, completely dumbfounded into silence – flabbergasted, if you will. He paused in the entryway, looking over his opposite shoulder.

“You comin’, Kö?”

König, still tucked away in the corner of the couch, peeked out from the cocoon he had created with his sweater. Even his forehead was tinged red, still. He openly stared for a bit before mustering up enough courage to rise again, and in an impossibly meek voice for such a large man, replied, “...Yes, sir,” and loosely tangled their fingers together.

Kyle threw his hands up then dropped them onto his head, dragging his cap back a bit. “WHAT IS GOING ON?!”

Freyja offered a sympathetic pat, her bottom lip jutted out. Poor Simon, who had returned to his seat, covered his mouth with one palm as he tried to contain his chuckles. He pulled his mask back on after retrieving it from the floor.

“Don’t worry, Gaz,” she said and poked his cheek. “We’ll find you a nice girl.”

“I GET AROUND FINE!” He swatted her hand away, glowering at her. “You’re all just a bunch of slags!”

He jumped up, abandoning his beer and putting his hat back in place. “Where’s my niece? I need to restore my innocence,” he grumbled, trudging upstairs.

“Simon, did he just call us sluts?”

“Yes, darling.”

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[luna-writes-stuff]

The type my favourite Arcane characters would fall for:

With Viktor, Jayce, Mel, Vi, Caitlin, Ekko, Jinx, Silco, and Vander

———————————————————————

Viktor:

Viktor is very much a person who prefers solitude over social interactions. He focuses on his job more than anything, and can not quite find the time nor energy to do anything after that. Though he loves to find solace in lonesome rooms, he needs a little sunlight occasionally; metaphorically and literally. Someone who drops in once every two hours to get him a drink, a note or simply sit next to him to distract him from his project momentarily. You could sit on an empty chair at his side, observing his work from a safe distance, careful to not shove your nose in there. Tiny questions would escape you, such as “what is that?” Or “why are you using that?”, and he would be delighted to answer them. Sometimes, he’d pull off his goggles to look at you shortly, a tiny smile gracing his face, before he returns to his work. You’d get along with Jayce quite easily - maybe too easy, but it’s all in good manners. Viktor tries to make time for you and take short breaks, but more often than not, he gets so caught up, he cannot afford the distraction. Jayce is more than happy to entertain you for the time being; he rather enjoys your presence as well.

——

Jayce:

Jayce oozes charisma. Now usually, fire and fire don’t go well, but match his energy, and this is man is smitten. Absolutely at loss for words. Desperately in love, if you will. You tease him; the words disappear on his tongue. Now come the heart-eyes. You’d walk down the halls, and you could simply feel his eyes on you. He’d halt any conversation he held and stare at you in silence. Respectfully. Would you work in the same lab as him, this man cannot focus to save his life. Your jokes, your smile, your witty remarks….He’s gone. The worst is when you radiate serotonin. A job gone right, a good song, a funny joke? Anything that makes you smile, makes his heart skip a step. You know that hollow feeling in your stomach, but the good one? That’s him. He’s quick to pick up on little things you do once you get excited: Clap your hands, squeal, jump up and down, squeezing your hands in fists? He sees it. And there is that pit again.

——

Mel:

Listen, this woman is so busy and booked, she tends to miss out on the little things. She needs someone who will take little times a day where they will take a short walk, or do some painting together. Anything to get her mind off of work or business for a short second. A spontaneous decision often takes her aback, as she likes to plan things out, but once she trusts you, it’s all in, baby. During council meetings, you’ll sit on the side, silently calming her down when things get hectic or chaotic. You help her plan things out, but leave room for the fun things. She treasures this so much, she cannot even begin to explain it to you. Small touches on your arm or hand constantly to remind her you’re still there. Ironically enough, it keeps her from overworking. You’re simply so soothing to her.

——

Caitlin:

Bamf. Do I need to elaborate? Caitlin is the type of person to see the good in everyone, no matter how tiny it will be. ‘How bad can they be?’ is a regular question from her. She can be attracted to anyone, really. But if there was one type to capture her heart, it’s the bamf. The person who says things as they are, does as they please, witty remarks, teasing winks etc. The impression you leave on her is large, and she is in awe immediately. Even if she claims to not be amused. She is. Her heart is almost beating out of her chest. Someone get her some help, please. If you start flirting with her, this poor woman does not know what to do. Her cheeks turn red, her ears heat up, she freezes on the spot. But she loves it so much, though she would never admit it. And it’s great to get her flustered.

——

Vi:

Sure, Vi would love a badass and independent partner. But when that partner has a soft spot for children? Always sees the good in everything? Smiles when someone says hi? Don’t get me started. The way your voice changes when you speak to someone in a friendly manner: gone. Bye-bye, Vi. She is a bit rough around the edges, and can come of as cold at times. You contradict that in the best ways possible. Your kind waves to everyone you pass, the ‘how are you?’ when trying to pay for something, your loving hugs…All the things she’d 100% fall for. No question about it. She insists on holding your hand at all times. She says it is because you like it, but let’s be honest. She is not planning on letting you go and likes to let everyone know, you are indeed taken. 10/10 the type to make-out in public when someone takes your friendliness a bit too extreme. Her hand tugging on your waist, the glare shot towards the one flirting with you? Oof.

——

Jinx:

Jinx has a teasing tone, as everyone might know. Though she could use someone to work against that, she would not necessarily find herself attracted to it. If you decide to throw a confetti bomb her way though? You just got yourself a new girlfriend. She is the type to cause mayhem anywhere and everywhere. If she finds someone to do that with, her heart is taken. There are times her emotions tend to get the best of her. You’ll have to calm her down gradually before she does anything stupid. Offer a listening ear, a supportive arm, and she’ll eventually calm down. She loves to do stupid things with you, but she needs breaks. Sit with her and help her tinker with new ideas. Your voice can truly be enough to simply soothe her.

——

Ekko:

Ekko has a soft spot for nerds, no one can convince me otherwise. And I’m not talking technology nerd. I’m talking info-dumping nerd. Someone who knows a little bit about everything. With anything he encounters, you are able to tell a fun story behind that. “Is that a raven?” “Actually, it’s a crow. Did you know crows actually remember people and voices and can even hold a grudge against you? Even worse, crows gossip. What? They do.” Man has fallen head over heels. Your little ranting and rambling makes him feel all giddy inside. He actually used to hate it, but as he grew to realize it was love, he began to accept it. Now, the feeling is welcomed. He can listen to you talk for ages, as cheesy as it might sound. And he remembers everything you tell him. Sometimes he wishes he didn’t, so you could tell him again. You know you ramble, and you have often been told to shut up. So, when you notice you’re ranting again, you always stop suddenly, offering a meek ‘sorry’. He will not hesitate to shake his head wildly, grabbing your hands in reassurance, claiming he wants to hear more. And it’s not to make you feel better, he genuinely enjoys your little talks. It’s one of the things that makes you so special to him. He treasures every single word spoken to him.

——

Silco:

Now, Silco is not an easy one to fall. Not at all. Even with you, it might not have been love at first sight. You had to grow on him. But your mind, and your strategies? They were phenomenal since day one. And though he simply shrugged at it at first, he found himself being attracted to you for that exact reason. You had a solution to every problem, and you had a way of thinking that he simply adored. And from there, he started noticing other things about you. Had your eyes always held that sparkle in them? Were your hands always that delicate? Had your voice always sounded that soothing? It wasn’t until you once laid a hand on his shoulder to shake him out of dreamland, that he realized that he had indeed fallen. Because that touch seemed to linger on his shoulder even as you walked back to your seat at the table. And your eyes silently asking him if he was okay, suddenly looked so different. And then it all clicks. From that day on, his behavior towards you completely changes. Now he wants you in the room with him. Now he wants your opinion on everything. Now you have to follow him wherever he goes. He needs you closer to him now than ever before.

——

Vander:

Listen. Dad friend meets mom friend. It’s meant to be, what else can I say? Your warm-hearted personality, the way you kneel down when talking to children, your reasonable words always interrupting fights. That’s just a short list of things he adores about you. Being the voice of reason, but with that compassionate tone is something he greatly admires. Perhaps more than people usually would. But of course, carrying the day on your shoulder and trying to remain kind to others can take quite a toll on a person. At night, when you’re sure others will no longer come look for you, you tire yourself with thoughts of the day. He often comes to visit you around this time so you will not be alone. You share your worries with each other, but also try to encourage each other to keep it up. Those talks are something so precious and intimate to him. And he keeps on doing these even after being your partner through the years.

[tkpuke]

Best Mistake

Pairing - Alastor x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4,015

In which you’re a new member in the Hazbin Hotel trying to redeem yourself. Everyone has made you feel welcomed, you’ve warmed up to everyone, everyone except one. It is no secret that you do not trust him, and Alastor seems to take matters into his own hands and change that.

This is a tickle fic. Do not read if that’s not your thing.

It has only been a month, but you vividly remember how your first day went when entering the doors of Hazbin Hotel. Charlie immediately running up to you with such a tight suffocating hug, asking but almost demanding Angel he takes your bags into your room as she expresses her delight of having you stay.

Staying wasn’t your first option. The idea of a sinner redeeming themself enough to see the pearly white gates of Heaven greet them was almost laughable to you. When you first entered Hell, you thought that you finally reached the end. Made yourself at home and rot yourself away almost like how you did on earth.

One stroll in town is when you saw a commercial advertising Hazbin Hotel. You watched Charlie eagerly tell the purpose of the Hotel as she gives the viewers a thirty second tour, almost losing her breath as she tries to fit in as much information as possible before her timed commercial ends. You weren’t alone watching it, people gathering near you as they whisper to the person next to them their opinions. The majority of the reaction was chuckles here and doubts there. You, admittedly, also had your doubts.

Although, did you really believe you belonged down here? That this was your final ending?

Which brings you back to remembering your first day. Charlie had an iron grip on your hand from her excitement, pulling you to every room in the hotel and showing off its purposes and making sure to not leave any details out. Once an hour went by and she finally finished, she made you meet the staff and other guests individually.

You were a little intimidated by Vaggie, but could tell she will be very sweet once she warms up to you. Angel seemed like the guy that could make you crack out of your shy shell by spending five minutes with him. Husk didn’t say much, but you could tell he likes being here rather than anywhere else. Just don’t call him out on that. Niffty left you guessing if she is twelve or somewhere in her mid 20s, would not be surprised if older than that. Oh and also, her swiftness and pleasure for pain and torturing bugs kept you awake on your first few nights. Sir Pentious looks naturally suspicious, but he was actually very nice when greeting and you asked him a little about his egg minions.

“Aaaannd the last person I want to introduce you to is…!” Charlie sing song, bringing you down the halls in search for her last friend she has yet for you to meet. She opens a door, assuming to yourself that’s their room as she peeks her head in a little. You waited behind her, rubbing your neck a little as sudden goosebumps were felt. Charlie turned around after not having much luck finding him in there, but quickly gasped when she looked behind you.

“Alastor! There you are!”

You froze in place for a few seconds as the name fell upon your ears. Alastor. Alastor. You inhaled deeply, slowly turning around and almost having to crane your neck to make visible of the face smiling down at you, arms behind his back and small radio statics being played. Every hair on your body stood up, forgetting to blink when you two locked eyes for a good solid minute.

Count yourself as scared shitless.

You came back to reality, stepping back to keep a good distance between you two but went for a small tumble. “Woah, I got you!” Charlie giggled, catching you before you could fall. Unaware of the now fear written all over your body, she continues on by gesturing her hand towards the seven foot demon.

“Y/N, this is Alastor. Alastor, this is Y/N. Our new guest!”

He sticks his hand out towards you for a handshake, but all you could do was stare at his red claws that looks like he’s been sharpening them every five minutes. Alastor took your hand, knowing he would be standing there all day if he let you willingly shake it.

“Don’t leave me hanging, dear! It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Y/N.” You knew awkward silences went by after that, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his hand interlacing with yours. You just want to get the hell out of here and run far, far away from this hotel and never look back. You knew there would be regrets when you gave this hotel a chance.

Okay, this was actually your first time meeting Alastor, but his stories were no stranger to you. Recalling back when hearing those horrifying, blood-curdling screams being broadcasted on the radio for all to hear as if it was a fair warning, people begin telling you the man responsible behind all of it. You wished later on you’d never asked, The thought of The Radio Demon selecting you as his next victim crawling into your dreams which turned to nightmares. Of course, you know that chance is slim, but is never zero. Down in Hell, you just don’t know what the fuck kind of trouble you’ll find yourself in.

Now having a face to the name, he completely became a new wave of terrifying to you. The red claws you observed earlier sent a shiver down your spine. Those pointy yellow teeth that you swear on Lucifer he’s put to good use. Bonus points for his tall, lanky figure which practically makes him towering over you so easily.

What you did not expect, though, was his strange resemblance to a deer. The antlers and, also, are those ears? Funnily enough, it kind of made him less scary. Almost. Not really.

Ever since your first interaction with him, you weren’t dumb understanding that he right off the bat knows your lack in trust and feeling unsafe around him. You would often walk down the halls being paranoid that eyes were watching you intently, eyes belonging to Alastor but had no further proof it really was him.

At certain times, you were convinced the demon was toying with how you felt by saying things to you that definitely came off creepy, but could never accuse him of doing it purposefully when he smiles like there’s no tomorrow. He always looks at you harmlessly, but you’d be a fool to take that as a sign to let your guard down. Every conversation he picks up with you ends short on your end, pretending you have somewhere else to be.

That somewhere being away from him.

Everyone knew the relationship you stand with him. Some didn’t blame you, especially Vaggie. Others, like Charlie, tried her best to ease your worries.

“Alastor is a great friend, Y/N! Just give him a chance.” She would say to you on most days, but it was gonna take more than believing someone’s word for you.

So, bless her, Charlie decided to come up with a trust activity exercise.

“Charlie, I appreciate you trying but I don’t see how this will make a difference…” You say as she rounds everybody up, some sitting and some standing. Charlie waves a dismissive hand. “Not with that attitude it won’t!” Her confidence is quite admirable, something in which you lack greatly.

She went over the jist of the activity, it being pretty simple. Everyone gets a turn to stand on a table and fall backwards, trusting everyone behind them that they will catch you with no hesitation. It seems easy, but once you are up there doubts will for sure start flooding your mind.

It’s called trust fall. A game you remembered playing when you were in middle school, to test your friends on their trust. However, to put this test on a seven foot demon with a horrifying reputation that all of Hell is aware of? Yeah, you wish you could count yourself out of this one.

One by one, everyone went up on top of the table and fell into the arms of those whose duty was to catch them. Some fell as soon as they climbed on top without letting second thoughts get a chance to swoop in their mind, while others took a little bit of reassurance.

Once it was your turn, you did one last pleading look towards Charlie, but she gave you two thumbs up and gestured for you to go. Sighing, you made your way up and looked down at everyone having their arms up and ready. Your eyes looked over to the middle, there Alastor standing nice and tall with his signature grin. A grin you want to see drop at least once.

As you turned your back, you didn’t hear everyone scoot back and have Alastor the only one standing near the table, in range of catching you easily. You took a couple of seconds to yourself to ease your breathing, because you are embarrassingly afraid of heights, but then you let yourself fall.

Arms slide past under yours, fingers resting on your sides as your back hit against a chest. The first thing that clouded your mind was how it felt like only one person catch you, but the next thing on your mind was how you suddenly felt fingers dig a little in your sides, pulling a small squeal from you as you quickly turn around to view the culprit.

Alastor stared down at you, feigning cluelessness. He clapped his hands together, ignoring your confused yet questionable stare at him. “Now! That wasn’t so hard was it, darling?” Vaggie nodded slightly in agreement, while Charlie ran over and gave you a big hug and excitedly expressing how proud she was of you.

Yet, you are still stuck on the question what just happened right after you fell. Every time you look over at him, he just smiles your way innocently, making you second guess yourself on what you truly felt.

You weren’t crazy. You knew exactly what he did, and he damn well knows it too, but it still feels so unlikely to happen.

Ever since the trust activity happened, which has now been a full week, Alastor seems to be playing a one sided game with you. A game that leaves you frustrated yet confused on what he’s gaining from it.

You’ll find yourself reaching for an item placed high on a shelf. Alastor will come strolling along, offering to give you a helping hand, and in the midst of doing so you’ll feel a ticklish breeze near your ribs. Now, the breeze would feel so similarly like fingers dancing along your ribs, their intent to send a ticklish wave throughout your body. Hence you turning with a glare, but Alastor would simply ignore the face you’d be making and hand you the item you’ve been trying to reach.

Another time you felt the same breeze is when you ultimately made a bad decision thinking you could fit into a hoodie that definitely wasn’t your size. You saw it displayed in a store when you decided to take a walk downtown, immediately calling your name. It was so cute in your eyes, despite realizing it wasn’t your true size you usually get clothes in, you wanted to give it a try.

Now, you noticed it was a grand mistake and a waste of money when the tightness it held around your body was starting to get unbearable. What you weren’t expecting, though, was how it didn’t budge any further when you rolled it up and couldn’t get it over your head, blocking your eyes.

You didn’t know whether to feel blessed or cursed that Alastor was walking down the halls during that time. A blessing, because he saw your poor state and undoubtedly offered to help. A curse, because you felt that damn ticklish breeze along your ribs in the midst of him helping you out, a yelp of surprise leaving your lips.

“There we are!” He exclaimed heartily, tossing the hoodie to the side and watching you fix your ruffled up hair but also eyeing him skeptically. “What was that?” You asked, but it almost sounded like an accusation because you damn well knew what caused it.

“What was what, dear?” He beamed, raising an eyebrow with arms crossed behind. You stared for a couple of seconds, not knowing whether to sound like a lunatic explaining what’s been happening for the last couple of days whenever he’s around, or to let it slide once again. Unfortunately, you were already feeling exhausted and were in the middle of heading to bed, so you waved a dismissive hand.

“Nothing, nothing.”

It kept you on your toes. Always checking your surroundings when walking around outside of your room, it got Angel questioning to Vaggie if someone’s out to get you by how paranoid you look.

You knew how stupid you looked to others, because you haven’t talked about any of what’s happening to you with any of them. You thought they would either laugh and say your imagining things, which you weren’t guilty of also thinking the same, or they would confront the overlord himself. If anything, you were at your wits end. You were considering doing the latter yourself, because it really has you on edge.

And so, you did.

One thing that you like to spend your free time on is painting. Painting anything that’s in front of you or whatever idea you had in mind that day. It could also depend on your mood, and for this particular Tuesday afternoon you felt quite peaceful. Your hands were almost as dirty as your palette, sticking your tongue out a bit whenever you were focused and gently dragging the paintbrush across the paper.

Your peace filled mind abruptly vanished when ears picked up on a familiar humming and distant blue jazz playing on a radio. It didn’t take long for you to put the hum to a name, looking over your shoulder but he was already behind you.

You gasped, his sudden appearance startling you. Standing up a bit too fast caused your easel to tip slightly and send your paper flying down, but luckily Alastor caught it and brought it up high to fully view the painting in front of him.

“You never told me you paint, dearie! I’m certain this will turn out marvelous once you’re finished.” His eyes look up for a response, but you’re standing like it’s a predator vs prey fight. Nervousness written all over you, hands out to defend yourself.

“Don’t you dare.” You say, making him tilt his head and squint his eyes a little. “Don’t I dare what?” His smile tightens, but you swore up and down its a smirk laced with nothing but mischief behind it. He’s being a little shit acting oblivious, and he damn well knows it.

“You know what!” You raised your voice a little, trying to sound intimidating but if he keeps staring down at you like he’s about to pounce, you might shrink in fear. Alastor takes a step forward, and you take a step back.

“Oohh sweetheart, whatever do you mean?” He’s got you backed into a wall, which staggers your confidence. Nonetheless, you gulped away any indication you’re feeling quite rather terrified, as anyone else would, and stand a little taller. “Don’t act dumb, Alastor.” The radio demon hummed as if he was collecting any memory of what could possibly trouble you, which made your eye twitch.

“Ah! Do you mean this?” Bringing his hands forward, Alastor danced his fingers alongside your ribs, instantly having the same vibe as the breeze you’ve been feeling. You barely had any chance to react and defend yourself, immediately grabbing his wrists as tightly as you can to tear them away. It did absolutely nothing, by the way.

Being tickled by an overlord was not on your list of things that could happen down at your time in hell. If anyone were to tickle you at the hotel, Alastor wouldn’t even be one of your top three guesses. Him sending those ticklish breezes your way, knowing how easily it got you to squeal and feel embarrassed. Knowing how it kept you on your toes around him, but still not so sure of yourself if it really was him responsible for it. Knowing how easily it can get under your skin.

He tsked at your hands gripping onto his wrists, his tendrils making an appearance and snatching them away, making your entire torso fully vulnerable. However, he did not continue on with his attack and instead watched you struggle a little, chuckling under his breath.

“Why are yohou doing this?” You say, a nervous giggle tittering out because anyone would be a fool to think his onslaught ends there. Alastor traces his fingers alongside your neck up till it reaches under your chin, which tickles like hell.

“You’ve been far too tensed recently, and there should be none of that.” A calm tone in his voice, acting like he’s not about to bring you into a breathless mess. “And you think what you’ve been doing to me over the last couple of days was making me less tense?” You shot a glare, but it bounced right off of him.

Shrugging his shoulders, Alastor tiptoed his fingers on your tricep all the way down to right on the soft spot of your underarms, causing you to violently jolt. “I thought my little game was helping, with all your delightful short squeals you’ve been giving me. hmm, what does it sound like again?”

His fingers, more like claws, resting on your underarms started scratching, not disappointing him when you squealed just like he predicted. Alastor pressed his fingers in a little deeper, searching for a more boisterous laugh. Your true real laugh that you’ve been choking back lately because of how badly it made you feel insecure.

You did not fail him with his goal. You laughed a little harder and tugged on the restraints on your wrists a little harder, but wherever you move, his hands follow. “I must say Y/N, your laugh is like music to my ears. Shall we have everyone else listen?” He sways his radio stick closer to you, but you shake your head desperately.

“Nohoho! Plehehease!” It was a little humiliating, but you were already getting close to your limit. On earth, friends and family recognized how you were more ticklish than the average person. You were a regular victim to tickle fights with your close loved ones, always yelling truce within five minutes. In this situation, you were a little hesitant that begging would translate to him ‘continue’.

Yet, luck was on your side since Alastor took notice you were already having slight tears mirth your eyes. Regardless, he didn’t plan on doing this for very long from the get-go. The whole thing of him brushing his hands against your sides during the trust fall was a honest mistake, but when Alastor picks up on weaknesses that people have, he puts a pin on it and takes advantage of it later down the road for his own good use. Tickling was something Alastor learned was a common weakness for most people, but the other half people rather enjoyed the feeling and the bond it creates.

For you, he already found out it was the second preference. You will never in a million years admit to it, but this entire thing seemed kind of playful to you. The kind of playful you haven’t experienced in so long. Haven’t laughed genuine in so long, and have all your ticklish spots exploited when the reason behind it is for all in good fun. And oh, to be a teasy asshole. He’s doing great in that field.

“Such a sensitive being you are. Have you always known you were this ticklish?” To be honest, you kind of wished he would stop talking. You can’t explain it, but it made everything tickle ten times worse. He’s aware. Of course he is.

You felt his hands travel to every spot that can be ticklish, quickly catching on he was in search for that one spot that can make you go ballistics. “Alastor, wahahait..” you stopped struggling awhile ago, realizing it brought you no use. He yet again ignored your giggly pleas, fueling him to keep going. The more his hands traveled down almost near your hips, the more you start to get nervous and newfound energy kicking in to pull your body away from him.

He catches on.

His next movement happened so fast, you swear it all went down in a blink. The minute he latched onto your hips, you let out a snort, cheeks forming a tint of pink. The tendrils finally release your wrists, at the same time Alastor switched up the pace and drilled his thumbs in a motioning circle. Your legs didn’t stand a chance to support you up, immediately crashing down but he did not follow.

You laid there for a moment, greedily sucking in sweet air to the point you almost thought you saw Heaven itself. When you felt like you collected yourself, you slowly sat up and moved a couple of strands away from your face to view Alastor, looming over you with his widest grin yet in his books. “Bad spot?” He tilts his head down at you, and in response you huff and roll your eyes. He lends you his hand, looking at it hesitantly before taking it. “Come now, let’s get you on your feet.”

You brushed yourself off, finding your painting propped up neatly back on the easel. Alastor follows your eyes, coming to stand next to you. “If you add a pop of red into the sunset you’re creating, I’d say it would almost look like I’m viewing out from a window. What do you say?” Raising an eyebrow, you look up at him. “Do you know how to paint?”

Alastor beams. “Not at all.”

You chuckle at that, picking up the palette and switching to a new freshly blank paper. Picking up a second paintbrush, you handed it over to the demon. “Here, I’ll teach you.”

Teaching wasn’t your strong suit, or either Alastor was seriously terrible at painting. Either way, you guys shared a couple of laughs, listened to any stories he got reminded of along the way, gladly listening. The finished product was suppose to be anything his heart desires to paint of, and after examining it for a few seconds you felt the need to ask what the hell you were looking at. To him, it’s him and his mother enjoying a warm meal of jambalaya while sitting on their front porch. To you, it’s just a big blob of bright colors, but the more you squint the more you start to see his vision and let out a small smile.

The guilt of judging him way too harshly off the bat started to set in. You tried not to blame yourself too much, because if anyone heard the tales and myths you’ve been hearing about The Radio Demon, anyone would jump at the sight of him. Although, there’s one thing you always believed in people: Second Chances.

If everyone at the hotel did not see a problem with not only having him stay, but having him help out a tremendous amount to have Hazbin live up to its full potential, then that must mean they all put a lot of trust in the guy. Charlie specifically, and although people might say she’s naive, she’s not dumb. If putting full trust in Alastor was a mistake, she would’ve taken care of that a long time ago.

However, trust is a sensitive topic for you. Alastor has a long way of achieving that, but for now the time you’re spending with him is something you’ll smile to yourself later tonight.

Maybe The Hazbin Hotel has already started to redeem some qualities of yourself you thought you would never get to see.

[urdreamydoodles]

MCU Characters x Fem!Reader (Part.1)

They react to your outfit for your date with them (Part.1)

As you step out for a much-anticipated date night, your partner reacts with their unique blend of admiration and protectiveness, captivated by your stunning appearance.

Characters: Tony Stark, Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Stephen Strange, Clint Barton, Peter Parker, Thor, Loki & T'Challa

Tony Stark (Iron Man)

- Tony's eyes widen the moment you step into the room, his witty remark momentarily caught in his throat. For once, he's speechless. It's a rare sight to see him without his usual smirk, and you can't help but grin at his reaction. "Wow... just wow," he finally manages, his gaze scanning you from head to toe. He's used to being the one to impress, but tonight, you're stealing all the attention, and he loves every second of it.

- As you twirl in front of him, the soft fabric of your dress catching the light, Tony steps closer, adjusting the cufflinks on his suit as if trying to match your perfection. "You know, I always knew you were out of my league," he quips, though there's a sincere awe behind his words. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close enough that you can feel the warmth of his body through the tailored suit.

- "How am I supposed to focus on dinner when I have this sitting across from me?" he teases, his voice lowering to that playful, flirty tone that makes your heart skip. His fingers trace lightly along your back, the intimate touch sending a shiver down your spine. "Maybe we should skip the reservation altogether," Tony suggests with a grin that tells you he's only half-joking.

- Despite his playful nature, there's a tenderness in the way he looks at you, his usual bravado replaced by something softer. Tony Stark, the genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist, is totally smitten. "Let’s make this night one for the books, shall we?" he says, offering his arm with a rare sincerity that makes you feel like the only person in his universe.

Bucky Barnes (The Winter Soldier)

- Bucky’s not the type to show his emotions easily, but the way his jaw tightens when he sees you walk into the room speaks volumes. His blue eyes darken, tracking every movement as if he’s committing the sight of you to memory. "You look..." His voice trails off, and for a moment, he just stares, like he’s trying to find the right words but can’t. When he finally speaks, it’s almost shy. "...Incredible."

- He shifts awkwardly in his spot, his metal arm twitching slightly, a nervous habit he’s never quite shaken. Despite his quiet demeanor, there’s something fierce in the way he looks at you, like he’s still in disbelief that someone like you could be with someone like him. "I should’ve worn something nicer," he mutters, glancing down at his black jacket. You quickly reassure him with a smile, and he exhales, the tension in his shoulders easing just a bit.

- As the two of you prepare to leave, Bucky steps closer, his hand hesitantly brushing your arm before resting on your waist. His touch is gentle, but you can feel the strength behind it, the contrast between his flesh hand and the cold metal one. He leans in, his voice soft, "You make it real hard to focus on anything but you."

- He may not be as smooth with words as some, but the way Bucky looks at you says everything he struggles to express. You catch the small, rare smile tugging at the corners of his lips—one that’s just for you. He holds the door open, his protective instinct kicking in even though this is supposed to be a simple night out. But you know, with Bucky, every moment feels like it's filled with unspoken emotions, deep and unbreakable.

Steve Rogers (Captain America)

- Steve’s eyes light up the second you enter the room, his usual composed, all-American charm faltering just a little as he takes in your appearance. "Wow," he breathes, his voice soft but filled with admiration. He steps toward you, ever the gentleman, offering a hand to help you down the last few steps, even though you don’t really need it. "You look stunning," he says, his smile warm and genuine, the kind that makes your heart flutter every time.

- There’s an innocence to the way Steve reacts—like he’s seeing something truly beautiful for the first time, even though you’ve been together for a while. He straightens his jacket, a small flush creeping up his neck as if he’s the one trying to impress you, not the other way around. "I feel like I should’ve dressed up more," he jokes lightly, though his eyes don’t leave yours for a second.

- As he wraps an arm around your waist, you can feel the strength in his hold, reassuring and gentle all at once. Steve leans down to place a soft kiss on your temple, his breath warm against your skin. "I’m the luckiest guy in the world," he murmurs, his voice sincere in a way that only Steve Rogers can manage. He never takes you for granted—not for a second.

- Throughout the night, Steve can’t seem to stop glancing at you, as though he still can’t believe he gets to call you his. Even when he pulls out your chair at the restaurant or holds your hand during the walk back, there’s a quiet reverence in everything he does. "You deserve the best," he tells you, his blue eyes shining with love and respect. And you know, with Steve, he’ll always mean it.

Sam Wilson (Falcon/Captain America)

- The second Sam sees you, a wide grin spreads across his face, his usual playful confidence shining through. "Okay, hold up," he says, his voice filled with admiration as he gives you a once-over. "I didn’t think it was possible, but you just raised the bar." His gaze is warm, appreciative, and you can’t help but laugh as he walks over, his swagger evident in every step.

- "You trying to make me look bad?" Sam teases, though you can tell by the way he’s looking at you that he’s completely smitten. He reaches out, his fingers brushing against your arm before pulling you in for a quick spin. "Damn, you look good. Like, really good." There’s no holding back with Sam—he’s always been the type to say exactly what’s on his mind, and right now, all he’s thinking about is how incredible you look.

- As you walk together to the car, Sam keeps sneaking glances at you, his smile never fading. He opens the door for you with a dramatic flourish, ever the showman. "You sure we’re going to the right place? ‘Cause I feel like I should be taking you to the red carpet or something," he quips, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

- During the date, Sam is the perfect mix of fun and affectionate, cracking jokes to make you laugh while also finding moments to be sweet. At one point, he leans in close, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. "I know I joke around a lot, but... I’m really lucky to have you. You know that, right?" The sincerity in his words catches you off guard, but it’s moments like these that remind you why you fell for him in the first place. Sam Wilson may be all charm and wit, but when it comes to you, his heart is all in.

Stephen Strange (Doctor Strange)

- Stephen’s reaction is subtle but telling. His sharp eyes flick over to you the moment you enter the Sanctum, widening slightly as they trail down the length of your figure. He doesn’t speak right away, and you know you’ve caught him off guard—which, for someone like Stephen Strange, is no small feat. "You certainly know how to make an entrance," he says at last, his voice smooth, but there’s a softness in it that surprises you.

- He steps closer, his robes shifting gracefully as he reaches out, fingers lightly grazing your arm. "You look... otherworldly," he remarks, his usual confidence tempered with a kind of reverence, like he’s seeing something magical—something he didn’t conjure himself. Stephen has seen countless dimensions and mystical beings, but there’s something in the way he’s looking at you now that feels entirely human. His fingers linger, tracing the fabric of your dress, as if he's studying every detail with the same intensity he reserves for spells.

- "We might not need a portal tonight," he quips, a rare hint of humor in his voice, "because I’m not sure I want anyone else in this universe to see you like this." It’s half a joke, but there’s a protective edge beneath his words. For a moment, the Sorcerer Supreme isn’t thinking about the mystical realms or ancient threats—he’s just a man in awe of the person standing before him.

- Throughout the night, you catch him stealing glances at you when he thinks you’re not looking. There’s something grounded about Stephen tonight, a rare vulnerability. And when he slips his hand into yours as you walk through the city, it’s without pretense—just pure, quiet affection from a man who’s seen everything and still thinks you’re the most stunning thing in existence.

Clint Barton (Hawkeye)

- Clint’s eyes light up the moment he sees you. "Whoa, wait a second," he says, his voice filled with playful surprise as he looks you up and down, a grin spreading across his face. "Am I supposed to be your date tonight? Or is there some movie star hiding around here?" Clint’s always been quick with a joke, but the admiration in his eyes is genuine, and the way his voice softens just a bit tells you he’s impressed.

- He walks over to you with that easy, casual stride, hands finding their way to your waist as he pulls you in for a hug, his lips brushing against your forehead. "You clean up pretty nice," he teases, though there’s a hint of awe in his tone. Clint is used to seeing you in casual clothes or even combat gear, but tonight is different, and he’s not hiding how much he loves it.

- "Now I’m really feeling underdressed," he jokes, glancing down at his outfit, which, while nice, doesn’t quite match the level of your look tonight. He’s got that laid-back charm, but you know Clint well enough to see the little flicker of self-consciousness in his eyes, even if he hides it behind a grin. You reassure him with a smile, and he relaxes, pulling you closer as if you’re the only two people in the world.

- Clint might not make a big deal of it, but throughout the night, he can’t stop complimenting you. Whether it’s a casual “You’re killing it tonight” or a more heartfelt “I’m the luckiest guy around,” his words, though simple, are full of sincerity. He loves that you don’t need all the bells and whistles to shine, but tonight, you’ve got them, and he’s soaking up every second.

Peter Parker (Spider-Man)

- Peter’s jaw literally drops when he sees you, his wide eyes blinking in disbelief as he stumbles over his words. "Oh my gosh... wow... you—wow," he stammers, rubbing the back of his neck as his cheeks flush red. It’s adorable, watching him try and piece together a coherent sentence. "You look amazing," he finally blurts out, still staring at you like he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing.

- He’s awkward at first, nervously adjusting his tie and shifting from foot to foot, clearly trying to play it cool but failing miserably. "I—I mean, I knew you’d look great, but this? You’ve seriously outdone yourself," Peter says, and you can’t help but smile at how genuine he is. His hands hover awkwardly before he finally takes yours, squeezing them gently as he continues to fumble through his awe.

- "I’m gonna be the luckiest guy at the restaurant," he says with a grin, though you can tell he’s only half-joking. Peter’s not used to this kind of attention, and seeing you all dressed up for him has completely flustered him in the sweetest way possible. "Do I look okay?" he asks, glancing down at his suit and then back at you with a sheepish smile, clearly hoping he’s at least halfway as presentable as you are.

- Throughout the night, Peter can’t stop complimenting you, whether it’s nervously gushing over how amazing you look or cracking jokes to hide his nerves. "I don’t even know what to do with my hands," he jokes, trying to play it cool. But the way he looks at you—like you’re the most incredible person in the world—tells you everything you need to know about how much this night means to him.

Thor (God of Thunder)

- Thor’s reaction is immediate and dramatic, his booming voice filling the room the second he sees you. "By Odin’s beard, you are a vision!" he exclaims, his eyes lighting up with pure admiration. There’s nothing subtle about Thor, and his excitement at seeing you dressed up is no exception. He strides toward you with that confident, larger-than-life energy, sweeping you into a hug that lifts you off your feet for a moment.

- "This is truly a grand occasion," he declares, his deep voice rumbling with pride as he looks you over with a beaming smile. Thor isn’t shy about showing his admiration, and he’s clearly thrilled to see you looking so incredible. "You shine brighter than the stars themselves tonight," he adds, his compliments as grand and poetic as ever. His eyes sparkle with warmth, and there’s something almost boyish in the way he can’t stop looking at you.

- Thor, ever the gentleman, offers his arm with a gallant flourish, bowing slightly as if you were royalty. "Shall we make our grand entrance together?" he asks with a grin, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief. There’s an infectious energy about him tonight, and you can tell he’s as excited for the evening as he is to be seen with you by his side.

- Throughout the night, Thor treats you like an absolute queen, making sure you’re comfortable and constantly reminding you of how magnificent you look. "It is an honor to stand beside someone as radiant as you," he says at one point, his voice soft and sincere. His hand never leaves yours, and with Thor, every moment feels like a celebration. He makes you feel as if the entire night revolves around you—because in his eyes, it does.

Loki (God of Mischief)

- When Loki first sees you, his reaction is subtle yet intense, his green eyes darkening as he takes you in. "Well, well," he murmurs, a sly smile playing on his lips. He doesn’t rush toward you like others might—instead, he lets his gaze linger, the look in his eyes making you feel like you’re the most captivating thing he’s ever seen. "You’ve truly outdone yourself," he says, his voice smooth as silk, full of admiration and a hint of possessiveness.

- He slowly circles around you, his fingers brushing lightly against the fabric of your dress as he takes in every detail. "I always knew you were stunning," Loki purrs, his voice dropping to a lower, more intimate tone, "but tonight, you've left even the gods speechless." He steps closer, his hand sliding to your waist, the coolness of his touch sending a shiver down your spine. His smirk widens as he feels your reaction, his teasing nature coming out in full force.

- "Shall we make all the realms jealous tonight?" he asks with a raised brow, his voice full of mischief. Loki’s always loved making an entrance, but tonight, it’s clear that he’s more focused on the fact that he has you by his side. "I daresay none will be able to take their eyes off you," he whispers, his lips brushing your ear as he speaks, making your heart race.

- Throughout the night, Loki is his usual charming, mischievous self, constantly finding ways to draw you closer—whether it’s with a flirty comment or a teasing touch. Yet, behind the playful banter, there’s something deeper in the way he looks at you, as if you’re the only person in the room who truly matters. And when he pulls you in for a slow, deliberate kiss at the end of the evening, it’s clear that he’s as captivated by you as you are by him.

T’Challa (Black Panther)

- T’Challa’s reaction is a perfect blend of admiration and quiet awe. When you enter the room, his deep brown eyes immediately lock onto you, his usually composed expression softening. "My love," he says, his voice rich and smooth, as he approaches you with a regal grace. There’s a moment of silence as he takes you in, his gaze warm but intense, as though he’s seeing you for the first time. "You look... breathtaking," he finally says, his voice full of genuine respect and adoration.

- T’Challa steps closer, his hand gently reaching for yours, lifting it to his lips to place a soft kiss on your knuckles. "You honor me with your beauty tonight," he murmurs, his eyes never leaving yours. His words are always deliberate, full of meaning, and the way he looks at you now makes it clear that he’s beyond proud to be seen with you by his side. His admiration isn’t just for your appearance—it’s for you as a whole.

- As King of Wakanda, T’Challa has attended countless events and diplomatic gatherings, but tonight, he seems more focused on you than anything else. "It is a privilege to be with you," he says softly, his hand resting on the small of your back as he guides you through the evening with his usual poise. Even in a crowd, his attention never wavers, and you feel like the center of his world.

- Throughout the night, T’Challa is the perfect gentleman, always attentive, always respectful. His hand remains intertwined with yours, and every now and then, he’ll lean in close to whisper something in your ear—small, private compliments meant only for you. "You are more beautiful than any star in the sky," he says quietly, his voice full of quiet reverence. And when the night comes to an end, T’Challa takes a moment to stand with you under the stars, pulling you into a tender embrace as if he never wants to let you go.

[eternalwritess]

I may know someone - Platonic!Alastor & tech demon!reader + Vox x tech demon!reader

Summary: Vox decides to confront whoever decided to fuck up with system. Alastor has a proposition for you that he wants you to take...

He couldn't reverse the damage. He knew that by now. He's tried a multitude of things only to get shocked many times. He's even tried screaming at the monitor. Which caused Velvette to scream back at him even louder.

But he had footage he had footage of a demon flicking something causing his computers to work to her liking. It was impressive he would've even offered her a deal. Would've being the key word, they still fucked up his system.

But now he had their face, he could find them. Oh and find them he would.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙

You're not an idiot.

At least you like to consider the fact that you're not. You're powerful, but maybe you should've thought this last one through. After the whole almost getting caught thing Alastor has been visiting you a lot more frequently. A lot more cheerful too.

He's been all up in your space more than usual, and thats saying something. Touching your stuff even though he doesn't even like tech all that much. He only tolerates yours because it just makes old tech better, but not too modern.

He tapped on one of your phones and looked over to you. "Y/n dear, I've been thinking," He hummed his fingers tapping along the glass. "And really you should consider it," He smiled and walked over to you placing a hand on your shoulder.

"Have you ever considered becoming an overlord?"

You scoffed and looked over to him. "Didn't we talk about this last time? Y'know," you flicked of bit of light over to a breaker causing it to crackle before the room lit up. "Before you almost got me killed?"

Alastor laughed and patted your head. "Oh past is past dear. You need to think of the now!"

You couldn't help but scoff. "That's an awfully ironic line coming from you," You looked at his staff and then back to him.

"Well I am thinking of the now, and radio is always better! But enough about that. You should really consider it. Y'know you technically are one already. Don't you own a few souls?" He titled his head with his eyes becoming dials. Slowly. Ticking. Away.

He sat his head to its regular position and smiled.\

"A few I have like one of two, that doesn't count,"

"One or two wouldn't be the word I'd use to describe such my dear," he leaned on your shoulder and grinned. "Besides you got this whole side of the pentagram under your claws," he tapped the desk with an ever growing grin.

"I don't have enough power-"

"Pardon my interruption darling but I do believe that is what you would call... baloney," He grabbed your shoulders and now spun you around to face him. "You should really think about this offer y/n after all I'm just trying to help you get your name up there-"

You stepped back and looked at him. "I don't want my name up there-"

"Once again-, pardon, but I do believe that it would be good. I've even spoken to Rosie about such,"

You paused for a moment before shaking your head. You couldn't do this, why would he want you to become an overlord? "Why?" you asked. "Why do you want this? Is it to show someone up?"

Alastor laughed before giving you a pat. "Oh you know me too well, but no,"

You scoffed. This was a petty rivalry, you could feel it. "Rosie doesn't like it when you lie," You said titling your head towards him. "Is this about that Vox guy?" You asked. You hoped not but knowing him... you didn't want to get invovled.

Alastor sighed keeping the smile. "You know me too well," he said, this time slightly strained.

"Al I can't just show up-"

"Sure you can! Don't worry my dear, Rosie and I will help you every step of the way," He turned around and dusted off his shoulders. "I ought to get going though darling, consider it!" He added as he walked out the door.

You paused sitting down on your chair. You were utterly fucked.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙

Vox groaned looking around. Usually he didn't parade around like such but this was a special case. He just didn't know why it had to be in this part of the pentagram. It was were practically all of the insane people resided in Hell. He watched as demons shouted and as one ate its own hand giggling and laughing.

It was disgusting. He walked around further till he came to a small building that was surprisingly in good shape. He grinned, this was it.

He walked right up to the door watching as the electricity around him responded to his presence, zipping around and disappearing. It was odd to see something reacting to his presence the way the electricity was. He stepped back for a moment as it flickered across his feet and under the door. He sighed looking at the building.

Just. One. Knock.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙

You tapped your feet on the ground before stopping. Consider it, what was there to consider? Truly. You weren't an overlord although in some cases Alastor would be more than happy to call you one. You owned souls, sure, but you didn't even have half the numbers of some of the people on there.

Yet here you were wondering what it all meant. You knew Alastor and you know what he's like. He adores the spotlight almost as much as he adores radio, having a friend like you up there just because he suggested it would paint the spotlight on you both. You have to admit, he's clever but he's rash in such a thought. The blacklash, it would show that he's powerful yes, but at what cost?

But he's thought this through, he doesn't make rash decisions, he wants to show Vox up, and he needs a statement. The fight with the angels show'd him losing, if anyone saw that he would need to show that he was still in power. Since he needs to do that who better to bring up on his own accord than you?

You were already powerful, you were a tech demon for crying out loud, and you were his friend. You already messed with Vox and his tech. You already showed that you're a force. You'd be the perfect subject to bring up. To show that he wasn't just old news.

You grit your teeth and ran your hand through your hair. If you said no? It wouldn't go well, Alastor already offered you power last time, he could also take away some of your power if he wanted. He could make the place you lived worse, although you doubted he would it. It didn't mean it wasn't exactly off the table.

Rosie wanted you up there too, she's been there for a while, she's been in hell for a while. You taking up this offer could be good, but it could be bad. You just showing up, that would piss people off, put a target on your back. Alastor and Rosie would help you but you doubted that they would care too much if you got into a scuffle with another overlord. Alastor did just prove that and-

Knock.

You paused for a moment looking at the door. Everyone on this side knew that you were closed by now, it was dark out. You were practically out. You stood up. It's probably just a new sinner. Is what you told yourself before sitting back down. Your hand pressing against your forehead in annoyance.

"We're closed," We're was a strong word, there's no one here but you after all. The words came out a little stronger than you would've liked but fuck it, this is hell.

Another knock. You set your hand down and sighed looking at the electricity around you crinkle. "We're closed you deaf or something fucker?" You turned around back to the door and sighed. Whoever this was better leave or else you're gonna take out some anger on them.

The door opened. You grit your teeth and stood up turning around. "Are you deaf-" Your words fell short of your mouth as you stared at the person in front of you. Fuck. You were utterly fucked.

Vox. Vox, the CEO of Voxtech was at your door. The man who you just fucked over with Alastor. This couldn't be a coincidence, or a friendly stop by for that matter.

You stood there for probably half a second before regaining composer. You straightened your back and sighed mentally this time. Alastor taught you three things after all.

Always keep a smile.

You smiled at him and although it was strained you could tell it pissed him off, maybe not the best for you but it did assure that you were in control that being whatever meager control you had over a real overlord.

"Hello, Vox from Voxtech I'm sure you've heard of me!" Vox smiled sticking out his hand for you to shake but you continued to smile and dipped your head instead.

"Y/n," You said in reply.

"Ah, well thats great to know. After all I finally get to put a name to the face I've been seeing all around my building lately," You tried to ignore the hollow tv like sound that came out of his mouth with each word. You. Were. Fucked.

You nodded picking at your nails your eyes glancing down at them. You are not looking him in the eyes. "Yes well I was doing a favor for an old friend of mine-"

"Alastor, correct?" He asked he grabbed your hand and forced you closer causing you to look up at him.

You stepped back and rubbed your hand with a glare painted onto his screen. "Yes, Alastor, we've known each other for a while now. Why? Jealous?" You chuckled and tilted your head feeling everything around you respond to where you were.

Vox rolled his eyes and grabbed your again this time, harsher. "Listen here, I don't know who you think you are but let me remind you something," You felt his hands pierce through your skin when you tried to move back. "You aren't anything," You watched as the blue electricity circled around you.

You looked around the room in half panic careful not to drop your smile although you doubt you were smiling much now, it hurt. Your hand hurt like he was fucking dissecting it.

2. Remind them where they are.

You paused for a moment and looked up laughing. With your other hand you flicked your wrist and smiled at him. The room responded to your without a second of hesitation. The lights flickered and the cables and chords lifted up in response wrapping around Vox's legs and pulling him down.

His hand scratched yours tearing it up badly, but it could be fixed. You needed to deal with this now. Vox hissed attempting to get up and free himself of the thick cables that wrapped around his hands. You rubbed your hand unconsciously and looked at him.

"Listen here," You mocked titling your head. You snapped your fingers and felt the lights burn hotter than before and onto Vox watching him panic over the sudden overload. "You aren't in your fancy studio anymore sweetheart," You felt the energy around your creeping into your skin making yourself bigger and more of a shadow than before.

"You're in my house," You grabbed his collar and bent down pressing him close to you. "Now get out," You demanded.

3. Always make them leave on your accord.

You shoved him back and watched as the cables tossed him out of the door and slammed it shut in his face. It might've hit him actually, well that wasn't your problem anymore now was it.

You groaned sitting down in your chair. Your head head like hell, worse than it actually, funny. You rubbed your head and sighed feeling the dull thump slowly trace itself around your body before fading. The energy around you was gone now. You wondered if Alastor ever felt like this after going 'full demon' or whatever the hell this was called. Then you remembered, of course he wouldn't. He wouldn't need to use all of his power, you on the other hand did.

You muttered a curse under your lips. You were a target now. You had no other choice but to accept Alastor's offer, he might help you. He would. He would help you before but now that you'd be more official partners with him he'd be more than glad to do so.

You slowly felt the world fade around you as you leaned on your desk and groaned.

Everything hurt.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙

Vox scrambled back up to his feet in shock. He felt weak. You took energy from him, how the fuck did you do that? He bared his teeth for a moment before stopping and dusting off his suit. If anyone saw that, he'd never hear the end of it.

You defeated him, you took control. It took a while for him to notice that he was weaker, but he was. He stood outside of your door for a few moments glad that he couldn't speak, he couldn't even think right.

That type of power was breathtaking in a way. He shook his head and walked off not wanting to risk another confrontation, he didn't know if he'd survive another.

Previous <---...--->

Taglist: @animedancer14 @roboticsuccubus83 @fandom-queen37 @belletifeshyl @randomuser-89 @belos-simp69 @callmechito @maliciousmace @montis-posts @yukimy @creampuff-bunny @blue-shark-named-blahaj @twismare @sirenetheblogger @hotvillianapologist @saturnhas82moons

[callsign-rogueone]

not alone - r.g.

Ridoc Gamlyn x reader part three of Ridoc and Sweetheart’s story. words: 1.8k 🏷: Iron Flame spoilers in a vague sense, reader experiencing the joys of RSC, implications of torture but it’s not shown, mild panic attack / anxiety spiral / self-deprecating thoughts, bring tissues maybe, “happy” ending, Ridoc (and Sawyer) to the rescue! I am so stuck on the first-date scene that I just skipped it for now but it will happen eventually, I promise!!

This has to be a dream. It feels like something out of an adventure novel — waking up in a literal dungeon, chained to the wall. 

“Rhith?”

You wait a few seconds, but she doesn’t respond. Oh, gods, what if she… no, she’s okay. She has to be okay, because you’re okay. Maybe she’s asleep or off hunting or something.

But she’s never not responded to you before. She’s always replied, always been there to assuage your worries and remind you that it’ll be okay, just breathe. 

Breathe. Deep breaths, think about the butterflies… You look up, seeing no trace of them, no flutter of blue wings in the dim mage light of the room that you can’t seem to brighten, either.

You try it again, picturing them more clearly, thinking about the patterns on their wings and the colors… Nothing.

Something is definitely wrong. 

Why can’t you make a simple illusion? Is your signet broken? Is that why you’re down here? Is this some kind of reconditioning? A punishment? Or are you here to be executed for being defective?

“Rhith?” you try again, still working to steady your breathing, but every second that passes without a response only tightens the knot around your heart.

There’s no use. She’s not going to respond, because she’s given up on you, finally realized she’d chosen poorly, that you aren’t fit to be a rider after all, and decided to do away with you before the next Threshing, where she could choose a better rider, one who doesn’t need constant reassurance and hand-holding like a child.

The door swings open, a uniformed infantry officer stepping inside, here to decide your fate. He’s fully armed, a short blade in his hand, ready to carve into your skin or to pierce your heart, put you out of your misery — to thin the herd, to separate the wheat from the chaff. 

“I’m sorry,” you plead, as if that will change her mind. “I’m so sorry, I promise I’ll try harder, I’ll prove to you that I can handle it, just please don’t give up on me, don’t leave me here to die, please…”

He scoffs at you. “Crying already? This is going to be easier than I thought.”

You can’t dry your tears with your hands tied behind your back, so you settle for blinking them away and willing them to stop — you need to be strong if you want to get out of this room alive and see your brother and sister and the rest of your family again.

Family. That’s it — to convince them you’re worth it, you need to be someone else, someone who is worth it, like your brothers. 

You’re going to get through this. You’re going to endure whatever they put you through like Garrick would, and do it all with a straight face like Xaden, and be brave like Liam and smart like Brennan, and then Rhith will take you back, and everything will be okay again; you just need to stay strong.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Ridoc can’t find you at breakfast— you aren’t sitting with Bodhi and Imogen and the other marked ones like you always do. Maybe you’re sleeping in, he decides. The thought is a small comfort to him, but he can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong.

He hadn’t seen you all weekend, but that much is normal — he’d spent Saturday afternoon with his friends at the tavern in town, and you aren’t the going-out type; you’d rather curl up with a book to distract yourself from the rest of the world and it’s cruelty.

You hadn’t answered your door when he’d come to extend you the invitation, but he’d just assumed you were elsewhere. And your relationship is new, anyway, new enough that the word relationship probably isn’t the best to describe what the two of you have — you’ve been on two dates. You aren’t going to be spending every hour of your spare time together. 

But you aren’t at morning formation either, and as he settles into his usual seat at Battle Brief, you’re still nowhere to be found. There’s no denying it now; this isn’t a series of coincidences, this is a pattern, and something is definitely wrong.

Second squad seems to all realize what’s happening at once.

“I’m sure she’s okay,” Sawyer tries, but Ridoc seems unconvinced, bouncing his leg under the table nervously. His eyes snap toward the door as it creaks open, one person walking through.

You make it up to the back of the lecture hall, settling into the open chair beside Ridoc, your usual spot these days.

Everyone’s eyes widen at the cuts and bruises across your arms and face, knowing there’s likely even more covered by your clothes.

“Are you okay?” Violet asks in a whisper, knowing it’s a stupid question, but wanting to say something anyway.

You nod, chewing your lip. “I’m fine, but I can’t feel Rhith. I don’t know what happened.”

You’ve been trying all morning, had tried all night when they’d finally left you to sleep… you haven’t heard anything from her in two full days, but the infantry officer had let you go free, so you must have passed whatever test they’d given you, decided you were worthy of being a rider after all.

Guilt flickers in Ridoc’s chest - he should have told you, given you some kind of warning. “They did the same thing to us last week. It was something in the water. It’ll wear off soon, I promise.” He holds a hand out, a small icicle forming in his palm that he wraps in a piece of soft fabric. “Here.”

You take it from him, holding it to the killer bruise forming on your jaw from where the officer’s fist had nearly broken it. “Thank you.”

You’re exhausted. You’d barely had enough time to shower before class started, and you’re pretty sure you’re concussed; it’s hard to think, and everything is too bright in here, too loud…

You turn your gaze back to the professor, but don’t take any notes, don’t make any move to take a pen and paper from your bag, letting your eyes fall shut as Devera continues her analysis. It goes in one ear, out the other, but you know none of it is true anyway, or if it is, it’s only half the story.

The ice is starting to melt against the warmth of your skin, dripping down your wrist. He takes it back, letting it disappear into thin air and pocketing the wet handkerchief silently, resting an arm on the back of your chair and pressing a soft kiss to your bruised temple.

You blink awake at the sound of everyone getting up to leave — you must have gotten almost an hour of sleep. It’s taken some of the edge off, but your entire body still aches as you rise from your seat.

“Aotrom says she’s on the flight field,” Ridoc says, shouldering your bag before you can protest. “Do you wanna go see her?”

You just nod in response, your jaw still aching too much to speak. You make the walk up in silence, your heart clenching when you see Rhith standing there, waiting for you.

The comforting voice is finally back in your head. “Hello, sweet one.”

“Hi,” you say aloud, voice wavering. 

She lowers her head to you, letting you stroke a hand over the dark green scales of her nose. “I would never want to replace you, sweet one. You are just as strong and just as valuable as your brothers, and I chose you for a reason.”

You realize that she’d heard it all, your desperate pleas for her to spare your life, the promises that you’d be better, thinking she’d abandoned you…

“I’m sorry for thinking that, I just… my signet stopped working, and I couldn’t hear you…” you’re going to cry just thinking about it. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she soothes. “Try it again.” 

You take a breath and close your eyes, picturing a butterfly. When you open them, you can see one floating through the gentle afternoon breeze. You add another, just to be sure that it wasn’t a fluke, and another… three of them now, content to flutter around in front of you.

Ridoc is still watching you, silent. The look of relief on your face breaks his heart.

He realizes that by separating you from Rhith, they’d taken away your only friend in that room. He’d had Rhiannon and Violet and Sawyer by his side the whole time, but you’d been entirely alone; no marked ones, nobody from your squad — you’re the only second-year left. They’d taken your best coping mechanism as well, your ability to self-soothe with your gentle projections. 

Rhith looks up at Ridoc, who stands a respectful distance away, your bookbag slung over his shoulder. “She says thank you,” you relay for her, “for taking care of me.”

Ridoc smiles. “Always, sweetheart. Now let's get you to the healers, hm?”

He holds out a hand, and you hesitate a moment before you take it, intertwining your fingers loosely. His skin is warm against yours, soft, gentle, safe. When you make it down the hill and across the bridge to the infirmary, you almost don’t want to let go.

You stay as close to Ridoc as you can for the rest of the day. He treats you incredibly carefully, even after you’ve been mended back to normal, the cuts healed and bruises faded completely.

You’re grateful to wake up in your own bed the next morning, silently getting ready for the day and falling into your place at morning formation.

“Atken,” Dain calls, gesturing for you to come see him. “You’re being transferred.”

What? Why? Your heart races, but you follow him silently, stopping in front of a different squad, in Fourth Wing.

“I think you already know most of your squadmates,” he prompts.

You take a good look at them — nearly all of your friends; Imogen and Sloane and Violet, and now Ridoc and his friends too. You might cry. “Thank you,” you say quietly.

“Don’t thank me, thank those two. They made quite the argument for transferring you.” He nods toward Ridoc and Sawyer — they both smile at you, Ridoc grinning from ear to ear, Sawyer looking rather bashful.

“So you won’t have to be alone anymore,” Ridoc answers before you can ask. 

You fall into the formation beside him, reaching over to hook your pinky around his in a tiny show of appreciation. “Thank you.”

He smiles at you, warm and bright, keeping your fingers interlocked through the morning roll and announcements.

Maybe your second year won’t be so bad anymore.

[c-e-d-dreamer]

I Can Take the Upper Hand and Touch Your Body: Part One

A/N: it's here! It's officially @acotar-omegaverse-week party people! Did you know there is a serious LACK of Nessian omegaverse? It's a crime. So you know I had to come out here and represent us Nessian girlies. So I hope everyone enjoys Nesta and Cassian "turning up the heat" in hopefully the best way 😉 Seriously, this is very filthy. The plot? Not really there. But there is plenty of smut 😇

Read on AO3 // Next Part

The first thing Nesta notices when the elevator doors open on the fifteenth floor is the scent. It’s unmistakable, a sweet mix of pheromones that is all too indisputable; although this particular scent seems to be tinged distinctly with pine, with the wind kissed breeze that blows off the mountains. Already, Nesta’s body begins to respond as that scent floods her senses, heat flaring through her veins and down to her toes, but she’s quick to snuff out those flames, refusing to let even an ember continue to breathe.

Presenting as an omega had been everything Nesta’s mother ever wanted for her. Since as early as she can remember, it was all Elinor Archeron ever seemed to speak about. She’d brush through the long strands of Nesta’s hair, braiding them back with the same harshness she took to parenting, and remind her eldest daughter that a good omega could secure the best alpha match, ensure the family’s security.

Her mother always made it sound like it was powerful to be an omega, but to Nesta, it felt more like a life sentence. A cold iron collar settling around her neck, around her wrists, shackling her to a life condemned as a trussed up broodmare.

A blessing from the Mother. That’s what Elinor had said when Nesta presented much earlier than most girls. What she said when she threw a ball to celebrate the presentation. What she said when she paraded Nesta around the room, when alphas twice Nesta’s age leered with too sharp teeth and too eager eyes at her body, pawed at her dress and her arms. It took all of Nesta’s willpower to hold her tongue against the word she really wanted to utter the whole night.

Curse.

So when Elinor finally passed, when Nesta was finally free, she became everything her mother would have hated. Cold. Callous. Stubborn. She swallowed enough suppressants until she could push through university and up the corporate ladder. Instead of the simpering, sweet omega the world expected, Nesta became one that snarls and bites. Returned every look she got from an alpha with a sneer of her own, every honeyed word with clipped ones, until alphas preferred to steer clear of her.

Nesta Archeron decided that she may be an omega, but she was in control.

Sighing softly, Nesta weaves her way down the hall and toward the source of the scent. The closer she gets, the thicker that scent becomes. She swears she can feel it wrap around her throat, swears she can taste it on the back of her tongue. It prickles across her skin and beckons her closer still. Nesta has to take a moment to close her eyes and breathe through her mouth, fighting back the fire she can feel threatening to crash over her and flush her skin, the shutter daring to skitter up her spine.

She rolls her shoulders and straightens her spine, continuing down the hall, but her steps stutter to a stop when she realizes exactly which office she’s being led to. Of course. Of course, it would be his office.

Alphas are large by nature, but Cassian Valdarez seems to take it to another level. He’s all wide shoulders and chest, all large hands and thick thighs. With dark waves of hair tumbling down to his shoulders and stubble scraped along the hard cut of his jaw, he looks like the sort of rugged male that belongs deep in the mountains. And yet, despite his size, he always seems quick to disarm with easy smiles and a warm laugh.

Nesta had hated him on sight.

Every cocky smirk that tugged up his lips, every drawled sweetheart that tumbled past them. Every time he called her Nes despite her correcting him on numerous occasions. It all fueled her endless annoyance with him. It didn’t help he’d been all but handed this job, adoptive brother to the CEO of Night Inc. apparently. Alphas were always just handed things.

Nesta doesn’t think she’ll ever forget his first day, when he ran into her in the breakroom. She had snapped at him, as she often did when an alpha dared to look in her direction, but rather than get that wide-eyed shocked expression, the unimpressed curled lip that usually came when she stepped over the line of omega expectations, he had merely thrown his head back and laughed, hazel eyes sparking as though the whole thing was delightful. It was infuriating.

Almost as infuriating as right now.

Nesta doesn’t even bother knocking. She swings open the door and strides right into the office, demanding, “what are you doing here?”

“Hello to you too, sweetheart,” Cassian drawls, looking up from his work with that cocksure smirk of his. “Did you forget that I work here? You’d think my name on the office door would remind you.”

“You know that’s not what I mean,” Nesta hisses, rolling her eyes. “I could scent you all the way from the elevators.”

That comment has Cassian’s grip tightening around his pen enough for his knuckles to turn white. “I’m fine.”

“Bullshit. Go home.”

“Is that an order? Last time I checked, I didn’t take them from you.”

“I’m not fucking around, Cassian. Go home and fuck your rut out with your omega,” Nesta bites out, stalking closer toward Cassian’s desk.

She doesn’t miss the way that stupid smirk of his starts to slip for a moment, the way he glances away from her. There’s no other way to describe the expression other than shame and embarrassment. It draws a derisive snort out of her.

“You cannot be serious. You don’t have an omega to help you through your rut?”

“I was working on it,” Cassian growls lowly from between his clenched teeth.

“You’re pathetic.”

The bite in her words is enough to pull his eyes back to hers, the hazel of them blazing around his dilated pupils. “Careful, Nes.”

“Or what?” Nesta drawls with a roll of her eyes. “It is pathetic. What kind of alpha doesn’t have an omega for his rut?”

Cassian pushes up from his office chair, and Nesta is reminded just how large he is. He stands almost a head taller than her, and she has to tilt her chin up to maintain eye contact. With his wide frame, he practically looms over her, and this close together, all Nesta can do is breathe in lungfuls of his scent, feel that scent wrap around her limbs and send goosebumps prickling across her skin.

“Is that an offer?”

“You wish,” Nesta snaps.

She shoves hard at his chest, but of course he doesn’t even move an inch. Instead, his hands curl around her wrists, holding her there. The warmth of his touch and his dizzying scent still flooding her senses is almost too much. Already, she can feel her body betraying her, can feel flames licking low in her gut.

“You say that,” Cassian says, bending his face down until his breath fans across her lips. “But you forget that I can scent you too. Getting wet and slick thinking about me, Nes?”

With a growl, Nesta yanks her arms free of his grasp. “Fuck you.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to let you do.”

The words are enough to give Nesta pause, but it’s all the opening that Cassian needs. He presses right back into her space, his arm sliding around her back and grasping her waist this time. He pulls her flush against his body until she can feel every hard line of muscle hiding beneath his shirt, until she can feel the hard line growing between his thighs.

Clearly, his rut has well and truly taken hold.

He tips his head down and focuses his attention on her neck, breathing deeply and groaning. His fingers flex, fisting into the fabric of her blouse, and Nesta has to swallow hard as it pulls her closer still. His nose slides over the gland on her throat, and there’s no stopping the whine that tumbles free past her lips, the way her breath hitches in her throat.

No stopping the rush of slick she can feel.

It takes all of her willpower to push him away again, Cassian actually stumbling back this time. His eyes have darkened, a flame sizzling amongst the greens and golds, and that burning gaze is pinned fully on Nesta.

“Sit down,” Nesta demands, forcing the words around the breathlessness threatening to pull her under.

Surprisingly, Cassian obeys, walking backwards and collapsing back into his office chair. Only when she’s sure he doesn’t intend to move again does Nesta reach up under her skirt. She hooks her fingers under the waistband of her panties, slowly sliding them down her thighs, over her knees, and down her calves. She hears the distinct creak of wood as she steps out of them, and when she looks up, Cassian has a death grip on the arm rests of his chair.

She smirks as she walks her way around Cassian’s desk. She pushes the papers there aside, making room for her to jump up. She takes her time sliding back on the desk enough that she can spread her legs and plant her heels on the edge. Makes a big show of lifting up the hem of her skirt until her cunt is fully exposed, reveling in the soft growl that rumbles from Cassian’s chest.

“Mother save me,” Cassian groans, licking his lips. “Look at you.”

Nesta traces her hand down until she reaches between her thighs. She slides a finger through the slick that’s already gathered there, just that small, teasing touch leaving her gasping. She touches herself with more purpose on the next swipe, adding more pressure and continuing upwards until she can trace a circle over her clit. She moans softly, eyes fluttering closed and hips jumping against the pulse of pleasure.

“Gods, you're drenched already, sweetheart. So wet thinking about my cock and my knot, aren’t you?”

Nesta dares to bring her fingers lower again, dares to sink one into her cunt. She’s already produced so much slick, already so keyed up, that she meets almost no resistance. She pulls back and presses in two fingers next, whining high in the back of her throat. She moves her hand just how she knows she likes, pressing deep and curling her fingers, her hips rocking to meet every drive of them.

“Add a third finger. Get yourself nice and ready to take my knot.”

Nesta huffs at the command, but there’s no denying that inherent part of her that wants to be good for an alpha. The part of her that preens at an alpha’s attention. The part of her that claws with desperation for more, that demands to be claimed no matter how much Nesta has tried to suppress that instinct. It’s that part of her that has her squeezing in a third finger beside the other two, her entire body tensing at the stretch.

“Good girl.”

The praise has Nesta moaning again. She opens her eyes, finally looking at Cassian again, but it’s instantly a mistake. No longer are his eyes the bright hazel she’s come to know. Instead, they’re dark, the pupils blown out and swallowing his irises. His curls hang loose around his face, only adding to the shadows cutting across his jawline and the stubble lining the skin there, and with every heaving breath, his nostrils flare. She can see his throat bob with every swallow, see the muscles of his forearm flex where his sleeves have been pushed up to his elbow as his grip tightens against the arms of his chair.

He’s clearly holding himself back, and it’s unfair how attractive it is. How attractive he is. It’s almost instinctive, almost involuntary, the way her cunt clenches down around her fingers. The way another whimper is pulled straight from her chest at the sight of him.

“You take your fingers so well. Are you going to take my cock that well, too?”

Nesta huffs, even as she presses her fingers deeper desperately. “Who knew you were such a talker.”

“You like it.” Nesta wants to deny it but can’t, not with the way her body continues to respond to the deep timbre of his voice. “You like when I call you my good girl. Like being my good girl.”

Nesta tosses her head back again, but not before half heartedly rolling her eyes. She continues to drive and curl her fingers, continues to rock her hips against them, but it’s not enough. She tries to press her fingers even deeper, tries to spread them to achieve that stretch she craves, but she’s stuck right on that precipice, release glimmering in sight but still so out of reach.

“Please,” Nesta whispers, her hips jumping off the desk. “Please. I can’t– I need–”

With a growl, Cassian pushes to his feet. His fingers curl around Nesta’s wrist, tugging her fingers free and lifting her hand toward his mouth. Nesta’s breath hitches in her throat as he guides her slick coated fingers between his lips, as his tongue drags slowly over each digit, as his eyes flutter closed and a groan reverberates from deep in his chest.

“Please,” Nesta echoes again.

“Please what?” Cassian asks, even as he reaches for the belt of his pants, deft finger working to unfasten them. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“It’s not enough. I need your knot.”

It’s hard for Nesta to be annoyed at the return of that infuriating, cocksure smirk of his when she’s still so on edge and desperate. When she feels so empty. It’s hard to think of anything else when Cassian finally finishes unfastening his pants, shoving the fabric of them and his boxers down the thick muscles of his thighs. Hard to think of anything else when the hard line of his cock is finally free from its confines.

Her mouth practically goes dry at the sight of it.

She’s not sure what exactly she was expecting, but she certainly wasn’t expecting the wide girth of Cassian’s cock. She wasn’t expecting the veins that run along the sides of his cock before circling around the center. Wasn’t expecting the thick head already purpling and weeping with his own arousal. She can feel another rush of slick dripping between her thighs in anticipation.

Cassian’s hand curls around his cock, stroking it lazily, but he doesn’t move any closer, doesn’t give Nesta what she needs. What she knows they both need. Instead, that smirk of his only seems to grow with each teasing stroke of his hand. So Nesta spreads her thighs wider still, pressing her hips closer to the edge of the desk. An offering.

“Please, alpha.”

“Fuck.”

Gone is that smirk, his chest heaving with a hitched breath. He finally steps closer into the cradle of Nesta’s thighs, dragging the head of his cock through the mess of slick and arousal gathered there, dragging until he can tease at her clit. His free hand reaches for her jaw, the large span of it enough that his fingers curl down around her neck. He drags his thumb across her bottom lip, leaning in so that his warm breath fans across her cheeks.

His lips slotting over hers is Nesta’s only warning before he presses his hips forward, the tip of his cock sinking into her. Nesta gasps into the kiss, but Cassian merely uses the opportunity to press his tongue into her mouth, to bury his cock another inch. The way he fills her already is unfair.

She owns almost every best knotting toy on the market to help her get through her heats, and yet still, it’s nothing compared to this stretch, to the feel of those veins dragging along the walls of her cunt. Even with how much slick she’s already produced, even with the way she rode her own fingers, he still has to slowly rock his hips before he finally feeds her the rest of his cock until just his knot remains, already swelling at the base.

Cassian pulls back from the kiss, and Nesta is like a marionette with her strings cut, falling back down against the desk with a quiet whine. Cassian doesn’t seem to mind. His hands find her thighs, fingers digging into the flesh as he hoists her legs to hook around his hips.

“Look at how my good girl takes me,” Cassian praises, Nesta clenching down around his cock at the words. “Oh, fuck, Nes. That’s it. You were made to take your alpha’s cock, weren’t you?”

When she doesn’t respond, he pulls his hips back just to snap them back forward again, still teasing his knot. His hand trails further up her thigh, calluses sliding deliciously against her skin, until he can press his thumb down against her clit. Nesta cries out at the sensation, her hips bucking up, but Cassian’s hand on her lower stomach keeps her pinned in place.

“I asked you a question.”

“Yes!” Nesta gasps out, her voice bleeding into a moan when Cassian rewards her by moving his thumb, tracing circles over her clit.

She’s already too keyed-up that when Cassian continues his ministrations against her clit, when he starts to rock his hips again, she doesn’t even have time to warn him. Her orgasm tears through her, and she clenches down hard around his cock, a moan of Cassian’s name falling from her lips as she tosses her head back.

“Fuck, that’s it. You’re so fucking gorgeous when you come all over my cock.”

Cassian continues to move his hips, working her through and stretching out her release until it starts to bleed into overstimulation. But he doesn’t stop. He plants both his hands on the desk, Nesta’s splayed legs now draped over his forearms, as he snaps his hips at a brutal pace. Nesta reaches a hand back over her head, gripping onto the edge of the desk just so she has something to hold onto, to keep herself from sliding back too much, a mess of high pitched whines and moans as Cassian continues to drive his hips into her.

Every forward thrust has Cassian’s knot catching, teasing, and Nesta’s thighs start to shake in anticipation, more slick adding to the mess already between her thighs. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she’s aware of the breathy pleas, the moans begging him, that continue to pour from her throat but she can’t find it within herself to care, not with the steady thrum of pleasure coursing through her body and drawn forward by the very man fucking into her hard.

A few more snaps of his hips, and Cassian drives home, burying his knot in her cunt. Nesta isn’t sure she’s ever felt more full in her life, letting out a choked gasp at the utter stretch of his knot pressing against her walls. She dares to clench down around it, and Cassian groans lowly, rocking his hips shallowly as his cock floods her with the warmth of his own release.

Nesta slumps back against the desk, Cassian finally setting her legs back down. She lets her eyes flutter closed, set on catching her breath while they wait for Cassian’s knot to go down, but then she feels his hands slide up over her hips, over her waist. Her eyes snap open again when those hands move across her chest, his fingers finding the buttons of her blouse.

“What are you doing?” Nesta asks, craning her neck enough that she can peer at Cassian’s hands in confusion.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to get my hands on these,” Cassian explains, tugging the fabric of her blouse apart.

He pulls down the cups of her bra, but Nesta barely has time to gasp at the cool air of the office on her breasts before his warm hands enclose around them. His hands are large enough that each palm cradles the whole swell of her breasts, and he uses that to his advantage as he kneads and squeezes.

“Can you come again just like this?” Cassian asks, sliding his thumbs across her nipples. “I bet you can.”

“Fuck,” Nesta whines, her body already responding, that heat already building again and pooling low in her gut.

“Come on, sweetheart. I want to feel you really milking my knot.”

It’s a bit awkward with the way they’re still joined, but Cassian is able to lean over her, his mouth closing over her breast. His tongue drags and swirls around her nipple, Nesta arching up toward his face with a loud moan. He keeps his movements slow and languid, his teeth grazing teasingly along her skin. With his knot still pressing securely against the walls of her cunt, all the sensations are almost too much.

“Cass… Cassian,” Nesta pants, burying a hand in his hair, her nails digging into his scalp and fingers tugging at the dark strands.

The response only has Cassian doubling his efforts. Every slide of his tongue, every groan that reverberates against her chest, every drag of his calluses as he kneads her other breast with his hand, it all sends Nesta careening higher and higher. Cassian dares to rock his hips again, to press his knot even deeper, and it’s like a dam breaking. She comes again with a shout, tears prickling at the corner of her eyes at the pleasure that ricochets through her veins.

Cassian releases her breast with a quiet pop. “Good girl. Squeezing my knot so well.”

Nesta whimpers at his words, at the way she can feel his cock twitch again where it’s pressed so deep, can feel more warmth from his seed filling her cunt. It has another aftershock rocking through her, and Nesta tosses her arm over her eyes, her head feeling dizzy with the high of it all. Her heart pounds in her chest, her body already feeling wrung out, but still that instinctual part of her mind, that omega piece of her always clawing for release, begs for more.

His knot finally subsiding, Cassian pulls his cock free, and it takes all of Nesta’s willpower to swallow down her whine at the loss. She feels so empty, that inner part of her all but raging at the lack of an alpha’s knot keeping her stuffed full.

“Fuck, we made quite a mess, didn’t we?”

Nesta does whine when Cassian’s thumbs spread her cunt wider, and she doesn’t have to look to know the truth of his words. She can feel the combination of arousal, of slick, of Cassian’s seed leaking out of her and making a mess of her thighs and his desk.

“We can’t have that, can we?”

A quiet thump echoes in the office around them, and Nesta pushes herself up into a seated position in alarm, only to find Cassian now on his knees before her. His hands grasp at her thighs, tugging her further across the desk until she’s half hanging off the edge. It’s the only warning she gets before Cassian buries his face between her thighs.

Nesta’s feet scramble desperately at his shoulders, her hand shooting out to clutch at the dark strands of Cassian’s hair, but whether it’s to keep herself balanced or to keep him exactly where he is, she isn’t sure. He devours her with a ferocity that Nesta can barely wrap her mind around. His tongue fucks into her and curls, gathering all that mess, all while his lips continue to move against her. He lets out a groan, and Nesta swears she feels the reverberation all the way down to her toes.

It’s obscene, the way he works his mouth and eats her out. The way he keeps his darkened gaze on her the whole time while he does it. Even from between her thighs, Nesta can see that smirk of his. He turns his attention to her clit, the hot, wet slide of his tongue swirling circles across the bud, and Nesta’s whole body bows forward with a choked off moan. She’s not sure if she wants to rock her hips or pull away. Not that it matters, anyway, Cassian keeping a firm grip on her thighs and holding her to his face.

Heat courses through Nesta’s entire body, and she already knows she’s not going to last much longer, not with the way Cassian continues to play her body. He licks a thick stripe over her cunt, and when he returns to her clit, he sucks it between his lips.

Nesta’s release hits her with enough force, so quickly, that it takes her by surprise. Her throat feels hoarse from all her shouts and moans, her cunt still clenching and fluttering through the aftershocks even after Cassian pulls away. It seems almost unfair, that he’s had her orgasming so many times when it’s meant to be his rut she’s helping him through.

She slides her hand out of his hair and to his shoulder, fisting her fingers in the fabric of his shirt. Surprisingly, Cassian follows her silent command, standing up when she tugs, and he allows her to push him back into his chair. Her legs are wobbly as she slips off the desk, but thankfully, it’s not far to clamber onto the chair and straddle his lap.

Nesta reaches down between them, curling her fingers around Cassian’s cock, already hard again. She strokes up slowly, feeling the hot weight of him in her hand, the way he twitches against her palm in response to her touch. She drags her thumb across the head of his cock, daring to press teasingly at the slit and reveling when Cassian’s hips jerk up against her.

“Ready for my knot again already, Nes?” Cassian still drawls despite his body’s reaction. “You’re absolutely desperate for it, aren’t you?”

“Shut up.”

Nesta crashes her mouth against his, determined to keep his mouth preoccupied, but she can’t deny the accusation, either. As amazing as his mouth had been, it was nothing compared to his cock, to his knot. It’s dangerous the way need has clawed up her chest, the way its twined around her ribs and dug a space there. It’s all she can focus on, the way his cock stroked against the walls of her cunt, the way his knot stretched her, the way his seed filled her.

There’s no suppressing the omega within her now, no denying her alpha.

She presses up higher onto her knees, guiding and holding Cassian’s cock steady as she sinks back down. There’s no keeping up the kiss. Nesta can do nothing but moan in relief against his lips at finally being full again. She clenches down, her toes curling at him pressing so deep.

Cassian lets out a groan of his own in reaction, his head dropping back against the chair. “Mother save me, nothing feels like your sweet cunt wrapped around me.”

Slowly, Nesta starts to circle and rock her hips, her clit dragging against Cassian’s pelvis with every movement in the most delicious way. But it’s not enough. It’s not what she needs. Planting her hands on Cassian’s shoulder for balance, she starts to move more earnestly, fucking herself on his cock.

“That’s my good girl.” Cassian’s hands settle at her hips, squeezing. “My sweet omega taking her alpha’s cock so well.”

Nesta keens at the praise, especially when Cassian plants his feet, snapping his hips up to meet her every movement with a hard, brutal thrust of his own. The pleasure is everything, fogging over her mind until all she can focus on is Cassian’s cock, on the feel of it slamming home over and over and over. On the sticky mess of slick and seed she’s made of both their thighs. On the wet slap of skin and her high pitched moans echoing off the walls of the office.

There’s a ringing in Nesta’s ears, and it drives Nesta to move her hips faster, to chase that sweet release until she realizes that it’s not in her head. It’s a phone. The phone on Cassian’s desk is ringing. She slows her movements, glancing over her shoulder toward the device, but a slap to her ass has her yelping in surprise.

“Ignore it,” Cassian chastises, his fingers squeezing and soothing away the ache of his slap. “Don’t stop now, Nes. Not when you’re riding my cock so perfectly.”

The ringing subsides, the call clearly having gone to voicemail, but then it just starts anew all over again. Cassian growls out a frustrated huff. His arm snaps around Nesta’s waist, holding her to his lap, keeping her on his cock, even as he reaches forward with his free hand to snatch up the offending device.

“Are you a fucking idiot?” Nesta doesn’t need to see the screen of the phone to recognize the cool, clipped tone of Night Inc.’s CEO. “We have cameras in every office. What in the fuck were you thinking?”

“Fuck off, Rhys,” Cassian snaps into the phone.

“Go the fuck home, dumbass.”

With that, the line clicks, the call clearly ended. Cassian shakes his head and tosses his phone back on his desk, returning his hand to Nesta’s thigh as though he can’t keep his hands off her, even for the short time it takes to speak on the phone. He nuzzles his face into the junction between her throat and shoulder, skating his nose across her pulse point, and Nesta can feel that tell-tale smirk of his pressing against her skin.

“Whoops. Looks like we got caught, sweetheart.”

—

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