#a shadowed figure approaches - {anon}

[iixiplaytimeisoverixii]

do you love anyone?

The question hit him hard and made his heart ache. The answer was clear, but he didn't know exactly how to go about answering it.

Not at first.

Settling on a straight forward approach, he took a deep breath and replied, "Yes, I do. Deeply in fact. However, I do not believe that they know how I feel for them and I don't intend to share my feelings. It is not that I fear to share this with them, but I believe that it is better to keep my emotions hidden away in order to protect that person from the danger they would find themselves in if they were to find out and come to love me in return."

He was sure that this grey masked stranger wouldn't understand what he meant by this. Who would? Surely they were asking themselves:

'why would loving an once great ancient egyptian pharaoh put someone in danger?'

He wasn't prepared to share the story with anyone, espcially not with someone who was hiding behind a mask....

Not yet....

[beloveds-embrace]

Sooo much angstttttttttttt 😭

I need the boys to wake up and do whatever it takes to fix it, please, I can't take the angst 😭😭😭

Does this count as fix-it? 🤔 hope you enjoy, anon! Also this turned out far longer than i thought it would lol

First Part

Another shift slowly happens within the duchy, palpable. The whispers of servants echo louder than ever, growing sharp and cutting in the empty halls you once used to frequent. They still avoid you, but now they wonder and whisper of your health. It’s not just them; the men you’d once hoped you’d at least be on an amicable basis with slowly change as well, the longer your absence haunts the halls and galas.

John is the first to act. It’s hesitant at first, awkward even, as though he can’t figure out how to approach the shattered remains of what he’s ignored for so long. He stands outside your door one evening, his shadow stretching under the flickering candlelight, fist raised to knock. But he doesn’t. Not at first. He falters, as if the weight of his guilt roots him to the spot.

When he finally does knock, it’s tentative, barely audible.

“…Are you awake?” His voice carries a softness you’ve never heard before, but it grates against your numbness.

You don’t answer. Your eyes barely flick towards the door, not moving from where you are curled on your side.

He lingers, sighs, and leaves.

You had intended to let yourself waste away, in all honesty. Only your mother doesn’t let you; she bursts into your room one day, sneers at the miserable sight you make, and insults you to the high heavens. Nothing new, even if her digs hurt, even if she says she isn’t surprised by no one loving you when you are like this, but she forces you to eat some nibbles and then into a shower; she doesn’t care. She is simply tired of having you be an embarrassment and hiding away from the public eye.

Thus, you no longer stay in your room. You don’t bother with jewelry, with heavy gowns or complicated hair styles or even clearing the layer of dust off your furniture, you just leave your room. Thankfully,

Unfortunately, that means passing by the maids and servants. It means passing by them. It means interacting with them again, though no longer initiated by you.

Simon is the second, and less direct. He lingers in places you begin to re-frequent; the library, the gardens, the corridors near your room. He doesn’t speak, just watches from the periphery, eyes heavy and intense. Once, when you brush past him without acknowledging his presence, he mutters something under his breath, his fists clenching at his sides. But he doesn’t try to stop you and you don ask what he said.

He probably didn’t mean you, anyways. You doubt he wants to speak to you, the obstacle.

Johnny falters the most. Though your interactions with him were few, you’d occasionally hear from the servants about how fun he is in general. His smiles, though they’ve never been aimed at you, look quite fake to you, jokes half-hearted and dying on his lips whenever you pass on rare occasions.

One day, he brings a tray of food to your room himself, hoping to coax you into eating with something he’s cooked just for you. You answer the door, see him holding it, and shake your head without a word. Even if it looks delectable, like the dishes John would get.

“Please,” he says, his voice cracking. “I- just try a bit, hen.”

But you close the door before he can say more. He will try again and often, sometimes just leaving the tray, but you never touch it. You’ve lost weight, you know, and the only reason you are getting some nutrients at this point is because you occasionally sneak into the kitchens late at night for tiny snacks to tide you over. If Johnny knows it’s you, he’s never said anything.

Kyle is quieter, yet more present. The guilt eats away at him the most; he knows that his lack of care and respect had a part in the way the rest of the maids and staff treated you. He spends his evenings pacing the hall outside your room, his head bowed, mumbling apologies that you’ll never hear, wondering which one is best.

Once, he catches you in the garden alone, his mouth opening as if to speak, but you pass him without so much as a glance; you already know he won’t care for you have to say or ask for, he’ll just say he is busy, so you just don’t bother.

He stays frozen in place, his hand half-raised, the words stuck in his throat.

The servants, per Kyle and John’s orders, begin to change. Their guilt is slower to manifest, but it’s there and it’s evident in the way they rush to fulfill your needs despite your reluctance. They clean your room with quiet efficiency, no longer treating you like a burden, even though you hadn’t asked it of them. They leave fresh flowers on your desk and vanity, extra blankets on your bed, and freshly pressed gowns in your wardrobe.

You ignore all of it. It’s a waste of everyone’s time snd effort. You aren’t worth it.

Yet despite their heavy guilt, they return to and continue serving you.

But nothing changes the heaviness in your chest, the emptiness that refuses to leave.

One day, closer to the date of the annual winter gala hosted by the emperial family, you step into the dining room unannounced, your presence startling them all. It’s the first time you’ve joined them in weeks. You move slowly, your posture rigid and tired, your expression unreadable.

“Duchess,” John starts, his voice uncertain, rising from his seat.

“…John,” You sit without meeting his eyes, your movements slow and deliberate. The table is silent, the tension suffocating as John, Simon, and Kyle exchange uncertain glances.

John clears his throat. “It’s good to see you, wife.”

You don’t respond.

The meal is awkward, stilted, but it’s necessary for you; you need to get reused to John for your eventual reappearance in high society. Johnny offers you dishes with a hesitant, hopeful look in his eyes, and Kyle pours your wine with an unsteady grip. John and Simon try to start a conversation, but their words falter and fade when you don’t reply.

Still, they try. Over the following weeks, their efforts grow.

John begins carving out time to spend with you, awkwardly hovering near your door, waiting for even a crumb of acknowledgment. He starts leaving small notes for you- apologies and quiet promises to be better. They pile up on your desk, untouched but not thrown away. You want to believe, but you feel jaded and tired.

Simon offers you quiet companionship, instead. Standing at your side in the garden or library, saying nothing but ensuring you’re not alone. He speaks softly when he does talk, a one-sided conversation with only the occasional hum or noise from you, but he’s undeterred.

Johnny keeps cooking for you, leaving trays of food outside your door with little notes attached: Eat a bit, bonnie. Just for me. You don’t eat much, still have very little appetite, but you do start taking bites here and there, and it’s enough to keep him trying.

Kyle offers small acts of service- holding doors open for you, keeping anything you might need available at hanf, ensuring your rooms are kept warm and comfortable. His words are rare, but his actions speak of endless guilt and the quiet hope that he can earn even a sliver of forgiveness.

The maids and butlers follow suit, their movements quieter, their service more thoughtful. They stop muttering, their eyes full of remorse whenever they see you. They bow in respect, and no longer treat you as if you aren’t a part of the duchy.

But you keep them all at arm’s length. Their guilt is evident, their efforts genuine, but the wounds they’ve left on your heart are deep. Forgiveness, if it ever comes, will not be easily earned. For now, you let them try, watching their clumsy attempts with a mixture of numbness and quiet satisfaction (that you do feel guilty over, but truly can’t help).

Several weeks before the gala, John comes to your office. He sits down, and waits until you are finished with your paperwork before he speaks. You are in a beautiful dress- Simon’s gift- and your hair is in a delicate style, done by your maids. You look pretty. You feel nice, even if the numbness remains. These days, it’s less.

“Duchess, I was thinking,” he began, voice soft and patient. “it might do you some good to get away for a while. A change of scenery.”

You turned to look at him, the suggestion pulling you from your numb reverie. His blue eyes searched yours, and for once, there was no coldness, no distance. “Somewhere quiet,” he continued, “where you can rest… away from all of this.”

The idea of leaving the suffocating walls of the manor, and the heavy tension of the duchy was tempting. And yet, you hesitated, unsure if you could trust the gesture or if it was just another attempt to smooth over appearances.

“I’ll take care of everything,” he added quickly, as if sensing your doubt. “You won’t have to worry about a thing. You can choose who you’d like to go with, or even if you want to go alone. It’s entirely up to you, Duchess.”

Johnny and Kyle appeared in the doorway then, Kyle holding a tray with a steaming cup of tea, Johnny with a small, hopeful smile and a plate of your favorite biscuits. Even Simon lingered near the threshold, his gaze steady but tinged with something softer than usual.

They were all waiting for your answer, their expressions almost pleading. You could feel the weight of their guilt and the sincerity of their offer. It wasn’t much- not enough to erase everything that had passed- but it was something. A step forward.

“…I’ll think about it.” you said at last, your voice quiet but firm. And for the first time in a long while, you saw a flicker of relief in their eyes.

[vivalarevolution]

𝓖𝓸𝓭𝓭𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓒𝓪𝓵𝓪𝓭𝓪𝓷

Paul Atreides x Reader

Request: „Paul Atreides falling in love with his father's younger wife, whom he recently married for political reasons, yet he remains loyal and in love with Jessica.‟

A/N: Request from anon. A very interesting concept that I thoroughly enjoyed writing. As always, I hope you will like reading my work, especially since this is my first attempt at writing for Paul Atreides.

Please remember that english is not my native language and mistakes might happen.

She reminded him of a goddess , a being from ancient books that survived the destruction of Old Terra. She was beautiful like Aphordite , full of warmth as Hestia and innocent and sensitive as Persephone. Yet her eyes were full of sadness , like those belonging to Oizys.

And the young duke hated it.

He hated her sadness. The sadness which was caused by his own father. Leto Atreides married her , but there was no love between them , there was only darkness and misery that was draining the young woman from the inside. In Paul's eyes, his father's actions were cruel. He did not deserve such a delicate soul , and much less he deserve it to destroy it.

He tried , almost desperately , to understand the man when his eyes followed him with his own mother , but in vain. Because he loved the woman he could not have too much to forgive him for what he did to her.

So he stopped. He stopped looking for forgiveness , which never existed.

Instead, he surrendered to the arms of forbidden desire , surrendered to the feelings he had been hiding so deeply inside himself, surrendered to her will without her even knowing.

His shadow began to follow hers, her steps became his steps , her breath became his breath.

And suddenly Paul Atreides became everything to her that his father never was. He became her protector , her rock , her guardian , her savior.

But that wasn't enough for him. He wanted more. He had to have more.

He found her in her chambers , she was sitting on one of the many cushions, reading. But when she felt a presence behind her she stopped , turning her head to the side , looking out of the corner of her eye at the young duke.

-Paul - she said softly , turning fully in his direction - What brings you to me? - she asked him , closing the book , which suddenly no longer seemed interesting to her.

He didn't answer , not immediately.

But as the silence lengthened between them , the tension begin to grow as well.

-I want you - he replied suddenly , and despite the seriousness of the sentence his voice was composed , remarkably calm.

-What? - the woman whispered, shocked.

His words seemed to cut through the air like the sharpest knife, leaving behind a mark that was impossible to erase.

-I want you - he repeated , slowly approaching her figure.

She watched his movements , stopping only when the brunet kneeled before her.

-But you already have me - she said , placing her hand on his pale cheek.

Paul grabbed her wrist and closed his eyes allowing her addictive scent to dull his senses.

-Not in the way I would have wanted - he confessed , tasting her soft skin with his lips.

At his words, the woman pulled her hand from his hold , moving away from her husband's son.

-We can't. You know it's forbidden - she announced, furrowing her eyebrows.

-I know - he responded , getting up from his knees to approach her yet again - But no matter how cruel the truth is , my father does not love you , he never will. And I hate him for it, I hate him for marrying a woman he is not able to love.

-The world has always been cruel Paul. You cannot change it , you are in no position to. You are not a god - she said with a shadow of sorrow in her voice , feeling tears involuntarily flow into her eyes.

-But I can change the part of the world you belong to.There will be no more misery , no more pain - he declared, approaching her , trapping her between the wall and himself.

-Don't say that. I am begging you , don't say that - she whispered , closing her eyes, trying to push the brunet away from her, but to no avail.

The man kissed her cheekbones , nuzzling his face into her thick locks.

-Tell me the truth - he asked , but was met with silence - Tell me the truth - he repeated , but his voice no longer sounded familiar.

-I love you more than life itself Paul. I'm willing to die if it means I can taste your lips, even for a slight moment - she admitted, but although her words were sincere, it seemed to her as if someone pulled them out of her, without her permission.

-And I love you - he said - And believe me when I say this. I will never stop loving you. My love for you will only cease to exist when the sun will rise in the west and set in the east , when the seas go dry and mountains will blow in the wind like leaves.

-One day , you will regret those words Paul Atreides - she professed , feeling her breathing become more shallow and her eyes more clouded.

-Never - he growled , before attacking her full, pink lips.

His kisses were the opposite of him. They were burning , chaotic , dangerous.

But despite this , she desperately grabbed his shoulders , trying to pull him closer and closer. Their hands traveled over each other's bodies , as their lips tasted one another, never having enough. They seemed to have forgotten about everything except themselves.

Suddenly the mortal world no longer existed. There was no fear , sadness , or despair. In their place came lust , desire and love. Feelings that were forbidden to them.

But they didn't stopped.

They didn't stop when their bodies merged into one. They didn't stop when the first rays of sun appeared on the walls of her chambers.

They didn't stop because there was nothing strong enough to separate Paul Atreides from his goddess.

[ohburgee]

Villain's Obsession

Yandere-Villain!Griefer x Hero!Reader - Villain x Hero AU

tw: yandere behavior, stalking, obsession, kidnapping, emotional manipulation, implied violence an: The story came from my old yandere fic, and this suits our beloved plant monster, Griefer. This is also a toxic hero. This was accidentally deleted, but some savior anon reblogged it and sent it to me, to that anon, thank you my dear star 🖤 summary: You saved the villain to repay him for saving you once. But something sinister lurks beneath, because the villain who once hated you is now obsessed with you.

He shouldn’t feel love. He shouldn’t fall for his enemy, the hero. Y0U.

That moment, when he lay on the brink of death after a brutal clash with a rival, gun pointed at his head… you appeared.

You fought off his attacker with raw determination, knocking them unconscious. You glanced at Griefer’s broken, hopeless figure, and then collapsed beside him.

Later, he woke up in a place unfamiliar, but warm. Your place.

You had healed him. You didn’t know why, you were enemies. But you remembered when he had once saved you from a monstrous foe. Maybe this was repayment.

When Griefer opened his eyes to see you watching over him, he looked stunned. Then, without a word, he stood from your bed and walked out.

No thank you. No expression. Just silence.

A week later…

Griefer stood in the shadows of an alley, shrouded in his hood, watching you through the glass of a small restaurant where you worked. You looked… normal. Mundane. Yet radiant. So painfully human. So painfully beautiful. And all his.

He told himself you were his. Ever since you saved him, his mind had started to rot with obsession. He dreamed of you. Hallucinated your voice, your scent, your touch. You invaded every thought.

The hero, his enemy, was now the only thing he desired.

He stalked you for weeks.

Each time a man approached you, asked for your number, or smiled too long, Griefer saw red. Those men never lasted more than a day. They were found dead under mysterious circumstances, their bodies mangled in untraceable ways.

You began to notice. You began to fear.

Tonight, Griefer watched through the window again. A male friend had come to visit you. He sat with you. Laughed with you. Hugged you.

Griefer clenched his fists. Green veins began creeping up his hands, surging with power.

No. Not him. Not anyone.

That man needed to disappear. Griefer looked down at his hands… then back through the window.

And smiled.

After your shift, your boss handed you your paycheck with a warm smile and a fatherly pat on the head. You cherished him like family. You said goodbye, walking home under the gentle night breeze, when—

Ding.

A voice message from an unknown number.

"Looks like your cat is in TR0UBL3. *Meow*"

You heard your cat's meowing and recognized the distorted voice.

Griefer.

Your blood ran cold.

You sprinted home. The lights were out. Another blackout.

In your room, you saw him. Griefer, sitting on your bed, cradling your cat.

“How much do you really care for your precious K1TT3N?” he said with that hollow, glitching voice.

You readied your powers.

“Don’t worry. I’m not always the V1LL4N, right? I need peace too.” The moonlight glinted off his smirking face.

He gently placed your cat on the bed and cast a spell. Your pet purred in deep slumber.

“You should lock your windows better, MY L0V3.”

You froze at the word.

Griefer stood, face serious, but his eyes, his crimson red eyes looking at you, admiring you.

“After I saved you… I was furious with myself. S4V1NG A H3R0? MY EN3MY? WHY?” He stepped closer. “You’ve felt it too, haven’t you? TH3 C0NFUS10N. TH3 PULL.”

You had. And it terrified you.

“I kept seeing you,” he whispered, circling you. “H4LLUCINATIONS. DR34MS. 0BS3SSION.”

He leaned in close, breath brushing your ear. “As much as I want to kill you… I want to K3EP you.”

You bolted, flinging a chair at him with your telekinesis. He dodged. You grabbed your cat and rushed into another room, locking the door.

But the windows wouldn’t open. He had trapped you, green plant veins wrapped around the window. You fought them off and had an idea: break the glass.

You shattered it with your powers, but just as you were about to escape—

Boom. He burst through the door.

You hurled furniture. He dodged everything. Then black-green tendrils grabbed your wrists, dragging you down.

“You’d risk hurting your C4T?” he growled.

He carried you to the sofa, binding your feet, and gently placed your cat in the armchair.

“I’ll let him sleep longer. Cats love naps, R1GHT?” he grinned.

Then his phone rang. While he was distracted, you reached for your phone, quickly dialing your friend. Then your breath caught. You noticed a vibration from inside his jacket. Your eyes shifted.

He followed your gaze, took out a phone… and you froze.

It was your friend’s phone.

Your eyes widened. “What did you do to him!?” you screamed. He smiled, then placed the phone beside a box and opened it.

A tip of hair. A head. Eyes.

You recognized them. Your friend.

“No… no…”

You broke.

Griefer knelt in front of you and touched your tear-streaked face with something twisted, like tenderness.

“He was in 0UR W4Y.”

He looked at your vulnerable expression, admiring the softness of your face, the way your tears slowly fell.

He wanted to kiss you. To feel the warmth of your lips.

You snapped.

With everything left in you, you fought. But he caught your head in his hands. Then, he kissed you.

You whimpered, struggling, until the green magic clouded your mind, made you dizzy, and blurred your vision.

You collapsed. He cradled your unconscious form, brushing strands of hair from your face.

You were his now.

You had always been his goal.

Even if it meant doing the worst things imaginable.

n: some of you confused or know this fic already, this fic got deleted and i just reposted it back :>

[radio-writes]

Going on anon bc this is a bit messed up but can you write Alastor x reader where Alastor uses sex as a form of torture?

Fuck your God and His Righteous Hand(s)

Synopsis: Hasn't Alastor always been such generous partner? Hasn't He always provided for you? Given you everything and anything you ever wanted? Except for your freedom of course.

The night you decide to run away from his graciousness, you find out just how generous he could be.

Warnings: noncon, forced relationship, mentions of blood, mentions of murder, physical harm to reader, degradation, smut, over stimulation, tentacles are used (I probably missed a lot, let me know)

Tags: Alastor x fem!reader; dead dove do not eat

MDNI

Your heart beat loudly against your chest, your breath ragged and heavy. Branches and twigs snapped and broke and fell all around you as you ran.

Not that you could hear any of it over the overwhelming sound of static flooding your ears. 

As if the dark wasn't terrifying enough, you had to stumble through the woods with tears blurring your vision too. Arm stretched in front of you, swatting away vines in your path as you desperately tried to get away.

You had to get away.

You couldn't get away.

You could almost feel the ground shake beneath your feet. You could almost feel his breath that skimmed the back of your head. There was no use in running, but run you did anyway.

You kept running even when you felt his clawed fingers grab at your shirt; the fabric tearing easily.

You kept running even when you could hear his voice right by your ear. "I think it's in your best interest not to anger me any more, darling."

You couldn't keep running when a heavy, velvety tentacle wrapped around your ankle; your breath knocked out of you as you tumbled onto the forest floor.

Your hand outstretched, palm reaching into the darkness. It was a terrifying, unknown, and threatening darkness—but to you it still meant freedom.

That was the last clear thing you saw before you landed flat on your stomach, the weight of your failed escape weighing you down more than the dark shadow around your leg. 

He was laughing.

He was out of breath, panting almost as heavily as you were, but he was laughing.

You heard the crunch of leaves and twigs as he approached your collapsed form. No longer rushing, no longer frantic. He seemed to take his time as he walked towards you, now that he's sure you couldn't get away.

Still, the tentacle holding you down tightened—a warning not to try anything again.

Not that you could. The moment of rest allowed to you as you laid on the ground, made the pain and exhaustion of your body much too apparent for your liking. Your legs felt like led, the numerous scratches from who-knows-where all sung in a harmony of stinging pain.

Even when you knew you couldn't run anymore, your mind frantically whirled through ideas. You tried to think of something, anything, to keep away from the Radio Demon.

At least until his shoes finally came into your view; the red accents bright against the inky darkness. They stopped right by your head, and suddenly it felt too dangerous to even think.

You found the dirt and mud of the forest floor much more appealing than having to look Alastor in the eye, so you kept your head down. Your head shrunk into the ground as the man looked down on you.

"I must admit, I hadn't expected you to run." Alastor said, still a hint of laughter in his tone. Had you looked up then, you would have seen just how much of a mess you've made of the demon. His hand pushed his red hair back from his forehead, sweat trickled down the side of his neck. 

But it wasn't his unusual state of exhaustion that would have been shocking if you looked at him right now. No, what would have been surprising—what would have been unnerving— was the wild, desperate look in his glowing red eyes.

While you were scared, desperate to get away.

He was terrified, desperate to get you back.

The view of your small figure as you weaved through trees, dipping in and out of his sight had filled him with such cold, heavy dread.

Almost as much as the sight of your hand nearly meeting that of another demon's.

"Oh! But you're so filled of the unexpected today, aren't you, darling?" You could hear the spite in his tone, but you didn't dare raise your head.

You felt him step closer.

"I mean, I hadn't expected you to try to sell your soul to another demon, either." You cringed, lifting your arms over your ears as the static warped his voice terribly.

You felt a heavy weight on the back of your head. It rested there briefly, before it shoved you down further into the dirt. Your face pressed down into the mud, but you didn't dare fight back. You didn't dare move. The most reaction you allowed yourself was a small whimper of fear.

The sound fueled Alastor's rage, already barely kept under the surface of his smile. His eye twitched in annoyance. Why were you shaking? Why were you afraid? 

Shouldn't you be kissing the foot on your head right now? Shouldn't you be thanking him for saving you from making a terrible mistake? A soul as unique as yours would have been wasted on a demon like that. 

This ungrateful behavior, this attempt to leave him, just wouldn't do.

His foot left the back of your head, but it allowed no relief. The black tentacle wrapped around your leg swiftly yanked you up.

Your eyes widened in shock and your hands dug into the ground in an attempt to stay there. But it isn't a surprise that your flimsy resistance was easily broken through. The world soon turned into a dizzying blur of colors as you were lifted into the air. The trees floated from above and the sky was a muddy mess of leaves and roots, your arms hung limply above your head. The blood that now rushed to your head didn't help you in making much sense of what was happening.

But none of that mattered when your eyes finally met Alastor's.

As you were held up by your leg, upside down in the air, Alastor's usual wide smile looked like a snarling frown. His narrowed eyes did nothing to help the fear that quickly ate its way through you.

It was silent for a moment. Tension so thick in the air that you found it so terribly difficult to breathe.

But when he finally spoke, you thought to yourself how you actually preferred the suspenseful quiet.

"Have I not been the perfect partner?" Alastor asked. The static over his voice now eerily back to the usual amount. His tone was cheery, light, like this was just another early morning chit chat over breakfast between the two of you.

You couldn't bring yourself to speak.

The black appendage holding you up tightened, your skin already beginning to bruise. Although, it seemed that was the only indicator of Alastor's true mood, as the demon remained composed in front of you.

"Have I not given you everything you wanted?" He asked as he brought you closer to him.

When you didn't respond he brought his clawed hand up to your face. 

You flinched, feeling his cold skin against yours, fearing that he'd tear right through your flesh. 

But his touch was gentle. His fingers softly brushed away the mud and grime from your cheek. 

"I've bought you everything you liked. I've protected you. Fed you." His voice was so soft, soothing. Like an old radio show you would have listened to while you drifted off to a restful slumber. 

"I've even fucked you through your pathetic little heats." His claws dug into your skin. Blood gushed down your face, the scarlet liquid stung your eye even as you clenched it closed. 

"I've spared useless, disgusting sinners on your request. I've played nice for you. I've given you everything." His hand shifted from your cheek to your neck, his grip tight, threatening.

The static over his voice once again horrid as it deafened you. His eyes, now drowned in black, narrowed into a glare at your form.

Your hands flew to your throat, pulling at Alastor's fingers. "Please, I'm sorry, Al!" You begged as you struggled. Your body flailed and squirmed as he held you above him, looking almost like a fish torn from the sea, desperate to breathe.

"Oh you're sorry?" Alastor's head titled to one side as he watched you. "That absolutely changes everything then!" He said cheerily, mockingly.

The tentacle holding you up loosened out of nowhere, sending you down into the mud for a second time that night.

You managed to keep yourself up by your arms as you greedily heaved in air back into your lungs. Your head still spun from the rush of blood, and you felt like you were about to vomit out whatever flesh Alastor made you eat earlier that day.

You felt something at your chin—Alastor's microphone it seemed—and it tilted your face towards him. Your teary eyes met his cheerful ones, and your chest tightened. It's been a long time since you've even stepped outside, but you now felt more trapped than you ever have before.

He bent down, lowering his face closer to yours as he smiled down at you. 

"Since it seems like I've neglected my dear darling partner for so long that they've decided to seek attention elsewhere, I think it's best to spend some nice quality time together. Don't you think that'd be nice, sweetheart?" Alastor's voice held no threats. Promises. Only promises.

You shook your head no before he even finished talking. A desperate shaking hand reached up to him. "No, please. Al. Anywhere but the radio tower again. Please."

"Don't worry, doll. This time will a bit different." He assured.

You moved quickly, hurriedly, scrambling to your knees ready to beg at his feet. But before you could even part your lips to start, Alastor had both of you melted into shadows.

You re-materialize in the one place that haunted your dreams. The one place in Hell that truly, actually, did feel like hell to you.

Your blood felt frozen as you remained on the floor. Eyes wide in fear as you stared at the control panel.

Alastor turned his back to you, humming cheerfully, nonchalantly, as he made his way towards the main seat. "There's no need to look so alarmed," He said, you could almost hear the way his eyes rolled at your stupid expression. "We won't be having any special guests for this broadcast."

You finally tore your eyes away from the contraptions. Your gaze landing on Alastor's wide back as he slowly removed his coat. "You...you won't be torturing some poor soul?" You asked confused—and admittedly a little hopeful.

You couldn't count the horrible days he had made you sit and watch and listen as he took his sweet time tearing souls apart. How he joyously broadcasted the tortured screams for his Hell's entertainment.

Alastor's grin widened, stretched just a tad bit too far, before he turned his head to look back at you.

"Oh," Heavy static morphed his voice once more. "I didn't say that."

You didn't have time to react before his tentacles sprouted from his back, his inner shirt ripping to make way for them. They grabbed at your limbs, slithering around to get a tight hold as they pulled you to him.

A scream ripped from your throat at the sheer suddenness of it, and it made Alastor's heart leap in his chest. Oh how he loved those adorable reactions of yours.

"That is delightful! But do save your voice, dear. I do have to start us off first," He said gleefully as he turned around to fiddle with the controls.

You heart sunk. Eyes wide as the realization hit you. He wasn't going to force you to listen to someone being tortured. 

"Alastor, wait—"

"Why hello, you wayward sinners! Hope everyone's having a wonderfully hellish time right now, because boy do I have quite the treat to make your evenings even better!" Alastor spoke into the mic, his eyes gone black as he held your gaze. "Yes, indeed, this one is going to be very special." 

"Al, please—" You bit your lip, cutting off whatever pleas you were going to throw at him.

One of his tentacles pressed against your clothed mound as the others held you in the air. It quickly worked its way under your bottoms, ripping through it easily and exposing you to Alastor's lazy gaze. 

"Don't, please. I'm so sorry, Al. I won't do it again, I promise, please." You whispered, not wanting all of Hell to hear how you begged for mercy.

"What's that, darling? I'm afraid you'll have to be a little louder for our lovely, horrid, listeners." Alastor mocked, just as the tentacle between your legs started to slide between your folds. Another made quick work of your already torn shirt.

You grit your teeth and clenched your eyes closed. Stubbornly, you refused to make a single sound from Alastor's ministrations.

But you know how this ends.

You're hardly the first soul he had broken during a broadcast.

You, of all people, knew that well.

Another one of his appendages slithered its way to your core. It teased at the entrance, pushing, testing your hole.

"I hope everyone has a lovely time!" You hear Alastor speak to his listeners, just as a scream ripped through your lips.

You weren't nearly wet enough to take him. Your walls resisted, but not enough for his strength. The black shadow pushed its way deep into you, others coiled at your legs to spread them apart. One remained by your clit, lazily flicking along. 

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" You cried as Alastor fucked his tentacle deep into you. The harsh thrusts sending your ample chest bouncing.

Alastor didn't respond, he rarely ever does to his victims. He preferred to let the song of their anguish play uninterrupted. But he did find himself paying more attention than he usually did to the way your body reacted to him.

His gaze locked at the way his black shadow disappeared into your slick hole. How it came back to light drenched in your juices, only to push back in harsher. How your little pussy stretched wide around his tentacle to accommodate its size.

His eyes traveled further up, watching as he wrapped one tentacle around your breast and squeezed. A lovely horrified sound coming from your lips from his actions.

He watched as you sobbed, attention fully on him. Only on him. And he couldn't deny the rather unfamiliar heat the pooled in his stomach at that fact.

The tentacle at your clit moved faster, pressing down just the slightest bit more at that little bud. You tried your damndest to silence the screams from your throat, but as your mouth fell open, you could only do so much.

The coil in your gut snapped easily. Alastor tightening his hold on you as he kept your spasming form in the air for his entertainment.

Your juices flowed down his dark appendages as it kept up the pace. Tears forming in your eyes as they gave you no reprieve, no time recover.

You fight against his hold, aching to close your thighs and catch your breath but the dark shadows merely pulled them apart wider. You pulled at you arms, wanting to push away the damned things from your core but you were merely held back the same way.

"Wait, please, stop." You were barely able to form a coherent sentence. The tentacle inside you opting to curl just the right amount to hit that soft, perfect spot inside you with every thrust. That spot that Alastor knew drove you wild when he fucks you through your heat, after a lot of begging on your end, at least.

You clenched down on it, that being the only thing you could think of that you could still do to slow this down. It unsurprisingly did nothing but make you feel more of each drag and pull against your walls.

Another orgasm is stolen from you as a tentacle began to grind itself up and down your sloppy slit, drenching itself in your slick as it attempted to join the one already fucking you. Your screams broadcasted for all of Pride Ring to hear.

It doesn't stop. He doesn't stop. His dark shadows held you still, fucking into your cervix without mercy, playing with your clit, your breasts. Pulling yet another sloppy orgasm from you.

"No more," You heaved. Alastor's assault seeing no end near. "I can't. Al, please." You begged.

You craned your neck over to look back at the demon. You find his gaze no longer on you or your body, but on the papers in front of him. His script. 

He was idly jotting down notes, chin rested on the palm of his hand and a lazy smile on his face. He almost looked bored, but the twitch of his ear as you called out his name showed you he was still paying you some attention. 

"Alastor, please," You tried again. "I am sorry. I won't do it again. I won't leave you again." You sobbed.

The tentacle inside you pulled out to your brief relief, only for it to slam harshly, deeper back into you. It's pace at breakneck speed that even with the tight hold around your limbs, your body was moved with every push and pull. 

"Oh, I'm sure you won't, darling." He finally replies to your pleas, although he didn't even glance your way. He continued correcting his notes, your sweet begging made for a wonderfully sweet background song. "Because why would you ever leave someone as generous as me?"

He ripped orgasm after orgasm from you. Your release dripped and drenched the floor of his radio tower. You begged til your throat was raw for some reprieve, for some forgiveness. But Alastor went about his way around the studio. Fixing this and that. Barely paid you any mind.

It was only when you've stopped pulling against his hold. When your legs had gone slack in the air, and your screams faded into whimpers did Alastor finally approach the control panel again.

"Wasn't that just darling! A wonderful performance, if I do say so myself," He laughed into his microphone. "I'm sure you lewd folks enjoyed yourself as much as our star of the night here, so make sure to keep an ear out for my next broadcast!"

His eyes finally land on your exhausted body. Your chest heaved with every labored breath as Alastor's tentacles finally slowly pulled out of you. A wet shlop of your juices dripping out as it did. 

He slowly lowered you onto the ruined floor, and your dazed eyes locked with his.

"There will definitely be more of where that came from." He said, less of his usual cheer. His tone lower. Threatening—no, promising.

You didn't move—you couldn't move—from the floor. You simply watched as Alastor shut down his broadcast and took his time straightening out and cleaning up his work station. He was humming cheerfully, seeming to be in a much better mood than when the night had begun.

When he was finally satisfied, you watched as he walked to where you were, stopping by your feet as he smiled down at you.

"Well, you've definitely seen better days." A laugh track followed his mockery. 

"I'm sorry." You heaved out. You hoped this was the end of it. You hoped he would just throw you back and lock you in his room again. Anything but stay in this wretched radio tower. "I'm yours. I won't try to run anymore."

Alastor chuckled at your response, moving to rest his cane against the wall before he reached up to his neck. He slowly loosened his bowtie and unbuttoned his shirt. "Oh I know you know that." He said waving off your words as if they didn't matter.

He lowered himself over you, his towering figure blocking out what little light you had. "But I'm afraid I need a bit of a reminder about who you belong to." 

His hand made quick work of his trousers, pulling his hardened cock free.

His claws were at your waist and they pulled your limp body closer to him. Not that you offered any resistance.

"You can do one more for me can't you darling?" He wasn't really asking.

You can't. But you nod your head anyway.

He pushed into you easily. Your previous releases coated him and allowed a slicker entry. 

Your back arched despite exhaustion, and Alastor drank in your pained expression. "There's a good girl. Always ready to ruin herself for her lover." You heard him say. "Don't worry, I won't make this long."

But of course that was a lie. He pulled back so slowly, revering in the way your drenched walls felt around him; how they clenched around his cock like how he saw them do around his tentacle. Then he thrusted himself back harshly into your sloppy hole, forcing what little sound you could still make out from your lips.

He fucked into you, slowly, deeply, maddeningly. Making sure you both felt each and every drag of his heavy cock.

He wasn't one to crave sex as much as most of hell, but when it was with you—his precious partner, he had to admit he didn't hate the sensations all too much. And if it meant reminding you who was in control, if it meant making you owe him, making you dependent on him, making you crave him, then it was all the more enjoyable to see you fucked out and speared on his dick.

One of his hands made its way to the back of your neck, pulling you up into his lap. He fucked up into you as your head lolled to the side, struggling to keep your body upright.

Alastor drank in your expression. Your glazed over eyes, the tear stains that smeared through the mud and blood along your cheeks, the drool dripping from your split lips. Yes, this is what you deserved for even daring to leave him. This is what you needed to be reminded on just how good a partner he is.

He wrapped a tentacle around your hips, keeping you steady as he pounded his cock into you. His free hand now moved between you, to your clit.

Your hips spasmed as he drew quick circles on the bud, but you fought the instinct to squirm away. You wouldn't leave him. 

You can't leave him.

You know that now.

Alastor's grin widened when he noticed your actions. "There's a good girl." He purred again, leaning down to your neck to lick up your skin.

"Let me feel you cum on my cock now, darling. Let me feel how much you want me to fill you up." He whispered, his sweet voice right by your ear as he pressed down harder on your clit.

You whined, tears pouring from your eyes once more as he tore yet another orgasm from your weakened body.

Your fluids drenched his dick, soiling his pants as you came around him. Alastor all but tore your skin as he gripped you tight. His own pace finally picked up.

You felt him twitch inside you, before the hot feeling of his seed soothed your battered cunt. 

"Tell me, would that scum have let you cum like this?" Alastor whispered in your ear. He held you tightly, his head still at the crook of your neck.

"No," You responded weakly. You felt him twitch inside you again.

You tried your hardest not to think back to the poor sinner, ripped limb from limb in a blink of an eye. Their body likely still stomped down into the mud of the forest floor.

"Would any other wretched soul be able to give you what I give you?" Alastor asked again. He playfully nipped at your ear.

"No," You responded again.

"So who do you think can treat you, treasure you, best, my dear?" He pulled back, his smug smile loomed over you as he held your chin for you to keep his gaze.

"You, Alastor. Only you can treat me this good." The words were bitter in your mouth

You hadn't sold him your soul. And he would never ask for it.

But you were his and his alone, nonetheless.

"And don't you ever forget it." He mused, pushing you back down to the floor as he began to fuck himself inside of you again. His previous release slowly pushed out with every slow thrust.

"Be still for me, darling," He whispered sweetly. "Let me have my fill of you for now." 

I don't usually write smut but this request sent me haywire. Hope I didn't disappoint, anon! I loved your demented request ♪

[dark-moonlust]

A 2 male tiger and f!reader threesom. Anytime if you want. I can wait.

Den of Surrender PART 1

Pairing: 2 (were)tigers x female reader Summary: You find shelter in a cave and become the center of attention for two male tiger monsters. Warnings: nsfw, fated mates, 2 on 1, heavy oral, fingering and retracting claws, blissful orgasms, they worship reader, lots of 💦.

Anon thanks for your request. I hope you like this! If you want a part 2 please let me know!

To all my friends here, I know I am very behind on requests. I’m so sorry! My inbox is full of delicious ideas, but the past months have been hazy and difficult. I have work, family issues, and Patreon taking up my time, but I promise I will catch up and post more requests. My progress might be slow but stay with me. 🥺🩷 Love and hugs to all my moonlust friends. Enjoy the oneshot! The attention is heavy and delicious on the reader. Filled with attention, steamy oral and orgasms.

The cave was warm, the air thick with the scent of heat and deep musk. You felt strange being there. You’d trekked for so long and that was the only sanctuary you’d found. The rain was feral outside. You had no choice but to venture deeper and hope for the best. Firelight from the wall torches flickered across the stone, casting shifting shadows until two huge figures lurked in the dark.

You backed up a step, breath caught in your throat.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going, little mate?” one of them drawled.

And then you saw them. They resembled nothing human. Tall and big. Walking slowly and predatorily.

“Wh— who are you?”

The other figure chuckled. “The correct question is ‘what are we?’. I’m Raikhar.”

You gulped as he left the shadows and appeared. He was tall, broad, his stripes deep and jagged. Eyes like twin amber suns stared at you. He stood on two legs like a human, but you knew he was anything but.He was lethal. Tiger. A weretiger. His fur was thick, rougher around the neck like a mane, claws extending from his paws.

Then the other form approached, and you gasped.

“I am Vael, little one,” he said, his voice throaty as he revealed himself. He was just as big, all sinewy muscle wrapped in black-and-orange fur and those emerald green eyes? They spoke of want and hunger. His tail flicked menacingly, pearly fangs protruding from his mouth.

The two of them closed in on you, but you had nowhere to go. No place to escape. But your heart wasn’t afraid. Then Raikhar was there, erasing your thoughts. He crouched low, golden eyes fixed on you while Vael circled behind, their bodies of muscle and heat surrounding you.

A shiver ran through you when Vael purred over your ear, and damn, his breath was hot and smelled like spice and smoke, making your nether regions quiver. His claws trailed lightly along your sides, thankfully not enough to cut your clothes or harm you.

“You came here for a reason. You were fated to find us. And you are already aroused.”

You shook your head strongly. “No. I’m not—”

Words failed you when Raikhar curled in, his chest to your chest, his massive paw cupping your jaw, tender and careful despite the claws. “Don’t fear. Don’t run. You were made for us.”

“We can’t fit,” you mumbled, even if your whole body was electrified by them. What was this insane attraction? You wanted them but it was not possible. You and them. Preposterous. Mad. Impossible. Right?

“Yes, we can. And we will prove it.”

And then they were on you.

Raikhar’s tongue slipped out, parting your half-οpen lips and claiming your mouth. You gasped. It was wet, hοt, commanding and claiming. Vael pressed in from behind, his chest to your back, his teeth grazing your neck. Their bodies caged you in, heat and fur, raw male power overwhelming until your knees buckled.

Paws—god, their rough paws gripped under your knees, lifting you like you weighed nothing and settling you between them. Suspended in the air, with only their bodies keeping you steady. Somehow, you felt no fear… just security and yearning.

Your attention shifted when Raikhar’s claws tοre your shirt and bra, slicing them open, his wet tοngue licking one pert nipple. You whimpered when his huge hands cupped your tits, feeling them up as his tοngue tasted your other nipple. He gave bοth mοunds his full attention, lubricating them with his saliva. It looked so hοt.

Vael was busy too. He slipped dοwn your pants and thοng in one move, οpening your legs wide and pοsitioning you to sit wide open for them. His fingers dipped between your fοlds, and with a surprised whine you noticed that he had retracted his claws and was playing with your pυssy. Blunt paws that were calloused but tender, flicking with no shame. Rubbing your fοlds and toying with your clit, wet squelches echoing in your ears.

“Feel her, Raikhar,” Vael grunted. “Our mate is so soft and wet for us.”

Your head fell back on Vael’s shoulder as his hand palmed your breast, rough and firm, while the other spread your fοlds wider for Raikhar.

“So fucking wet for your mates already,” Raikhar growled, his clawless fingers working your cυnt, slick dripping down your thighs as your hips jerked in their grip. “You feel that, little one? That needy little pυssy is begging to be lοved. Played with. Suckled and kissed.”

Vael purred his agreement. “Feels good, hm? Being worshiped by your mates? But that’s just the beginning. Do you want more, mate?”

You licked your lips, your pυssy on fire. “Feels so damn good. Hmm… more. Yes. Please.”

You cried out when Raikhar slipped a thick finger inside, stretching your walls and curling it just right, his hairy paw grinding against your clit. The friction was perfect and so damn loud. Squelch, squelch, it echoed, your legs trembling as he forced you to feel everything. Your walls clenched, fluttering wildly, and your breath came in ragged gasps, chest heaving.

“You feel that, little one?” Vael snarled from behind, grinding what you guessed was a very hot and huge shaft against your butt crack. “Your body knows. Your cunt knows.”

They kept your legs curled and open, stars dancing behind your eyes when Vael added his finger inside you, both monster digits driving inside you, faster, harder, wet sounds and growls driving you over the edge. You came hard and sobbed when they pushed you on your stomach on the stone floor, taking turns licking up your juices. They held your asscheeks οpen, all of you expοsed as their tοngues dipped down, lapping up your arοusal like it was nectar they’d been starved for.

You screamed. Pushed. Tried to get away.

But they kept you there. Head down, ass up as they devοured you, slurping messily, panting hotly against your fοlds. You writhed, trapped, helpless, every nerve begging and aching. You οrgasmed two more times while they whispered filth into the air, praising and feasting on you.

Screams of bliss echοed through the cave as pleasure surged thrοugh you like a gοddamn tidal wave, pυssy clenching around nothing, belly quivering, body boneless and yet, they didn’t fυcking stop. Vael licked you through your climax, savοring your taste with deep, wet slurps, while Raikhar kissed the slick trickling down your thighs.

“Please…” you panted, tears of ecstasy brimming in your eyes.

“Again,” Vael whispered against your pussy lips.

“We’re not done, little mate,” Railhar assured you. “We’re just beginning.”

——————————

Did you enjoy? Reblog your reaction! Think those sexy tigers are starving for more? Maybe they’ll give reader more pleasure and claim her once and for all? Would you like a part 2?

[xichilie]

IM SICK AND FEVERISH ABOUT BRANT HGAH

🍣 anon hath returned, the soulmate au was DELIGHTFUL. Thank you so so much!!

I WISH YOU LUCK IN PULLING. I had some absolutely wild luck, first ten pull on both his and his weapons banner. Insanity

ABSOLUTELY adored your most recent Brant post, but now I'm thinking about a stage kiss. For a performance, would he go full tilt, full contact and declare his love through the stage lines? Or would he slip his hand or a finger over your lips at the last second, promising it be only until he could kiss you properly?

Congratulations 🎊

Hello 🍣

I was pretty lucky, too. I got him and his weapon 🤭

Brant x (fem)reader

"The Kiss That Wasn’t"

Fool’s Elysium had never been so quiet.

The cavernous hideout, usually filled with raucous laughter and the chaotic energy of performers in motion, now held its breath. Firelight flickered against the worn wooden stage, casting golden shadows across two figures standing at its center.

Brant thrived under this kind of pressure. The hush of an audience hanging onto every breath, the delicate balance between performance and reality—it was a stage made for a man like him.

And yet, tonight, something was different.

Tonight, she was in front of him.

Y/N stood with squared shoulders, her expression unreadable despite the storm of emotion written into the script. One hand hovered near her chest, the other clenched at her side as though holding something back.

Brant had memorized every line, every cue, every carefully choreographed motion. He knew what came next. He was supposed to step forward, take her hand, and—

Kiss her.

It was the grand moment of the act, the culmination of rising tension. A declaration written in stage directions rather than words.

Brant had kissed plenty of co-stars before. He had swept them into dips, pressed lips together in the name of art, played the dashing rogue with effortless charm.

But now? With her?

A sharp breath left his lips as he moved closer. His fingers ghosted over Y/N’s wrist, sliding up, tracing a path toward her jaw. His touch was light, as if testing something—waiting for a sign that wasn’t scripted.

The audience waited.

She wasn’t backing away.

And for the first time in his life, Brant hesitated.

It was a second too long. A pause too loaded.

His heart hammered in his chest, drowning out the carefully rehearsed melody swelling beneath them. The firelight turned her eyes into molten gold, and for a wild, reckless moment, he wondered if this was what it felt like to be utterly and completely undone.

He could kiss her now. Let the world fade. Let the story carry them.

But no.

Not like this.

Just before their lips could meet, Brant raised his fingers, pressing them lightly against her mouth.

The air thickened. The unscripted choice turned the moment into something raw, something alive.

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, the barest shift in her expression—surprise? Amusement? Understanding?

Brant let his lips part just enough to murmur, voice low, meant only for her.

"Not yet."

A promise.

A delay.

A declaration in disguise.

The music swelled. The moment passed. The play continued.

But for Brant, the real story had only just begun.

When the performance ended, the cavern erupted into cheers, the Troupe members whistling and clapping at the particularly intense scene. The excitement was palpable, voices chattering about the improvised moment that had made the scene so much more compelling.

But Brant?

Brant had vanished.

Y/N found him perched atop a stone ledge overlooking the main hall, one leg swinging lazily over the edge, the other propped up as he leaned back against the cavern wall. A half-empty bottle of wine rested beside him, likely stolen from the Troupe’s stash.

The moment he saw her approach, a slow grin stretched across his face.

"Ah, my lovely co-star,” he purred, extending his arms as if inviting an embrace. “Come to sing my praises? To tell me how utterly dazzling I was?"

Y/N crossed her arms.

"You changed the scene."

Brant gasped, a hand flying to his chest as if mortally wounded. "What? Me? Change the sacred text of our craft? I would never—"

"Brant."

The single utterance of his name made him drop the act—at least for a second. His grin, though still playful, softened at the edges.

He sighed dramatically, stretching his arms over his head before flopping onto his back. "Alright, fine. You caught me." He turned his head to look at her. "But it was better that way, wasn't it?"

Y/N didn't answer immediately.

Brant watched her carefully, studying the way she weighed her response.

And then, she smirked.

Oh.

Oh, that was dangerous.

Brant felt something twist in his chest, something warm, something thrillingly out of his control.

"You’re impossible," she finally said.

"And yet, here you are," he countered, grinning. "Curious, that."

She turned as if to leave

And Brant, ever the opportunist, reached out, catching her wrist.

He didn’t pull her back. Didn’t force the moment.

He simply held her there, thumb brushing absentmindedly over her pulse point.

When she turned to face him again, there was no teasing in his expression.

No theatrics.

No performance.

Just Brant.

"I meant it, you know," he murmured.

Y/N’s breath caught. "Meant what?"

Brant lifted his free hand, brushing his fingers—just briefly—over her lips, echoing the gesture from the stage.

"Not yet," he whispered.

Not under the stage lights.

Not with an audience watching.

Not as a performance.

But one day. One day.

And then, because he couldn’t help himself, he winked—

And slipped away into the shadows, laughter trailing behind him like a final bow.

Leaving Y/N standing there, heart pounding, wondering just who had truly won this round.

The script remained unchanged.

The lines untouched.

But when the moment came—when Brant once again traced his fingers toward Y/N’s lips, when he prepared to repeat his “not yet”—

She caught his wrist first.

Brant froze.

His usual confidence faltered for the briefest second, his pulse skipping as he stared at her in surprise.

Her fingers curled gently around his wrist, holding him there.

And then—she smirked.

Brant barely had time to react before she leaned in, just close enough for her lips to brush the tips of his fingers.

“Not yet.”

She whispered it so softly that only he could hear.

The audience never knew why Brant’s next line came a second too late.

But he did.

And for the first time in his life, Brant found himself utterly, completely smitten.

[wholoveseggs]

I am currently dealing with my mother being in end care hospice for Alzheimer’s, dreading every time my phone makes a noise because it could be the worst news. I am spending my time either sobbing or a complete zombie with a barely functional brain. (I put a spray bottle in the freezer instead of the drink I was chilling). I live alone and have no close friends or family near me and I just wish I had an Elijah to hold me. I just wish I could lay on top of him in bed, him holding me and petting my hair while I cry.

I totally understand if this is not something you’re comfortable writing, but if you are, I’d really appreciate it. If nothing else, I thank you for reading my message.

Anchor

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Elijah Mikaelson x Reader} Grief threatens to overwhelm you, but Elijah's calming presence becomes your anchor, reminding you that even in your darkest hours, you are not alone.

♡♡ I love you, anon, and I’m so incredibly sorry that you’re going through this. My heart aches for you, and I hope that this fic can offer you even the smallest moment of comfort. You are not alone, and I’m sending you so much love and strength~ ♡♡

672 words - Warnings: angst, grief, comfort & cuddles

When you are a child, your parents are this big, strong figure. They seem invincible and all-knowing. But then you grow up. And one day, you realize that your parents aren't superman. They aren't invincible and they certainly aren't infallible. Your parents, the same people who were your entire world as a kid, are suddenly human. And sometimes, humans get sick.

Everyone reacts differently, and there's no right or wrong way to feel. There's no road map or set of instructions on how to mourn. You can be angry, or sad, or numb, or all three at the same time. It's a roller coaster, a freefall, and you never know when the next wave of emotions will hit. It's okay to feel what you feel. It's okay to want to hide. And it's also okay to want to be with someone, to have someone to lean on.

You can't change the fact that your parents got sick, and you can't change the outcome. The limbo of losing them while they are still alive is a terrible feeling, like an emotional purgatory. All you can do is focus on yourself, and remember that the pain will pass, eventually.

It was one of those nights when the weight of the world felt unbearable, crushing your chest and making it hard to breathe. You sat curled up on your couch, terrified to look at your phone, waiting for a call you dreaded yet knew was inevitable.

You didn’t notice Elijah’s presence at first. It wasn’t unusual for him to move like a shadow, quiet and gentle, especially when he knew you were hurting. He stood in the doorway for a moment, his dark eyes full of concern, before approaching you with the kind of care only he could manage.

"My love," he said softly, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. He knelt in front of you, resting his hand on your knee. "You needn't face this alone."

His words broke something inside you. The dam of composure you tried so desperately to maintain crumbled, and the tears you’d been holding back poured out in waves. Elijah didn’t hesitate. He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as your sobs wracked your body.

He carried you to your bed, sitting with his back against the headboard and coaxing you to lay on top of him. His arms wrapped securely around you, one hand rubbing slow, soothing circles on your back while the other ran through your hair with a tenderness that brought fresh tears to your eyes.

"You’re allowed to grieve," he murmured against your temple. "You’re allowed to feel lost, to feel overwhelmed. But know that I am here. You do not have to carry this burden on your own."

You clung to him like a lifeline, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as though letting go would send you spiraling into the abyss.

"I feel like I’m breaking, Elijah," you choked out. "I don’t know how to do this."

He kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a moment. "You don’t have to be okay right now. You’re enduring something no one should have to endure alone. But you are stronger than you realize, and I will hold you through every moment of doubt and despair."

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, and though the pain didn’t vanish, the sharp edges dulled ever so slightly. His steady heartbeat beneath your ear became an anchor, a reminder that even in your darkest hours, you had someone who cared deeply for you.

As your breathing evened out and the tears subsided, Elijah continued to stroke your hair, whispering soft reassurances. His presence didn’t fix everything. It couldn’t. But it made the unbearable seem just a little more manageable.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you closed your eyes and let yourself rest, knowing that Elijah would be there, steadfast and unyielding, for as long as you needed him.

[momojedi]

Could I have #88 and #97 with Captain Rex, pretty please...??

JUST MARRIED PAIRING: Captain Rex x GN! Reader

#88 | “Don’t panic but I think we might have accidentally gotten married…” #97 | “I want you and I know you want me too.”

GENRE: Fluff WARNING: none A/N: Since I got prompted #88 by an anon who asked for no one in particular, I mixed up your request with theirs. Thanks for requesting!

MASTERLIST | MOMOJEDI'S 300 FOLLOWER CELEBRATION

"Mhi solus tome,

Mhi solus dar’tome.

Mhi me’dinui an,

Mhi ba’juri verde."

Intense concentration furrows my brow as I massage my temples, striving to translate the unfamiliar words. "For fuck's sake," I mutter, frustration punctuating each syllable as I kick a nearby pebble with surprising strength, eliciting a muffled groan and the metallic clang of beskar as it ricochets off a distant helmet.

Two weeks may not seem long, especially when operating undercover among a terrorist faction whilst the galaxy is engulfed in war. It would probably be advisable to keep a cool head and avoid making a big deal out of insignificant subjects—such as unfamiliar phrases. However, when those words escape the lips of your longtime crush, delivered with an unexpected fervor while locking passionate eyes with you in a language foreign to your ears...

Well, needless to say, I've devoted more time to overthinking it than I care to admit.

When General Skywalker tasked us with shadowing Death Watch until the Jedi Council reached more intel, I hadn't given it much thought... admittedly, he hadn't specified that by "us" he didn't mean Ahsoka and me, as usual, but rather the captain of the 501st and myself—the very someone I've harboured feelings for since the day we met.

Nevertheless, I maintained my composure, played my part, and stayed under the radar, much like Rex, until Death Watch proposed an elaborate ceremony—a ceremony whose name I could barely pronounce, let alone understand its significance. Before any suspicion could arise, Rex quickly agreed in my place, and now here I am, entangled in some eerie ritual with a military captain whose gaze seemed entranced, so intense was his focus.

"If I had my datapad right now...," I hiss under my breath, casting blame on whoever decided I should leave my sole translation device behind. Likely Skywalker.

The crunch of gravel under heavy boots interrupts my daydreaming. I spin around sharply, only to find the very man haunting my mind approaching. "I figured I'd find you here," Rex hums as he settles beside me. "Yeah," I reply with a dry laugh, brushing the dust off my hands. "Sorry, I suppose I just needed... alone time. After everything yesterday, you know?" Rex's eyes widen almost comically, and he sheepishly scratches the back of his neck. "Oh... yeah."

The ensuing silence gnaws at my nerves, prompting me to pop the question after another agonising five minutes. "Hey, about that... what did those words mean, anyway?" "I'm not sure what you're referring to," Rex responds, avoiding my gaze. I gulp. He can't have forgotten, can he? "Come on, Rex... It seemed significant." After a moment's hesitation, Rex sighs, running a hand over his buzzcut before raising his head to face me, though still evading it. "I..." "Yes?" "Alright, fine. [Name], don't panic, but... we might have accidentally... gotten married."

...

"WHAT?"

"Shh!" Rex quiets me with a gentle hand over my mouth, his eyes darting cautiously around us before he releases me. I shake my head slowly, puzzled. "Sorry, but what?" "The, um, the words... they were Mandalorian wedding vows," he admits, his tone tinged with uncertainty. I can't help but laugh. Married? Us? "You're joking." "Unfortunately not," he replies, a slight smile tugging at his lips, before his expression shifts to sheepishness as he rubs the back of his neck. "Though I do believe you'd make an excellent partner." Suppressing a chuckle, I ignore the warmth creeping into my cheeks.

"Actually, I realized we needed a distraction when I overheard some members gossiping behind our backs. They were growing suspicious, so I thought perhaps they'd relax if we participated in some traditions." Rex sighs, examining a pebble he's picked up. I shoot him a hopeful sidelong glance before quickly looking away, feeling my heart quicken.

Force, this man is captivating.

Silence envelops us once more as we both drift deeper into our own thoughts. When I sense the gravel shifting under his weight, I raise an eyebrow. "It wouldn't bother me, you know?" A lump forms in my throat, causing a series of coughs to escape at his words. "Wh-what?" "Being with you." Suddenly, his warm yet weighty hand finds mine. Sweat prickles at my heated skin as I keep my gaze fixed ahead.

"R-rex, are you suggesting...?" "[Name]," he interrupts, turning to face me. Before I can evade his gaze, he gently lifts my chin, compelling me to meet his eyes. I run my tongue over my dry lips, which his gaze is now fixated on. "I want you. And I know you want me, too." His proximity sends shivers down my spine as goosebumps ripple over my arms and back. His newfound confidence is palpable. "I've noticed the way you look at me, how you stare. I know, [name]," he murmurs against my lips, "what do you think?"

I flush, gripping his wrist as I lock eyes with his warm gaze. "I think you're right." Rex chuckles deeply, resonating like a rumble in his chest. "Good." And before I realize it, his lips meet mine,

Time seems to slip away as I surrender completely to the kiss. Eventually, Rex pulls back, leaving me breathless, and flashes me a mischievous grin.

“So, about that wedding night…”

[v6quewrlds]

TIRED, ANDREI IOSIVAS.

pairing⠀⁎⠀andrei iosivas x reader. word count⠀⁎⠀1.7k.

summary⠀⁎⠀after a rough game, all andrei needs is you.

author's note⠀⁎⠀requested by an anon <3 warnings⠀⁎⠀18+, smut, handjob, blowjob, subby andrei.

In the bustling stadium, amidst a sea of orange and black, a solitary figure emerged from the shadowed seats. You made your way through the throngs of disappointed fans. Your brown eyes scanned the chaotic scene, searching for something more than just a way out. The air had the scent of sweat, popcorn, and defeat—the Cincinnati Bengals had just lost to the Steelers on their own turf. The roar of the crowd had transformed into a murmur of discontent, the echoes of the game's final moments haunting the concrete halls like a funeral march.

Your heart was heavy, not just for the team you had grown to love, but for the man who had given everything out on that field. Andrei had played his heart out, but the scoreboard was a cold, unyielding judge. You knew he'd be feeling the sting of loss, the weight of his dreams, and the gnawing doubt that came with it. As you approached the players' tunnel, the anticipation grew stronger, the air thick with the musky scent of the game and the anticipation of your reunion.

When you finally saw him, Andrei's shoulders were slumped, his eyes reflecting the sadness of the evening. He looked up and caught your gaze, and for a brief moment, the gloom lifted from his face. The two of you embraced, his sweat-dampened jersey sticking to your skin as you held him tightly. His sigh was deep and pained, the kind that comes from a place much deeper than physical fatigue.

“I'm sorry,” he murmured into your hair, the words muffled by the volume of your meticulous twist-out. “I know you had to watch that all alone.”

“Don't be, baby,” you whispered, stroking his cheek. “You played great, Drei. It wasn't your fault.”

Andrei offered a half-hearted smile, his eyes still clouded. “I'll see you at home?”

You nodded, knowing he needed some space. As the hours ticked by, you waited in your cozy apartment, your thoughts racing with how you could help him through this. By the time he walked through the door, the silence was deafening. You watched as he shuffled to the bedroom, his shoulders still carrying the weight of the loss.

Your eyes followed him, taking in his tall frame, his hair still drying from his shower at the stadium. His gaze was distant, lost in the labyrinth of his own thoughts. You knew that look all too well—the one that signaled he was in a dark place. You took a deep breath and sat next to him on the bed.

“I don't know if I can ever be enough,” Andrei mumbled, his voice cracking with emotion. He sat on the edge of the bed, his elbows propped on his knees, staring at the floor.

Your heart ached for him. You knew that underneath his tough exterior was a man who took his craft seriously and losing was something he never took lightly. You took a deep breath and placed your hand on his back, feeling the tension knotting his muscles.

“You are more than enough,” you said firmly, your voice a gentle but unyielding force. “You're so talented, one game doesn't define you.”

“But I could have… should have…” He began to protest, but you stopped him with a soft embrace. You knew his perfectionist nature, his unyielding need to be the best, but you also knew he needed to hear that he was loved, regardless of the outcome on the field.

“You can’t control everything, Andrei. Sometimes, things just don’t go as planned. But that doesn’t mean you’re not enough. It just means you’re human. And as a human, you have the power to learn, to grow, to come back stronger next time.”

Andrei nodded slowly, the weight of your words sinking in. He leaned into you, his head resting on your shoulder, and you could feel the tension slowly seep out of him. His overgrown hair tickled your cheek as you held him closer, your hand brushing through the dark strands. The quiet between you grew heavier, filled with the unspoken understanding that sometimes, love was about just being there, holding space for the other to heal.

Finally, he spoke up, his voice a soft rumble against your skin. “Could you, maybe, help me clear my head?” There was a hint of shyness in his tone, something you rarely heard. “Whenever we… you know, after games like this, I sleep a little better. Like it just takes the edge off, you know?”

You looked at him, your eyes filled with understanding and affection. You nodded, your mind racing with the desire to ease his pain. “Of course, I’ll do anything to make you feel better. What do you need from me, babe?”

Andrei took a deep breath, his gaze still cast downward. “Could you, maybe, take charge this time?” He whispered, his voice barely audible.

Andrei sat on the edge of the bed, his hair falling over his eyes. You could see the hunger in them, the need for your touch. You sank to your knees in between his spread legs, your heart racing with excitement. With a gentle hand, you pushed his hair back and leaned in to kiss him softly, your hand reaching down to cup his cock through his boxers. He groaned into your mouth, the sound vibrating through your body.

Your hand slid into his underwear, wrapping around his warm, hard length. He gasped, his eyes fluttering closed as you began to stroke him, your movements slow and deliberate.

You took your time, your hand moving in a hypnotic rhythm that grew slightly faster with each passing moment. Andrei's breath grew ragged, his body leaning back into the bed. You could feel his tension slowly draining away, his muscles relaxing under your gentle touch.

“You need more, Drei? Tell me, baby,” you whispered, your voice sending a visible shiver through him. Andrei nodded, his eyes glazing over as you slid his boxers down, revealing his hardened shaft. You took him into your mouth, your soft, wet warmth enveloping him, and his eyes rolled back in his head with pleasure.

Your head bobbed up and down in a steady rhythm, your tongue swirling around his tip, tracing the veins along his length. Andrei’s torso fell back against the bed, his moans turning into whines as you deep-throated him, your throat constricting around his cock. You felt his hips bucking involuntarily, curses spilling from his lips in a mix of pleasure and desperation.

He was always so sweetly shy about asking for this, but you knew it was his way of letting you be the strong one when he needed it. And you were more than happy to oblige. Your mouth moved up and down his length, your tongue dancing along his shaft, your cheeks hollowing with the effort of taking him deep. You could feel his thighs starting to tremble, his breaths coming faster and shallower.

“Oh,” he breathed, his voice soft with pleasure. You knew he was close. You reached up to grip the base of his cock, your hand moving in sync with your mouth, increasing the pressure. You could taste the precum on your tongue, could feel his cock pulse with the promise of his release.

“Yeah, baby, just like that,” Andrei moaned, his eyes half-lidded as he watched your mouth work its magic on him. Your soft, dark brown eyes flicked up to meet his, filled with a determination to bring him to the brink of ecstasy. He felt his body respond as you quickened your pace, your hand and mouth moving in perfect unison.

Your saliva coated his length, making his skin glisten in the dim light of the bedroom. He could feel his orgasm building, a crescendo of pleasure that threatened to overwhelm him. You sensed it too, your strokes becoming more deliberate, your tongue flicking against his frenulum with care.

“Baby…” he breathed, his voice strained, his hips rising off the bed to meet your mouth. You hummed in response, the vibration sending waves of pleasure through his body. And then it hit him, the orgasm crashing over him like a wave, his cock pulsing in your mouth as he came hard, his release spilling onto your tongue.

You didn’t miss a beat, swallowing every drop of his warm cum. You kept your eyes on him, watching the tension drain from his face, his body going lax against the bed. You felt the rigidity in his hips relaxing, his breathing even out. Only then did you pull away, giving his tip one final, lingering kiss before standing up and heading to the bathroom to grab a washcloth.

When you returned, Andrei was lying on his back, his eyes closed. You climbed onto the bed, straddling his waist. He looked up at you, his eyes half-lidded with satisfaction. You gently wiped away the last traces of his release and your saliva from his skin before wringing the cloth out in the sink with warm water.

“Better?” you asked, your voice gentle. He nodded, a lazy smile playing on his lips. You pressed a series of kisses along his jawline, your heart swelling with affection.

“Thank you, Princess,” Andrei murmured, his eyes still closed. “I needed that.”

After Andrei came, he always looked so pliant, so open. You felt a pang of tenderness, leaning over to kiss his forehead. “You're more than enough for me, you know that right?” you whispered.

Andrei's eyes fluttered open, a soft smile playing on his lips. “I know, baby. I know. But it's hard to remember sometimes.” He reached for you, pulling you down into his arms, his body radiating heat. You curled into his embrace, your head resting on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your cheek.

“I love you, so much, baby,” you said, your voice muffled against his chest. His arms tightened around you, his hand stroking your back as he finally came down from his high. The scent of him, the warmth of his skin, it all helped to soothe the ache in your heart.

“I love you too,” he murmured, his breathing slowing to match yours. You laid together, wrapped up in each other's embrace, the outside world a distant memory.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I think you should make Farena and Malleus meet again just to humble Leona a lil’ 😜 think you did a birthday thing where that happened and I want more lmao

Anon is referencing this set of interactions (for Leona’s birthday in 2021): Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

*rubs hands together* 😈 Time to bust out L*ona's sexy hot brain calls for this... HELP ME I'M SO OJITANPILLED RIGHT NOW

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

"Kingscholar."

"Lizard."

The Botanical Garden's flora shuddered as the two princes--lion and dragon--regarded each other. They stood several paces apart, Malleus upon a small bridge over an artificial waterway, Leona shrouded in the shadows of wide palm leaves. Combined, their auras were overwhelming, filling the air with a crackling tension like that of wild sparks of electricity.

"Leona? Who is..."

A third figure, one half hidden by foliage, peered out at Malleus. His hair was a fiery red-range mane, his eyes a deep brown, skin the color of chestnuts under golden robes threaded with prancing animals. Everything about the man radiated warmth, as though he were the living embodiment of the sun.

Malleus's lip curled. "It seems I'm disturbing your private forum. Forgive me, I will see myself out."

"Wait."

The red-haired man fully emerged. A pair of lion ears and a tail similar to Leona's came into view. He smiled broadly--and Leona visibly cringed.

"You are... my younger brother's friend, aren't you? The one who helped Cheka find his way when he was lost on campus. I remember your face from Leona's birthday party. I don't believe we had a chance to be properly introduced to one another! Leona was shy and steered us away from each other last time." He approached Malleus without hesitation and stuck out his hand. "Falena."

The fae prince tested the name. "You are the acting regent of Sunset Savanna. The elder Kingscholar."

"Haha, that's right! Leona told you about me, did he?"

"Yeah, keep dreaming," Leona snorted.

"... My, it would be rude of me to make my exit now." Placing one foot in front of the other, Malleus smoothly dipping into a bow. "Malleus Draconia."

"Draconia! As in, crown-prince-of-Briar-Valley Draconia?"

It took all of Leona's willpower not to roll his eyes. Anyone with half of a brain cell would instantly be able to clock this depressing guy's telltale horns.

"The very same."

The surprise that flooded Falena's face quickly dried, giving way to merry laughter. "Leona's got friends in such high places!"

A scoff.

"Would you listen to yourself? I keep hearing you repeat friend, friend, friend like a chattering parrot without one shred of evidence to suggest that would be the case." Leona rolled his shoulders and, smirking, languidly lifted a hand to Falena and Malleus. "To put me and the lizard on equal social standing is a little insulting, don't you think? We're on entirely different playing fields. Crown prince of Briar Valley and acting regent of Sunset Savanna... That sounds like a much better fit to me."

He internally ground his teeth.

Smile and bear with it, Leona coxed himself. You can't let this opportunity slip through the cracks. The chance to establish cordial relations with other countries doesn't come delivered to you on a silver platter every day. Get them to make that connection if it's the last thing you do. If you play your pieces right...

"... Hey, how is that irrigation project coming along?" Leona prodded his brother. "Last I heard on the news, there was a protest blocking construction."

Falena frowned--the first time that day. "It could be going better."

"Irrigation..." Malleus brought a finger to his chin. "You're in the process of constructing waterways?"

"Yeah, to channel water directly to crops," Leona snipped. "As one destined to ascend the throne, surely you're familiar with the concept."

"So it is akin to gargoyles."

"Oi, ain't no one here talkin' about gargoyles!"

"On the contrary, Kingscholar. Gargoyles were designed to redirect rainwater from buildings, thus protecting them from wear and tear. Irrigation systems exist to funnel water to desired areas. It is a similar enough concept."

Let him have this one. Keep the conversation moving!

"Most in our country walk a long way to the nearest source of water--a well or something--and draw buckets one by one, then walk back with it. Real inefficient." Leona dragged out a sigh. "Unfortunately, our people deeply cherish living in harmony with nature. They come out in droves to push against our attempts to improve their circumstances. It's a thorn in our sides."

"Now don't say it like that," Falena tutted. "We are the royal family. It falls to us to assuage our people of worry. If we expand slowly and in an environmentally conscious manner... I'm sure we can all come to an understanding."

"You'll have to excuse my brother. He's got a bleeding heart."

The comment rolled off of Malleus's back like rainwater.

"Hm..." He looked to be lost in thought, his lashes lowering. "I see. Implementation is never as easy as simply giving the order to act.

"I have visited Silk City on a trip with classmates. Their waterways are second to none in all of Twisted Wonderland. Though the climate is dry and sweltering, the children of man that reside there have managed to tame those waters and optimized them for trade.

"Such systems do not exist in my home of Briar Valley, so I cannot say I am familiar with them. We, too, as fae, revere Mother Nature. The last thing we would want is to turn our backs on her and destroy her blessings. However, I saw with my own eyes that those Silk City waterways have brought much prosperity to the people. Perhaps it would be prudent if you were to explain this to your countrymen, along with providing a detailed plan of how you do not intend to expand at the cost of ravaging nature."

"Exactly, exactly!!" Falena beamed, his face like the sun coming out after a storm. "You understand me so well, my friend."

"Friend...?" Malleus's eyes went wide. "Me?"

Checkmate.

"Oh, would you look at that," Leona purred sarcastically, "you've gone and earned my dear onii-sama's respect and admiration. How good for you."

"It sounds like we're birds of a feather, Malleus. From one prince to another... I think you've got a shining future ahead of you." Falena clapped his younger brother on the shoulder, earning a glare from him. "Just like Leona here!"

"This isn't about me," he hissed back. "This is between you and the lizard."

Falena blinked. "But weren't you the one to introduce us?"

"That he was," Malleus agreed with a chuckle. "Kingscholar has a talent for bringing together the most unlikely of people. It's something I've noticed about him."

"It's true, he does!!" Falena had his sibling by both shoulders now. And that massive grin--Oh no, Leona thought. He's switching from Useless King mode to Doting Older Brother mode! "Leona's so good with people! I had the chance to meet some of his dorm members earlier today--there's a variety of beastmen in his dorm, all united under him. That's really amazing!"

"Yes, it's impressive. I've heard that, among beastmen, traditions and beliefs are drastically different. It is a unique challenge to bring them together--yet Kingscholar achieves this flawlessly." Now it was Malleus's turn to smirk. "Fae are quite varied as well. It will soon be my responsibility to bring about that same unification. Fufufu... Mayhaps I should look to Kingscholar as an exemplar."

Leona directed his glare at Malleus. This scaly bastard...!

"No thanks. I want no part in that," he replied bluntly. "I should leave the ruling to you kings."

"Leona," Falena protested, "he's correct. If you were to lend your help, set an example... We could--" he stopped, correcting himself. "You could unite so many people. I know you could."

"This again," he spat, those few words coated with venom.

It always came back to that.

The promise of acceptance, respect. Rewards for all his efforts. A prize dangled before him, always snatched away at the last possible second.

"... I've said enough here."

Leona turned on his heel, shoving his hands into his pockets, and began strolling away. Deeper and deeper into the thicket. Ignoring his brother calling after him, the frantic footsteps following.

"Kingscholar."

There was an eruption of green light in Leona's path. When it dissipated, Malleus stood in front of him. He looked visibly displeased.

"Out of my way," Leona growled, attempting to step around him.

Another flash, and Malleus teleported himself in front of his fellow dorm leader once again. "You will not simply walk away from this," he warned.

"I can walk away whenever I like. You're the kings discussing your domains. This doesn't concern me."

"That is not what I meant." Malleus's brows drew together. "You will not simply walk away from family."

"What do you know about family?!" Leona snarled. "Don't act like you have any leg to stand on."

"You shall mourn that you did not cherish them once they are already lost to the abyss." His voice was dark, commanding. "You will hear what your brother has to say."

Leona held his stare--the danger in it, sharp as a blade. He glanced back, spotting Falena with his fiery hair amid the leaves and vines, as mournful as a kitten that had been left out in the rain.

There's no getting out of this. If I bust out my strongest magic here, the entire Botanical Garden is going to be sanded and I'll never hear the end of it from Crewel. Ugh, I've gotta opt for a tactical surrender.

Sending Malleus his most scathing look, he managed one final curse.

"Damn you, lizard."

Maybe he had been the one checkmated today.

[dekariosclan]

Hello! Thought stuck in my brain, and I’m not sure how to craft the right search to see if this has already been discussed anywhere. So to the expert I go!

Gale flirting in the Shadow Cursed Lands (aka the “I once read a book” bit) - help me peel back the curtain into his brain here. At this point, Gale is aware that Tav is interested in him to some extent based on the Weave lesson where they pictured something romantic with him. He couldn’t do much about it before because of the orb, before it was stabilized.

Now, he openly tells Tav he is def interested, specifically in a physical way. What is his goal here? Just to gauge their reaction, see if Tav was serious when they pictured romance or a kiss before? He doesn’t make another move until he admits he’s in love with Tav, which tells me he doesn’t like to sleep around unless there are meaningful feelings involved.

I guess I’m just trying to figure out if he had a plan when he does this post battle flirting, or if he was just caught up in the moment (you know, the brush with danger affecting his desire for other forms of stimulation, lol). I mean, what if that same night at camp after he flirts with Tav, they tried to initiate intimacy with Gale? He had point blank said he wanted them, so it wouldn’t be outrageous for a Tav to try to follow up on that.

Hello anon!! You want to talk about Gale’s post-battle flirting scene?! 😍 Let’s do it!

So you’re wondering what Gale’s goal was with his sudden, impeccably timed dialogue (nothing like some steamy flirting in front of the whole team, surrounded by post-battle carnage!) and whether it was planned vs spontaneous.

Here’s the thing about Gale—he’s absolutely telling the truth when he says he’s ‘many things, but coy isn’t one of them’. He is not someone who says rehearsed lines or speeches. He says what he feels when he feels it. The famous ‘musk’ line at the Tiefling party is a result of this, as is the ‘tummy rub’ line, both which show him speaking a bit too freely because of how much he likes Tav (and his adorable embarrassment after).

So I believe that his Shadowlands flirting is a combination of a few things: First and foremost, that the orb being quieted has allowed him to consider being intimate with Tav as a real possibility, not just a fantasy; second, that he wishes to make up for lost time and wants to court/compliment/flirt with Tav a bit more now; and third, that he does actually find post-battle thrills to be quite invigorating, and cannot help but comment on it.

I think it must have been very hard for Gale in Act 1 (no pun intended) to know Tav shares his feelings, and is open to his affection, and yet he still has to put Tav at arm’s length and hold back for everyone’s safety. To wait and watch other companions flirt boldly and openly with Tav and offer them things that he can’t. Imagine how that must’ve stung, and how worried Gale must have been to think he could lose Tav—yet his hands were tied due to the orb.

So when the Shadowlands battle happens, and they survive, and everyone is a bit charged up (especially Gale) I think he realizes he can talk about the desire he’s feeling for once and know that it’s okay. The orb is stable, Tav looks amazing in all their sweaty glory—so he goes for it. And I do think his goal here is to make up for lost time, and remind Tav of how much he wants them, and assure them that the idea of them being together is now a real thing.

Finally, your question about what would happen if Tav had approached Gale that evening with the intention of being intimate: I don’t think Gale would have been upset by this. Not at all! But I do think he would have asked to hold off for the time being. Not because he was worried about the orb, or because he needed more time to develop feelings for Tav, but because he wants their first night together to be perfect. He wants to offer Tav everything he has, all of himself, and all of his skills in both magic and lovemaking. He wants to have a magical evening in a beautiful setting, with company to match. So he would ask, please, for Tav to bear with him just a little longer, to allow him to show them something truly spectacular.

I can’t imagine Tav would say no, can you?

[forsworned]

ok, but hear me out. Poly!tf141 on undercover mission. Reader is dressed up, think very club type attire or so. Paired think of the audio "favorite" by Isabel Larosa 👀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀˗ˏˋfavorite ft. poly!tf141ˎˊ˗

꒰ঌa/n໒꒱ okokokokokokokok i finally finished anon im sorry it took me so long, i was trying to make sure it made as much sense as possible but its a fucknnn wrapppppp , i hope u like it ;-; reblogs & comments are appreciated!!

꒰warning(s) heavily suggested polyship, alcohol abuse, violence, titty bar???꒱

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀˗ˏˋrequests are openˎˊ˗

Pulsating rhythms of the club thudded against their tightened sternums as they impatiently waited for her appearance. On one side, Kyle and Price sat on hightops, sipping slowly at their top shelf whiskey's. Price sucked his teeth at that. Damn them all to hell for their overpriced liquor.

Kyle chuckled from behind the rim of his glass at his Captain's displeasure.

"Fuckin' tossers. All o'em." Price's mood was quite piqued already. This mission for sure was going to get him diagnosed with hypertension.

"Relax, boss. She can handle it." Kyle's voice is smoother than the fine, fiery amber liquid they were downing. Price could admit that it was damn good whiskey.

"Not talkin' 'bout the duck." He retorted, finishing his glass and pushing it away from him. He teased the end of his stache between his fingers.

Kyle simpered at him. "Oh yeah? 'Suppose y'talkin' 'bout the whiskey then."

Price's icy blues peered up at his Sergeant's honey gaze, a half smirk curled up on his lips now.

"Damn good whiskey."

Kyle and Price both chuckled at that. Clearly they were both on edge and neither of them were willing to admit to that. It wasn't easy knowing that she was compromising all of herself for the sake of a mission while they sat their twiddling their thumbs like a bunch of sods.

"'re y'two gonna keep actin' like a pair of plonkers, or y'gonna do wha' y'were assigned to do 'n' keep watch?" Simon's rasping voice was heard over the comms.

Johnny snickered from his seat at the bar." Ahh, give 'em some slack, L.t.. It ain't easy watchin' oor wifie shake 'er ass in fron' of a bunch of--"

"I can hear you, y'know?" Her voice like a dream (the prettiest girl they've ever seeennn), pulling them out of their squabbling.

"There she is." Johnny's murmured, glancing over at her figure appearing between throngs of men. The bright strobe lights casting shadows over her form, highlighting her curves. Every stride more enchanting than the next as she bounced through the crowd so effortlessly. She balanced two whiskey glasses and a bottle of Glenfiddich on a slim black tray as she approached her two teammates.

Did their eyes deceive them, or was she really wearing that?

"On the house, boys." Her tone is ribbing, playful with a hint of a gentle chide. The curve of her red painted lips, and the feline-like eyeliner that cascaded over her tightlined eyes made her that much alluring. Their eyes traveled down her frame, carefully analyzing the black bodycon dress that fit her like a second skin.

The outfit was undeniably slutty. Black strings wrapping around her chest and over her shoulders. The neckline was low, revealing her cleavage while the length of the skirt just barely brushed against her ass. Their eyes stopping at the thigh-high black, latex boots she was wearing.

How long had she been hiding these outfits from them, they didn't know. And knowing her, she would never tell.

"On th' house, you say?" Kyle's gaze heavy on her. "Says who?"

She tilted her head to the side with an impish grin. "Says me."

Price's mouth seemed to have been full of cotton because he couldn't even manage a word. That satisfied her. "Enjoy, boys."

She sauntered off to the next set of patrons, and Price had to readjust himself for a moment as he shook his head with an incredulous look.

"Trousers gettin' too tight?" Simon jested over the comms. That earned a few chuckles.

"Where'd she get tha' lil thing anyways?" Price attempted to derail Simon's taunting.

Johnny's eyes never left her form from the moment she stepped out on the floor. She was working her magic with all the patrons, speaking the native language while he listened in on how it rolled off her tongue like it was her own as their haughty eyes undressed her—it was enough to make his skin crawl. "No idea, but 's makin' me kinda jealous."

"Ditto." Kyle shook his head as he poured his Captain and himself another drink.

"Le's get this shit over with." Price picked up his glass, clinking it against Kyle's before they both downed it with ease.

And boy was it not fun for any of them. Johnny's job really had to be the comedic relief for the night because the way that their collective blood pressure was raising right now was enough to send them into cardiac arrest.

Simon sat in the control room with his gun in his holster, knife in his left hand as he observed every individual body in the room. The mangled body to his left, slumped on the floor for the night as he flitted through multiple CCTV to track her movements and get an idea on the deal that was about to happen.

The mission? It involved an international weapons deal between the Mexican cartel and an arms manufacturer from Russia. They had to infiltrate the club that the cartel owned and [name]--very, very much to their dismay--was the bait.

Kyle, to no one's surprise, was the first one to break the silence.

"The boys are gettin' restless." Kyle eyed the crowd that seemed to be growing by the minute as more and more people came in for some late night fun. The cartel member's body language indicated that they were getting restless.

Price was already on edge. His fingers were gripping the Mexican Pine wood of the hightop table. Every second that went by felt like an eternity as he watched her shake her hips up against one of the cartel members and laughed as a bottle of vodka was passed around between them.

Simon grunted, watching more individuals come in. "Gonna be a bloodbath."

Johnny stayed quiet, but his brows were furrowed with worry. His baby blues watched her as she took a shot with one of the cartel members in an attempt to be flirty while he pressed a hand against the small of her back. Johnny couldn't hide the way his face contorted in disgust.

"Quit bouncin' y'leg, Johnny." Simon warned. In an instant, Johnny's actions are halted like a guard dog on command. He sucked his teeth.

Price's jaw ticked when he laid his icy glare on her taking another shot and laughed coquettishly while the cartel member's hand went up her skirt. "For Christ's sake."

Kyle gave his Captain a sympathetic grin. It was hard being the only one under control.

"Le's have another." He sighed, pouring them both another drink in a weary attempt to calm their nerves. Well, really Price's nerves.

As the night drew on, the club gained more traction. Her movements becoming more risqué as she allowed the men to grope her and squeeze her.

"Gonna lose my bloody shite here." Price muttered, the way they tried to get under her skirt as she laughed it off, her back pressed up against one of their bodies. She was good. He had to give her that much.

Simon turned his attention away from the screen, taking notice of the slight beads of sweat dripping down Price's temples.

He was sweating now too. To be so comfortable with these bastards as she played them like a fiddle. Price's heart was thudding in his ears. He couldn't breathe.

"Gimme an update on somethin', anythin', Simon." Price was practically pleading at this point. A small edge to his voice as he spoke with neediness, referring to the deal that was suppose to be made tonight.

Simon let out an exasperated huff as he kept his eyes on the group, laughing and sharing drinks.

"Still nothin' yet." Simon grunted, scrolling through several camera angles. A cigarette was pinched between his lips, and he pulled from it as he turned to look over at Price. It had been two hours of Price stewing in his seat with nothing to show for.

"She sure as hell ain't making it easy..." Price mumbled, running a hand over the back of his neck.

Kyle was observing the situation with a smirk. "Sure as hell not..." His mouth kicked up at the corner. She was being very provocative with them, trying to get them off their game.

"She's doin' a'ight for herself, ain't she, boss?" Kyle asked while Price remained stilled, almost intentionally provoking him a bit, which in its own respect was quite cruel to do but he couldn't help himself. The Captain was seething in silence, a small twitch on his mouth being the only indication that he had heard what his Sergeant had said.

Simon leaned his cheek against the cold wall of the control room, watching her play the men like a puppet master. Her words and touches were calculated.

He took another drag from his cigarette, trying to keep his nerves calm as Price felt like he was wasting away on his seat. A quiet chuckle escaped his lips and he silently thanked the cartel for installing such HD quality cameras so that he could at least savor this moment.

Three hours in, and there was no sign of the deal being made. Simon wondered if they all wasted their time being her back up.

"She might a'well be dancin' in a stripper's club," Price grunted, his back still stiff as he remained seated.

Simon bit back a laugh. "T’be fair, it is a titty club."

"Shut the 'ell up, Simon." Price turned over as his head pounded in tandem with his heartbeat. His jaw was clenched tight, blood boiling in his veins. "That does not change the fact that she is bein' taken advantage of."

"Right..." Simon muttered, taking another puff from his cigarette with a side-eyed smirk.

"Jus' wait until we have a debrief for this mission, you cocky bastard." Price grunted. It was an empty threat. Like the way a father would reprimand his naughty kids.

Kyle and Johnny could be heard chuckling over the comms and that seemed to alleviate the tense mood once again.

It wasn't until Simon noticed the shift in body language that sent his senses into overdrive. An instinct that he never ignored as he carefully analyzed one of the members who was leaning against the bar. He turned to the barman, ordered a round of drinks for him and his friends. In the distance, he could see [name's] lithe body swaying gracefully in and around the throngs of men. A slow, confident sway. His attention immediately shifted to the bar, catching glimpses of the body language between the cartel members and another girl they could barely keep their mouths off of.

She looked a lot like their [name]. The same build, the same hair and a similar fit. It made his stomach turn a bit.

This was the part of the mission he hated. It was when things started to get real—when there were a lot more moving pieces and when a slight error could cost her, them and the mission.

One of the members was speaking to the girl, he couldn't hear what his words were but he could read his body language clearly. He was starting to connect the dots when the girl was passed a keycard that was gently pushed into her back pocket.

"We've got movement." Simon warned.

"Where?"

Price and Simon could practically hear one another's voices on the edge of breaking.

"One o'em is passin' a keycard to woman at the bar. Keep watch." Simon commanded.

Kyle and Johnny stayed silent. But their focus remained locked on the pair, keeping eyes on her as the men around her continued to paw at her.

The barman finished pouring the drinks, and then a few other people passed by the cartel member before he leaned in to whisper her location. Simon took note.

The man and the girl began to walk away from the bar, heading towards a back door. Her body reacted defensively for a fleeting moment, recoiling ever so slightly to the unwanted touch. The door was out of the camera's range. Only the door handle could be seen. The man continued to drag her towards it, his grip tightening as he did. Simon got even more of an uneasy feeling as they drew closer.

Simon's eyes darted to another screen where a meeting was starting to take place and [name] had somehow managed to slip past the members. She was currently situated on the other side of the meeting doors, tucked away in a corner that kept her out of sight from them but gave him a clear view of her movement.

Simon noticed that there was two guards slumped over in the rooms leading to where [name] now was. "[name], do not engage. Do you copy?"

"Copy." Her voice crackled over the comms.

Simon couldn't help but think when the hell she got there with her weapon ready in hand, still in her same outfit from earlier. There wasn't much time to think about how or when she had done that.

"When did y'leave?" Kyle inquired, on behalf of them. A smirk could be heard in her voice.

"When no one was lookin', silly."

Johnny's and Price's jaw ticked in amusement at that.

"Slippery minx." Price muttered. "Weren't you s'pposed t'keep an eye 'er, Johnny?"

"I was." Johnny replied confidently. It was evident that he allowed her to do her own thing. It sure as hell beat gawking at her while other men got handsy with her assets.

Simon fixated on back on the pair from earlier, as they moved through multiple rooms, and suddenly she was thrown into the bathroom, landing on the tiles with a cry.

"Fuckin' military slut. You think I don't know who you are?" The cartel member sneered.

The girl recoiled and shook her head not able to find any words. "¡…n-no, señor! ¡N-no soy un chivato!"* She cried out.

(...n-no, mister! I am not a spy!)*

"Bloody hell, they've got the got the wrong lass." Simon grumbled over the comms realizing that there positions were somewhat compromised. It was natural for cartel members to be weary and hypervigilant about moles, but he had to maintain control over the situation.

The man didn't seem to be buying it as he fished out his gun from his holster. Simon could hear the sound of the man's voice rising over him manhandling the girl through the CCTV's audio system.

"I don't know what you are thinking you little whore, but you shouldn't have come to my club if you didn't want to get used! Don't come crying to me when these bastards finish with you!" The man yelled. His voice was so laced with arrogance and pride that Simon was tempted to get off the comms and put a bullet through his head.

By now it was obvious that the man thought she was [name]. The girl cowered before him in fear, not daring to move as she kept repeating that she wasn't a spy. But his eyes were filled with nothing but rage. It seemed to be the end of the line for her.

Simon's heart was in his throat as he watched the man aim his gun at her chest. He held the trigger down before another man walked in with two more guards.

He missed. He missed!

The girl's chest rose with relief, still trembling in fear.

"¡Maldito imbécil! ¡¿Parece una espía?!"* One of them shouts at the man who attempted to murder the girl just moments ago.

(Fucking moron! Does she look a like a spy?!)*

A gun is brought to his head and he's instructed to let go of her or die instead. The man lets go and backs away to allow the one of three guards to escort him off. The two guards that are left glare down at her in pity as they watch her shudder.

"Vete de aquí."* One of them gestured his head to the door.

(Get outta here)*

The girl tries to get to her feet but she collapses with tears streaming down her cheeks. They help her up and lead her out of the door as they shake their heads, muttering about who the fuck is training their guys nowadays.

"Fuckin' hell." Simon muttered to himself as he switched back his focus to the meeting happening in the room. No one had seemed to move from their positions. "'least tell us when y'r on th' move." His voice was filled with exasperation at [name's] cunningness.

"Sorry, Si."

She didn't mean that.

"How many?" Price asked over the comms, pushing away her actions to the back of his mind. He would deal with her later.

Simon could hear the girl cry as her tears mingled with the music from the club that drifted in and out of the bathroom. The girl was visibly distraught from her near death experience. Simon's lip was curled at the sight.

"Six." Simon replied as he watched the two guards lead her out of the restroom.

"Nine." Her voice interjected. "Those guys that took care of that--little squabble, are coming in right now." It made her heart wrench that she compromised another innocent woman, but with her out of harms way it was easier to focus on the mission once again.

"Sharp eye, hen." Johnny complimented her.

"Thank ya, Johnny." Her voice practically sang.

Minutes dragged by and Simon's eyes were dancing between [name] and the door that the cartel members all seemed to be facing, like they were waiting for the arms dealer to walk through at any given second.

"Any moment now." Simon muttered, keeping his eyes on the entrance for someone to enter, antsy for the deal to begin.

The door was pushed open and a man dressed in a crisp black suit with greased back silver hair and a thin, angular frame entered, along with another cartel member who held his weapon with his finger on the trigger. The man's eyes scanned the room as they approached the other cartel members, who remained relaxed. Simon let out a sharp breath, hoping that they had arrived on time to foil the deal.

"Tango has entered the building." Simon muttered into the comms.

A collective sigh of relief could be heard over their earpieces, but not from Price. His grip tightened on the bar stool as the seconds dragged on. It was hard to contain his breathing when his adrenaline spiked that high but he was managing.

Simon's voice was even and cool. He had trained for this moment. "Standby f'r engagement. Weapons free at m'signal."

"Copy." Price replied.

The transaction seemed ready to go down smoothly as the Russian man slid his briefcase towards the cartel members, who in turn slid over their weapons.

Simon's muscles began to tense, bracing himself for the inevitable gunfire. He was ready to spring into action at a moment's notice.

Price's hand went to the butt of his gun, checking that it was secure in its holster as he waited for the signal to move in.

The men made their exchange, and the deal looked like it was going to go down without a hitch. But something didn't feel quite right.

Just when it seemed like things were going to go swimmingly, one of the cartel members raised his weapon and fired at the man in the suit. The man dove for cover behind the bar as a bullet shattered the glass door behind him. Chaos erupted as the entire room exploded in gunfire.

Bullets ricocheting off the walls, commands being yelled over the noise the clamor could be heard from both sides as the cartel was scrambling out of sight. [name] took that as her ticket to take care of the Russian arms dealer, but she was gently pinned to the wall.

A familiary honeyed voice in her ear. "An' where do y'think y'r goin', ducky?"

Johnny, Price and Simon move in with ease and efficiency as they neutralized the threats with no remorse. It more than personal at this point, as she ogled the way Simon used his lucky blade against the throat of one man, Johnny breaking the arm of another and Price taking his sweet time over the man that he watched so vehemently put his hands up your skirt. There seemed to be a common theme here.

"Someone call it in." Price let out a exasperated sigh as he shot the last guy straight in the skull without even giving him a second glance. He carded his calloused fingers through sweat saturated locks and his eyes fell on her.

His Sergeant's arms were enveloped around her lovingly as they eagerly tabbed their teammates individual vendettas.

"Done, sir?" Kyle probed playfully as he eyed his Captain and then the other two men. Simon flicked off the blood on his blade on the ground before using the now cartel member's suit to clean of the rest and stuffed it back in its holster, while Johnny's casually rolled his neck from side to side, cracking his neck like he just finished sparring.

The corners of Price's mouth turned up into an incredulous grin as he licked his lips and riveted on [name]. "Y'pull anotha stunt like tha' again, ducky--" He breathed out and shook his head as he took in her puckish grin. "ah fuck it. I've got no fire left 'n me after tonight."

He scratched his temple with the rear end of his handgun. "Y'call it in, Johnny?"

"Done tha' already, Cap." Johnny's tongue was peaking out of his lips as he pressed them in a thin line to keep himself from laughing, but the way the corner of his lips were kicking up gave it away.

"Good man." Price clapped the Scot's shoulder and soon the soft brouhaha of their men was heard, approaching them as they slammed doors of their vehicles ready to clean up the bodies and take them back to base. Simon and Johnny were more than happy to help them drag off the bodies onto the oncoming stretchers.

Price's bleary eyes glanced over at her form for a fleeting second before he headed toward the truck, but not before he pinched the exposed skin of her ass cheek causing her to yelp.

She pouted at him in passing to which he gave her a cheeky grin, gently instigating a smirk from her. Kyle's lips are on her cheek, his subtle stubble scratching her soft skin as she feels his breath against her ear.

"Y'r really in for it this time, ducky."

[dewdropdinosaur]

Only For You

ALASTOR X READER Summary: You are beautiful there is no doubt about that. But Alastor would prefer that you kept that beauty only for him Warnings: NONE. Just sassy narrator as always(I will applaud anyone who figures out who the snarky narrator is of my stories) This was a request for the lovely @anon-of-the-void. Enjoy darling! REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN. See pinned post for rules.

In the heart of Hell, where the shadows danced to the tunes of torment, there resided a figure unlike any other – Alastor, the Radio Demon. He ruled over the airwaves of the infernal realm with his charismatic voice and sinister charm, a being of darkness wrapped in the allure of the old radio era. Having a penchant for old-fashioned charm and a twisted sense of humor, he found himself entangled in an unexpected romance with a fellow sinner….you.  There was a peculiar softness within Alastor, a hidden warmth that few dared to perceive save yourself. It was in the tender glances he shared with his beloved, the unspoken acts of service he provided and yes…even his certain shall we say—possessive nature. 

You were Alastor's almost in every way opposite. Which made it hard for many of the Hotel’s residents to understand how you even got together in the first place or even got along(That dear reader is a story for another time)

You exude confidence and have no qualms about your appearance. Proud of your demonic allure, you revel in showcasing curves and radiant skin. Yet, all of this sexual tension that is exuded was for none other than the Radio Demon himself, and for your own sense of amusement of course. Flaunting oneself for all of Hell only to be uninterested and leaving both men and women alike all hot and bothered was particularly entertaining one could speculate. 

Alastor, however, was not as open-hearted about such boldness from you. His possessive nature stirred within him, a jealousy that simmered beneath his charismatic facade. Oh how the screams of many who had dared look at his darling for a second too long made a horrific melody over his radio tower…You had long since tried to stop him for it was pretty much a futile effort at this point. Despite being the only one privy to what lied beneath your revealing clothing, the red demon still felt the swells of envy within him. He craved attention and that your beautiful soul only be turned in his direction and for him only. When you in the nude simply invited Alastor in the bathroom while showering for a chat. Poker was a common pastime while doing your makeup, to which he would often let you win, or listening to LPs while you both danced around half dressed. 

One fateful evening, as the shadows draped the corridors of Hell, Alastor and you found yourselves amidst a gathering of the Hotel residents and staff. Your laughter rang through the air, form draped in silken garments that accentuated every curve, every line of demonic beauty.  Wearing an outfit that highlighted everything, your fiery eyes sparkled with mischief. Alastor couldn't help but feel a mix of pride and possessiveness, his snarky smile masking the growing jealousy within him. He watched from afar, his ruby eyes ablaze with a mixture of desire and resentment. As the eyes of Hell lingered upon you(mainly Angel and Sir Pentious, the latter unable to help himself, poor gentleman), a surge of possessiveness consumed him. With a snarl disguised as a smirk, he approached your side, wrapping his coat around your shoulders; his voice dripping with honeyed venom.

“Here my dear, you must be cold.” Leaning down to whisper in your ear, he spoke so only she could hear “Darling, must you parade around like a succubus on display?" Alastor quipped, trying to hide his true feelings behind his charismatic persona.

You chuckled, a demonic laugh echoing through the chaotic streets. "Oh, Alastor, dear, why hide what I have? It's a crime to keep such beauty under wraps." Turning to face him, laughter dancing in your eyes. “Must you always be so possessive?” You teased with a voice so close to a melody that stirred the depths of his being.

Alastor's snarky smile faltered for a moment, replaced by a flicker of insecurity. "I just prefer to keep you all to myself, my dear. No need to share your radiance with the whole underworld."

However, not one to be controlled and quite liking to rile up your partner, you sauntered away from Alastor. With a mischievous glint, after taking off his coat and handing it back to him, you teasingly exposed more of your demonic allure. The other demons ogled in admiration(except Husk who knew better than to get between his so-called boss and his partner….also a story for another time), and Alastor's jealousy reached its peak.

Alastor's smile faltered, his grip reaching out towards your form and  tightening around your waist. "In a realm where darkness reigns supreme, one must guard what is precious," he replied, his words dripping with thinly-veiled jealousy. Little green lights flickered around the hotel as the shadows smirked and moaned, yet you stood there unafraid. 

Determined to claim your attention for himself, Alastor conjured a stylish black coat from thin air and draped it over your bare shoulders. "There, my love, let's keep a bit of your mystery, shall we?"

Laughing heartily and not bothered by the sudden cover-up, you relented. "If it makes you happy, Alastor, I'll indulge your possessiveness." Walking your fingers up Alastor’s chest to adjust and fix his bow tie, you flashed a soft and genuine smile up at your partner. 

"My dear Radio Demon," you whispered, breath warm against his ear, "there is no need for jealousy. My heart belongs to you and you alone."

With those words, Alastor's doubts faded into the abyss, replaced by the warmth of the embrace. In the depths of Hell, amidst the chaos and the shadows, love had found its way into the hearts of demons, a flickering flame in the darkness that refused to be extinguished.

“And besides my love, you know I never much cared for that kind of attention from anyone but you anyway.” 

As you and Alastor  continued your stroll through the Hotel while mingling with guests, Alastor clung to your side; content that he had, at least momentarily, subdued his jealousy. Little did he realize that love in Hell was as unpredictable as the flames that flickered throughout the underworld, and the dynamic between the snarky Radio Demon and his confident partner would continue to evolve in the fiery depths of their unconventional romance.

[drabblesandimagines]

I absolutely love how you write Halsin, can I request a fic with a fem Tav having a nightmare sometime after Orin's kidnapping. The possession scene still haunts me to this day and keep imagining Tav seeing that over n over on top of struggling to rescue him. It ends with him waking and comforting her. Keep up the great work!

Thank you, lovely anon! I hope you enjoy - please let me know! xxx

Nightmares

Your limbs feel heavy, vision somewhat blurred around the edges as you walk past strangely empty tents in the camp on the outskirts of Rivington.

There’s an overpowering smell of rust in the air as you approach the barn, the dirt soon growing damp under your boots and it isn’t long before a squelch accompanies every step.

A sinking feeling in your stomach as a large figure emerged from the shadows.

Halsin – your sweet, caring druid - looms over the lifeless bodies of Gale, Astarion and Shadowheart. They’re splayed out almost atop of one another, arms and legs at unnatural angles, gruesome tears in their flesh, the straw sodden with red that matches the splatters across Halsin’s bare chest.

“What…?”

“Go,” Halsin growls between gritted teeth. There’s a look in his eye you haven’t seen before, his muscles shuddering with exertion as he tries to catch his breath. “Go - now - before I do the same to you.”

“No.” You shake your head, furiously, as if it might change the scene. “This isn’t real. it can’t be. You wouldn’t, Halsin-”

“It’s this city,” he grunts, thumping his chest with his fist as he glares at you. “The corruption, I cannot hold it back any longer. Why did you bring me here? I said-“

His eyes flash gold for a split second before the light engulfs his entire body – fur swiftly taking its place as he transforms and emits a mighty roar.

You take a step back in retreat and immediately trip over something – an arm or a leg – falling and knocking the back of your head upon stone. Above is no longer the ceiling of the drafty barn but what appears to an endless chasm. You sit up, scrambling back on your hands, heart pounding as you recognize your surroundings.

The Temple of Bhaal.

Halsin lies on the altar, his knuckles grazing the floor as his arm hangs off the side. You stumble up to your feet without further thought, not even checking for any Bhaal cultists or Orin herself, only focused on reaching him.

His eyes, once so full of warmth and love, stare blankly skyward - lifeless and bloodshot.

You’re too late.

There’s a scroll clenched in the fist resting upon his still chest. You tug it out with gentle fingers and unfurl it, only for to burn into ash immediately, only allowing you a glimpse of what was written at the top.

Speak with the dead.

Halsin’s body is illuminated in an eerie green glow. Not the greens of nature that he so adored, but something entirely unwordly. His neck cracks as he turns his head to face you, a hollow, foreign voice emitting from his mouth.

“You did not come for me.”

“No, I did. We did. We were just-” Cold fingers encircle your wrist, keeping you in place by the altar.

“No.” He cuts across, emotionless. “You left me here to die – alone.”

“No, Halsin. No, I swear. I don’t know what happened. We were just in camp and-“

“I called out for you.” His fingers squeeze your wrist so hard you swear the bones are about to break. “I called your name over and over and over, until my voice grew hoarse.” He places his other hand at the base of your throat, fingers splayed out over your collarbones. “I called for you, the one who lay with me, claimed to love me… yet still you did not come.”

“Halsin, please, listen-”

“You killed me.” He trails his fingers up your neck, pausing to cup your chin. “And, now, with the Oak Father as my witness, I will reset the balance of nature.”

With one powerful squeeze around your throat, your breath is cut off.

--

Whilst most elves favour four or so hours of trance, Halsin has proved to be quite the heavy sleeper in comparison – most likely due to the time he has spent in his ursine form – though a whimper from your lips is enough to wake him immediately, concerned.

He releases you from his spooned embrace, laid upon the pile of furs upon the ground, in fear that he’d somehow caused you pain, perhaps squeezed a little too tight in his dreams as he sought your warmth.

The furrowed brow, twitching limbs and mumbled, somewhat frantic protests, however, suggest you are in the throes of a nightmare. The druid swears his heart breaks, knowing it is best that you wake under your own steam rather than him call or shake you.

Mercifully, he does not have to wait long. You sit bolt upright with a desperate, gasping breath, drenched in a cold sweat, eyes flitting furiously side to side as you try and work out where you are now.

Your heart is pounding dangerously loud in your ears, so much so you can’t hear how hard you’re trying to gulp down mouthfuls of air, but it’s as if it stagnates at the top of your lungs, never truly getting deep enough.

Tears burn at your eyes at the effort and Halsin cannot hold himself back any longer. He places a large hand against the small of your back, hoping his gentle touch would help ground you.

You flinch at the contact, eyes widening as you finally see him in the dim light of the tent. There is a momentary flicker of fear across your face that Halsin prays to Silvanus that he will never see again.

It’s a short, gasp of a breath in and out and the colour now drained entirely from your cheeks that drives him to act. He pulls you onto his lap in a smooth motion, pressing your back snug up against his chest, ignoring another flinch as he places a palm between your collarbones.

“Forgive me, my heart,” he bends his head to speak directly into your ear, too aware of how hard your heart is beating and wanting to be sure you’ll hear – he can feel the dull thud against his own chest. “I need you to breathe with me.”

His body feels warm. You twitch, trying to turn to face him, check his face over for injuries, feel his heart beat beneath your fingertips, but he has you nestled perfectly between his thighs, keeping you still.

“I have you, petal. I promise you are safe.” His breath dances across your neck. “Close your eyes, focus on my touch and breathe as deep as you can. Please.”

Dark spots are dancing around your vision now, so it’s easy to close your eyes. Halsin is breathing deliberately slowly - exaggerating his inhales and exhales so your body shifts with each of his breaths in the hopes that you’ll mimic the movement.

It is trial and error - more than a few resulting in short, sharp gasps and spluttering breaths – but, slowly and surely, your heart beat slows and your breaths grow more productive.

The scent of moss, wood smoke, various herbs and flowers permeate through the panic and you finally recognize where you are in – in your dwelling in the commune.

It has been four months since the fall of the Nether Brain.

You twist in his lap again, desperate to see his face, to check if his eyes are still lifeless. Halsin permits it this time and it is with a sigh of relief that you see your druid whole and alive.

“My love?” His tone is so cautious that you break into a sob.

Halsin pulls you back against his bare chest in an instant, maneuvering you into a more comfortable position with ease as you cry. He does not make to hush you, or ask you what is wrong, only rocks you back and forth in his arms, pressing periodic kisses to your crown as he does.

Even when your sobs eventually cease into teary, pathetic hiccups, he does not press for details, remaining in silence until you build up the courage to speak.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble into his chest, unsure if he has even heard.

Halsin presses a final kiss to your crown. “There is nothing to apologise for, petal.”

You look up at him, shaking your head. “No, there is. I was too late. T-the Bhaal Temple. I was too late. You-”

“You were having a nightmare. Please”, he lifts a hand to your cheek, stroking away a stray tear with his thumb, “do not torment yourself with recollection of such dark dreams. All is well – we are both safe.”

His other hand leaves your side for a moment, grabbing something you can’t see. You make to protest – it’s not safe, it’ll never be safe, Bhaal still exists, what if it was a message, or a threat? – but it dies on your tongue as he holds up a small bouquet of dried flowers under your nose, the scent calming you almost instantly.

“Humour me a moment, do you recognize the scents?”

“Mm-hm.” You take them from his hand, twirling them between your thumb and forefinger. “Lavender, roses, daisies…”

“Very good. I feared I had been somewhat distracting during our lessons.”

Lessons – that coaxes a soft, breathy laugh from you. Long, leisurely walks around the lands surrounding the commune, all with the intention of Halsin imparting his knowledge of the natural world had often turned into anything but.

Of course, he had always started off with pure intentions, he’d even keep his hands behind his back in an attempt to give focus, but all that seemed to break it was you bending down to inspect a sapling, or take in the perfume of a flower he’d pointed towards and then somehow you’d find yourself pinned against a nearby trunk or tackled oh so gently down into a flower bed, hot open-mouthed kisses pressed across your throat and collarbone…

“Mm, a little. But not enough that I don’t recall what you’ve taught me,” you look down at the dried bouquet. “For I do know that these are all known for their calming properties.”

“Indeed.” He chuckles. “I find placed under the pillow works wonders for troubled sleep, as well as keeping bad dreams at bay.”

You look up at him then, brow furrowed. “You have trouble sleeping?”

“I did – not for a while now. I find that having you nestled in my arms, my heart, is more soothing than any of the Oak Father’s creations.”

You feel the warmth prickle across your cheeks – Halsin’s compliments never fail to leave you a little flustered. He chuckles again as you drop your eyes back into your lap, a tell he has come to know well during your time together. He tilts your chin back up and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Do you think you can go back to sleep again, petal? Dawn is still a way off.”

Tomorrow will be another long day. Though the commune continues to fall into place more and more each day, there is always so much to be done.

“I can try.” You concede.

“Here,” he plucks the dried bouquet from your hand and slips it inside your pillow, giving it a firm pat to make sure it remained comfortable. “With the hopes that it makes your dreams as sweet as you are.”

Halsin coaxes you to lie down wordlessly, spooning you against his chest and draping an arm around your waist with a light squeeze.

“Comfortable?”

You inhale deeply, the bouquet of dried flowers seeping out from the pillow, the warmth of Halsin behind you, the way his hand begins to rub gently up and down your side.

“Mm.” You mumble, closing your eyes. “I love you, Halsin.”

Halsin smiles as he feels the tension leave your body fully at last – he hated seeing you in any sort of distress, whether it be minor or major.

“I love you too, my heart.” He bends his head down and starts to kiss your neck slowly and softly -  a favourite spot of both his and yours for a few moments before he retreats.

“Now, sleep, petal. Regain your energy so that I can show you precisely how much I love you in the morning, hm?”

He is unsure you have heard for sleep seems to have claimed you once more...

..but that doesn't mean he won't keep his word when dawn breaks.

---

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

[lueurjun]

f1 driver!heeseung: lap two.

f1 driver!heeseung x figure skater!reader. in which the golden boy of motorsport drives head on into a love story with the worlds most graceful figure skater, gliding straight into this drivers heart.

req—hii! I'm so sorry but yk the last anon? The one asking if you could make a part two for the f1 driver heeseung fic? This is still me😅 so I have an idea!! can you make like a f1 driver heeseung x Olympic figure skater reader?Like how they support each other, how the public sees them, etc. Ofc again if your uncomfortable making this/have no motivation you don't have to!!<3💕💕

i loved making the last F1 driver!boyfriend heeseung post, and i had completely forgotten about this request — i’m so sorry about how late this btw, i have no idea if the lovely person that requested still wants this but i thought i’d do it anyway.

two prodigies carved from contrast. he was asphalt and adrenaline, you all ice and impossible grace. worlds apart, yet born of the same orbit—competition, discipline, brilliance and sacrifice.

the stars weren’t aligned, only ever meant to set sights on each other through tv screens and never in person. a comet passing a planet, never meeting.

soulmates i say. SOULMATES.

until the night of a charity gala, where unlikely words collided beneath crystal chandeliers and soft clinking of glasses.

significant funds had been raised, gigantic smiling faces touched the lips of every attendee as you were ushered into a massive group photo, tucked behind a huge cheque.

a body squeezed next to yours, a comet grazing the planet; an explosion of electricity pulled your gaze from the camera man up to the person beside you.

lee heeseung’s shsrp eyes caught your own, softening beneath the soft glow of the chandelier cascading down upon him like his own personal spotlight.

his eyes SOFTENED.

a nudge to your side as another stumbled into the group pulled you back to reality, and you cleared your throat, crimson kissing your cheeks. facing the camera, your lips stretched into a smile, acutely aware of his presence.

“heeseung, get closer to y/n! the media would love to see the f1 champion next to an olympic champion.”

let’s all say thank you to this person. it’s me. let’s all thank me.

you rolled your lips together, glancing at him—and found him already watching you with a look of quiet curiosity, a silent ask for consent.

you nodded, shifting just enough for him to shuffle closer.

his arm came up, draping lightly around your back, his hand hovering over your waist withoit quite resting. naturally, your body leaned into his, and there you were—front and centre, a perfect picture of two champions standing side by side.

respectful king ✌️

several flashes whitened your vision before the crowd dispersed. heeseung lingered, however, sliding his hands into his pockets, the signature confidence he wore like a second skin shifting into something less certain.

he cleared his throat, glancing sideways at you. “i wanted to approach you earlier, but i got caught up. it’s really nice meeting you, not just as an olympian — super cool by the way, but as just… you.”

the tips of his ears turned red, his gaze never quite meeting your own. it was a complete contrast to the cocky f1 driver you had seen on tv, and social media. like the cloak had slipped, revealing his true nature.

awkward, cute… almost shy.

he’s so AHSJDKDK i love him let me pinch his cheeks 🤏

endeared by the change, you eyed him playfully. “wow, i really didn’t take you for the shy type. it’s lovely to meet you—as you. not heeseung, red bull driver.”

a quiet smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and he shifted his weight, relieved by your lightheartedness.

“how about you properly meet me somewhere a little quieter?”

rizzseung nice to meet you my guy 🤝

he nodded over to a vacant corner where a lone table sat cloaked in shadows, a single lantern carrying the weight of light in the middle of the table.

“i’d like that.”

that was how it started, a soft moment in the chaos of flashing lights and a crowded gala.

months later, heeseung insists that was your very first date, meanwhile, you swear it took him several weeks after that to officially ask you on a date.

though it doesn’t matter to you, all that matters was that cozy corner lit the beginning of something neither you, or the world expected.

a comet and a planet had found their orbit.

your relationship came as a shock to quite literally everybody.

speculation began when the photo was posted and tweets rolled in about how good the two of you looked, followed by several articles driven by inside witnesses at the gala who commented how the two of you spent the majority of the night curled up in that quiet corner, alone.

it escalated when you made your first appearance in the paddock — specifically, redbull.

and then it was confirmed during the olympic games, after winning your gold medal and the first person you ran to was him.

it’s giving where’s the trophy? he just comes running over to me 🎶

you are his halo, and he is your ice. support is the major balance beam in your relationship.

fire and frost.

to the world, he’s this cocky racer—unstoppable behind the wheel, quick with smack talk, and driven by the thrill of winning.

but to you, he’s morning sunshine kissing your skin—gentle, warm, and steady.

he’s summer rain, refreshing and full of life, filling you with strength.

he’s calm in the chaos, a sweet talker who never fails to flirt like he’s trying to win you over all over again.

to the world, you’re the resilient skater—unshakable in your pursuit of perfection, never settling for anything less than gold.

as you should 💪 an absolute icon.

to him, you’re the steady earth, grounding, nurturing and fuelling life into everything around you.

a vast universe of stars, brightening his world even in its darkest corners.

you are a clear lake—serene, reflective, and endlessly patient, your love rippling like a soft wave lapping at his skin, calming his restlessness.

he definitely sneaks you your favourite snacks even when you’re on a diet. he might be scared shitless of your coach, but the scolding is worth it to see your eyes light up.

“this isn’t from me.” he whispers as you skate up to him, sliding a sweet treat into your hand with the precision of a trained dealer.

huh just a sweet treat? lame. i’d get you your favourite snack AND drink, just sayin 👀

“YAH! LEE HEESEUNG, WHAT DID YOU JUST HAND THEM? YOU AREN’T EVEN SUPPOSED TO BE HERE!”

cue him being dragged away from you by the ear, but there’s a cheeky grin on his face — despite the absolute terror in his eyes — when he sees you sneakily take a bite.

often his team will see you walking around the paddock with his helmet on your head.

“heeseung looks different these days.”

one of the engineers jokes, nodding in your direction where you stand with heeseung’s helmet on, nodding as you inspect the car like like you actually know what you’re looking at.

ever seen that episode of modern family where lily is just stood there in that light up dress? that’s how i imagine you standing staring at the car with a helmet on LMAO

he tried your skates on once, but along with them not quite fitting, he’s not too confident on the ice and wobbled around like a baby deer.

“never will i understand how you do those spins without breaking your neck.”

no fr it’s a magic power atp because i’d die before i even stepped on the ice let alone did a spin-

eventually, he settled for wearing your medals instead.

though you did have to put a 30 minute time cap on him since it gave him a power trip.

the fans adore your relationship.

they’d adore us more but whatever 😒

edits of you flood the algorithm when competition time rolls around.

slowed down clips of heeseung watching you skate with his pupils practically heart shaped, and a love song over the top. or you, wrapped in his jacket, in the red bull garage celebrating his win like it’s your own.

then there’s the iconic couple ones of the two of you just absolutely eating everyone up.

someone always comments “he’s so fine,” only to scroll down and find you in the replies: “TOO RIGHT HE IS.”

heeseung’s comments on your posts? straight-up thirst.

“unfair how you look like this and I still manage to breathe.”

he’s so real for this.

one time he straight up proposed under a selfie you posted and everyone started speculating that it was a hint to your engagement.

it wasn’t. he just likes to ask just in case.

he got temporarily cancelled after responding to someone hating on you with an insult.

“crazy talk coming from someone with a face like that.”

he’s in his keyboard warrior era let him be he low-key ate that.

PR were stressed but it settled down quickly and became a meme.

teaching him how to ice skate? absolutely.

though it often ends with you both on the flat of your back, breathless from laughter unfazed by the ice soaking into your clothes.

stolen kisses between press interviews.

cuddles when the pre competition jitters set in.

him ignoring everything and everyone after a particularly bad race, not stopping until he’s wrapped in your arms.

hahah so happy for you hahah 😐

nights when you’ve exhausted yourself from practicing one particular spin the whole day, slumping on the ice with tears of frustration pooling in your eyes, he’s there. wrapping you in his arms and just holding you.

he has your routines memorised.

imagine him in his hotel room alone trying to copy you lmao

sharing headphones when the world gets a little too chaotic.

playful debates on whose sport is harder.

him doing a little hand signal only for you after a particularly harsh crash just so you know he’s okay.

your homescreen is him wearing your medals, his is you in his helmet.

when time zones don’t align, and the hours are eaten up with missing each other, you watch old clips of him online and he watches some of your old competitions — his favourite is the first time you won gold at the olympics.

this is so cutenesssss.

overall, you two are the greatest couple in celebrity history.