#Snake searched all night for his husband
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Gangreen Reunion page 69-75 of 119 First Prev< >Next
Ace falls, Ace flies, Ace is found by the other Gangreen gang members who were searching all night long!
#gangreen gang#powerpuff girls#ace#ace ggg#snake ggg#lil arturo#grubber#big billy#cards of chaos#spade oc#clover oc#jack of diamonds#king of hearts#falling#catching#flying#catching in ice cream#Snake searched all night for his husband#I mean best friend#ace summons weapon#things lurk in the shadows#Gangreen reunion
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Escape attempt gone wrong (not clickbait)(my husband gets pissed?!?!)
Viltrumite Mark x fem reader, forced marriage, the whole shabang, I know nothing about Viltrum♡ word vomitted, lame fade to black scene because idk how to end this
You see a few ships zip by your windows on some days, you know they don't need ships, so a lot of them were dormant in landing zones.
"What're you thinking about?" Your husband's hands snaked onto your shoulders as his voice reached your ear, a small smile on his face.
"... nothing, I'm just wondering why you have ships since Viltrumites can fly." You noted, Mark hummed. "... honestly? I can't tell you either, maybe it's for longer journeys or cargo." He kissed your cheek gently. "Why? Planning to take one on a joy ride?"
The idea was tempting. "Don't be ridiculous," you scoffed. "I can't fly those."
Later that night, a formal meeting between a few powerful Viltrumites you didn't care about busied Mark and a majority of your guards have turned in for the night, you were left to your own devices in a big bedroom stockpiled with gifts from every corner of the galaxy.
You tossed and turned, sleeping early didn't help. You were restless, you've been restless since you've been demanded to remain in one building and one building only. It infuriated you, your supposed husband most likely saw you as a reward for decimating a planet and not a living being with autonomy.
You sat up, glancing aside to the empty space next to you. He had some nerve, locking you up then leaving to play emperor like this, anywhere else in the galaxy would be better now.
... 'anywhere else' wasn't impossible.
. . .
"You need to mind your manners," Nolan scolded as Mark left the room the 'conference' was held in. "I know you're doing a good job in power, but that doesn't mean you can disrespect your seniors."
"I don't respect those who don't respect me." Mark spoke, his tone grated through gritted teeth. "All I want to do is get this stupid cape off me and see my wife."
Nolan restrained an eye roll, the human pet. "You're too attached to that human, what do you see in her anyway?"
"Everything. She's kind, interesting, she sees me beyond my strength, it's like..." he let out a sigh, holding back a shiver from showing, the sigh almost sounded lovesick. "It's like she sees right through me to my core, sees me for who I am, not what I am."
Gag. His father ignored the romance ramble. "You'll learn to see her as a tool for the good of the empire."
Mark rolled his eyes, parting ways at a hallway. "I'm going to bed, I neglected her enough." He didn't wait for a 'goodnight' or any last comments from his father as he left.
The grand doors to the bedroom creaked open, nothing changed. Your body under the sheets, gifts untouched and floors clean, he let out a sigh of relief as he threw aside the cape, loosening the collar of his clothes. "Are you awake?" His voice was soft compared to the usual commanding tone. "I missed you, dear.."
He came to his side of the bed. "I've been waiting to—"
Pillows. Not your peaceful sleeping figure. A stack of pillows. Confusion flooded his head as he got up.
"... oh, oh! Haha! very funny, love." He looked around. "You can come out now!" He waited for a beat, eyes glancing around for any movement.
None, nothing, not even a shuffle. Panic tingled at his fingertips, as he tugged the sheets off the bed, rapidly looking under the bed his eyes darted around the room. His heart raced, looking in any and every compartment that you could possibly squeeze into.
The room grew into a mess but he couldn't care less, sweat coated his forehead from the frenzy of pure panic. "You're not here." He finally admitted to himself, his heart pounding.
Silently cursing the meeting in his head, he sped off to collect whoever he can from guards or staff to form a search party, you couldn't have gone far. Humans were weak, vulnerable, he'll find you. He'll find you. He'll find you.
. . .
You held the cloak you found in the back of the closet close to your chest, you didn't know if Viltrumites recognised you but you wouldn't risk it, but your feet hurt as you ran through the unfamiliar structures.
The hallways were empty, the doors were loose. It was a miracle. You got a chance to leave this nightmare of a marriage, you had no clear idea on where you'd be headed, but you heard stories of galaxy nomads and travellers making ends meet and surviving! You're a smart person, you've got common sense. How hard could it be..?
The landing zone. You just needed to get to the landing zone.
A gasp escaped you, you heard a few barks of commands. "Spread out! She couldn't have gone far!"
You needed to get to that landing zone.
Keep low, keep hidden. You repeated that in your head as you ran, you thought you'd never get there or that you may have gotten lost, then the landing zone came into view, you saw a few ships and suddenly, hope seemed within your reach.
The search party seemed too focused on the buildings and structures, you thanked whatever architect decided to put that place outside of populated areas, the shouting dwindled, turning more distant as you got closer.
You tossed the hood off seeing a few Viltrumites guarding a gate, spotting you as you closed in, they grew confused. "Your imperial majesty? What happ—"
"Open the gates!!" For the first time, you commanded them. "Open them, now!!"
They had no choice but to listen, the gates opened and your heart almost pounded out of your chest. The ships lined up and their states were clear, maintenence, maintenence, offline, maintenence, offline, reserved, offline, reserved.
Finally, 'Ready'.
You could hear the shouting return, but you didn't care, the ship took you in so easily and you could see a new life for yourself outside of this miserable planet, now you just need to learn how to get the controls to listen to you.
It was quiet inside the ship, save for the rapid button clicking and switch flicking from you, everything was coming to life in the ship's mechanics, you held onto the yoke of the ship as you saw the landscape shift, it would levitate off the ground soon.
. . .
He saw it in the distance, hovering high over the empire he saw a ship start to levitate, he knew about every ship, item and living being that entered and left Viltrum.
"No. No. Nononono." His body moved, launching him to the landing zone area with his fists clenched ready to tear through metal.
Mark mumbled to himself as he closed the distance quickly, angered at your audacity to try to escape him.
. . .
Freedom was on the horizon, you were out of here, out of this nightmare. Your hands readjusted repeatedly on the yolk as the ship moved.
A booming sound caused you to whip your head to the back of the ship, your heart dropped seeing an indent in the metal.
"I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE!" You never heard Mark's voice reach that level of volume, the pounding continued. "COME OUT!"
You stood your ground, even as the fear of what he might do if he gets you caused your hands to tremble and your heart to race quickly, you repeatedly tapped a few buttons, didn't this stupid ship have thrusters or whatever?!
An alarm blared, one meant to let a pilot know the ship wouldn't listen, you had a feeling it had to do with more rumbling from below, curse his monstrous strength, you heard a piercing noise, followed by a grating, screeching noise. He was peeling the metal with his bare hands.
"You'd rather DIE in the cold of the galaxy? You despise me to THAT extent?!" He screeched at the top of his lungs, the ship sparking after he destroyed its engine from the outside and it's structure being torn apart.
Your hands rapidly tried to find any button that could reverse or override the damage. "Please," you mumbled as if the ship could hear you. "Please work, please! I can't stay here..!"
"(NAME)!! TURN THIS SHIP OFF!! NOW!!"
His yelling scared you, you gripped a lever and before you knew it, a flury of sparks flew from the control panel, so powerful it almost knocked you out, but the ship being pummeled back to the ground beat the sparks to it, the tilt of the ship causing you to fall out the pilot's chair and hit your head on the way down to the ship's floor.
Your head hurts, your heart hurts, are you going to die on this ship? You didn't want to succumb to the pounding in your head, you were scared you'd wake up chained or worse. A burning sensation collected at the point of impact on your head.
The ship was useless now, Mark made sure of it, the engine being destroyed in an instant, tugging the metal back until there was enough of an opening for him to slip through, he bent his head down to enter the ship. its lights flickering off, he looked up with a piercing glare, a scowl on his lips and eyebrows furrowed, his knuckles were reddened from the sheer force of his strikes against the metal.
It was quiet for a moment as he watched the consciousness slip away from you, his footsteps that approached you quiet compared to the powerful banging of his fists from seconds ago.
"You've got some nerve." He started, a look of anger, sadness, frustration and heartbreak in his eyes. "You think it's that easy, don't you?"
Black spots formed in your vision, your expression was one he couldn't dissect, it pissed him off more, and he knew he'd still take care of that bump on your head after bringing you back home.
It doesn't matter, he'd indulge in his win for now and seethe about the insolence after. And right when he thought you were becoming more obedient too.
"I'm not letting you go." Mark stated to make the situation clear to your fuzzy state of mind, "Not now. Not ever. I'll make sure of it."
#oh noooo dont chase me!!! *trips and falls on purpose* noooooo♡#mark grayson x reader#invincible x reader
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helping tony stark blow off some steam ...
cw : french kissing, handjob, blowjob, reader is a swallower, kinda ooc/submissive/really lost in the pleasure tony, reader is a teaseee
a/n : suddenly got back into marvel even thought im team dc and turns out I reeeeaaally have a thing for billionaire playboys (looking at you, bruce wayne)
your marriage with tony stark was fun. of course it was, it's tony effing stark. but you can't deny that on some nights, when he's busy devoting his entire being to his work (which, you respect highly), you're bored.
you've been invited to a gala—nothing too crazy, the usual guests, fake smiles and business deals hidden under backhanded compliments. you still had some time before you had to get ready, and you decided to be a nice wife and make some dinner for your hardworking husband!
you didn't know what he'd want to eat though... bummer.
gliding down the stairs, you took a quickly glance around his workshop through the glass and saw him working his technological magic on some hologram touch screen.
entering the pin code instantly like muscle memory, you entered.
"there she is," he began and you smiled. "tony, sweetie," you walked up to him, setting a hand on his shoulder. "i got invited to a gala this evening—" "yeah?" he said under his breath. "—and I thought I'd make you dinner before going." he smirked without looking up, "how thoughtful."
your hand snaked under his jaw, making him look at you while pressing your fingers against his cheeks. "whatcha wanna eat, nerdy?" he chuckled at the nickname, grabbing your cheeks and pressing a bit harder to make you pout. "I'll eat anything you make me, miss."
you let go of him and he mirrored you, starting to turn back to get back to work but you grabbed his shoulder again, stopping him. "tony, you work day and night, don't you wanna rest a bit?" and just as you said that, a devilish idea popped in your mind like a lightbulb.
"baby, you know I don't have time to-" and you kissed him, uninterested in his excuses to keep overworking himself. your lips smashed together and it was deep, almost animalistic, teeth occasionally clashing. you nibbled on his lower lip and he opened up, letting you initiate a french kiss. your tongue snuck inside his mouth, clashing with his.
you sat down on his lap without breaking the kiss and his hands instantly found their way to your hips, grounding them against him. leaning in, you deepened the kiss, while simultaneously grinding down on him slightly, just enough to rile him up.
finally, he pulled away, looking more disheveled than ever and you could just eat him up. "fuck..." was all he could mutter out before instantly going for your neck and your granted him access, throwing your head back to give him more room. he started kissing it slightly before sucking it directly, marking you up at his. he nibbled slightly on the marks to emphasis them which pulled a low moan out of you.
"baby–baby, wait.." you tapped the back of his head slightly and he pulled away immediately, searching your eyes for any discomfort only to be met with pure, raw lust. you ran your hand down his clothed chest, and set your hand on his growing buldge, rubbing it.
"I wanna make this about you. you work too much, tony.." you cooed, drawing out the syllables of his name. he stayed silent for a moment, before completely melting under your touch. "gosh, I don't deserve you. I really don't." and you booped his nose, "of course you do."
you quickly pulled his cock out of his pants, stroking it slowly while keeping direct eye contact with the man and he's positive he's about to die.
your soft, warm hand glided up and down his length, the movement swift thanks to the amount of pre he was letting ooze out. "oh, yeah, that's the stuff." his hand snaked in your hair to ground himself, grabbing without pulling. his abs clenched and his thighs kept shifting beneath you, his breath hitching.
you kept an even pace, biting your lip as if to conceal the nasty words that were aching to fly out of your mouth, in vain. "look at you, tony.." you began and he's already weak. "you work, and work, and work..." you rubbed his tip with your thumb lightly and he threw his head back, a loud groan echoing out of him. "it's like you never relax, honey." you give his exposed neck a quick peck, "let me take care of you, tony."
"fuck–yeah, you do that." he huffed out, making you giggle slightly. just when it started to get really good, you unwrapped your hand and got off his lap, alerting him. he picked his head back up to look at you, confusion and frustration filling his eyes. but then, and he's thanking the heavens for it, you start to lower yourself, now looking up at him while on your knees before him.
you grabbed his base and he shivered, closing his eyes—he was bracing himself. you scooted a bit closer, kissing his tip and his hips twitched. another loud groan that came straight from his chest. "I really think I'm gonna marry you, sweetheart." he affirms and you laugh, his balls tightening at the sound. "tony, baby," you ran your tongue up his dick, "we're already married." and his cock twitched at that, before finally being welcomed by the warmth of your mouth.
you lower your head down his length, nose bumping against his pelvis. finally, he let's out a moan, and you perk up at the sound. "shit– shitshitshit-" when you start bobbing your head up and down, it's game over for the poor man.
you've done this hundreds of times to him, but everytime you do, it feels like the first time. your tongue swirled around him like a cobra fetching its prey. you hollowed your cheeks with expertise, constricting the wet walls of your throat around his head. that made him set his hand in your hair again.
he didn't control the pace, his head just followed the movement on your hand, his other one running through his own hair.
his moans started going crescendo, getting louder and louder than the last. closing your eyes, you went for his balls, massaging them softly which has him hissing. "shit, honey, if you keep doing that I might- ill– I'm about to—" and that's about the only warning you get before you feel hot ropes of cum jump down your throat. you pulled away slowly to feel his release on your tongue, aching for the taste of it.
you got off him with a pop! sound, sticking your tongue out as he grabbed your cheeks to inspect your mouth. "good girl, swallowed it all." he heaved out, making a cheeky smile appear on your face.
you got up, rubbing your lips to get the leftover saliva off of them. "I'm gonna go make dinner, okay?" and he didn't even have the strength to reply, his chest going up and down intensely—he was still getting over his orgasm.
he was definitely going to let you help him relax more often.
#do ppl even still read marvel stuff anymore...#i just got back into it#lets find out#fanfiction#black writers#x reader#marvel#marvel x reader#marvel x you#marvel x y/n#tony stark#tony stark smut#tony stark x reader#tony stark x you#tony stark x y/n#tony stark imagine#robert downey jr#thor odinson#thor#thor x reader#thor smut#loki x reader#loki smut#chris evans#captain america#steve rogers#steve rogers smut#steve rogers x reader#x reader smut#anime x reader
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Paranoid Parent
Based on this request!

Pairing: Azriel x Pregnant!Reader
Summary: Azriel’s scared of a microwave— and other things that might harm his pregnant wife.
Warnings: Drabble , pure fluff
1.2k words

Azriel has always been a light sleeper. But ever since you've been pregnant you were sure the male was entirely nocturnal.
Especially now that you've reached the third trimester. You'd get up to use the bathroom and find his side of the bed empty, on nights when you had the energy you'd venture through the house and usually find him in his office, always hunched over a book or his computer, glasses hanging off the tip of his nose as he stares at you with pure and utter concern.
Tonight, however, Azriel had slept the entire night. His large arm snaked around your waist to have his hand on your stomach protectively, your own hand atop his. His touch always made the baby relax, the kicking would cease whenever his warm hand cradled you.
However, that didn't stop you from having to use the bathroom every ten minutes. You released a silent groan, cursing Azriel for giving you twins as you clambered from the warm bed, from Azriel's open arms— and trudged toward the bathing chambers.
After exiting the restroom you noticed the sun peeking over the horizon, indicating the time. You released a long, frustrated breath— knowing you wouldn't be able to go back to sleep.
You look to Azriel, who was soundly asleep. You wondered how you didn't wake him up when shifting beneath him, supposing he took a sleeping medication of some sort.
You decide not to bother him and exit your spare bedroom. You walk past the nursery painted in a soft, pastel purple with two wooden cribs pushed against the wall. You were nervous about having twins— but Azriel, ever the researcher, seemed beyond anxious. Which oddly put you at ease, every insane thought he had left you saying, "It's fine, there's nothing to worry about." Which helped the both of you.
You walked into the kitchen, craving something spicy. You gnawed at your bottom lip as you searched the pantry for anything with some sort of tang. After about three minutes of scrounging, you found a bag of forgotten chips in the back. You smiled giddily, exiting the pantry as you opened the bag and kicked the pantry door shut behind you, deciding you wouldn't need to put this bag back by the time you were done with it.
You stuffed your mouth with the delectable chips, groaning in pleasure audibly because it's everything you craved at the moment.
Azriel's hand roamed your empty space, finding only warm sheets in your absence. He pats the space like he doesn't quite believe you're not there. When the realization hits him he springs up, eyes widening as he stares at your ruffled sheets. He didn't waste time in getting up, springing from the bed, eyes analyzing every crack and crevice of the wall like you've somehow disappeared into one of them.
He strides out of the room, his steps rushed as he pads down the hall.
He skids to a stop when he spots you in the kitchen, heating a pot of coffee in the microwave.
He releases a sigh of relief and walks towards you, wrapping an arm around your waist.
You jump at the sudden contact, not hearing your husband enter the room. "You're so quiet, detective," You hum and he murmurs something softly into your shoulder but it’s inaudible. You turn around to look up at him. "Come back to bed." He pouts and a smile spreads over your features. "I can't sleep," You shrug. "You need your rest." His brows crease worriedly and you place your hands on his fidgeting ones. "I'll take a nap in a few hours." You reassure and all he can do is nod in reply.
You pivot on your heel, reaching for the bag of chips. "You want one?" You turn toward the male, offering him a chip. His eyes widen and he goes ghostly white. "How much of these have you eaten?" He grabs the entire bag from you and your brows crease. "Uh," you look down at the bag. "Most of them." You shrug and he frowns, clearly panicked. "Should I not have or something?" You tilt your head. "It's just— I read this thing about how spicy foods might result in blinding the babies." He murmurs and a giggle bubbles from my chest. "What's funny?" He blinks and you shake your head in disbelief. "You read too much," you murmur, reaching for the bag and he swerves, not letting you have it. "Az c'mon," you sigh, your hand coming to your stomach reflectively. "I promise whatever you've been reading is a myth," you reassure, reaching for the bag again, and this time he lets you have it. "What happened to my husband?" You bring a hand to his cheek. "My very skeptical husband." You correct and he frowns. "I just want everything to go well," He explains and you give him a saddened smile. "It won't be perfect, but everything will be fine if you stay by me, okay?" You rub your thumb along his sharp cheekbone and he releases a sigh with a nod.
The microwave beeps and you turn away from him, reaching toward the handle of the microwave before he grabs your hand. "Wait," He calls and your brows crease, before your shoulders slump and you realize what he's so paranoid over. "Az, c’mon." You sigh, craning your neck to look back at him tiredly. “Well, sometimes, microwaves can leak radiation.” He lets go of your hand and scratches his arm nervously. You square your features, staring directly at him. “I won’t explode if I open this, I promise.” You place your free hand on his bicep. You open the door of the microwave and he flinches, but nothing else happens.
A small smile comes to your face, both hands coming to his cheeks as you release a soft chuckle. “Why are you so worried Az?” You rub the tops of his cheeks with your thumbs. “You’re too smart to believe in any of this stuff.” You drone and he sighs. “I just worry,” He shrugs and you shake my head, rising onto the tips of your toes, and press a kiss to his lips, which he reciprocates by dipping down, hands coming to my jaw.
“I’m fine,” you whisper, my forehead pressing against his. “It’s alright, okay?” Your hands come to his and you lean into his touch, showing him that you’re just fine. “Okay.” He nods with creased brows. A smile curves your lips and you press a kiss to his lips again, before backing away as quick as you came. “You’re so protective.” You roll your eyes and back away from his hold— which he reluctantly lets you go from. You reach into the chip bag and pop a few into your mouth. “I promise the flavor dust won’t kill me,” you mumble, licking your fingers clean. “The seasoning?” He tilts his head with an inquisitive look and you pale, removing your thumb pad from your mouth and nodding. A genuine smile breaks out across his features, mirroring your own.
“I love you,” He says incredulously, pulling you into his big arms and peppering your face with kisses as you fight him off.

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#acotar#suriels tea#a court of thorns and roses#fanfic#sarah j maas#x reader#azriel#request#acomaf#bat boys#azriel x you#azriel fluff#azriel x reader#azriel shadowsinger#azriel acotar#acotar fluff#x reader fluff#fluff#x you#fem reader#reader insert#fanfiction#cute#drabble
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Even the Devil Mourns
・❥ You awake one night to find your husband, Lucifer Morningstar, missing from your side. You go out to search, only to see him distraught in a pool of tears.
x: reader is g/n, no use of y/n. more luci angst popped into my head yall, sorry not sorry
~ 3.2k words
Warnings: Angst!! Hellish themes! Descriptions of death & Satanic rituals ft. human sacrifices!




You awoke suddenly, sweat beading on your forehead and heart pounding in your chest. The silken, satin sheets slid across your naked back as you stirred. The cool breeze across your exposed skin sent goosebumps up your spine.
What time was it? What was that sound that had pulled you from your beauty sleep?
Your face was still buried into the cool pillow beneath you. Its plush, velvety touch beckoning you back into slumber. You snuggled deeper into the pillow’s embrace, your pulse slowing as you began to drift off.
And then, you heard it again. Echoing from the cracked doorway across the bedroom, emanating from somewhere down the hallway. A stifled sound, like someone holding in a large intake of breath. You shifted your face off of the pillow slightly, straining your ears.
Sleep was slowly ebbing from your mind, as you stirred underneath the sheets once more. The strange noise piqued your interest as you pulled the covers away from your face, the room beginning to feel unusually cold.
It was night, you guessed, since your eyelids were still bathed in darkness. Usually, the morning light would peak from the drapes that covered the large glass panes that bordered your bedroom. The rays of light would bask your bed sheets in a red glow, and you would have nestled your face closer against the soft, supple skin of your beloved. His arm lifting to snake around your waist, pulling you closer. Hot breath tickling against your lashes as he placed a drowsy kiss on your temple.
Your beloved.
Lucifer.
Where was he? You couldn’t feel the warmth that seemed to seep from his very being, enveloping you like a gentle embrace without even touching the man. You couldn't feel Lucifer beside you at all, not even the weight of his figure on the mattress.
The fallen angel always had some part of his body against yours. Whether that was his head snuggled against your chest, or his legs wrapped around yours. There was always some sort of contact with Lucifer, no matter the time of day.
His fingers always seemed to graze against yours as he handed you another one of his candy apple creations. The feeling of his hand resting on the small of your back protectively, as you took a drunken, wobbly step backward as the two of you enjoyed another romantic evening filled with laughter and soft whispers.
But, now. There was none of that. For the first time since you began sharing a bed, Lucifer wasn’t here to greed your tired form. Which made you uneasy, and you lifted yourself slowly from the mattress, renewed energy feeding your tired muscles as you rose to a sitting position.
Twisting your legs, you pivoted until your feet floated over the edge of the bed, before lowering them to the ground. Your skin met the cold, firm wooden floor beneath as you inhaled a deep breath. Sitting there for a few moments, you allowed yourself a little more time to wake, before shifting your weight to your legs and rising.
Your hands reached for the hanger beside your bedside table, a dark red that called out to you with warmth. The thick, plush garment enveloped your fingers as you pulled it from the hook. Wrapping the robe around your semi-nude figure, you quickly shuffled your feet into the fuzzy yellow duck slippers neatly tucked beneath the hanger.
Your eyes were slowly adjusting to the darkness of the room, the only source of light teasing you from the doorway. The door was opened only an inch or two, but the familiar orange glow that flickered from the hallway still reached your bedroom even from the lounge.
Reaching an arm down, you let your fingers gently graze against the marble surface of your bedside table, until your pink landed on the small item of value. Its smooth, metal surface slid against your finger as it nestled around your digit.
Your wedding ring, something you never parted without. Even in a nightly search like this one, where you weren’t sure what exactly you were going to find outside of the safe confines of your chamber. Lucifer had a ring just like yours, but in the darkness, you couldn’t see whether he had taken it with him when he departed.
Snaking your arms together, you held them closely to your chest as you crossed the distance, using your foot to quietly peel the door farther open. It creaked quietly, and you grimaced at the noise. Turning slightly, you shimmied through the gap, the soles of your slippers meeting the carpet in the hallway.
You turned your head towards the orange glow, that flickered around the corner. The pitiful noises beckoned you as you tiptoed across the corridor, past the large paintings hung across the walls. Scenes of rushing, deep blue waters cascading over glittering rocks as it fell into a pool of sunlit waves.
On the edge of the large waterfall, was a mother grizzly bear and her cubs, their small frames hanging from their mother’s legs in playful banter. The large bear’s caramel-brown coat stuck out from the sharp, gray edges of the rocks standing tall behind her.
Her snout was lifted towards the cascading water, her mouth parted to show sharp, white teeth as the shadows of long, pink fish leaped from the edge of the falls, their bodies barely grazing her jaws as she snapped at their forms.
You weren’t particularly aware of where that painting had come from, but it was a very beautiful scene of life on Earth, a very rare type of piece to find down in Hell.
There was one, that you favored over them all, of you and Lucifer. It depicted a midnight-red sky, the large pentagram glowing above the two figures on a large balcony. Vines snaked around the pillars on each side of the terrace, blue and purple flowers blooming across their green, prickly skin. The familiar face on the left, a pearlescent glow against the red backdrop, wore a playful look on his features. One hand holding a wine glass, the other snug against the figure on the right, you.
You stood beside Lucifer, a large smile plastered across your face as the two of you leaned comfortably against the tall marble balcony railing. It seemed like the two of you were at some kind of party, perhaps one of those annual meetups all the Sins and friends have away from the prying eyes of Hell. Lucifer’s attire was a more casual fit for a king, his favorite red-and-white striped waistcoat, over that clean, white dress shirt. You were also adorned in an eye-catching outfit that displayed your power and statue of royalty, without making you the center of attention.
The two of you looked so happy, as you leaned into each other with lips curved into goofy grins. For being the highest-ranking figures in Hell, the two of you looked so natural and carefree in this moment. A moment you cherished every time you glanced at the portrait hanging comfortably along the wall during your walks between rooms.
Unfortunately, the light illuminating from the end of the hall wasn’t strong enough for you to get a good glimpse at it, as you neared the corner. You planted your back against the wall, peeking your head slightly out of the edge. You couldn’t see the fireplace from here, but the sound of wood crackling as it split from the flames echoed through the room.
You could hear the strange noises much clearer now, a shaky breath followed by quiet, soothing murmurs. Sniffling, before another one of those stifled sobs.
Your breath quickened, muscles tensing as you listened for another moment. The voice intermixed with the sounds was awfully familiar, and you couldn’t understand what would make the owner so distraught.
You calmed your beating heart, before pivoting to stand in the entryway of the lounge, your gaze landing on the figure curled on a piece of furniture. Their side faced you, and you partially see their features, illuminated by the orange glow of the flames.
Across the room, was Lucifer. He sat on top of a dark red ottoman, only a few feet from the fireplace as he stared into it, lost in thought. He wore his white dress shirt loosely against his figure, the buttons partially undone in the front, exposing his collarbone. Lucifer’s arms were wrapped around his legs, and his knees were hugged to his chest. His head limply lay against one of his kneecaps, his head out-turned towards you.
It wasn’t until you approached him, and your footsteps creaked against the floor, did the sullen man perk up from his ball of comfort. Tears glistened against his pale features, and his quivering lip curved into a shocked frown. The man’s disheveled hair bounced softly as he lifted his head, those platinum-blonde curls practically glowing like candlelight.
“Oh, Honey!” Lucifer gasped, his head whipping to face the opposite direction of you. His hand rubbed across his face hastily as he straightened himself atop the sofa. He fixed his loose collar, clearing his throat as he fixed his posture. “I’m sorry, did I wake you? You should just go back to sleep, I don’t want to bother you.”
“It’s hard to sleep when you see your husband like this at one in the morning,” you responded, taking a few steps closer. Your tone was firm, prompting him to speak more on the subject.
Lucifer stayed silently, the only noise between the two of you were soft pops and crackles from the burning wood. Fear gnawed at you watching him ignore your words. Your husband always tried to hide his emotions at first, masking them behind a smile while he let his mind drift off to such dark thoughts. Except, with you, he always came undone and spilled the beans like a teenage girl at a sleepover.
But, your presence was not breaking him just yet, as he averted his gaze. In the faint light, you swore his fingers were shaking just a tad against the fabric of his shirt. Should you prod him further? There was no way you were going to leave him to drown in whatever sorrows he was battling right now.
“It happened again,” Lucifer finally breathed out after a moment. His fingers harshly squeezed the sleeves of his dress shirt, his chest shuddering as he inhaled another shaky breath. His eyes were still trained on the flames licking against the metal barrier, as he refused to meet your gaze.
You stood there, your arms crossed against your chest as you shivered. The heat of the fireplace felt so welcoming to your tired bones, but the sight of Lucifer sullen upon the ottoman kept your feet frozen in place.
“What happened again?” You whispered, taking a step forward, careful not to cross any boundary that could set your husband off further. This was a side of him you rarely saw. Yes, he was an emotional being, but the distress Lucifer was exuding was making you more nervous after every second he remained silent.
“I was summoned, to one of those… rituals.” Lucifer spat out that last word with disgust, a growl underlying his tone.
You tensed. Oh, one of those.
Since Lucifer fell, and became the King of Hell, his soul was chained to the realm. Unable to cross to Heaven or Earth, even with another’s magic. The fallen angel was stuck, cursed to watch the cruelty and hate that sprung from his past actions.
Except, through the slaughter of a newly-born lamb, could he enter into the mortal plane. Only to answer the call of whoever had landed the killing blow. Something about being punished to only view your creation through ‘the blood of the innocent’ or some stupid Heavenly shit like that. You never asked him what transpired during those summonings, and he never spoke of it.
There was one kind of summoning, that you knew of, that was different from the rest. Cults that worshipped demons and monsters, perpetuated suffering in exchange for a supposed blessing from the fiery pits below. Lucifer always seemed… off, after those times.
“I always feel it, before it happens,” your husband started, his hand raking across his scalp as he pulled the tangled blonde mess behind his forehead. “Like a tugging at my shirt, but from deep inside, like my soul. I didn’t want to disturb you, so I ran to the bathroom. Just as I was pulled through the portal to Earth.”
Those images flashed through Lucifer’s mind as he spoke. Large, crumbling pillars dot the perimeter. Torches circled a thick, wooden stake planted into the ground. Satanic symbols were woven into posts and burned into the ground around the grassy, hidden clearing.
A bloodied figure lay limp against its surface, rope wrapping around their thin frame as it kept them in place. Flames licked at their feet, the stake beginning to catch fire as they writhed in pain from the intense heat.
Hooded. figures stood in the shadows, chanting some awful, ancient tune. Asking for blessings and powers Lucifer couldn’t even grant them.
“It was a girl, I don’t know how old. But, she was young, not even full grown,” Lucifer started, his voice shaky as the words slipped painfully from his tongue, “When I got there, she was already burning. Screaming in agony, pleading for mercy.”
You grimaced, trying not to picture the scene. The metallic tang of blood that no doubt had permeated the air. The stench of burning flesh, as it sizzled off its owner.
Bile rose in your throat, threatening to spill from your mouth before you held it in. Leaving you to wonder how many times Lucifer had witnessed such a thing to have better composure to the scene than you.
“Do you know who she cried out to during her last moments?” Lucifer turned to you, his features glowing as his eyes glistened with tears. A bitter smile bloomed on his lips, a dark chuckle escaping his throat. “God! She begged Him to save her! To strike those hooded men down and end her suffering.”
You said nothing, instead taking a few steps closer to your husband's quivering form, only a few feet from him now as Lucifer spoke with a pained tone.
“Do you know what ended her suffering? The flames that ate away her skin.” He snarled, his eyes turning blood-red as he pivoted towards you. You reeled back, your heartbeat quickening at his bared teeth.
“There was nothing I could—nothing I can do,” He cried to you, his tone wobbly, desperate. As if he was trying to convince you that was the truth, that he didn’t let such terrible actions go unpunished purposely. “I’m always too late when they call for me. Too much damage already.”
Tears pricked at your eyes as you listened to him. You would have never had that kind of idea in your head, you knew Lucifer wasn’t that twisted of a man.
“And imagine, when those bastards finally kick the bucket, they’ll come here,” Lucifer spat hoarsely, venom dripping from his words, “another citizen that I’m expected to protect and rule over. I’m expected to care about, as King. What a cruel joke Heaven has played on me.”
Lucifer sat there for a moment, breathing heavily. His horns jutted out of his head as he fumed silently at himself. Those tears threatened to spill from his pretty eyes once more as he lifted a hand with an anguished growl, and Lucifer raked his claws down his face.
You gasped, watching blood spill from the small gashes across his cheek, glowing sickly against the blazing light from the fireplace.
“Don’t do that!” You begged, lacing your fingers with his, pulling his hand to your chest as you kneeled before him. The golden liquid spread across your fingertips from his damp claws, and your face screwed into anguish, “Don’t hurt yourself, none of this is your fault. Absolutely none..”
Your finger rubbed against a small, smooth surface on Lucifer’s hand. Glancing down, your eyes followed the glint of his wedding ring as it shined in the basking light. Your heart fluttered, and you sighed.
Slowly, you lifted your other hand to his face. Lucifer leaned back slightly, hesitant at your touch. He broke a moment later, squeezing his eyes shut as he brushed his cheek against your open hand. Your nails grazed lightly against his skin, the damp feeling only driving your own tears.
“Do you know what it feels like, to watch innocent people be burned alive to please some sick, twisted version of me?” Lucifer whispered into your palm, tears pooling against your skin as he blinked them away.
You pursued your lips, the agony on his face clenching your heart tightly.
“Those defenseless men and women, sentenced to death simply for theatrics.” Lucifer whimpered, and you slid your hand from his fingers to rest against his other cheek.
“All those children—”
Lucifer choked on the last word, a sob escaping his throat as he struggled to contain the shakes racking across his body.
In a swift motion, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling the fallen angel flush against you. This time, there was no fuss from him as he collapsed into your hold.
You held him, as he sobbed. Painful, heartbreaking cries of grief. As Lucifer mourned the lives that were destroyed in his name, for an image that didn’t exist.
You shook against him, ceasing the noises that threatened to escape your aching throat. You only bit your lip harshly, tasting blood drip flood your tastebuds. You ignored the pain blooming in your mouth, staying silent as Lucifer began to calm in your grasp.
All because he wanted mankind to be able to express themselves outside of Heaven’s strict rules and suffocating influence.
“I gave them a chance to do so much more,” he whispered against your skin. His head lay limply against your shoulder as he sobbed quietly. “And, they fucked it up.”
“Please don’t cry,” you whispered hoarsely into his hair, inhaling the deep scent of apples and cinnamon as you hugged him tightly. “I’m here for you, as always. You don’t need to hide your grief from me.”
“I know, I'm sorry.” He replied quietly, his fingers rubbing soothing circles against your upper back. The weight against you grew heavier, as he fell completely limp against your hold, his hand coming down to rest against your waist.
“I’m just so tired.” He muttered into the crook of your neck, and you pulled him closer.
“Sleep, I’m right here. Just rest your eyes, for me.” You begged your lover.
Lucifer nodded into your skin, before you felt him curl farther into you. You nestled closer into his hair, your back against the ottoman now, as you let the heat of the fire dry your soaked cheeks.
Oh, how cruel Heaven truly is, to give such a fate to such a loving soul.
And now, you’d make sure he would never feel so alone in his pain again. A silent promise to your husband, as you drifted into bliss-less sleep.
YOU GUYS. this idea had me by the chokehold suddenly after work, and i wrote it in one sitting, my ass hurts yall 😂
also, don’t worry, that alastor fic is still coming! i’m about halfway done, so stay tuned for that next :)
what do you think? let me know your thoughts! <3
tag list 🏷️
@ohnoivefallen @doodlebob2726 @coleisyn @loslox @sukxma-archive @undertale-is-sansational @nehy019 @mixplara @chewbrry @yellowsubiesdance @airwolf92 @laurenlaurie @lxkeee @jellybellyrulez @catnoirsleftnut @mbruben-stein @mint129106 @froggybich @moonlovers34 @just-trash-yeah-thats-it @lil-bexie @lowkeyhottho @wings-of-sapphire @the-tortured-poet @bethleeham @blue122 @cherry-4200 @azullynx @luzzbuzz @for-hearthand-home @thy-tortured-poet @th3-st4r-gur1 @astro-raven-power @concentratedconcrete @cimadreamer @marsenbie @guacam011y @maxiskindahere @purplerose291 @enigmatic-blues
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ㅤㅤㅤㅤ エロチックトバー2024> MDNI / EXPLICIT CONTENT
STICKY HONEYMOON 🍼 SABO X F! READER KINKTOBER DAY 9: CREAMPIE
🐙 requested by: Anonymous. Hey! 🎀 May I request Sabo(OP) x female reader for the 9th day, please? I'm not sure if I can ask for this, but let it be in the style of Fluff with a bit of spice, just like our blond. Thank you and wishing you inspiration! ⚠️ tw: mdni. explicit content. as requested it is fluffy and smutty 💕 a couple of newlyweds enjoying their honeymoon with loads of sex. cream pie. masturbation. and so much lovemaking. 🐙 wc: 1,1 k // kinktober 24 masterlist // join the taglist
Arms like snakes all around your body. Sabo’s golden locks grazing your nape, his nose buried on your spine. Warm breath wetting the space in between your shoulder blades. His fiery hands hanging on your belly, hardness against your ass…
“Nmhg…” Sabo mutters, as he inhales the scent of your skin. It is late, very late. Night has fallen some hours ago, with bodies sore from the day… you’ve chosen your honeymoon to be an adventurous one.
“Mh? What is it, babe?” you ask, lifting your ass a little bit more so that you can feel his erection growing bigger against you. Being the little spoon with your now husband, is all you want for the night.
Sabo knows, exactly, what you are doing. And excitement, lust and need turns a little flame into a big fire…
“I love you…” he murmurs, planting a peck on your shoulder. His hips begin to move; it feels as if he was dry humping on against your buttocks. “I still can’t believe you have finally become my wife…”
You smile against the pillow, a beam so big can’t even fit your face. Sabo can be this and even more romantic when it comes to you.
“I love you too, my sweet husband…” you whisper back, passing your hand to the back, caressing his hip side with a loving sexy graze. Such graze, then, turns into your nails clawing into his milky skin… and that, to him, it only means one simple thing; go ahead Sabo-kun, fuck me!
Needless to say, both lay naked on silky sheets. Already sweat imbued fabric, as it’s been putting up with nights of hot love making sessions. And tonight, it won’t be the exception.
“What you want, mh? You want me deep inside you again?” Sabo asks, whispering right into your ear, biting your lobe right after.
You giggle, once again your nails carve marks on his flesh. Pulling him even closer to your ass, you can even feel how his hard sex slides in between your cheeks.
“Deep, yes. Very deep, babe… plus, this time, I want you to fill me up with your cum” you request; the intimacy of your relationship has stripped you from any shame whatsoever.
Sabo grunts, there is only so much a man can take. He can be strong, but those words are simply a detrimental move you have just made.
His right hand slides down your waist up to your lower belly and then to your sex. His fingers wander through your anatomy, separating your folds just enough to reach your clit. Sabo finds those lands as expected; wet, more than dampened. He gloats, he knows his dick will slide so deliciously in and out, and the sound of every ram will be music to his ears.
He begins tracing circles on your pleasure button, as his free hand reaches for your left breast. Erect, hard, sensitive, that’s how he finds it everything he touches on your body.
You react to his pinching and massaging, whimpering low, jolting every time he stimulates it all at the same time. His sex, as well, hasn’t been left out of this intercourse prelude; it, by itself and powered by increasing hardness and throbbing pulses, moves in the search of your entrances. Coated by your honeys, that have already wet the inner side of your thighs, and mixing with his own precum, finds enough lubrication to finally meet with your fleshy folds.
“Fuck me, please…” his masturbation can be perfect, but the heat growing stronger inside you and walls that ache to be stretched get the best of you. “Fuck me, Sabo… I want you so deep inside of me…”
You didn’t need to ask, and still Sabo enjoys such pleading like a trophy, like a medal. Ego bursting; ego and shaft exploding.
“Are you sure you want me inside you, my sweet wife?” he asks, enjoying a little bit more how your hips move on their own, desperate to feel him pumping into you.
“Dear husband, if you don’t fuck me right now…” you playfully -and perhaps even a little cranky- threaten him.
The blond revolutionary laughs sweetly; there is nothing more he could ever want now than to fuck you as you ask. And so, he does…
On its own, with a simple forth hip movement, his sex finally penetrates you. It takes him no effort, as it seems your body has been made for his, and his has been made for yours. Truly soul, mind and flesh mates.
He hugs your waist from behind, ramming into you so deeply and violently, exactly as you like it.
The back of your head fall on his shoulder, reaching with your mouth his. Million kisses that deepen the more the in and out rhythm increases. It lets the commissure of your lips shiny, erratic tongues sometimes can’t be precise, and the need for oxygen also makes it even more messy.
And just as predicted, your juices both mix and let him move so perfectly in sync with you, and the sound of the slapping skins play a sinful ambrosial melody. But it is what abandons your lips from time to time what makes it even magical; whispered, breath, inhaled “I love yous” fill the room, the love nest you both chose to consummate your marriage.
Your milking walls, your spasming muscles, your moans and whines…
“Don’t stop… don’t… stop… I’m close, please-” “ngh… not… stopping….”
Your pleads. His grunts. The scent of sex...
“Were… you- for real? Inside?” “Fill me the fuck up Sabo, I beg you please… I am… about to… fuck…”
Sabo takes a deep breath; he needs to get ready; he is about to burst and your core to be flooded with his relief. Sabo is desperate, your climax keeps milking him with no mercy, it feels like you are going to drown his cum from him and he can’t stop it…
“Take it all inside babe… I want to make you so fucking full” he grunts, giving the final thrust to reach for the deepest possible spot.
You can’t even talk, you are just still orgasming, still trembling, savouring the incipient pulses of Sabo’s climax. His belly becomes hard, his arms lock you against his dick; there is no scape now, you are trapped there to be overfilled with his seed.
Seed so hot it feels like a burning fire taking over your womb, getting to every little corner of your anatomy, going in with pressure as Sabo pushes your lower belly down… oh, Sabo-kun… it feels like fire, it fills so good.
“I love you, my sweet husband… thank you for the treat” “We are just starting, babe… you are still not even remotely full of it”
Taglist of amazing babes: @kwnblack @terrabear2003 @eyes-ofhell @votaeto @cokou @seoul-is-a-dream @tinydonkeysforlife @appalost @themessedupsonata @adamsfanficstash @ariesbbytings @animesnowstorm @lenablack9919 @anothersoulless 💖🍓
#kinktober 2024#kinktober#kinktober 24#sabo op#chief of staff sabo#op sabo#one piece sabo#sabo#asl brothers#sabo the revolutionary#sabo x you#sabo x reader#sabo headers#sabo one piece#sabo imagine#revolutionary sabo#one piece fanfiction#one piece x you#one piece x oc#one piece x y/n#one piece x reader#one piece#sashi ya
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My very dear friend (who is so grumpy that J&C hijacked her brain again when she wanted a break 🤣) @theawkwardterrier tagged me in an invite to share a section of one of my WIPs. So hey, how about a peek at an upcoming chapter of Atonement? 👀
______
In the second month, they began their respective job searches in earnest.
On that particular front, Claire had an undeniable advantage: there was a terrible nursing shortage throughout the UK, and more job postings than she knew what to do with. She had enough experience to be accepted at practically every bedside position, and so she had the ability to be selective.
A very fortunate state to find herself in, she found out rather quickly, as there were a number of positions that… well, positions she wasn’t sure she would be best suited for anymore.
Wound care, for example, was definitely out. Just reading the vague clinical expectations under the first post made her snap her laptop shut, her skin chilled and mind numb. She held Jamie from behind later that night, tears soaking her pillow as she traced the scars that had once been open flesh. The memories were as vivid as if she were living them all over again; she could see the snake of saturated pink gauze she’d pulled out of his back by the meter, watch her gloved hand depress a syringe of morphine into his IV, hear her own murmurs of reassurance as she reached wrist-deep into the cavernous wounds to begin packing them again…
So, no. Nothing with wound care.
Anything on a neurology floor was likewise out of the question. The prospect of monitoring an EEG took her right back to the endless days and nights when those incomprehensible squiggling lines were burned into her retinas, watching for any change that might signify a seizure. The ICUs in general were out for that same reason. Just the sounds alone — the non-stop beeping of monitors and IVs, the whoosh of the ventilator and hiss of suction equipment—
She couldn’t.
Her damned glass face as she scrolled the job boards must have told her husband far more than she ever would have said aloud; it didn’t take long before she woke to find a folded newspaper on the kitchen table alongside her morning coffee. Circled once, with a question mark beside it, was an advertisement from a local primary care office in town, seeking a clinic nurse.
Claire looked over the top of the paper to find Jamie watching her apprehensively, as though unsure if he’d overstepped. The moment she caught his eye, he dropped his gaze and blew on his steaming coffee. “It’d be quieter than ye’re used to,” he said around a careful sip, “but somethin’ to consider, mebbe.”
Softening with tenderness, she reached for his hand across the table. “No, it’s—it’s a good thought. Thank you. Maybe I need the quiet, I don’t know.” With a sigh, she smoothed her free hand over her face and back into her hair. “That’s just it, I don’t… I don’t know what it is I want any more.” Peering up at her husband through her lashes, she admitted with a self-deprecating smile, “Suppose I’ve just been hoping I’ll know it when I see it.”
Returning the smile so that his soft morning eyes crinkled with it, Jamie brought her knuckles to his lips. “I’m sure you will. The right job’ll find ye when it’s meant to, Sassenach. I know it.”
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Alastor's Bloody Valentine
Human Alastor x Reader late Valentine's Day special
Rated very mature with sexual content, murder, blood, and gore. Set in the 1930s with human characters. I suppose you could look at this as being a little Alastor back story.
Maybe there'll be a part deux?
It's kinda edited, but I got lazy and lost interest, and I just wanted to finish it. I hope all of you dear readers enjoy!
New Orleans, 1932
There was a chill in the air, carried in on a breeze that whistled through the old willow trees, and rustled their long, spindle-like branches. The trill of grasshoppers and crickets and the occasional screech of a night owl were customary of the bayou. Only interrupted by the nightly steam train, whose whistle echoed for miles until it faded like a whisper. There was no moon - only an ebony sky accompanied by its thousands of starry hosts.
As serene as it all seemed, the bayou was one of the most dangerous places to be in 1932. Not just because of the alligators, snakes, and venomous spiders. The neighboring town was full of talk about the Louisiana serial killer, who lured their victims into the darkness of the bayou to slaughter them, leaving no trace or remains. People simply vanished, though it seemed to be mostly men of diverse age and status. Innocent and not so innocent. The most recent being a younger gentleman who had just gotten married. The papers did fail to mention that he'd nearly beaten his new wife within an inch of her life not long after the wedding, but news traveled fast. He was the thirteenth person to go missing.
With Valentine's Day came the fear of who the next victim would be. Mothers and wives kept tight leashes on their sons and husbands, and the police put in place a mandatory curfew. Temporary police sentinels were stationed on street corners, keeping watch over the streets day and night. Which subsequently made it more difficult to get to and from the only speakeasy in town. The police were happy - killing two birds with one stone.
“Yes, ladies and gentlemen, don't let this curfew get you down. Take your gal out on the town for some swing and make the most out of your Valentine's Day. Ladies, keep your gents close, and stay safe-”
“Y’see,” Mimzy turned the cathedral radio off with a huff and crossed her arms over her voluptuous chest. “This curfew is ruinin’ everything!”
You rolled your eyes and leaned your elbow on the bar and rested your cheek in the palm of your hand. Mimzy had been on a tangent for the last week for having to close the speakeasy. Being that it was in the basement of an old sugar mill, it was too risky to keep it running with the police snooping around. In one night, with the help of Husker, all of the liquor was moved under the cover of darkness to the crawl space of Alastor's hunting cabin deep in the bayou. The liquor would at least be safe if the police felt it necessary to search the sugar mill. The only thing they'd find would be an empty stage and bar.
With no speakeasy, the regular meet and greet for you and all of your friends was the cabin. It was a comfortable space, at least. Alastor had used the extra money he made from his radio show to install new, polished wood floors, a nice bar, and even a loft with a decent sized bed when he would stay for the first week of hunting. It also had a decent kitchen, which was Alastor's favorite feature. As for you, Alastor made sure to give you your own bit of space. In the corner of the main room was a stone fireplace with book shelves flanking either side. The shelves were filled to the brim with books of every genre. Hanging above the fireplace was Alastor’s prized Stag - previously occupied by Alastor’s portrait from when he was in the service. You never did tell him just how creepy you found the stuffed creature. Alastor loved the hunting sport, but you appreciated wildlife as just that; alive.
Mimzy sauntered over from the radio and sat herself on a rickety barstool, her brows pinched. “How am I gonna make money? Who knows how long this whole thing will go on for. And where's Alastor? His show ended an hour ago. His ass better not be dead too.”
You sighed and stood from your barstool to round the bar. There was a bottle of, ironic enough, Red Stag that was already open. It wasn't your first choice, but prohibition made everyone less picky. You poured yourself a generous glass, only for Mimzy to swipe it from you, and gulp it down in one swig. Your eye twitched in irritation as you glared at the woman through your lashes. The relationship between the two of you was decent enough, but as of late, she'd been grating your nerves and testing your patience. Mimzy's flamboyant personality didn’t jive well with your own in an enclosed space. You were more reserved, shy, and softly spoken. Not to mention that the cabin had always been an intimate space for you and Alastor. It didn't seem so intimate now - being that it was now shared space with Mimzy and Husker.
“Would you like another drink before I pour my own,” you asked, your voicing clipped.
Your head was pounding now, with a migraine blooming behind your eyes. The little grin that slid over Mimzy's lips told you that she knew exactly what she was doing.
“Actually, Doll, I would,” she flashed you a grin with her nose wrinkling as she did so. “You're such a good friend,” Mimzy cooed and thrust her empty glass in your face.
Your grip on the bottle of Red Stag was white knuckle, and you opened your mouth to give her a piece of your mind, but the words caught in your throat when the cabin door opened. Both you and Mimzy looked over to see Husker coming through the door with Alastor trailing behind him. Your shoulders visibly deflated when your gaze met Alastor's.
Mimzy put her glass down on the bar and threw her arms up in glee. “Alastor! I'm so glad to see you!”
“And I you,” Alastor grinned. “Thanks for holding down the fort and watching over my darling for me.”
“I don't need a babysitter,” you grumbled and nodded your head at Husker when he gave you a sympathetic smile. “Hey, Husk.”
“Cher,” Husk greeted in that deep, baritone voice.
Alastor laughed boisterously and leaned on the bar in front of you. Upon meeting his gaze, his chocolate brown pools started to melt away all of the tension in your body. It was so easy for you to get lost in his eyes.
“I jest, my dear. Husker here is going to drive Mimzy home, and we are going to celebrate!”
Mimzy quirked a brow and made a sound akin to a high-pitched scoff. “I ain't ready to leave yet. I want to celebrate too! We could have a round of drinks!”
Husk had noticed that you and Alastor had yet to tear apart your gazes and were seeming lost in each other. Alastor flashed you a dazzling smile and leaned over the bar to press a chaste kiss to your lips. That was enough for your cheeks to flush and become a brilliant crimson.
“C'mon,” Husk grabbed Mimzy's fur coat off the coat rack and all but threw it into the woman's face. “Before I drag your ass to the car.”
Mimzy put her coat on in a huff, then fussed over her hair, throwing insults at Husker as she did so.
“Thank you,” you mouthed to Alastor and waved to Mimzy as she was all but pushed out the door by Husker. You could hear her nagging as she walked all the way to the door. “Poor Husker.”
“He'll live,” Alastor hummed and gave you a wink. “Mimzy, however,” he chuckled.
“That would be too good to be true,” you mumbled and grabbed the bottle of Red Stag to pour yourself that long awaited glass. “How was work?”
Alastor set about removing his suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his white dress. Your gaze was drawn to the newly exposed, tan flesh of his forearms. “Same as always, my dear. I'm sure you were listening?”
“Until Mimzy turned the radio off,” You walked into the main sitting area and sat in your favorite rocking chair.
In your left hand was your glass of bourbon that you then took a sip of. From over the brim of the glass, you continued to study your partner as he made himself comfortable. Alastor's bowtie was now untied, and the top button of his dress shirt undone, exposing a delicious expanse of his neck. Being that it was Valentine's Day, you hoped that it meant that Alastor wouldn't mind taking everything farther than usual. The man would tease you here and there, whispering dirty things in your ear, because he knew it riled you up. The act of sex, however, just didn't fit his idealism. Any affection from Alastor would include kissing and touching, maybe heavy petting, but the two of you had only had penetrative sex a handful of times. Each time it happened was mind-blowing, leaving you craving more and waiting on bated breath to feel him the same way again. You could feel yourself beginning to flush just thinking about it - the heat slowly building up in your chest and rising until your cheeks were crimson. At least you could blame it on the bourbon, which you quickly threw back and tore your gaze away from Alastor.
“So,” Alastor sat down on the couch and crossed his legs, and draped his left arm over the back of the couch. “Quiet evening with a shared drink, my darling?”
Honestly, the man was entirely too distracting. It didn't help either that the bourbon was affecting you far sooner than you anticipated. Your mind blanked, seeing Alastor sitting there - sleeves rolled up, bowtie undone, the red vest that matched his trousers that fit him entirely too well. Alastor was your perfect definition of a sex-god that had a distaste for the very thing that you craved. His smoldering gaze and satisfied, closed-mouth grin told you that he knew exactly what kind of effect he had on you.
“Are you alright,” he cocked his head to the side. “You look bothered.”
“You're a tease,” you swallowed.
Alastor’s brows rose in surprise. “Me? I'm just sitting here,” he laughed and beckoned you over with his finger. “Come here, my darling.”
A bolt of red-hot arousal shot right up your spine, and your body moved automatically, seemingly out of your control and under Alastor’s. Alastor moved to uncross his legs and seized you by the hips with his strong hands. You now stood in between his spread thighs, looking down into his brown eyes as he gazed up at you. His lips quirked in a crooked grin, making him look like the cat who got the cream.
“Tell me how I'm a tease,” Alastor whispered huskily.
You brought your hands up to cup his face and ran your left thumb along his bottom lip. “You know what you do to me, Alastor.”
Alastor grinned and wrapped his arms around your waist. “Oh, I'm well aware,” the man's pupils were now blown with his own need. “Would you like me to do something about that?”
Relief flooded you, and you nodded eagerly. By now, the bourbon was really beginning to have an effect on you and how much you needed the man before you. “I've been waiting so long, Alastor.”
“The wait makes it worthwhile,” he growled.
Before your tipsy mind could even comprehend what was happening, Alastor stood, effortlessly hoisting you up by the hips, and bounded towards the spiral staircase of the loft Your arms wrapped around his neck and your legs around his slim waist. Alastor’s arousal was very noticeable against your own pelvis. The heat from his girth radiated through his slacks. When his lips met yours in a fevered kiss, your mind blanked with arousal. Your senses quickly became overwhelmed by his touch, his scent, and his taste as his tongue coaxed your own in a scorching kiss. Alastor eagerly devoured your mouth and every subsequent moan he drew from you. He broke the kiss, nipping at your bottom lip as he did so. His lips then trailed down to the column of your neck where he sank his teeth into the supple flesh. You hissed from the pain and carded your fingers through his brunette hair until you had a handful and tugged, earning a groan from him.
“Fuck it,” Alastor growled and sat you on the steps of the spiral staircase.
Alastor’s hands snaked up your dress to pull your panties down your legs, leaving the silk garment dangling from your left ankle. You gasped when he cupped your dripping sex in his left hand and breathed against the side of your neck.
“I’ll have you right here,” he growled and claimed your mouth once again.
You moaned wontanly into his mouth when he penetrated you with two fingers and curled them against your g-spot. Even though sex was a rare occasion, Alastor had memorized your body from the inside out. Knowing every sensitive spot to kiss, lick, or bite. Alastor groaned and pulled your bottom lip between his teeth and tugged, ripping the most delicious moans from your throat. Each and every sound you made went straight to his cock that was now straining uncomfortably in his slacks. With a tweak of his fingers, Alastor had you coming with his name falling from your lips like the most beautiful prayer.
“Alastor,” you were breathless, chest heaving as you fought to catch your breath. “I need you inside me.”
Alastor’s eyes darkened, and he carefully withdrew his fingers from your quivering sex. “You’ll have me,” he whispered and kissed you chastly.
The sound of Alastor’s belt buckle was like music to your ears, as your body was finally getting the attention that it so badly craved. With your left hand, you reached between you and Alastor and took his now freed, sizeable length in your hand. You bit your lip and looked up at Alastor through your eyelashes. Alastor held your gaze as he guided himself into your tight heat, slowly splitting you open and seating himself inside you. Both of you panted, attempting to adjust to the almost foreign sensation. No, you weren’t a virgin, but Alastor had been your first, and since sex wasn’t a regular occurrence, it took both of you longer to adjust. You, more so than Alastor.
He was thankfully patient, waiting until the pained look on your face was no longer before slowly pulling out and thrusting back into the hilt. The man clenched his teeth painfully and screwed his eyes shut, completely drunk off of the feeling of you fitting around him so perfectly.
You held onto Alastor tightly, with your nails digging into the flesh of his back, even through his dress shirt. Alastor’s hands had your hips in a death grip, and you hoped that you would have bruises left in their place. You wanted Alastor to claim you - mark you - so that everyone knew you belonged to him.
“Come inside me, Alastor,” the words fell from your lips in a pathetic whimper before you even realised what you said.
The look Alastor gave you startled you, and his hips stuttered to a pause. You stared into each other’s eyes for what felt like an eternity, Alastor’s eyes searching your own as if looking for truth behind that request. You feared your moment of intimacy with Alastor was ruined until he started moving once more. This time, he moved slower, taking his time pulling all of the way out and sinking back into you. He continued to hold your gaze and leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead.
“Is that what you want,” Alastor asked, but it was barely above a whisper. “To be mine, forever?”
Of course it’s what you wanted. Alastor had been your first, and you wanted no one else. It was difficult for you to imagine your life any different. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about starting a family with Alastor. You brought your hands up to Alastor’s face and looked into those chocolate pools.
“Make me yours, forever, Alastor.”
~~~
You awoke the next morning, nestled in the king-sized bed of the loft alone. Alastor was nowhere to be found, with his side of the bed neatly made. Between your legs was an ache and a stickiness in the inside of your thighs that served as a reminder of the previous night's activities. What little bourbon you had, had also left you with a slight headache that settled over your temples. Coffee would be a good fix, and you wondered why you hadn't smelled it perking if Alastor had already been up.
There was a fire going in the fireplace when you made your way down the staircase, confirming that Alastor was around, but nowhere to be seen. You thought nothing of it and went over to the kitchenette to get coffee perking and breakfast ready for whenever Alastor returned.
You sat down in your rocking chair by the fireplace when the coffee was ready to enjoy your cup. The chair rocked rhythmically on the hardwood floor, nearly lulling you to sleep until you heard a god awful noise coming from the crawlspace under the cabin. Your first thought was that a stranger or the police had found the liquor stash, and you bolted out of the chair to get the pistol hidden among your books.
The door to the crawlspace was in the kitchenette and was flung open, revealing a blood covered Alastor. The man looked up at you with blood splattered across his face and chest, staining his white dress shirt. There was enough blood that you couldn't tell if it was coming from Alastor or not.
You dropped the pistol that was in your hands and rushed over to him, and hooked your arms around his arm. “A-alastor, what the hell? Are you-”
“It's fine!” He laughed and looked down at you with a grin. “It's not mine.”
Your eyes widened, and you took a tentative step away from him and shook your head. “Then, whose is it?”
Alastor ignored your question and casually walked over to the pot of coffee on the stove. He poured himself a mug, all the while humming a song with that same grin on his face.
“Alastor,” you demanded. “You're scaring the hell out of me.”
“I'm sorry,” he put his coffee mug on the counter and turned back to you. “This,” he pointed to his stained shirt. “Is just the latest victim.”
“The latest…,” you paled, with the details finally coming together. “You're him.”
Alastor flashed you that dazzling grin and opened a drawer next to the stove. Without even looking, Alastor pulled a massive knife out and studied it.
“Did you know, my darling, that in order to inflict a fatal wound, you need at least fifteen inches of penetration?”
“Please put the knife do-”
You gasped. Before you could even react, Alastor lunged forward, plunging the knife deep in your abdomen. He stood in front of you, holding the blade in place with his smile never faltering. Pain blossomed throughout your body, and you began to choke on the blood that bubbled up through your throat. You coughed and watched the blood mixed sputum splatter across Alastor’s already stained shirt. Tears fell freely from your eyes, staining your cheeks, and your trembling hands grabbed onto Alastor’s arm that still held the knife inside you.
Blinking up at Alastor through your tears, you saw no remorse on his face. Just that twisted grin that you had fallen in love with so many years ago.
“You should know I'm too much like my father to have children,” Alastor said darkly. “That's a risk I cannot take.”
Alastor pulled the knife out of your abdomen and stepped back as you crumpled to the floor on your knees. The pain was white-hot, but it was nothing compared to that of your broken heart. Your body screamed for his closeness and wanted to hate him for everything. Even after the previous night, after telling you he would be with you forever. In an attempt to stop the bleeding, you held pressure on the wound, but you knew it was no use. You were dying. At the hands of your lover.
“It won't be long, my love,” Alastor got down on one knee and brushed your hair out of your face. “I'm sorry I had to do this.”
“F-fuck you,” you gasped and choked.
Your vision was beginning to fade in and out, along with your hearing. The weight of your body suddenly became too much and you fell to your side. Before your head hit the floor, Alastor had caught you and laid you down gently. The last sensation you felt, other than the pain, was Alastor kissing you. It was a passionate kiss, similar to that of the kiss you shared while making love. He didn't care about the blood that pooled from your mouth, but seemed to enjoy it more than anything. When he broke the kiss, you met his gaze, struggling to keep your eyes open.
“I'll see you in hell,” you spit, using every ounce of energy you had left before going still.
Alastor smiled down at your now lifeless body and ran his fingers through your hair. A single tear ran down his cheek, and his smile grew into a grin.
“It's a date.”
Part Two
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Different ways Wei Wuxian can find out that his shidi is in fact a husband, a father or both (because gods It would be so funny)
Situation A.
Wei Wuxian visits Jin Ling who refused an invitation to night hunt. He thought his nephew was overworking himself and needed a break. A break that Wei Wuxian will harass Jin Ling into taking. It's his specialty and he had a lot of practice with Jiang Cheng.
When he arrived, he found Jin Ling distressed. Apparently a child he was babysitting decided onesidedly that they are playing hide-and-seek then disappeared. The Koi tower is filled with metaphorical snakes who might do harm to this child. Fairy, as it happened, was currently with Jiang Cheng who is in the Jin sect territory to handle a yao in Jin Ling's request because only Zidian can deal with this particular monster and Fairy can help him track it.
Wei Wuxian has questions about this scenario;
1. Why is the sect leader of Lanling Jin on baby sitting duty?
2. Why would anyone harm this child?
3. Who is this child?
Jin Ling is in baby sitting duty because Jiang Cheng brought the child with him to Lanling specifically to make Jin Ling not join the night hunt. It's very manipulative of him and very effective. And now there's a missing guest from Yunmeng Jiang that Jin Ling has to find.
Wei Wuxian promises Jin Ling that they will find this kid before Jiang Cheng arrives to break his legs.
So they go separate ways to find this child, they search the koi tower up and down for any glimpse of purple hiding in the corners.
It is Wei Wuxian who found the kid. Apparently the child has been moving from their hiding spots every time Jin Ling is near. The only reason Wei Wuxian found them is because he is very clearly not a Jin and the kid thought he wouldn't report to Jin Ling. "It's cheating to ask his disciples to help him find me." The kid sulked, "But I had practice! None of my shijie and shixiong ever finds me in lotus pier." The kid boasts.
Wei Wuxian asks, "And your parents don't worry when you disappear for long periods of time like this?"
The kid grins, "No. A-Die let's me hide under his table and he tells everyone I wasn't there! He makes me study though. It's boring."
Before Wei Wuxian can ask further questions, Jiang Cheng's voice echoes in the golden tower, "Jiang Rui! You come out right now or I will break your legs."
Instead of fearing the threats of broken legs and looking apologetic, the kid brightens up, "A-Die is back!" Then, before Wei Wuxian's brain can process the words the kid is gone.
Situation B.
Wei Wuxian infiltrated a group of demonic cultivators. There were a good number of them and he wanted to see what exactly they were planning to do together. They plan on taking revenge on the Sect Leader of Yunmeng Jiang, apparently. They were once greater in number and Jiang Cheng had raided their main base. Now all that's left are them and they want revenge.
Now, Wei Wuxian does not approve of them planning to kill his shidi whom he almost died for but he also thought, of course Jiang Cheng made so many enemies they banded together just to be his haters club.
They have a plan on how to torment Jiang Cheng. And apparently, it involves hurting someone precious to him. Not Jin Ling, no. They don't want to anger both the Jiang sect and the Jin sect, not to mention, Jin Ling is already a full-fledged cultivator who can defend himself. They will hurt Jiang Cheng's child instead.
Whatever other plans the demonic cultivators divulged did not enter Wei Wuxian's brain after that reveal. Jiang Cheng has a child Wei Wuxian didn't know about. He has so many questions. How old is the child? What's their name? When's their birthday? Jiang Cheng has a wife? Who? Who managed to meet the impossible standard and why did Wei Wuxian not know of her? Are there more baby nieces or nephews Wei Wuxian is unaware of? Why wasn't he informed? Is Wei Wuxian even allowed to see them? These questions can be answered later because first he has a Jiang Cheng hater's club to disband, disfigure, dismember and disembowel. They don't get to hurt his shidi's children. No one gets to hurt Wei Wuxian's not-family.
(Wei Wuxian receives an invite to the Jiang heir's birthday party, an invitation written by Jiang Cheng himself demanding that Wei Wuxian gift his child something good to make up for all the birthdays he missed. Torturing those shidi haters was worth it.)
Situation C.
It's been a good few years since Wei Wuxian came back from the dead. Today feels like a deja vu of the day he returned. Currently he is trapped in an immortal binding net, the baby Lans who are not so baby anymore are trapped, too. He was calling for Lan Zhan when a Yunmeng Jiang disciple came to them.
"Oh good, Young master, if you would so kindly free us, my husband wouldn't have to destroy your nets." Wei Wuxian says. Again, he thinks.
The Jiang disciple, instead of doing as asked, cheered. the disciple fired a flare and in no time at all, Jiang Cheng arrived. he scans the surroundings, scowls at his trapped ex brother then levels the disciple with a glare. "There better be an explanation for that flare, brat."
The disciple grins, "I caught the Yiling Patriarch, A-Die. You ought to sing my praises for this achievement." The kid cheekily says, as they avoid Jiang Cheng's grabby hands, leaping and then running away.
Silence enveloped them as the kid's laugh faded.
"You have a kid?!"
"Let's get you out of that net."
"No! Don't change the subject! you have to explain the kid first!"
"Right, you're married to a man so you don't know. Wei Wuxian, when a man and a woman love each other very much-"
"That's not what I mean and you know it!"
(There's 400 nets. Again. because this is Jiang Cheng and it's for his kid. Jin Ling donated another 100 nets for his cousin to use. There were 500 nets in that forest that night. Thankfully, none of them were destroyed. The little Jiang heir came back to his father bearing a ghost general who is also trapped in a net. Jiang Cheng chased him all the way back to lotus pier, the Jiang disciples put the nets away before following their masters.)
Situation D.
Wei Wuxian doesn't know why but Lan Qiren asked for him. There's probably a rule he broke but he breaks them enough times that he doesn't know which rule warranted the summon. What Lan Qiren does is not scold him but ask, what is the best gift one could give to the heir of the Jiang sect?
The Jiang heir is turning 100 days old soon and Lan Qiren would very much like to give the child the best gift from the Lan. There's probably some political reasoning to this gift giving competition. Something along the lines of the child being a bundle of joy for simply possessing the blood of the Jiang, like a ray of hope after the reveal of decades old betrayals. Something about looking good by giving a baby a simple gift.
To Wei Wuxian it feels like ice water dumped onto him. He severed their ties but he didn't think of how it changes their relationship, how that change will manifest itself.
Jin Zixuan had graciously invited Wei Wuxian to Jin Ling's 100 day celebration. Jiang Cheng didn't even tell him that his child was born.
(some angst for funsies)
Situation E.
Wei Wuxian is drawn to go back to Yunmeng. There are waves of rumors saying the name, "the Twin Prides of Yunmeng." He has to see. He has to know: who did Jiang Cheng replace him with? Are they worthy of the name? (How could Jiang Cheng use that name for himself and Wei Wuxian's replacement?)
On his way, he found two Jiang cultivators night hunting close to home. He accompanied them, found himself praising them for their team work and coordination, and watched them be thanked by the town's people. "The Twin Prides of Yunmeng Jiang", they call the kids. Jiang Cheng is there, too, shoulders stiff ever since he saw Wei Wuxian. The town's head says, "you must be very proud of your children, sect leader Jiang."
Jiang Cheng, "they're immature and still have a long way to go." But he ruffles their heads and orders them to hurry home and make themselves presentable.
Completely independent from Wei Wuxian's promise, Yunmeng Jiang finds themselves with new twin prides. Siblings. Twins. The new blood of the Jiang clan, Jiang Cheng's children. Looking at them feels like looking back at himself and Jiang Cheng of the past.
Situation F.
Wei Wuxian is with the kids night hunting. Him and Lan Wangji are still traveling. They just happened upon the juniors and decided to join the night hunt. One mystery leads to another but surprise of surprises, Jin Ling bows out of the hunt. The juniors are confused, Jin Ling? Refusing an excuse to get away from sect business?? Annoyed by the exaggerated mock surprise of Jingyi, Jin Ling says that there's an important business in Yunmeng he has to deal with. Ouyang Zizhen then reminds everyone that sect leader jiang's child is turning 2 in a few days. Jin Ling adds that he has to give his baby cousin the bestest gift. He'll be in Lotus pier a few days before the celebration. No one is surprised about this supposed child of Jiang Cheng. "Oh, yes, the Jiang heir. Please tell them that the Lan said happy birthday."
Wei Wuxian: "Why did no one ever bother to tell me??"
Jin Ling: "You should have figured it out yourself, aren't you jiujiu's brother?"
Situation G.
Situation H.
Nie Huaisang: Wei-xiong, I'm so sorry I couldn't come see you immediately, I was entertaining my little niece, she wouldn't let me go unless I taught her how to paint flowers. You know how kids are!
Wei Wuxian: I'm only here to ask about this spirit-
Nie Huaisang: Yes, of course. Follow me, I'll try my best to help. Thank you so much Wei-xiong, for handling this problem.
Wei Wuxian: I... Didn't know that your brother had a daughter.
Nie Huaisang: Oh! She's not Da-ge's! She's Jiang-xiong's actually! It's a miracle he's even letting her come visit.
Wei Wuxian: Jiang Cheng's what?! Since when??! And why are you her uncle?!
Nie Huaisang: Jiang-xiong's Xiao An is turning 8 this spring so I guess Jiang-xiong has been a father for 7 years? Though I guess we can argue that he's been one for far longer? Ah, I don't know if that's really the case! Xiao An calls me uncle so that makes her my niece, no? Honorary uncle! At least she has the eye for art! I'm gifting her a bird for her upcoming birthday. Do you think Jiang-xiong will be all right with that? Wei-xiong? Wei-xiong?
Wei Wuxian will start fishing information about this newly found niece from Jin Ling. Tell him everything! It's important. There's an uncle-lympics happening and Wei Wuxian is losing on the top one spot on both the Jin Ling fave uncle race and the Jiang An fave uncle race! (According to him, he's only losing because both his competitors had a headstart)
Situation I.
It's the Gusu lectures and the Jiang's are attending. It's the shidis of Wei Wuxian's former sect! He tries his best to get to know them with various levels of success but one shidi is stubbornly avoiding him. This to Wei Wuxian is just an invitation for extra attention. He will soften this one shidi's heart out! He tells Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi, "Haha! He's just like Jiang Cheng!" and the two looked at each other with worry (Lan Sizhui) and disbelief (Lan Jingyi) and they told him "Senior Wei, that young master is Sect Leader Jiang's son."
Ah. Suddenly it makes sense why he looks so much like Jiang Cheng. Wei Wuxian has many many emotions about this. Mostly various kinds of sadness. But look at the bright side! Jiang Cheng's kid is in Wei Wuxian's new home! He can get to know his nephew without Jiang Cheng glaring at him to stay away (Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan! I'm an uncle of two! Can you believe it? Jiang Cheng managed to find a wife. You have to tell me everything you know, Lan Zhan!)
It's a hard battle to get to know his other nephew. But he'll find out that it's easier when he's talking about his time in Lotus Pier. The kid doesn't like him clearly but he likes hearing about his dad's youth. The kid is also easily offended on his dad's behalf and jumps at every opportunity to fact check Wei Wuxian. Obviously, it's a double edged sword to get the kid's attention by insulting his dad (Wei Wuxian always does it with or without meaning to)
Wei Wuxian will learn that the kid is hellbent of fact checking him because the kid doesn't like the rumors about his father. The kid doesn't have friends outside of the Yunmeng disciples because he doesn't want to be friends with people who lobby insults at his father.
- Actually. Jiang Cheng had to go to cloud recesses. Apologize to Lan Zhan and talk to his kid in private after the kid insulted Lan Zhan. Wei Wuxian still wants to get to know the hellion so he convinced Lan Zhan to let him stay. The little Jiang heir seemed to still want to fact check everyone so he also chose to stay when given the option. And Wei Wuxian decided that, actually, maybe letting the hellion champion his dad will get him somewhere with the kid. Where? Somewhere close to the uncle zone hopefully.
It's a wrong decision because every time the kid blabs about how awesome a Yunmeng Jiang led by his dad is actually, Wei Wuxian just misses his old home more and more. He just missed Jiang Cheng more and more.
Now, a happy ending will be him being liked enough by the Jiang heir that he gets an invitation.
The devastating ending is if (following the meta that Wei Wuxian ascribed Jiang Cheng to be just plain awful ™ to justify not wanting to face him and the consequences of his actions) Wei Wuxian, after gaining some trust of the Jiang heir, says something to refute the boy's "my dad is awesome" speech. The boy clamps his mouth, glares at Wei Wuxian and says, "oh you are just like them." And then leaves the... I dunno? The campfire, roasting fishes and the group of the disciples from various sects who would rather eat with the Yiling laozu than to eat the Lan clan's food. He doesn't see the little Jiang heir until Jiang Cheng came to pick his son up. To add salt to the wound Jiang Cheng whisper shouted to him, "what did you do this time?" It sounds like he is blaming Wei Wuxian for his son choosing to drop the Lan lectures. In reality Jiang Cheng knew Wei Wuxian would try to get to know his son. He knew his son would like Wei Wuxian, everyone does. Even Jiang Cheng does. He is asking what Wei Wuxian did to screw it up.
Situation J.
(Chengxian)
I am not really into the mpreg but please consider:
Wei Wuxian getting summoned to Lotus Pier for official business and getting billed for child support. Apparently his golden core managed to get Jiang Cheng pregnant somehow. Jiang Cheng didn't blame anyone for that because he thought the golden core was his. Now that it's revealed that the core is Wei Wuxian's, well... He's not! Asking Wei Wuxian to come back to him. But he is asking Wei Wuxian to at least be in their kid's life?
And... I honestly dunno how Wei Wuxian will react to this but he will be insufferable
Situation J.1
The other idea is Jiang Cheng not wanting to tell Wei Wuxian. Like, he already sees his mother in himself and he doesn't want his kid to grow up with that environment. Wei Wuxian prefers Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng will let Wei Wuxian go.
The thing is... Jin Ling does know that his Jiujiu got miraculously impregnated by his own golden core (like wow! restored and providing Yunmeng Jiang with an heir, the miraculous core that keeps on giving) and Jin Ling was there when Jiang Cheng asked Wei Wuxian, "why didn't you tell me?"
When Jin Ling asked his Jiujiu "don't you have something to say to Wei Wuxian?" he was referring to the pregnancy. Jiang Cheng said there's nothing to tell but Jin Ling will be damned if his cousin grows up thinking his... Mom? Dad? Hates him enough to leave. So Jin Ling told Wei Wuxian. (Let's all be thankful that Jin Ling didn't let the how questions marinate in his head or he can very well conclude that it's... Without consent)
We have two possible scenarios now.
A. Wei Wuxian, thinking that his dear shidi is weakened by this delicate problem and concluding that he is the best help so he barges into lotus pier and Jiang Cheng thinking that Wei Wuxian just here for the baby.
B. Wei Wuxian, thinking that Jiang Cheng is delicate right now and doesn't need to get so angry, which he definitely will once Wei Wuxian enters the picture so he hangs back but keeps sending the lan juniors to check on Jiang Cheng. Jiang Cheng, finding out why Jin Ling's friends are suddenly very interested in Yunmeng culture and Jiang Cheng enough to want to visit often and thinking that Wei Wuxian knows and hates Jiang Cheng enough to also leave their baby behind.
Situation K.
(Zhancheng)
Jiang Cheng intrudes on Wangxian's happily ever after because he has to help Jin Ling stabilize the Jin sect and "someone has to take care of our child, Hanguang Jun." Jiang Cheng is about to make many enemies in Lanling and he'd prefer if his ex husband is there for the little one, you know? In case some assassins get sent to their kid for Jiang Cheng's transgressions. Lotus Pier is secure but Jiang Cheng's paranoid brain needs the extra insurance.
No, you can't take the baby with you on your honeymoon traveling. Wangji, I don't believe you or your new lover knows how to feed a child, ah ah ah, no. Lan Sizhui is fed by his uncles and aunties, go to lotus pier and protect the kid. It's all Jiang Cheng asks.
Wei Wuxian can't even focus on the fact that he is in lotus pier without Jiang Cheng haunting the corners because... Holy shit, Lan Zhan and Jiang Cheng are ex-lovers. How is there a child between two men? Why did they divorce? And their kid is so cute, the baby has no right to be this adorable!
Maybe it will lead to zhanchengxian who knows.
#I'll probably edit this to add more#please it would be so so funny#who needs reverse golden core reveals when we can have nephew reveals instead?#it's way easier to ramble to cerusee about this#i just wish I can read other people's dumb ways to nephew/niece reveals#i'll reblog this everytime i add something
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Hey this is my request
Where yn and Antonio buy a house and when the sell goes trough they give a house warming party and they get from Jay and Hailey matching bathrobes and from Hank and Trudy some pictures of yn and Antonio
The rest you decide with allot of fluff Thank you
Title: Sweet Dreams Are Made of You
Summary: You and Antonio have finally found your dream house. So you celebrate by having a party.
Warnings: suggestive, fluffy 🤣
Word count: 1807
Fandom: Chicago P.D
Pairing: Antonio Dawson x Reader
“What do you think, baby?” your husband asked as he walked up behind you, his arms snaking around your waist. He pressed his lips to the soft spot behind your ear, placing a gentle kiss. “Is it perfect enough for you?”
You couldn’t help but smile, sinking further into his embrace. “This is it. This is the one.”
“We’ll take it,” Antonio said, turning to the realtor.
You felt like you were going to explode with happiness—and maybe, just maybe, a little relief. The past few months had been stressful, searching for the perfect home for your family. Antonio had been more stressed than you, as he was determined to shield you from as much strain as possible. After all, stress is bad for the baby.
But this house… it was everything you had hoped for. And the most perfect part? The man by your side, the man you were lucky enough to call your husband. It was literally a dream come true.
“Mommy! Daddy! Look at this room!” Your three-year-old daughter came running toward you, tugging at Antonio’s pant leg. “Can this be my princess castle?” she asked, her eyes wide with excitement.
You bent down to scoop her up, her giggles echoing around the empty room as she wrapped her arms around your neck. “What do you think, sweetie? Is it the perfect castle for you?”
She nodded enthusiastically, clapping her little hands. “Yes! I love it!”
The next couple of months felt like agony—waiting to finally move in, then worrying about the logistics of the move itself. But you needn’t have stressed. The boys offered to help, though really, they were there to help Antonio. His overprotectiveness wouldn’t even let you carry a plant pot.
As a thank you, you headed to the best coffee shop in Chicago, bringing back coffee and donuts for everyone. Hailey and Kim dropped by frequently to keep you company while the guys worked tirelessly on the house. Antonio insisted on starting with your daughter’s room, wanting everything to be perfect for his little princess.
Jay and the girls took on the task of setting up the nursery for your unborn baby. You and Antonio decided to wait until the birth to learn the gender, but you didn’t want to wait to have the room ready. Kim had come up with the idea to surprise you by decorating it, and you weren’t allowed to peek.
You trusted them completely. Jay was the first person you met from the district, and he quickly became like a brother to you. Hailey came next, though there was a bit of a misunderstanding at first. Once Jay clarified that you were Tony’s girlfriend, you and Hailey became fast friends. Then there was Kim—sweet, soft-spoken Kim, who you learned had a fierce side after an encounter during a girl’s night out. Beneath her soft exterior was a woman who wouldn’t hesitate to stand up for herself.
Now, you couldn’t imagine life without any of them. They had become part of your family.
The housewarming party was your way of showing them how much they meant to you. Despite Antonio’s protests that a simple BBQ would be enough, you went all out, preparing different meals and drinks for each person—steak and whiskey for Voight, Chicago-style pizza and cold beer for Jay.
You even got a bounce house for your daughter and her friends, though you should have known that Adam would be the first to jump in.
Hank Voight, the first to greet you, wrapped you in a quick hug. “You didn’t have to go through all this. You should be taking it easy.”
“But you guys worked so hard, you deserved it,” you replied, smiling.
“We certainly don’t deserve you,” he said warmly.
“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” you were about to add more when the sound of shrieks came from the backyard.
“He’s never going to grow up,” Hank chuckled, nodding towards Adam, who was still bouncing in the inflatable castle.
“Don’t tell me you don’t want to go in there,” you teased, nudging him.
“I’m a little too old for that,” he laughed, raising his glass.
“So is he,” you grinned, nodding toward Adam, “Doesn’t stop him.”
As night fell and the air grew cooler, you brought the party inside. That’s when everyone began handing you gifts, much to your surprise.
Hank and Trudy gifted you beautiful picture frames, each holding a wedding photo. “Thanks, guys. You didn’t have to, but I know exactly where to put them,” you said, envisioning them above your new fireplace.
Hailey and Jay’s gift was a set of matching robes that said “Mr. and Mrs. Dawson.” Of course, Adam couldn’t resist giving you both some novelty items—two mugs, one reading “I like his…” with a bird picture, and the other, “I like her…” with a cat. Your daughter giggled, “But we don’t have a cat, silly Uncle Adam!”
Then there was the Christmas pajama set—one reading “Tickle my pickle” and the other “Pickle Tickler”—with red and black plaid pants to match.
Alvin’s contribution was a sign that read “Time Out Spot.”
“My princess is very well behaved,” Antonio protested jokingly.
“I never said it was for her,” Alvin replied, deadpan, before breaking into laughter with the rest of you.
“Don’t give her any ideas,” Antonio whispered to him, but you overheard.
“It’s not a bad idea, Al. Thank you,” you teased, smirking at your husband.
“I’m very well-behaved,” he grinned, giving you a playful wink.
The night continued for a couple of hours before everyone decided to head home. They did still have work in the morning after all.
You stood from the couch and started to collect all the dishes and glasses but a hand stopped, “I got this, baby,” he said, taking the dishes from your hand.
“But…”
“No buts,” he interrupted, “You’ve done enough today, I’ll clean up and I’ll meet you upstairs,”
You sighed, the look on his face, despite behind hidden amongst the tiredness, told you that he wasn’t going to budge, “Okay,” you folded, you looked down at your daughter, who had fallen asleep on the couch. You walked over to her, leaning down to pick her up gently in your arms.
You walked back over to Antonio, placing a kiss on his cheek, “We love you,” you told him.
“I love you two more,” he said, leaning down to place a kiss on your daughter’s head. He stood back up straight and pressed a kiss to your lips, “Go get comfy, baby, I won’t be long,”
“I hope not, Daddy,”
“And I need the naughty spot?”
“Fine,” you sighed, “But I still want cuddles,”
“You got it,” he said, giving you another peck on your lips. You said goodbye and headed upstairs.
You walked over to the room that was across the hall from yours. You opened the door and you’re greeted by the light pink and purple walls, with a brick like patten painted on it to give her a castle feel. Her bed has a pink canopy hovering above, with light purple transparent fabric cascading down like a waterfall.
You move further into the room and towards the bed. It only takes three steps before your standing beside it. You use one hand to move the covers to the side and gently lower her down onto the mattress. You grab the corner of the duvet and bring it back over to cover her. You tuck the duvet in around her, smiling when you notice the multiple different stuffed toys on her bed. Each from one of the team. You see she got her housewarming gifts last week.
You brush a stray strand away from her face and lean down to kiss her forehead, “Love you Princess,” you whisper.
You stood beside your daughter’s bed, smiling as you admired her peaceful appearance. Gently, you tucked her favorite stuffed bunny closer to her side, making sure everything was just right before you headed to the door.
But before you could move, you felt the familiar warmth of Antonio’s arms wrapping around your waist from behind. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his chin resting on your shoulder as he gazed down at your sleeping daughter, “She’s out like a light,”
You nodded, leaning back into his chest, “She loves her castle,”
"Only the best for my girls," Antonio said, as he pressed a kiss to your clothed shoulder.
You smiled, placing your hands over his as they rested on your belly. "We’re lucky to have you," you whispered back.
“I’m the lucky one,”
For a moment, the two of you stood in silence, simply watching your little girl sleep, bathed in the soft glow of her nightlight.
He smiled, cupping your cheek as he leaned down to kiss you softly. "Come on, let’s get you to bed," he said gently. "You wanted cuddles, right?"
You nodded with a contented sigh, letting him lead you out of the room. With one last glance at your sleeping princess, you quietly closed the door behind you.
Antonio continued to lead you towards your room, his arm still wrapped around your waist. As you entered your own bedroom.
“Let’s get you settled,” he said, guiding you toward the bed. You sat down on the edge as Antonio knelt in front of you, helping you slip off your shoes. His touch was gentle, the way he always was with you, especially now with the baby on the way.
“You spoil me,” you teased softly, running your fingers through his hair.
“You deserve it,” he replied softly, pressing a kiss to your ankle. He stood and pulled back the covers for you. “Besides, I need you well-rested.”
You gave him a curious but suggestive look. “For what?”
He rolled his eyes and smiled, “For all the cuddles you asked for.”
You couldn’t help but laugh quietly and somehow, you find yourself falling for him even more, if that was even possible. Antonio always had a way of turning even the simplest moments into something special. Sliding into bed, you watched as he joined you, wrapping his strong arms around you as soon as he settled beside you.
You nestled your head against his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat beneath your cheek. His arms surrounded you and the whole world just disappeared.
“I’m so happy,” you whispered.
Antonio tightened his hold on you, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Me too, baby,” he whispered back.
You smiled, resting your hand on your growing belly. Antonio’s hand joined yours, his thumb brushing over your skin in a soothing rhythm and you found yourself being lulled to sleep. The last thing you remember, is feeling a soft kiss in your hair.
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Monster Fucking#
Mythological of any kind
Harwin a centaur fucking a young maiden, when she enters into his lands. Made sure to military press her or bend over doggystyle l. Letting his horse cock make sure stupidfied.
Daemon is a humanoid dragon that takes pretty maidens as his treasure, ravishing them until he releases hot cum into their wombs.
Aemond is a dashing cyclops, eating all men, but breeding the women for more children to defend their lands from mortals. Every child is born with one eye, making the cyclops father proud.
Aegon is a satyr who is always erect, going after moral women or nymphs. Sometimes by force or consent. If anytime he catches a beautiful woman he will watch them no matter what they are doing and start masturbating just to blow his load off only for him to get erect again.
Alicent is a gorgon, that will turn any man to stone but will take them women as lovers. Allowing her snake hair to lick at the pretty maidens' cunts, while she licks around their bodies. Using her tail as a makeshift cock for pleasure
Laena is a mermaid who will lure men and women to the sea only for the women to be eaten out and the men to be thrust into her slippery little hole, which she has covered in her fin. Afterwards, she eats them for food.
Rhaenyra is a succubus who goes to different men, from peasants, leaders, kings, and even gods. Mostly ones that are married and fuck them until they have come to the last drop inside her tight pussy making sure they go crazy searching for her leaving them is disarray with their wives crying.
Oh she is rendered completely stupid on his fat cock; her stomach bulging as his dark chuckle echoed in her ear. His larger hand soon presses down as she squirts around him. The legend has it that if she is still there by morning - she is his.
They are completely bare in his cave; the jewels dance under the light as they purr and rub against him. His treasure trove continues to grow.
Some women even prey to Aemond if their husband is a terrible beast - of course; their price is to bear his child. And with all the rumours - they happily do such a thing.
Aegon being ruled by his nature is so on point. The poor things that come onto his path - imagine a sweet, so sensitive little fairy.
Alicent not liking men and having that stare of Medusa is so her. And the hair ! She would drive her lovers mad with pleasure whilst cooing down at her.
Laena moaning as she finds a women on a rock; all there for her to feast upon and oh she does that. Before Dawn, the woman finds herself safe on the sand - with no husband in sight.
Rhaenyra just being so mean! Just taking and taking and taking; nobody ever getting over a night with her.
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Corpse Bride AU
Dabi x Reader
Part 3
Part 2
“Mm..” You moaned… you could feel yourself waking up but your eyelids felt so heavy. It took all of your willpower to open them. It took your eyes only a second to adjust to the scene in front of you. You were lying on a plush velvet couch… the windows showed it was night and the nearby lamps illuminated the room around you. Your wedding dress was muddied and tattered from your running. Your mother would beat you with a wooden spoon for what you did to her dress. You slowly rose off of the couch, oh god, you were sore. Your body felt weak and battered. You stretched out your neck and could feel your hair matting on your head. You touched and felt gauze wrapped around your head. You remembered running in the forest from… something and then passing out after falling into a creek bed…
“Now where is that salve I put down?” You heard an old man speak, he must be a room away. Did he save you? He must’ve wrapped the gauze around you. You should get up and thank him, maybe he’ll give you a ride back into town! You got up fully and finally noticed you were barefoot, you must’ve lost your shoes while running. They were your grandmama’s… your mother will surely beat your bottom when you get back. You navigated through the cluttered room, piles of old books that stood like towers. You knew that it would be best not to touch anything as you were already in this man’s debt. You opened the room’s door into a dark hallway.
“Hello?” You called out, down the hallway you could see the shadow of a short man wearing maybe a coat, from of one of the rooms.
“Yes dear? Are you alright? I’m trying to find my medicated salve for you. If you can, can you come here and help me find it?” He called out, you felt at ease. You made your way down the hallway to join him. “Yes, of course! Thank you for helping me. I must’ve gotten lost in the forest and got hurt.” You came in through the illuminated doorway, again, mountainous piles of books all around the room. You saw a short figure, facing away from you. The only thing that you could see besides his long robe was the top of his head, very pale and not a single hair on top of his head.
“Ah, yes. Your husband did say that is what happened.” Husband? Did your fiancé come after you into the forest and save you? Despite your very limited time with him… he didn’t seem like the type that would be worried about you. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as you thought? You snaked your way through the books and began searching for that salve.
Crack!
You quickly turned around and the hold man seemed to be rubbing his hip in pain. “Damn these old bones.” You quickly stifled a laugh and continued digging through piles of books on the ground. After a few minutes, you heard the click-clack of his shoes coming towards you.
“Looks like I’ve found it, dear.” You quickly turned around to see… the old man’s skull was pale white with a pair of simple glasses on his face despite not having eyeballs. With no hesitation, you grabbed the thickest book near you and swung it at the old man’s skull.
CRACK!
His skull flung off of his shoulders and into a pile of books that came down like an avalanche on top of it. The old man’s body stumbled around like someone in the dark. His robe fell off revealing nothing more than a skeleton underneath. Nothing about what happened was a dream?! You actually married a walking corpse?!
“Oh god! Oh god! Oh god!” You screamed. You turned around and ran back into the dark hallway. You frantically checked all the doors for an exit. Door 1: no. Door 2: no. Door 3: no! You turned down a corner and saw a lone double door that the end of the winding hallway. That must be it! You sprinted down and grabbed the knob. You swung the door open to see the tall dark figure you hoped to never see again. Your eyes trailed up from his tattered dark blue suit to his decaying blue face. His blue and white eyes glittered at you.
“My runaway bride, I left to get these roses for you, I guess you missed me too much?” In his hands, a bouquet of wilted dead roses. Your eyes darted to the clear area behind him, maybe you could run again?
“Thinking of running away again? Did it work out for you last time?” He mocked, he advanced towards you and instinctively you hobbled back. His hand guided you to turn and your back hit the wall of the hallway. You flinched in pain, you were still bruised, maybe you should’ve stolen that salve… He kept his hand on your shoulder and freed his other hand by throwing the roses out of sight. His skin was so cold, it almost felt nice on your bruised body. His cold and foul smelling breath hit your face making you shrink even further into yourself. You only had maybe 3 inches of space between you two. You hated this.
“I also went out and got a ring for you. A proper one.” His freed hand dug into his suit’s pocket. In his pinched fingers was a large diamond ring, a large white diamond in the center and a ring of blue sapphires surrounding it. It was such an extraordinary sight. You’ve never seen such a large ring, the one that was proposed to you was a mere silver band with a tiny and delicate diamond embedded into the band. You were blinded by the sight that you didn’t even fight back when he gently grabbed your hand and slipped the ring onto your ring finger. The diamonds and sapphires glistened in the light from outside.
“Wh-where did you get this?” Was all you could ask, the man in front of you chuckled, he brought his freed hand back and slightly away from you before a bright blue flame roared from finger tips, disintegrating the surrounding skin.
“I had to burn someone for it.” His eyes flickered from the sapphire blue flames to your terrified face. “I would hate to have to burn you too, my bride.” Your eyes turned away from his face and flames to the outside world just beyond the doorway. The closeness of his cold lips to your ear made you want to hide under a blanket forever.
“Maybe if you keep fighting and running, I’ll have to brand my name into your body: Dabi. I suggest you start playing the perfect wife for now on.”
#taos writing#dabi hc#dabi headcanon#dabi headcanons#dabi imagine#my hero academia dabi#boku no hero academia dabi#dabi x reader#mha dabi#bnha dabi#todoroki touya x reader#touya todoroki x reader#touya#touya todoroki#todoroki touya#touya x reader#mha touya#bnha touya#mha x you#mha x reader#bnha x y/n#bnha x you#bnha x reader
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Surprise, @raziasark, I'm your Secret Santa for the @inusecretsanta this year! Hope you like it!
~~**~~
Something just like this
It was a quiet and peaceful night, and still Inuyasha could not sleep.
Nightmares plagued him like they hadn't since he was a child, turning shadows into monsters and the sounds outside into warnings. He pressed himself closer to Kagome but not even her scent was enough to quiet the sense of discomfort deep within him.
Too restless to lie still any longer, he got up as quietly as he could and walked the couple of steps across the room to where Moroha slept. She seemed safe and sound, but he still knelt by her side to check her breathing, anyway, sighing in relief when her blearely blinked her eyes open at him. She was the picture of easeness, but the knot within him seemed to coil even tighter as he got back up.
Anyone, anything, could ruin this bubble of happiness they had built. The kindness of a priestess had brought forth an horror like Naraku, who knew what other evils could be spawning in the world as they slept? How could he ever guarantee they would be safe?
Two arms wrapping around him from behind pulled him out of his spiralling thoughts. He brought a hand up and held Kagome’s hand against his chest.
“What’s the matter, Inuyasha? Can’t sleep?”
He shook his head.
“It’s nothing, sorry. Did I wake you?”
“Yes, I could hear the sound of you worrying all the way from over there,” she teased. “So, please, tell me what’s wrong.”
He sighed, looking over Moroha one more time. Still sleeping, still safe, but for how long?
“One day, I might not be able to protect you. The both of you,” he said softly, and turned around to face her. He knew there was fear in his eyes, but he hadn’t been ashamed of sharing it with her for a long time now. Her brow furrowed.
“Why do you think that?”
“I know I learned a lot while we were searching for Naraku, but there will always be someone stronger out there, a new evil, and when that happens I don’t know if I-”
“No,” she cut him off. “I mean, why do you think you need to protect us?”
“Kagome, you know I know how strong you are and what you are capable of, but if some disaster happens I’ll want to keep you as safe as possible.”
“No, that’s not what I meant, either. It’s the middle of the night, just gimme…. She rubbed her eyes as she gathered her thoughts. “What I meant is: why do you still think you need to do everything alone? The world isn’t on your shoulders, Inuyasha. If anything were to happen again, we will, we all will, deal with it together like we’ve always done.”
He could understand, in a sense, what she was trying to say, but the coil of anxiety was still within him.
“But what if…” He started and then took in a deep breath to keep his voice from trembling. He knew how ridiculous he was being, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he world was about to come crashing down on him at any minute. “What if that’s not enough? What if everything gets ruined because I am not enough? I need to get stronger, be always stronger, so that nothing happens, so I don’t lose you both.”
In a moment, Kagome had his face gripped between her hands and was giving him one of the fiercest looks he had ever seen. Some would say the inherited spirit of Midoriko still lived within her, but his knew this fierceness and bravery had always been all Kagome.
“The only thing you need to be is my husband and Moroha’s father. That’s it. The only thing you need to do is stay here, help me with dinner, rub my back when I am tired, take care of Moroha when she cries and teach her how to climb trees. We don’t need you to be a hero and save Japan or the world. Just be here and hold me, just like this, and all will be fine.”
His eyes widened and then softened. He really had managed to get the most amazing woman in the world to be by his side. She always knew exactly what he needed to hear.
“I think I have some other things I need to do, too, like hunt or warm the bath or keep snakes away.”
“No, you only need to do what I said.”
“Only that?”
“Yes.”
“That’s an easy life I’ll have.”
“Yes, you deserve it. We deserve it.”
He laughed, knot finally loosening, as did the tension on his shoulders. Kagome’s eyes softened dreamily and she hummed.
“Actually, there’s one more thing.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“What is it?”
“You have to kiss me.”
“I can do that.”
He kissed her in the now welcoming darkness and quietness of their cabin. He kissed her until a soft crying and whimper rang in the night.
He turned around and picked Moroha up, holding her with one arm against his chest.
“What is it? Did we wake you? I’m sorry.”
Her whimpers had turned into happy coos, though, and she reached her hands to his face. When he ran the back of his finger through her soft cheek, she got his finger and held it tight, waving it around like a prize. Kagome chuckled.
“I think Moroha is also saying all she wants from you is for you to stay here.”
He buried his face on Kagome’s hair once more and thanked the darkness of the cabin as he quietly did something he was still too embarrassed to do in front of her:
He cried.
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Connubium.|| Coriolanus Snow x Black Fem Reader Chapter Nine
table of contents.
Chapter One.
Chapter Two.
Chapter Three.
Chapter Four.
Chapter Five.
Chapter Six.
Chapter Seven.
Chapter Eight.
Summary: Stealing from The Capitol is a deadly offense, yet you’ve done it more times than you can count but when you do something you should not have done, Volumnia Gaul decides a fate for you that might just be worse than death.
Notes: This takes place post The Ballad of Songbirds And Snakes and Coryo is in his last year at The University, studying under Dr. Gaul. This will not follow canon, I’m not an expert on all the lore so I apologize if I get things wrong.
Disclaimer: You know Coriolanus is a POS, I know Coriolanus is a POS, please don’t yell at me because this is just a fun little story, something for thee hotties, and if you feel that strongly against President Snow, please let me know if you’d like me to sign you up for tessarae.
18+ only
trigger warnings for blood, vomit, injuries.
We are finally at the end, wow, this has been so much fun. I'm still a little unsure about this ending but I just want to say thank you for reading over these past few months, thank you so much.
“And we’re back with our President and First Lady to be! It’s so good to see you both smiling after such a tragic time.” Lucky Flickerman beamed into the camera.
“Thank you for having us Lucky and thank you to everyone watching at home.” You said with a soft smile, taking Coriolanus’ hand in yours. In return, Coriolanus lightly kissed your knuckles and the studio audience cooed in response.
“Let's get down to why we are all here, shall we? It’s been three long and sad months since that fateful day and what a day it was. I should know, I was there and vomited all over my favorite suit!”
“It really was a great suit, Lucky.” Coriolanus chimed in, earning a laugh from the audience.
“Tell us, Coriolanus, what was it like in those moments? We’ve all seen the footage of you cradling your beautiful wife, the danger, the drama! In your own words, tell us and everyone watching at home, about your wedding day.”
With a last look at you, Coriolanus Snow, husband, murder, and President-elect of Panem, opened his mouth and began to speak.
The night before his wedding, Coriolanus Snow was not in search of a final fling before an eternity of matrimonial bliss nor was he drinking himself into a stupor to bid his old life behind.
When he kissed you goodbye after your long important walk and talk, he watched you get into the waiting car, shut the blinds and got to work. Crassus Snow’s record player crackled to life and with a sonata filling the apartment, Coriolanus surveyed the upwards of hundreds of champagne bottles on the dining room table.
He had not lied, if you asked him to burn down Panem, he would fetch a match yet after tomorrow, that would not be necessary.
For you, he would poison his wedding guests and murder President Ravinstill.
And for him, but that's besides the point.
As night turned to dawn, Coriolanus packed the champagne, the scent of apples and rosewater hiding the danger beneath. His guests would get something of his own collection, sweet and light, just enough to make them vomit and collapse, enough chaos to distract from the main attraction.
For President Ravinstill, he would not stray from tradition.
Nightlock.
Not just nightlock berries ground with a mortar and pestle, that was lazy, noticeable. Every little piece of the berry was used, sprinkled in with champagne already designated for the soon to be former president.
He watched, oh how he watched Ravinstill, take flute after flute upon his arrival.
Yet at the very end, the person whom Coriolanus wanted at his side to witness the end of an era was currently unconscious on the floor beneath him.
Coriolanus Snow, with all his careful planning and plotting, had lost.
It had been two minutes since you had stopped talking, one minute since you stopped breathing and ten seconds since Coryo had tried another dose of the antidote. Coriolanus looked to the purpling corpse of Ravinstill, face frozen in death, and refused to let him win.
There was no Panem with you.
“ Not yet, Mrs. Snow.”
“Coryo!”
A small gasp and the click clack of heels brought Coriolanus out his head and back to you as Tigris came running into the room. He had made sure Tigris was away from the venue before the champagne was served by simple timing but now he was glad to have her here by his side.
“Coryo, Coriolanus? Is she-
He did not, could not, answer that.
Coriolanus brushed tears back and gave you another rescue breath, watching your chest rise and fall with his help only to remain just as still. He checked for a pulse again, felt that weak irregular beat beneath his fingertips starting to slow.
Please don’t go, he whispered.
“Coryo, I can hear sirens, we have to get her outside.” Tigris urged, voice thick with tears and Coriolanus was vaguely aware of himself pressing his lips to your forehead before gently picking you up. It all became real in that moment and Coriolanus began to run.
The sight in front of him was more horrific than he had imagined to be with his wedding guests in various states of consciousness and the pungent aroma of vomit and blood wafting through the venue. Peacekeepers and medics were beginning to swarm the area and with you in his arms, Coriolanus remembered there was still a part of his work that needed to be executed.
“Help, somebody help! There’s something wrong with my wife, I don’t know what’s happening but President Ravinstill, he’s back there, he’s collapsed! I tried to help him but-” Coriolanus broke off, false tears in his eyes as he shook his head at the listening medic. The medic nodded at two other medics and peacekeepers who ran towards where Tigris was pointing.
Coriolanus reluctantly let the medics take you before following them into the ambulance himself without a word, barely hearing Tigris’ promise to meet him at the hospital. Alarms and instructions between medics faded away as he squeezed your hand.
Please don’t go.
At some point, a shrill monotone sound invaded Coryo’s ears and it was then and only then that he let himself splinter. There was more noise and action around your body and unable to hold your hand, Coriolanus curled in himself, hands in his hair, caught between suffocating fear and such incredible rage.
The ambulance came to a stop at Capitol Hospital and all Coriolanus could do was watch a nurse climb onto the gurney take over compressions and let that same gurney carrying Panem’s possibly dead next first lady pass him and race inside.
Only then when standing alone did Coryo care to notice that the inside of his mouth was stinging, letting his tongue pass over the beginnings of a bloody sore. Every time he had breathed for you, what remained of the poison on your lips traveled to his own.
The taste of blood in his mouth was nothing new to Coriolanus.
There would be no Panem without you, all would crumble and perish before him, there would be no capitol, no games, just the end of all.
Coriolanus Snow had made up his mind: should you pass this day, Panem would know the dark days once more.
“I’ve never been more afraid in my life, Lucky. If I could go back and save our dear President Ravinstill too, I would have done more, I should have done more, there was just so much happening. I couldn’t lose my wife, without her I would lose myself.” Coriolanus broke off, a small sob escaping him and the audience was more than happy to lick up his grief.
With a soft kiss on his cheek, you guided his hand from your thigh to your stomach with a smile.
Lucky loudly blew into a hanky before gasping when he saw Coriolanus’ hand on your stomach.
“Mrs. Snow, is there something you’d like to share with us?”
“Because of Coriolanus, the extraordinary medical team at Capitol Hospital, and the support of Panem, I’m still here and I’m so happy to announce I’m pregnant.”
The audience roared and it was then you knew the girl from District 6 had all of Panem in the palm of your hand.
But there were games left to play.
FIVE MONTHS LATER
“Ma, if you can hear me, squeeze my hand.” You urged, your hand wrapped around hers, tears in your eyes.
A few long seconds later, your mother weakly squeezed your hand, the same as your Pa the day before.
You were taking it slow but the doctors promised they would fully wake any day now and pre- inauguration press and third trimester be damned, you would be at their side the moment they opened their eyes.
You kissed your mother on her forehead, promising to come back tomorrow.
But now, you had a very special appointment.
“Little thief, you’re glowing! How can I be of service?” Dr. Gaul looked up from her research with that all too familiar venomous smile.
“I just wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done in aiding my parents’ recovery. The doctors say they will wake up any day now.” You said, taking the seat she offered.
“How wonderful! It’s good to hear my favorite lab rats are on the mend. Hopefully seeing their daughter pregnant and married won’t send them right back into a coma.”
You gave a hollow laugh but sat up in your chair.
“ They’ll be happy to know I’m still alive. I almost wasn’t, as you well know. It took the doctors so long to treat me, they couldn’t figure out why I was so much sicker than everyone else. So many tests were run and even now they still don’t know.”
“Have you asked Mr. Snow? He’s always had such an insight into poison.” Dr. Gaul remarked pointedly.
It was no secret that Coriolanus was involved in Ravinstill’s death but thanks to your dramatic yet romantic near death experience being caught on camera, Panem did not care.
“ I would but he’s been so busy touring the districts, preparing for the inauguration. Speaking of, there’s something I need to tell you, actually it’s easier if I show you.”
One of your security detail came forward and turned on Gaul’s television.
Lucky Flickerman came on to the screen excitedly, a breaking news banner beneath him and to his right sat Coriolanus.
“ Mr. President, I’ll cut to the chase, my producers have told me you have something to share with the fine people of Panem? ” Lucky asked, bouncing on the edge of his chair. Coriolanus smiled into the camera, hands folded on his lap.
“To honor the tragic death of former President Ravinstill and to celebrate the upcoming arrival of our daughter, the First Lady and myself would like to announce the suspension of The Hunger Games this year.”
Last night, you had asked Coriolanus if would rather be feared than loved.
This was his answer.
You couldn’t hear the TV due to the rather dramatic shrieking of Volumnia Gaul.
As if on cue, peacekeepers entered Dr. Gaul’s lab began to take it apart, boxing up research, emptying cabinets and Dr. Gaul herself stood in front of you, laughing.
“I underestimated you, little thief. Will you kill me now or televise it?” She asked, head held high as two peacekeepers appeared on either side of her.
You stood up from your chair slowly to face the now former Head Gamemaker.
“I don’t need to kill you. You tortured and poisoned my parents and through your puppet Ravinstill tried to kill me, death is an afternoon treat for you. I want you to witness the future of Panem, witness them forget your creations the more time passes, and one day, when someone asks what The Hunger Games were for, the answer will be simple: nothing. From now until the day you die you will remember me not as a hostage or the wife of a President, but as the little thief who stole your greatest treasure, your legacy.”
Your time with Dr. Gaul ended in the place where it all began.
If only she had chosen a girl of fine capitol breeding.
EPILOGUE
One week after the presidential inauguration of Coriolanus Snow, Rose Snow comes into the world screaming, Coriolanus holding your left hand and your mother holding your right.
Once upon a time, you had three rules.
Never be seen.
Never take what you could not carry.
Never intervene.
Now you only have one.
To live without fear, now and forever.
Thank you to everyone who has been waiting, I hope that this was worth the wait! Thank you all for reading and I’m so happy this is out now. If you would like to see a sequel to connubium, please interact and reblog this work!
#coriolanus x reader#coriolanus snow x black reader#coriolanus snow x you#coriolanus snow x black!reader#coriolanus snow fanfiction#tw emetophobia#tw emeto ment
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Ezra's Elixir (dark!Ezra x f!reader) Snake Oil - Chapter 1
middle gif credit: @gracevanpelt collage by me!
summary: While trying to deal with the turmoil of your best-friend-turned-lover's disappearance, you come across an oddly welcoming stranger who might hold a solution to ease your pain.
warnings: MDNI 18+ ONLY - reader is bisexual, was in a relationship with a f!oc, and is described as having a "womanly" shape; period typical medical misinformation, misogyny and gender role stereotypes; manipulation; themes of shame, grief and isolation; religious/christianity references and trauma; discussion about sexuality, queer repression and homophobia; stigma around doctors, mental illness and health; non con; drugging/drug use; unprotected piv sex; creampie | 5.9k words
a/n: oh my goodness i'm so excited to share this with you all! **i would like to reiterate that since this is a dark! series, i ask that you please do not read this series if the content bothers you. if you’re a regular reader of my work, please don’t feel pressured to read this if it’s not your cup of tea!! in the same vein, i ask that everyone adhere to fandom etiquette and not direct hate towards myself nor anyone who reads this material. additionally, just because i write about something DOES NOT mean i condone it. fictitious material is a creative outlet for exploring dark themes in a safe manner. lots of people heal from real life traumas through dark fiction by being able to rewrite their memories or feel a gain in sense of control over their memories. you are responsible for your own media consumption.** if you would like to be added or removed from the taglist, please let me know in the comments! other than that, i hope you all enjoy!
You wrap yourself in a dark cloak and sweep through the night to downtown, coming to a shadowed corner and hiding in its obscurity as crowds of men file in before showtime. With your eye on the glowing clock across the street, you count through the first and second acts and watch as the moths try to dodge the raindrops to get to their sacred light. There’s one thing you’d fight to taste again…
When the time is right, you approach the ticket booth with your hood drawn and keep the waist of your coat loose so as to not silhouette and betray your womanly shape to onlookers. You put down the money and the clerk furrows his brow at the hand half as wide as the ones that usually come through here. Your heart beats so loud it nearly muddles the crashing thunder in the background. In a flash of lightning, he catches a glint of your smudged eyeliner. His pupils narrow, but not from the light. Without missing a beat, you take out twice the amount of admission and set it on the counter, trying to hide the fact that you’re finding it hard to breathe around your throat that has swelled to a pinhole. By some evil, the clerk pushes your money back to you… but by some grace, he holds your gaze and tilts his head back in the direction of the entrance doors. You depart with a mutual nod, a silent oath to your secrecy in this exchange, before you find your way inside.
It had been two months since Sadie disappeared. Two long, ever-grieving months of trying to find your best friend turned lover. You had been the one to report her missing after she didn’t come home for two days, the one to inform her parents soon after, and the one to spearhead the search efforts — all to no avail, not even an anecdotal trace.
Being in love with another woman was no easy thing in your environment of 1895 New Orleans, Louisiana. You and Sadie had bided your time chatting up men in the parlors downtown if only to deter anyone from getting too suspicious that neither of you had taken a husband yet. The lies were just too easy: the spark was lost on William, George wasn’t as cute as you remembered, and Henry was no Mr. Right. It was even easier to go home with Sadie and just be with her unconditional companionship, her perpetual love, her tender kisses.
In your state of distress, you succumbed to the distraction of your more base desires and sought out the lurid company of a burlesque show. You keep to the back of the huddled crowd of men who are practically falling out of their seats with eagerness. Their hushed whispers of excitement waft in the air like their tobacco smoke, murmured sexist comments woven between the fleeting flicks of their lighters. When the lights brighten, their chitters crescend to whoops and hollers in time with your nerves as the dancer sashays onto the stage.
Big band jazz blasts from somewhere unseen as she begins her striptease and you look on hungrily while taking on the unfelt guilt of every man in the room. A warm pit forms in your stomach as the silk slips off her body like water and puddles onto the floor. Her endless skin inflicts a hankering on your tongue for that of Sadie, for her glossed lips and the familiar, warm underside of her jaw…
Your pulse thrums so strong throughout your body that it carries your feet down the stained velveteen halls to the exit. Your greed kept you for too long and what was meant to be a quiet escape before the show officially ended has been replaced with the ambling footsteps of men that gain on you like a stampede. You keep your head low and your strides swift but bulky like any other patron here tonight, like a man rushing home to his wife who was expecting him three hours ago.
A double take from two men as you shoulder by them makes your heart stutter so abruptly you choke on it and have to cover it with a cough. In your debacle, you nearly run into a streetlight advertising yet another reason why you shouldn’t be here, especially not this late at night: the Cajun Kidnapper, a man who has been surveying the downtown streets like a hawk awaiting pretty, young women like you to give him one second too many of courtesy before they disappear without a trace. No identifying details about his appearance or methods has been published, and yet his elusiveness makes him seem both a faraway threat and a waiting shadow at the same time.
You pick up your pace as the rain pours down in buckets, thunder reverberating so loud it shakes the loose pieces of tar from the street’s edge. You stick to the sides and out of the way of racing horse buggies that splash through puddles and onto your clothes. You don’t have time to stop and pester, and can’t afford to be caught as a lone woman by anyone this time of night.
To distract yourself, you think about the burlesque. The woman’s soft curves, her potent sexuality…
Two women yank you from your reverie. They stand on the steps of a house just a few yards from you, holding their shawls tight around their faces as they look into the night. One of them notices you as you come closer, the street lamp shining just enough to illuminate the damning features of your face.
“Madam! Please, get out of this rain and get home! It’s not safe for a woman!” she begs.
Another distraction comes; a whinny from a police horse that has been reigned to a stop in the street.
“You there!” an officer shouts. “Where’s your husband?”
A third bystander gets involved, this time on the opposite side of the street. The back doors of a small carriage clap open and a man jumps down from the inside. His boots splash in the thick mud that has accumulated in the slope of the road, acting as wheel chocks to his parked vessel. His broad silhouette whips around, clearly looking for something in the dark. He stops when he pivots toward your direction and he beckons you over with his hand held high in the rain.
“Right here, sir!” he yells through the thunder.
The torrential downpour isn’t showing any signs of laying off and it’s waterlogging your clothes. The possibility of you trudging home before your dress becomes immovable is slim. Though you don’t know this man, he must respect a woman’s right to her livelihood since he’s covering for you without even knowing your name. You eye the cab of the carriage and it looks big enough for two people like he’s suggesting… and, if necessary, the blade of your knife tucked away in your boot reminds you of its presence as it presses coldly against your shin. If necessary, you think, you’ll be okay. Besides, would the Cajun Kidnapper be this obvious in trapping his prey?
Perhaps.
You run over to the back of the carriage.
–
The stranger clambers into the back of his carriage first and hoists you up by your hands, gripping you tightly so your rain-soaked skins don’t slip from each other. The wind is spared from blame for the detestable weather outside, the culprit being the thunder and rain, so the stranger leaves the back doors of his carriage open for now — and for good reason.
An oil lamp illuminates that what appeared on the outside to be a spacious cab has severely narrowed due to the shelves of goods that line the interior. Your unnamed comrade sits with his back pressed to the driver’s box and his knees tucked up into his chest, reminding you of a young child. Yet, his words are almost chiding as he gruffs in an amalgamated accent, “For what irrelevant reason is a marvelous specimen such as yourself roaming forbiddenly about the streets of the South on this night?”
You sit across from him, folding your legs underneath yourself and your hands in your lap. “I was visiting a friend,” you lie seamlessly, “We had an argument and I wanted to go back home.”
The stranger pauses his reply, drinking in your stoic expression with an analytic gleam. He says quieter, “Pardon my unsavory ideals, but a friend who lets a pretty lady like you go wandering off on her own just because of some argument is no friend.”
You shrug. A faint smile graces your lips at his sympathetic honesty. “People vary.”
“Indeed they do,” he mutters to himself, almost matter-of-factly. He leans forward and sticks his hand out to you, “I’m Ezra.”
You accept his introduction and shake on it, exchanging raindrops from your palm to his. Thin lines scar his skin from in between his knuckles to the center, almost like a firework… there’s a matching crescent on his cheek, too.
“And whose unparalleled beauty do I have the immense pleasure of sheltering from the rain?” he keeps hold of your hand and raises his brow to tease you with the truth that you share no matrimony. Your gaze drops out of shyness, but the corners of your mouth turn up in amused betrayal.
You tell him your name and he sits back with a satisfied exhale. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he nearly purrs, his voice becoming a little breathy as if he suddenly got tired. When you gather the courage to look at him again, you catch his eyes climbing slowly from your thighs to your face. There’s a comforting warmth that strikes through the darkness of his gaze, appraising and welcoming. If you weren’t imagining things, he appeared fond to have such a perfect stranger in these close confines. You think that you share the same fondness with the fact that you may as well have been hauled off to a holding cell by now for walking the streets unaccompanied. He saved you, and despite anything else he might do, you thank him for that.
He’s dropped his legs from his chest, stretching them out to fill the length of the cab. His boots nearly touch your thigh and though he respects your space, he shows no intention of giving you any more. His hand rests on his thigh, dangerously close to what you hope is just a fold of the thick fabric of his pants… or do you?
Ezra’s handsomeness is hefty, you know this even without the filter of desperation shrouding your carnal restraint. His features are so masculine, so rugged yet somehow they’re pieced together in such a manner that he remains intriguing, not severe. Not like a symphony, but more like a ransom note in its plain mystery.
Thunder breaks you from your daze and lightning calls your attention as it snaps a tree in half outside. Before you know it, Ezra is reaching past you to pull the doors closed with his other hand steady on your shoulder. He complains with amicable distaste, “Damn torrents. I swear, Louisiana doesn’t give one poor soul much of a warning ‘fore she washes them through.” He retakes his seat and his ankle grazes your knee.
You give him a soft smile to match the mulled noise from outside. “Thank you. For—”
He stops you short with a breathy, self-assured chuckle and a crooked smirk on his cheeks. “You’re mighty welcome.”
You tighten your smile before you drop your gaze. Eye contact seems far more intimate now without it viewable to the outside world. With the doors shut, your attention is pulled to study your new surroundings.
Rows of shelves comprise the interior walls of the carriage, each one stockpiled with small glass vials with cork stoppers. You lean forward slightly and wipe through the raindrops on your lashes to get a better look at their scrawn labels. A bottle of purple sprigs reads “lavender”; another with dashes of green reads “thyme”… but the oddities grow as you peruse down the line. One vial of red liquid reads “Vampyr’s Solution,” another of yellow reads, “In Place of the Sun.”
“What’s all this?” you inquire.
Ezra gives a sly grin as he explains, “I’m a medicine man. I travel the outskirts of the world, the parts where those privileged, techno-wizardry doctors,” he waggles his fingers mockingly, “of our modern times don’t dare to hang up their bleached coats. I provide antidotes to the pained, ailments to the healthy, and refuge to the weary.”
Sitting forward, he focuses his stare on you, waiting for you to connect your gaze with his before he speaks, “Now, if I knew any better I’d keep my mouth shut… but I think somethin’s plaguing that mind of yours, sweetheart.”
Your nerves freeze the words in the air. Your reply starts to come out before you’ve approved it, fiending for release. “Yes, I… I’ve been feeling…”
You debate sharing your story with Ezra. He may have helped you evade the discriminatory eyes of the law, but where does it terminate? Coming across someone welcoming of “deviantes” was more rare than a feminist which, in these times, was scarce on its own. But, you don’t have to give him context. He only inquired, you just have to complete your sentence and nothing else. Plenty of circumstances are treated without probable cause.
You wrack your brain for the right word to describe the hollow sensation you’ve been feeling. It didn’t hit right as Sadie disappeared, probably because you had faith in her to find her way back. She was — is, dear god. She is resourceful, determined, and utterly in love with you as much as you are with her. But maybe the stigma of your relationship that you’re trying to conceal now was just too much for her to bear… you would never blame her. “Disparate.”
Ezra gleans, sitting up on his thighs like you, “Well, by the looks of it the Maker has divinely orchestrated our meeting.” He closes the small gap between you two and takes your hand in his, covering it with his other. “Tell me your symptom picture. What have you been feeling lately, my child?” His tone is like that of a priest, who happens to be the last person that held your hand like this. The last time you stepped foot in a church was long before your parents thought you had stopped attending. You couldn’t find refuge in religion, not then and not now even with its doctrines overhanging your conscience. Maybe Ezra holds your salvation, or at least a temporary one. There’s no harm in trying, you think.
You swallow thickly, your dry tongue cloying to the walls of your mouth. “I-I’m not sure how to describe it…”
Ezra’s hand gravitates toward the shelf behind him while his eyes remain on you, so well-versed in his inventory that he doesn’t have to see it to know its location. His fingertips rest on the cork of a bottle of chartreuse liquid. “Have you had any sort of cough?” When you shake your head, his fingers hover over another; this time, a lilac concoction that has been steeped with pink wilted petals and cinnamon sticks.
“Your menses are regular? Not too painful or copious?” You silently indicate no, and he moves on again.
“Any stomach aches?” A negative from you and his hand leaves a bottle of what looks like dandelion flowers. He sits back on his haunches with a deliberative exhale, “So it’s mostly mental.”
Your posture stiffens with fear. Since your body is in working order, you find no reason that your mind wouldn’t also be in shape. Sure, you’re well aware of your inner turmoil, but the way society at large mentions it is as if you have an illness, some bothersome obstacle plaguing you like a virus that is incurable in its invisibility. Thoughts are just that, no?
Ezra must sense your nerves because he soothes his hand down your temple to your jaw. He gently hooks his finger underneath your chin to redirect your gaze into his own. His voice quietens to that velvety, comforting chord again, “Don’t fret, my dearest beauty. Mental distress is highly treatable.”
“It is?” you ask, hope crackling through your disbelief.
Ezra’s gaze earns a curiously dark gleam as he says, “Oh yes, the mind is very… malleable.” He asserts, “Under my supervision, I haven’t had one patient whose torment continued after I administered their treatment. We simply learn how best it is for them to… manage their woes.”
You nod, opening up to this prognosis, and gaze at the wall of medicine. If Ezra has all of these solutions, he’s bound to have one for your predicament. He recalls your attention as he asks, “Tell me, do you experience nervousness?” You nod.
“Are you fraught by it?” You think for a moment, then shake your head.
“Depression?”
From what you’ve heard, depression does sound like a fitting label for what you’ve been suffering lately. Feelings of emptiness, hopelessness… bouts of torrential tears equally twined with episodes of numbness that last for days…
“Moments of it, yes…”
“But not fraught?”
Pondering, you face the blackened mirror in your mind. Sadie…
“...Yes. Yes, fraught.”
“Have you suffered the ramifications of…” Ezra’s brow quirks and his eyes lift up, as if he’s trying to search for the right word in the wood grain of the ceiling. The corner of his mouth raises just slightly in a peculiar grin as he utters, “female hysteria?”
You were familiar with the term, but only as a dark inkling on the edges of your mind. The sound of it made you tense up again as horror stories flooded your conscience of women who were sent away to mental asylums, forever shackled to routine doctor visits; or even more fearsome, their condition worsened and registered them in the eyes of the public as something worse than a deviante, a satanic pariah that was studied by religious officials like a zoo animal in the hopes of finding a method for salvation.
Your mind conjures up the running tally of moments you sought company with your own hands for lack of physical intimacy with Sadie both before and after her disappearance. Touching yourself, your love for Sadie, the burlesque visits… sin after sin after sin. Guilt floods your veins like molten iron and poisons your windpipe as you can hardly squeak out a shameful, “Yes.”
Ezra puts his hands together quietly in prayer. “I shall keep your symptom picture confidential, my darling, and I shall craft you an elixir.” He takes a deep, steadying breath with his eyes closed, meditating… before he opens them and starts taking bottles off the shelves with a fluidity that he must have visualized. He clutches the ensemble to his chest and opens a loose floorboard with his free hand, fishing out two glasses.
With rampant curiosity, you crawl over to him to take a seat by his side. He looks on your position disapprovingly before he grunts, “Come, watch me concoct your personalized antidote.” He parts his legs on the floor, making room for you to sit between them. You eye the space with hesitancy, but his smile welcomes you in. You crawl over his leg and sit between his thighs.
Ezra looms over your back, his arms reaching around you and his chin hovering above your shoulder, as he ladles warm whispers into your ear.
“With a dash of this,” he tilts a green liquid into the glass, “and a sprig of that,” he takes out a pod of purple flower and crumples it in his palm before he forms his hand into a siphon and lets the pieces drain into the glass.
“And a few drops of this,” he takes out a bottle dropper and adds ten drops of a clear liquid, “...with a few extra for your added hysteria.”: three additional drops. He picks up the glass by its base and swirls the ingredients inside until they combine to form a dark purple slurry. “This elixir promises to relax you, satiate your desires, and, in the morning, you will forget that you ever felt so poorly. No hangover. No more pain, no more suffering.”
“There has to be a catch.” You implore, eyeing the concoction with hopeful caution.
Ezra huffs out a soft laugh and purrs, “Smart girl.” He reaches behind him and reveals a bottle of whiskey. “The taste,” he says with a grimace, scrunching his nose with unfeeling eyes, “is near unbearable.” Ezra uncaps the bottle and pours one part whiskey for one part concoction into the glass. He puts the whiskey down and swirls the drink again, mixing the two. “The elixir acts on its best behavior when mixed with liquor. It makes it easier to drink, too.” Ezra offers you the glass and you take it, too enthralled in the swirling shimmers inside to notice his hands settling light as feathers on your waist.
You glance over your shoulder at him and ask with quiet caution, “I drink all of it?”
He nods. In this close proximity, you try not to focus too much on the way his soft lips dance alongside his bristly mustache as he speaks. He tries to not let you know he’s taken notice of your staring.
“Yes. If you drink too little, your body will grow a tolerance and it won’t fight off your ailment properly. Tuberculosis isn’t cured by a minute’s worth of fresh air.”
His logic impresses upon you. You glance at the shelves again, thinking about how he knew the exact ingredients to procure after listening to your symptoms like it was fluent to him. You agree with him, too, that modern doctors tend to fall to the wayside when it comes to the populations that can’t provide with coin, or the legitimate ailments that are left unseen by the naked eye. You know if you sought professional help, they would immediately turn you away; god forbid you tell them the honest reasons behind your distress and they would report you to the authorities before taking their pick of shipping you off to a sanitarium or a prison. A life for queer, mentally distressed women in the South is a life in solitary apprehension. Though Ezra doesn’t know the full extent of your story, he has taken on your case with exceptional acceptance.
You swallow your pride and worry with a sharp breath as you lift the glass to your lips, tilting your head back. The immediate reaction is that Ezra was right: the taste is remarkably foul. An unexpected salt creeps up your nose and sparks like bang snaps. You splutter but he rests his hands on your shaking shoulders, murmuring soft encouragement, “Good girl. Don’t let one drop go to waste.”
You chug the four swallows it takes to empty the glass and set it down before launching into a coughing fit. Ezra rubs up and down your arm and turns you into his chest, soothing, “Good girl, good girl… that’s it, just breathe, honey.” He presses a kiss to your temple, resting his lips against your hair and… his inhale is soft but it lasts, almost like he’s trying to flood his brain with your scent.
Your senses are already muddled by the adrenaline rush of the whole ordeal. The anticipation inside you builds as you know that there’s no turning back now: it’s only a matter of time before the elixir seeps into your bloodstream and starts to affect you.
Ezra lays you down on the blanket behind the driver’s box he was sitting on earlier, presumably his makeshift bed for long hauls across the country. He winds a shirt around his fist into a bunch to act as a pillow that he puts underneath your head. You have started to feel something because you don’t know how it got there — you don’t remember him lifting your neck, asking you to turn over, or anything, it’s just here now…
His voice is a clear contrast to your vision that sees the wood grain of the ceiling errantly swimming like fish, “You shall rest right here, under my care, through the night. I’ll watch over you and treat any abnormalities that may arise, though highly unlikely.”
He pets your hair and your head lolls towards his hand, hungry for touch and unyielding to any opposing thought.
Your lips part around your heavy tongue that has begun to feel dry and thick, and your eyes glaze over as you focus in the distance on nothing in particular.
“Think soft thoughts. The elixir can penetrate more easily when your mind is soft and pliant.” Ezra.
In your mind you nod, but your body doesn’t express it as it solidifies into the bed. The last thing you settle on is Ezra’s thick, scarred fingers before your eyes shutter closed and you succumb to the effects.
You don’t realize until you come to that you had drifted off into blackness for some time, you aren’t sure how long — it could’ve been hours, minutes, or seconds. Your eyes feel like they can barely open but when they do, they’re dizzy and blurred around the edges. You’re in the carriage still, but the size of things and your depth perception are all wrong and distorted to unreal proportions — you must be dreaming.
You roll your head about face and Ezra is above. He’s straddling you, but below his hips blurs to an infinity you can’t decipher. What you can see and feel like weights are his hands around your waist, gripping your flesh squarely. The slope of your body fits so perfectly in the curve of his palms, like a lock and key…
Somewhere, Ezra’s disembodied voice speaks, “Are you starting to feel the effects?” Above you, in your dream, his lips remain sealed.
“Uh-huh,” you hum, suddenly self-conscious of what your body might be doing outside of your delusion. Your ability to use your voice is a surprise and you flinch back from the sound like a frightened animal. An invisible weight, presumably Ezra’s hands, settles on yours and brings them down to your chest again.
Ezra quietens you, “Shh, think soft thoughts. Soft thoughts.”
You nod but again, you don’t think your body received the signal from your brain to do so.
Ezra has started to lift up your skirts, reflecting them away from your legs that part of their own accord. Your thighs fall back helpless and… wanting.
You knew you liked both sexes in the same manner. Despite this, men always drew a specific curiosity from you. You fawned over the handsome ones in the streets, joining in on the teasing that your friends would throw back and forth about swooning crushes. But you found yourself possessing a sort of… fear of them, in a way. The men around you always seemed so tall and imposing, like you could never possibly reach their heads to hear the exact words that would come out of their mouths. Their thoughts seemed to be in an unbreachable part of the atmosphere, high above your own, and too many experiences had instilled an aversion in you that your naivety wouldn’t protect you from them abusing it. When you got to talking with one, all of them to some degree — some more than others — looked down upon you as if you were some equally unintelligible, less-than creature. Their faux awe at your femininity would quickly fade to robust aggression once they had the slightest notion that they could claim you, own you…
But Ezra is bathed in plum-hued sparkles that do more than lure; they accept and nurture. His covetousness is bound by intimacy to please you.
You whimper in need and he looks up, his eyes dark and taken aback by your pathetic sound. He grabs the back of your neck and leans down to kiss you deeply, robbing you of air. Surprisingly, you are able to lift your arms, though they feel like they’re traveling through water, to drape around his back. You pull him closer, tongues licking into the other’s mouth, and get drunk on the hypoxia.
Ezra unhooks the eye closures of your corset blouse. Shock riddles his expression when he sees that you have nothing underneath; you couldn’t afford the finer undergarments that the upper class women would wear to accentuate their figures. Ezra growls lowly, but the sound only draws you nearer instead of repelling you away. It’s almost like the elixir has taken your fight or flight response and flipped it on its head.
This time, his lips match the sound that travels to your ears on a lithe crack of thunder. He utters five syllables that you can’t quite make out under his breath, you just know that he sounds hungry.
With a reluctant expression, he sits back on his haunches, rips off his overcoat and flings his worn suspenders from his broad shoulders before he pushes his trousers down with haste. The fastened waist cuts into his thick thighs, but his strong forearms tear the obstacle away swiftly to push his underwear down too. There, settled between sturdy hips and beneath a dark thatch of hair, stands his cock. He grips it with a hold that only angers the reddened head and makes it drip something silky and clear from the tip onto your navel. Ecstasy ripples from the spot it lands, spreading all the way to your brain and slithering sensually between the folds rendered malleable from his medicine.
Ezra goes at your underwear, nearly ripping the fabric in his attempt to get you bare. He pulls your panties all the way down your legs, lifting your feet up one by one to strategically extract them around your shoes, and tosses them carelessly behind himself. He settles one of his meaty hands beside your waist, his wrist brushing against your skin and it makes you moan breathily.
Ezra nudges your engorged clit with the tip of his cock, drenched with his self-lubrication. You want to hiss at the sensation, but your body remains still and willing as it seethes in hot nerves. He directs a line of spit onto your puffy folds and spreads it around with his hardness.
He notches himself at your entrance and pushes inside your cunt, slow but determined. Your moan builds as he slides inside and it breaks off in a gasp when he’s fully sheathed. His eyes flutter closed as a shiver runs up the length of his neck and makes him tremble above you, nearly shivering with carnality. Your core quivers at the intrusion; it feels like he’s tickling the bottom of your lungs.
“Good girl,” sounds somewhere, elsewhere.
Ezra rocks his hips just once and it’s so much. Your eyes water from the overwhelming stretch, though it isn’t painful, just so different. He retains patience, giving your tight cunt time to adjust on each in and out. When the crease between your brows starts to relax, his thrusts get harder. His groans are divine to your ears, the perfect mix of blissfully satiated and ravenous for more as he continues to fuck you.
He grips your waist and pulls your compliant body into every surge of his hips, his cock reaching further inside you each time. Sweat starts to accrue on his brow and tears start to roll quietly down your cheeks as your pleasure builds. You don’t know if it’s the catharsis from heartbreak, finally getting some respite from your repressed desire, or the strange longing for Ezra himself, but the tears fall and fall. He wraps one of his hands around the side of your face, his thumb on your cheek, as he holds you steady.
“Let it cure you,” drifts past his lips.
Your breaths come short and sparse as the elixir’s euphoria settles heavy and festers in your veins. Your nipples peak against the cold, damp air so hard that they ache. Ezra’s hand moves from the side of your face to settle around your neck, his thumb and forefinger creating a column for your moans to escape from as tight as your pussy.
Without warning, your orgasm steps forward from a dense mist in your mind. Your jaw drops and saliva spills out of the corner of your mouth as you try not to swallow your tongue. Moans gurgle out of you like vomit, relentless and vile. The fluttering endorphins that whirl inside you play with your eyes like puppets on strings.
Ezra groans deeply and a warmth spurts inside you. He pulls his cock from your plush walls and you whimper instantly at the loss, reaching to put him back, but he evaporates into the darkness that swallows him from behind, leaving you alone. The sticky warmth seeps onto your inner thigh before you meet the blackness again, slowly spinning like vertigo until there’s nothing…
Ezra’s voice sounds assured but weary, “You did amazingly well. Now your mind needs to rest to reform without your depressive quarries. Sleep.”
–
In the morning, you wake from light streaming in between gaps of the wooden boards that make up the carriage walls. You’re settled on the blanket, yet Ezra is nowhere to be seen. You sit up too fast and everything spins with the force of a wheel. But, in your effort to try and locate him, you notice that one of the carriage doors is slightly ajar.
Outside is damp, everything powdered over with pale blue fog. The puddles on the street remain unflinching in the stillness of your surroundings; no carriages, no people, nothing.
The first thing that lets you know you’re not completely alone in the world is a bird chirping as it soars in the sky overhead. You step out onto the ground to follow its path through the clouds and see that… the carriage is parked outside your house. You don’t remember making it anywhere close to home on your walk of shame after the burlesque last night…
To thank Ezra, you walk up to the driver’s box but he’s not there either. The carriage is completely devoid of his presence, save for the medicine in the back arranged like the night before and his coat neatly folded on the leather driver’s seat. You dig in your pockets for some money and, not sure how much the elixir and the ride home will cost you, you leave more than you think is necessary — after all, he gave you shelter from the rain and the thunderstorm of your mind.
When you get inside your home, Sadie’s absence seems more poignant than usual. Though you slept the night before, your exhaustion tells differently. To bypass the impending pain of remembering her loss, you head upstairs to the bathroom to freshen yourself up before you go to sleep.
Stripping from your dress is unusually quick, almost as if some of the fastenings weren’t done up. You had specifically tightened them to remain slender under your overcoat, hiding your form from any onlookers as you left the burlesque, but the cold sweat dappled on your chest hints that you might have unbuttoned it yourself subconsciously while you were under the influence. Ezra had said there could be some side effects, and you were so out of it that there’s no way you would remember anything you did besides… how glorious you felt. Finally at peace for the first time in weeks.
You wash up quickly and lay down in bed, attempting to regain with only the power of your mind a sense of the elixir’s potent high to lull you to sleep. Ezra had given you an experience that the more you reminisce, the more you think you’ll seek out his services again. If only it weren’t for the nagging feeling that you were doing something you weren’t supposed to… but maybe a little measured rebellion is just what you need to break free.
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AITA for leaving my husband?
For context, I (F40~) was originally a citizen of Missouri, and was up until this year.
The reason for leaving Missouri? My husband, who I’ll refer to as J, (M40~) lit a building with our main source of income on fire, accidentally, killing every living thing in there.
After that incident, instead of staying in Missouri, we decided to set out on a journey to the west coast. A way to start over fresh.
Of course, we had to take my father, who I’ll refer to as T (M70~), with us, as well as J and I’s children, who I’ll refer to as C (M7), and M (F15~).
Being the mother of the household, I had to look after M and C, while J went to buy the supplies we needed for the trip.
When he came back with our supplies, our mode of transportation, a wagon, had a large hole in it and hexagons for wheels. Not only that, but the wagon did not have a wagon cover either. He also had bought an ox who was completely blind and couldn’t eat on its own.
Along with that, he had blown half the money on bullets, and bought absolutely no food (We had to eat grass almost the entire time we traveled).
I will let you know, he did not discuss this purchase with me before going through with it.
So there we were, miserably traveling, with no good source of food. Not to mention, the wagon continuously broke on us. We had to fix it multiple times until we couldn’t salvage it anymore and had to replace the broken parts with extra parts.
Since we were stopped for the day because we needed to repair the wagon, we all decided to sleep.
J and I sleep in the same sleeping bag, it’s double sleeping bag, thank goodness. We both get prepared for the night and get in.
Despite getting comfortable, we soon realized there was venomous snake inside the sleep bag because it bit me.
Obviously, I yelled at J to suck it out so that I wouldn’t die.
He did so successfully, but like the idiot he is, he SWALLOWED it.
Because of this, we as a family, thought he had died and we were preparing for the worst.
Suddenly, after hours, he just… wakes up?
A little loopy, but alive.
So now, he’s faked his death. What kind of person does that?
Once again, we decide to stop for a rest because of the incident.
This time, we’re a bit more resourceful, searching for resources around where we stopped.
This went on through the night, and once J, T, C, and I had arrived back at the wagon, it was set aflame. Worst of all, our daughter, M, was nowhere to be found.
We could only assume that she had left, or she was taken.
J was the closest to the wagon, and yet he did not look after it.
So there we were, missing a kid, no wagon, no place to put our supplies, and winter had just arrived.
Still, we trudged along. Walking by feet to our destination.
We had to stop multiple times, as the weather was getting worse.
One time, we stopped by a bar.
At this point, I was fed up with J and his stupidity, and was honest with him. I told him that I could not do take it anymore. With every decision he’s made, I just did not think my family was safe.
So, I took C with me, and left J in the bar.
I’m beginning to feel bad about doing this though.
So, AITA?
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