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kaylopolis · 6 months ago

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Alastor's Shadow (18+) Chapter One

Pairing: Alastor x F!Reader, Alias: Thestral

Synopsis: There’s a new Overlord in town and it isn’t the Radio Demon. Six years after you fell into Hell, you finally earned your seat at the table as Pentagram City’s newest and baddest. Now, with the Extermination coming six months earlier than planned, it is time to implement your ultimate endgame. After all, who doesn’t love a bit of power and chaos? Your plans bring you to the doorstep of the Hazbin Hotel as Charlie’s newest Redeemer, but who you find waiting for you will not only turn your entire plan upside down but also challenge your grab for power…

Tags: Slow burn, rivals to lovers, eventual smut

Word Count: 67+ and counting (of the whole fic)

Chapters: 10/??

Warnings: Minors DNI! 18+! May contain disturbing, gruesome, and graphic sexual scenes. Graphic violence. Blood. Obsession. Mentions of abuse. Mentions of substance abuse. Trigger warnings will be given at the beginning of each chapter.

Link to Masterlist: Masterlist

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Author note: Hoteliers, This is my first attempt at a fanfic, but I was just so inspired and wanted to post it somewhere after writing like +67K words (and counting). So here goes nothing I guess?

<3 Stay Smutty

Chapter One - The Commercial

Content Warning: None but let me know if I missed any!

“Power is of two kinds. One is obtained by the fear of punishment and the other by acts of love. Power based on love is a thousand times more effective and permanent than the one derived from fear…” - Mahatma Gandhi

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Your fingers find the brass handle as anxiety builds in the back of your throat.

Are you nervous? Why are you nervous? The commercial seemed so inviting and everyone seemed so nice - even if it was a bit glitchy in some frames. If they are indeed as altruistic as they appear, then you’ll be fine!

But, what if they don’t accept you?

Nonsense, you just need to show that you care, that you can help. After all, Princess Morningstar wouldn’t turn help away, would she? You were there in the courtyard a few days ago when Heaven’s clock ticked down from one year to 6 months: 182 days right before your eyes. Damn… But it gave you an opening - a reason to repent as opposed to just showing up out of the blue and inventing some backstory in an attempt to explain your sudden desire to achieve redemption. It was an opportunity you couldn’t refuse.

“Okay, so the Extermination is coming in six months instead of a year. No big deal…”

As you stepped into the Hotel, you couldn’t help but be underwhelmed by the state of the place. From the outside it seemed big and glamorous - despite the random bits of cell phone tower and… was that a mast from a ship? On the inside, it was worse. Way worse. It wasn’t gross, it was an array of stuff… that was probably the best way to put it. The carpet was torn, the wallpaper peeling, parts of the wall had been tacked together with newer planks of wood to repair unknown sources of damage. It was… Well at least it didn’t smell… that bad…

Emerging into the foyer, small suitcase in hand - after all, you didn’t own much - you searched for the front desk, but the only thing resembling any sort of check-in area was a bar where a cat-bird thing was organizing bottles.

To your left was a small inlet before a fireplace, fit with television and radio where two demons sat, listening to a blonde haired bellhop pace.

“… well just handle it! Right!?” The girl grabbed at her hair.

No, not a bellhop. Princess Charlie Morningstar. God, she looked just like her dad. The only thing she got from Lilith was her height. Probably a good thing…

Your heart sank at the sight of her. Biting back the flood of memories threatening to spill down your face, you take a deep breath and enter.

“Yes,” a grey demon stood, a waterfall of dark hair brushed the floor as she walked. “We will.” She grabs Charlie’s shoulders, forcing her to stop pacing.

They still hadn’t noticed you. Was this eavesdropping? Were you being rude? That wouldn’t make for a great first impression.

You took a few hesitant steps forward hoping they’d hear your heels clack against the wood.

“Oh please,” the spider-looking thing sitting on the couch scoffed, staring down at his phone as he talked. “Ya’ had less than half a chance before you started all this salvation bullshit. And now… ain’t no silver linin’, toots.”

You cleared your throat, having practically snuck up on the group.

“Oh my gosh!” The blonde squeaked as the grey demon with ridiculously long hair pulled a spear on you, stepping before the Princess.

You dropped the suit case immediately, raising your arms to show you meant no harm.

“Who are you? What are you doing sneaking around?” She demanded.

Your eyes flit to the “X” eye patch, then to the silver tip mere inches from your nose.

Oh shit, this girl’s the Fallen. Relax, you accounted for that. So long as she doesn’t recognize you…

“I’m sorry!” You squeak, taking a half step back. She follows, her spear not leaving your face. “I tried making noise but you must not have heard me. I was just looking to check-in but…”

“Huh!” The Princess gasped so loud it made your ears pop.

Pushing the ex-Exorcist - huh, funny - aside the blond grabs your shoulders and squeezes. “Are you a guest!?” Her eyes sparkled.

“Well, yeah. I was hoping…” you didn’t get a chance to finish before she brought you into a hug so tight you couldn’t breathe. She lifted you off your feet and spun you in a circle before placing you back on the ground.

“Yay! Vaggie, our very first guest!” She sang.

“Hey!” The spider finally looked up from his phone. “I’m sittin’ right ‘ere ya’ know?”

Did he have six eyes or two? Hard to tell but the pink dots decorating his face blinked when he did.

Creepy.

“Okay, hun,” the Fallen drops her spear, taking Charlie by the arm in an endearing way, but you really knew it was to hold her back. “Let’s give our guest some space. Let her breathe. She can’t be redeemed if you suffocate her and she dies… Again.”

“Right,” she laughs, reigning herself in. “Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!” Her arms fan out to the room, gesturing to the rundown establishment.

You musture a genuine smile, not because you’re impressed with the place but because the Princess’ happiness was infectious.

“My name is Charlie!” She takes your hand in hers.

“My name is Thestral,” you answer between the vigorous shakes rolling up your arm.

“Okay, that’s enough,” the Fallen pulls Charlie away from you. “I’m Vaggie. The guy on the couch is Angel and Husk is behind the bar.”

Angel gives you a mindless wave, frowning at something on his phone. The bar cat tips his hat to you before pouring himself a glass of whiskey.

Was the bartender supposed to drink the supply? Also, wasn’t it barely nine in the morning?

“Let me get your bag!” Charlie snatches the hardback suitcase before you have a chance to protest. Dragging you by the elbow, she insists upon a tour.

The Hotel was cute - if not a weird hodgepodge of thrown together dimensions. The bar was clearly cut from somewhere else, the piano room is definitely not of this century, and don’t get you started on the pool. All in all however, it was cute. You could see yourself here, in the library reading late at night with a glass of red, in the music room practicing your piano, on the back balcony enjoying the breeze and screams of innocents. It wasn’t perfect - nothing compared to the luxury you experienced before Hell - but it felt home-y.

“This is you!” Charlie pulls a key from her pocket as she stops before a door. “Angel is to the left and Alastor is just across the hall.” Grabbing your arm once more, she drags you inside.

It’s cute but humble - something you’d expect from a bed and breakfast and not a city hotel. The room is huge, with a four post bed wrapped in white sheets, neatly tucked into the sides military style. To your left is a small sitting area with a couch and coffee table. Past that were two doors, one leading to a small walk-in closet and the other a tile bathroom.

Frankly, coming from sharing a cramped city apartment in Cannibal Town to this was a huge step up as far as you were concerned.

“Here you are!” She dropped a black key in your hand, a cat’s eye decorating the handle. Finally, a room to call your own. “Nifty cleans on Sundays and…”

“Wait, my room gets cleaned?” You scrunched your nose in confusion.

“Of course! We don’t want you to have anything to worry about when you stay with us. Redemption is the goal, afterall!” Charlie sang.

That was going to be a problem…

Charlie stood staring at you for a long moment, her eyes sparkling in the low light. Her hands cupped her chin as she smiled at you with such emotion you were surprised her face didn’t split in half right there. She looked like a small child, waiting for a candy bar or something.

God, you didn’t realize how enthusiastic she would be about all this. Now is definitely not the time to tell her you had no intentions of being redeemed. You were just here for the chaos. Frankly, any normal person would feel guilty right about now, but not you.

Oh, you had far bigger plans for Ms. Morningstar, she just didn’t know it yet.

“Okay,” Vaggie steps up, grabbing her by the collar. “We’ll let you get unpacked. It’s Sunday so brunch is at eleven in the kitchen. We’ll come get you and show you the way. If you need anything there’s a rotary phone by the bed, just call Husk at the bar. He’s always there…”

“A rotary phone?” You scrunch your nose.

Sure enough, a black rotary phone sat on the bedside table. What century was this? Cannibal Town was stuck in the 1900s but at least they had cell phones.

“Yeah, the Hotel Manager is a bit outdated with his tastes…” Vaggie grumbles. You sensed tension in her comment but didn’t ask for further details.

“Anyway!” Charlie puts a hand on your shoulder. “We’re really, REALLY glad you’re here.” She breathed in your face, her voice cracking with the threat of tears.

God, she even had Lucifer’s mannerisms…

You huffed, blowing off the extra emotions her smile pushed into you. “Thank you for taking me in.”

Watching as the Exorcist pulled the Princess back down the hallway, you shut your door and collapsed against the wood.

“Fuck,” you breathed. Charlie was going to be someone you could only handle in small doses.

The Princess definitely didn’t recognize you and neither did Vaggie. She might be Hell Royalty but she was oblivious.

Did she know about Vaggie? Maybe she did and has already accepted it. This place is about second chances after all.

It didn’t take you long to unpack, after all you didn’t have many personal possessions. A few sets of clothes, some boots and heels, your toiletries and makeup… The suitcase was only half full when you packed it with every possession you owned. Now all you could do was stand before the mirror in the bathroom and stare at yourself as the anxiety began to build again. You fixed your red lipstick over and over until it drove you mad. Throwing the makeup back into your bag, your mind turned to your outfit.

You were dressed in black slacks which sat high on your hips, fanning out at your legs. Tucked into your waistband was a white button up, giving you the hourglass appearance. Your silver hair was twisted into a bun at the back of your head, a metal clip holding it in place. Your eyes seemed to glow in the dim light, your yellow irises emitting their own form of light.

Out of all the animalistic appearances in Hell, you were gifted the rare form of a somewhat normal human shape. No tail, no ears, no horns - well, in your normal state anyway. It was just you, with skin as pale white as Charlie’s and a nose tipped in black. You stood a normal five foot four, but in heels you could argue five and a half. You didn’t have canines as sharp and distinct as others, but hey who needed them? You preferred fighting with your hands, anyway.

Frankly, you were boring compared to the Sinners and Natives of Hell. The most interesting note was the tattoo which spanned your back from shoulder blades to your hips, but that wasn’t important at the moment.

Your mind returned to your clothes again. They were nice, nothing too flashy and definitely not Velvette brand, but were they too much? Weekend brunches in Cannibal Town were always such a classy affair, something you were expected to dress up for despite the messy array of food which was served.

Was that expected here?

As if on cue, a door opens in the hallway and footsteps echo across the carpet.

Perhaps you should ask.

Racing to the door, you peak your head out to find Angel heading to the stairs, his nose stuck in his phone.

“Uhm, excuse me?” You chirp. It was barely audible and he wasn’t paying attention but you were a new voice, which definitely drew him from whatever battle was playing itself out on his screen.

“Oh, hey!” He tucked the cell phone back into his pocket. His face contorted into a smile, he was doing his best not to show his frustration but it was still quite obvious. “They put ya’ right next to me aye?” He leans against the doorframe, one arm on the wall, the other three at his hips. “Just a fair warning. I can get a little loud. If ya’ know what I mean?” He winks at you, a knowing smile spreading across his sharp teeth as he elbows your side.

God, he was tall, he’d have to be like six foot three or something.

Up close, and with his attention fully on you, you could finally study his eyes: right eye sclera black, left white. Someone owned him, but with restrictive conditions.

You already knew the answer: Valentino. Hey, what can ya’ say? You did your homework.

“Do you guys dress up for brunch or is it more casual?” You smiled, doing your best not to stare at the pink dots blinking back at you on his cheeks. Still creepy.

“Oh, uh, I dunno, toots. I normally just go in whatever I have on.” He gestured to his pink striped shirt and long boots.

Casual it is then.

“But if ya’ prefer. I could go in nothing at all,” he purrs, his eyebrows wiggling at you suggestively.

You couldn’t help but giggle. You got the sense that it wasn’t genuine flirting. That he was trying to make you smile more than anything else. He enjoys entertaining others like that. Probably why he became a Porn Star - and such a famous one at that.

His face lit up at your laugh.

“Great, the wire in this bra is killing me!” You mime a pain in your back, eliciting a laugh from the spider demon himself.

“I like yous,” he holds out a hand to shake. “Names Angel Dust.”

“Thestral,” you shook his furry hand - he had so many, you wondered how he went shopping for shirts.

“Thestral? Like the dead horses from ‘arry Potter?”

“You know your JK Rowling?”

Angel had to have died in like the 40s/50s - from what research you did before coming here. How did he know about the books and movies made popular in the 2010s?

“Yeah, she ended up down here after she died. Kept writing weird shit about her characters. Really changed my views on the Potterverse. It was shocking for a while but you can only be so entertaining on Sinstagram and Vitter for so long these days.” He shrugged.

“Huh, for some reason that doesn’t surprise me, but thank you. The last place I lived, everyone was expected to dress for meals and I just wanted to be sure.”

“No problem, toots. If ya’ don’t mind me askin’, how long yous been down here? If ya’ didn’t know about the Potter thang, it couldn’t have been that long?” His accent: New York?

“Just shy of six years, actually,” you rubbed the back of your neck anxiously, feeling the bubbles beginning to fester inside you.

You’ve done work to gather information before, but you’ve never had to act like you were now. You were always behind a mask… How many details were too many to share?

“Oh, damn, just shy of being a Fleshy!” He smiles.

“A Fleshy?” You scrunch your nose.

“Yeah, the living or whatnot.” He pulls out his phone again, frowning at the notification screen before pulling up an app. Something was definitely bothering him. “Hey, whatcha say we head down a little early? I can pull up her Vitter page and show ya’ some good ones?” The spider demon smiled, frustration weighing down his eyebrows. He had a single gold tooth which sparkled in the low light.

“Sure!” You tried to respond not too excitedly.

This was the plan. Get in early with one of the Hotel mates and use it as a way to get information on the others.

You had thought it was going to be Husk. What bartender didn’t love gossip? But here was Angel offering himself up on a silver platter.

You only had about an hour before brunch was served, but those sixty minutes laying in the alcove by the fireplace were the most hilarious minutes of your life. Angel had you laughing so hard you were crying. Things were going well. Despite the constant text messages from Valentino you pretended not to notice chime across the screen.

At about eleven, a small girl named Nifty - who introduced herself as the housemaid - emerged from the kitchen to announce that brunch was ready, and as everyone piled into the room and found their designated places, you realized you didn’t know where to go. It was like being the new kid at school walking into the lunchroom with a sack lunch and not a friend in the world to rescue you.

“Hey” Angel waved you to the only available seat left, which just so happened to be at the head. “Sit next to me, will ya’?”

Relief.

“No! That’s Mr. Alastor’s seat!” Nifty protested from her place by the oven. Her entire body practically vibrated with energy.

“Mr. Alastor?” That name definitely did not come up in your research.

“Relax, Tiny. Smiles is on the terrace this morning drinkin’ his tea.” Angel leaned back in his chair, one set of arms folded behind his head. “What he doesn’t know won’t kill ‘em. Or maybe it will and we can finally be free o’ him and his creepy, ol’ timey ways. Either way, we’ll be fine.”

You blinked a few times before hesitantly falling into the seat. Nifty gave a great sigh as she watched you sit, not liking it but allowing it. She busied herself with serving platters of food, her lips twisted in a pout.

It’s a chair. You didn’t think it was that big of a deal? Maybe he was one of those people who was territorial with their things?

As you sat and passed the food around, you couldn’t help the hairs which prickled on the back of your neck. How could you have missed another guest at the Hotel? You swore you wrote down everyone you saw in that glitchy commercial and did thorough research before coming here. You were never this sloppy.

“Can I get you anything to drink, Thestral?” Charlie was at the fridge with five different bottles of liquid in her hand, eagerly awaiting your answer.

“Coffee would be great,” you smiled through a mouth full of eggs, one hand over your face to be polite. God, Nifty was a great cook. You usually never ate breakfast but this was amazing.

The Hotel inhabitants sat and talked like family. This place has only been open what? Two weeks? And already they got along like they’ve lived together for years. It was kinda cute actually but spelled issues for your plans. A close-knit group like this - especially so fast - only meant it was going to be harder to work your way in. Sure, Angel hung out with you for the past hour and you had a great time, but that was just surface level stuff. You were going to need to dig deeper.

“No! Nobody look at me,” Husk grumbled from a few seats down. “That machine is a nightmare.” He motioned to the silver espresso machine sitting on the corner countertop behind you.

It looked brand new, barely been touched! A machine like that probably cost hundreds and they weren’t using it?

“I’m sorry.” Charlie frowned from her place by the fridge. “We’ve had it for a while and no one can figure it out. Husk took a look at it last and although he tried, we got nowhere. Nifty bought beans for it and everything…”

A small smile found your lips, “Mind if I take a look?”

“Goodluck with that kiddo, that machine is cursed,” Husk buried his head in his arms, the orange juice in front of him bubbling with alcohol - which you would guess was more booze than orange at how much of his flask you saw him pouring into it earlier.

Seems like everyone knows, as no one glanced his way when it happened, but no one seemed to mind his drinking habits this early in the morning. Most likely a recurrent behavior then…

Husk was an old soul, probably the oldest one in this room. The cat had a history of gambling debts which mysteriously disappeared one day - the day he fell from power. You didn’t know the exact details but you heard it wasn’t pretty afterwards. The Vees swooped in pretty fast and gobbled up what remained of the fallen Overlord’s territory. It’s part of the reason they are where they are now. You wondered if the others knew about him? Maybe, seeing as how he’s found himself at the hotel built on second chances.

Taking the beans from Nifty, you quickly check over the machine. It’s a simple Breville Barista model, nothing too top of the line, but still a commercial appliance.

You wonder who they sent out on the errand to get this because they clearly had no idea what they were getting. This thing was meant for a high end coffee chain, to be used for hours straight, not sitting in a run down hotel’s kitchen. Regardless, you knew the model and how to use it.

Preheating the machine, you fill the grinder with beans before asking, “Hey Husk, pick your poison.”

He blinks at you a few times before answering. “Double espresso.”

Simple enough.

Clicking a single wall basket into the portafilter, you fill the metal device with ground beans before tapping it flat. Sliding it into the machine with a click, you grab two shot glasses and watch as the brew fills to the line, the fresh scent of chocolate, caramel, and nuts fill the kitchen. You pour both into a white glass and send it down the table to Husk who sits dumbfounded at the end of the kitchen. In fact, everyone had stopped eating completely to watch you work.

Anxiety bubbles in your stomach as you count the eyes boring into you.

Oh, fuck. You drew too much attention to yourself.

“Fuck, kid. This is good.” Husk chirps from the end of the table, having taken his first sip. “Where’d you learn to do that?”

“I worked at a cafe just outside Cannibal Town when I first got here,” you rub the back of your neck, an uncomfortable laugh escaping your lips. “They had a machine just like this, but far bigger.”

That was true. After you fell, you were set up with a place to stay and a job at the local coffee shop which sat inbetween Cannibal Town and the border zone. It didn’t only serve certain… appetites, but was meant for a wider audience. You served everything from finger cakes (yes, fingers in the cakes) to bagels and cream cheese alongside the coffee creations.

“Oooh, Cannibal Town. This kid’s got bite,” Angel laughs. “I didn’t know you swung that way.” The spider demon shovels another pile of eggs onto his plate. He ate a lot.

“Oh, no. Not really, I just happened to… land there.” Technically you weren’t lying.

That first day in Hell was brutal. You smacked into cement face first, a pile of blood and broken bones. Luckily the streets weren’t crowded, and you were found and taken care of before anyone even noticed.

“So you just stayed in Cannibal Town for fun?” Vaggie didn’t look impressed. In fact, she looked suspicious - ever the hypervigilant soldier she was designed to be.

“Well…” There it was, the rubbing on the back of your neck again. By the end of today, your skin was going to be raw.

God, why was this so much easier with a mask on?

“Hey!” Charlie cut in, clearly sensing your discomfort. “You don’t have to tell us.” She cups your hands within her own. “You’re here now and that’s all that matters. We can get to know you at your own pace. Don’t push yourself. Okay?”

You offer her a sweet smile.

Wow, the Princess was really buying your act - or lack thereof, by how anxious this job was making you.

“Now, do you know how to make a cappuccino?” She motioned back to the machine. You silently thanked her for the change in conversation.

A genuine smile formed on your lips, “what kind of milk?”

The rest of the brunch passed quickly after you showed off your artistic masterpiece that was to become Vaggie’s coffee. The Princess ordered the beverage for her girlfriend, and after making a butterfly out of the milk atop the bubbles everyone else quickly got in line and ordered their own.

It didn’t bother you, in fact it made you more comfortable. You got to observe their behavior and interactions as a silent third party noting the ways in which they teased each other.

Husk could be a grump but you got the sense that he was a big softie. You couldn’t tell if Angel was actually flirting with the cat demon or just pushing his buttons, either way, the barkeep slunked out, flask in hand, with red cheeks.

When the chair started rattling, Nifty was prohibited from drinking anymore caffeine. She put up a pretty good fight but as soon as she saw a bug, she took off after it, needle in hand.

Angel returned to the couch, face in his phone, clearly stressed about something.

After helping with the dishes - Charlie protested but you insisted - she invited you to join the three of them by the fire where you had found them earlier that morning. You didn’t really have anything else to do, other than to try and win over the Hotel natives.

You could go hide in your room - the Lord knows your social meter needed the break. The group was welcoming but was… a lot. Especially Charlie, but the Princess and Vaggie had questions about the commercial and how Sinners were handling the recent date change for the Extermination. You shrugged and offered whatever you could - which wasn’t a lot.

“They’re desperate,” you answered.

“That’s right, they’re desperate. Maybe desperate enough to try anything to escape the Extermination,” Vaggie smiled, smacking her fist against her hand.

“Worked for me,” you shrugged, watching Angel from the corner of your eye.

Your heart melted a little for the spider demon. Valentino was known to be ruthless and manipulative - and the way he treated women… It was why you never took a job from the Overlord, let alone gave him a card. In fact, none of the Vees had your card. You didn’t like them, but you didn’t need to see how it affected Angel to decide that.

“This would be a perfect time to recruit more Sinners for the Hotel! We should get more rooms ready!” Charlie beamed. Of course she would find a way to spin this into something good.

“Cute idea and all, but are you really gonna go out in all this?” Angel turns his phone around, videos of the Doomsday Distract flash across the screen.

It was pretty chaotic, but when was that place not on fire?

“Well, it’s not like all Sinners are going to show up on our doorstep like Thestral did.” Charlie offered, motioning to you.

She wasn’t wrong…

BOOM!

Ah, perfect timing, Princess.

The entire Hotel rocked as dust and debris filled the foyer burning your lungs and eyes.

“Show yourself, Alassstor!” A voice echoed from outside.

The four of you ran to the now collapsed wall, veering into the streets to get a better look. Husk simply rolled his eyes and took another drink.

He was used to this?

Floating above the cobblestone streets was a yellow blimp equipped with an army of… eggs?

“Who are you?” A voice chimed from above, but it was… different - static-y…

“Who am I? Who am I?! I am the great Ssssssir Pentiousssss!” Deep within the zeppelin stood a black and yellow snake at the helm. He was dressed to the nines in army regalia.

Hmm, Sir Pentious? Had you heard of him before? You wracked your brain trying to think but nothing immediately came of mind. He had resources - clearly Carmilla Carmine supplies him by the brand on the metal - but was he a threat? He did put a hole through the building.

You spun studying his dirty work.

A missile? Sloppy, but still a step up from the lowest rung of demon.

“Inventor, architect of dessstruction, villain extraordinaire!” The snake twirls his arms, gesturing to himself and his work.

You scoff. Yeah right…

“Ooh you tell 'em boss!” The eggs chime.

What the fuck…? The eggs are sentient? Now that’s kind of interesting.

Testing the waters, you let an invisible finger of power slip from you and slither over to the zeppelin. It poked and prodded till it found a way through the metal before coming to rest by the snake demon’s tail. Gently, you caressed his form, searching for the power his soul possessed.

Yes, he definitely still had his soul, but from what you gathered - or rather, lack of what you gathered - this demon was no more a threat than a mosquito was to an elephant. But a better question was, what brought him here?

A chime of static fills the air, like little bolts of electricity, making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

What the…?

You spin, checking behind you to find the source of the static snaking its way down your spine, but no one was there.

Charlie yelps, bringing your attention back to the group, as a trail of shadow crawls between her feet, giving way to a demon in red materializing from the darkness.

How did he do that?

The demon’s back was to you, his attention fully on the blimp. You didn’t recognize his silhouette. His deer ears, hooves, and antlers were pretty iconic, but you didn’t know any demon like that. He wasn’t a Hellborn, his profile didn’t fit any of the creatures Hell bred. So a Human Sinner then?

The demon stood before you, a red suit complete with red-tipped black boots, and black slacks. His jacket was long, ending at his knees. The hair atop his head was cut cleanly, red and tipped in black, and tousled ever so perfectly.

Yeah, you had no idea who this guy was. Which did not sit well with you.

Nifty materializes on his shoulder. When had she slipped out here? “Ooh, he’s a bad boy,” the tiny demon sings.

Okay then…

The demon lifts her from his person and drops her gently onto the cement. “Ha, well if all that's true, you'd think I'd have heard of you!”

His voice isn’t just static, it’s like a radio?

The snake drops his smile. “I attacked you literally last week.”

The red demon cocks his head.

“We've done battle, like... 20 times.”

The demon brings both hands to his staff. No, that’s not right, microphone? “Well, you must have been really bad at this.”

You snort, but do your best to stifle the giggle into your palm.

The demon stiffens. You swear you see his shadow elongate in your direction. A trick of the light? An hallucination? You look to Angel for direction but he’s too busy watching the interaction, clearly entertained.

“Silence! Now cower! For when I've ssslain you, the almighty Vees will finally acknowledge me as their equal.”

Nifty reappears on the demon’s shoulder, garnering his attention. “Ooh! Wait, who are the Vees?”

“Oh, nobody important,” the red demon sings.

Nobody important, eh? For someone to so easily dismiss the Vees like that they’d have to either be stupid or think themselves more powerful - in both cases, they’re stupid. I agree, independently, the Vees are more annoying than anything. One by one they weren’t a threat, but all three together…

Testing a theory, you let that tendril of power sneak from your core, and just as you had Sir Pentious, you let it slither to the base of the demon’s shoes. Delicately prodding…

SMACK!

A slap hits your power so hard it sends your head spinning. You fall backwards into Angel who wraps his arms under your shoulders to steady you.

“You okay, toots?” Angel whispers in your ear, your vision spinning.

Holy shit.

It was either the sheer force of the blow or the dizziness in its wake, but you swore you saw faces laughing at you in the shadows.

“Uh,” you shake your head, willing the sting to subside.

Jesus, what was that? You’ve never had a reaction like that before…

“I think so?” You find your feet. “Just all the excitement… Caught me off guard.” You give him a fake laugh. He shrugs it off.

What the fuck…?

The next thing you know, Charlie’s grip is on your arm. “I promise it’s not always like this!”

From the corner of your eye, you see Vaggie shake her head. “Yes it is..” she grumbles before swearing under her breath in… Spanish?

Patting Charlie’s arm, you assure her that it doesn’t bother you. That Cannibal Town - and anywhere else in Pentagram City for that matter - were far worse than this place. Which was true. The only place you could get any peace and quiet was the Wrath Ring - way out in the country. Not that you’d been to the Wrath Ring… Technically…

The attention is finally turned away from you when an array of tendrils shoots from the red demon’s form. They descend upon the blimp, shredding it to pieces. The eggs spark into a panic as their helmsman desperately shouts commands.

Maniac laughs bubble in the demon’s chest as he slowly gets to work. It takes a moment before you realize it, but he isn’t taking his time because he has to, he’s doing it to toy with the snake demon. He enjoys the destruction.

You watch as the tension in the demon’s shoulder slowly diminishes with each attack. The pure enjoyment brings a small smile to your lips.

So this guy enjoys chaos just as much as you do, huh?

“Um… Alastor!”

Ah, so this is the famous Mr. Alastor?

The Princess slowly approaches the demon, but it isn’t fear you smell wafting off her person, it’s… anxiety? “I think he’s had enough.”

Vaggie is on Charlie’s heels in an instant, her hands flying to her back to summon her spear just in case.

So little Ms. Morningstar wasn’t afraid of him, but Vaggie sure as Hell doesn’t trust him. Interesting.

“Nah. He’s got a few more hits in him.” Angel crosses his arms, clearly entertained by the onslaught. Despite the chaotic scene before us, his eyes occasionally flit to the red demon - keeping him within eyesight.

Hmm, Angel didn’t trust him either.

You take a step forward but Angel pulls you back, shaking his head.

The snake demon falls from the zeppelin, landing face first with a smack on the pavement. You couldn’t help but grimace. That had to hurt.

Alastor twirls his staff - microphone? - as an egg falls and breaks into pieces at Charlie’s feet.

“Thanks for another forgettable experience!” He sings.

Okay, that you do laugh at. This guy was pretty witty, you had to give it to him.

The four Hotel Natives shoot you a look of disbelief as you giggle into your hand. Looking between you and the red demon, fear slowly etching across their brows.

Alastor’s shoulders stiffen as he turns, finding the source of giggles rumbling through your chest. His smile is pulled taut across his cheek, but the look he gives you… it wasn’t confusion necessarily swimming behind his eyes, more so like he didn’t know what to think.

The giggles die down as your cheeks heat under his gaze.

Was he not used to people finding him funny?

“Thank you… For letting your guard down!” The snake’s tail whips forward and rips the corner of Alastor’s suit from his person. A small chunk of fabric gives way. “Aha! Yah!” The snake celebrates before noticing the purely demonic smile overcoming the red demon’s face. “Oh, shit…”

The red demon’s antlers grow as an aura of green overtakes the atmosphere. From his microphone an explosion of green bursts through, sending the snake demon flying across Pentagram City.

Hmm… Why didn’t he just kill him? He’s just gonna come back. The mosquitos always do.

“Well, it looks as though I need a visit to the tailor!” The demon inspects his jacket. Despite his jovial attitude, you could see the irritation in his eyebrows.

A mask. This demon was wearing a mask.

Finally, now that the chaos was over, you had a chance to inspect the red demon. He must have felt your eyes on him, for when he finally looked up, his gaze was locked with yours. Your cheeks heated under the pressure of his gaze. His eyes, glowing like red crystal in direct sunlight, made your legs feel heavy and your chest tight.

Was it getting harder to breathe or was it just you? Are you… Are you intimidated right now? No. You’ve never been intimidated by a demon in your life. Angels maybe, but never a Human Sinner. What was wrong with you?

“And who might this be?” Your heart fluttered at the purr in his voice.

Twirling his microphone behind his back, he took a step towards you, standing tall at his full height. He had to be an entire foot taller than you, now cast in his shadow. It felt eerily colder in the shade, but there was something else there too. An extra presence you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

The demon was dressed to the nines. His red suit perfectly tailored to his form. It splayed out around his hips, accentuating a waist line supporting a broad chest. His hair was cropped short around his angular face, his eyes half-lidded as they bore into you. The red of his irises practically glowing. He was a classy demon, clearly not of this century. He regarded you with a sense of curiosity - an aura of green still lingered, however. It was meant to intimidate you, not necessarily threaten you.

Okay, this guy thinks he’s tough shit, huh?

Before Charlie had a chance to intervene, you thrust your arm forward, meeting his eyes, not backing down to his overwhelming sense of self importance.

“Thestral, pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Alastor.” You offer him a soft smile.

You took the shift of stiffness in his shoulders to mean that you had made the wrong move. This was a demon who carried himself quite highly - probably used to lesser demons cowering in his presence, not laughing at his jokes or meeting his eyeline let alone offering their hand first. At that, he didn’t know what to make of you, which made you dangerous. Which made you a target of interest.

Shit.

Day one and you’re already fucking up the whole “lay low” part of the plan.

“Oh, darling, you flatter me,” he takes your hand. “Just Alastor will do.”

A shiver rolls down your spine as the tips of his claws scrape across your skin, so sharp they could cut flesh. They probably have, but you weren’t worried. He couldn’t hurt you anyway. Not really.

“Well, ‘Just Alastor,’ thank you for the entertainment.” You cross both arms behind your back mimicking his stance. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Angel’s jaw drop.

“Of course! I live to please! I’m not the Hotel Manager for nothing!” There it is again, a small shift in his body language. He didn’t know what to make of your lack of fear.

The static is interrupted by a laugh track, sounding as if from a live studio audience - from a radio.

“So does that mean you’re going to do you’re job?” Vaggie takes a step forward, motioning to the half destroyed wall of the Hotel.

“Of course! Can’t let my new project fall into disrepair already! What would the papers say?” With a snap of his fingers, black ink demons appear with construction tools.

Five. Five faceless demons. Which means he owns at least five souls. But that was not nearly enough power to equate to the destruction you had just witnessed.

By the time you turn back to him, he’s already strolling down the cobblestone path and off into Pentagram City. You couldn’t help still feeling watched, however, like the sensation of his red eyes still on your form, but nowhere to be found.

You spun but again, no one was watching you.

“Word of advice, stay away from him,” Vaggie crosses her arm in Charlie’s, ready to lead her back inside.

“Yeah, Hairclip,” Angel Dust appears behind you, poking at the silver metal in your hair. “You got a lot of balls on you to stand up to that one.”

“What does that mean?” You scrunch your nose in confusion.

“Well…” Charlie takes a step forward, touching the tips of her fingers together with anxiety. “Alastor can be a little…”

Before she has a chance to respond, Vaggie and Angel offer suggestions.

“Creepy.”

“Unpredictable.”

“Insane.”

“Murderous.”

“Bloodthirsty.”

“Aren’t those basically the same thing?” Angel shrugs.

“He’s a bad boy,” Nifty chirps by your ankle.

Where did she come from?

“Temperamental,” Charlie offers with an awkward smile.

Why did that not feel like a compromising adjective?

“The point is, Alastor is dangerous. It would be best not to poke and prod him too much,” Vaggie runs a hand through her ridiculously long hair, huffing.

Poke and prod… Shit! Shit! Shit! That force I felt slap my power away earlier, was that him? Did he know it was me? No! No! No! This wasn’t good. This was anything but good.

The blood melted from your face.

“Hey toots, you don’t look so good. Maybe we should get ya’ back inside?” Angel’s arm comes to rest on your shoulder, leading you towards the doors. “Don’t sweat it too much. He’s harmless as long as you’re not a threat. He won’t lay a finger on ya’, we won’t let him. Right gurls?”

“Right.” They chime as you made your way through the double doors.

This job just got a lot more complicated…

SCREECH!

“What the fuck is that?” Husk yells from behind the bar, his claws over his ears.

The television by the fireplace hisses, having turned itself on.

“Welcome home!” The box sang. “I’m going to make you wish that you stayed gone!”

The screen jumped through a few stations of fuzz before settling on a news broadcast. Vox, the media demon, sat behind a reporter’s desk, going on and on about… the Radio Demon?

As if in response, the radio in the foyer screams to life, making the five of you jump.

“Salutations! Good to be back on the air!” You recognized the old timey voice as Alastor’s.

“What the fuck is goin’ on!?”Angel screamed over the noise.

Vaggie ran over to the television and ripped the cord out of the wall. No good, the television continued to flash images of Vox screaming as if he could hear and respond to Alastor’s radio.

The Exorcist fisted the cord in frustration before pulling her spear from the Void. Charlie stopped her, however, preventing her from destroying the only piece of real technology in this building besides the coffee maker.

The Hotel Natives and you were subjected to the torture that was Alastor’s and Vox’s tantrum, until finally, they both shut down.

“Holy Jesus, what the fuck was all that about?” Angel screamed, his ears ringing from the noise.

“Fucking Vox and his ego,” Husk grumbled from the bar. The cat poured himself a drink.

“Ahhhhhh!” A eardrum splitting scream pierced the air, making you all, yet again, jump and cover your ears. Vaggie ran to the radio and shut it off rescuing whatever was left of your hearing from… well, whatever the fuck that was.

“Was that part of Alastor’s bit?” Angel asked the room.

No one answered, for no one knew the answer. Seems Alastor is a big mystery around here.

“Drink anyone?” Husk raised a bottle of whiskey in question.

Fuck, after that you needed one. Silently cursing yourself for your lack of thoroughness in your research, you joined the bar cat.

You huffed as you sat on the stool.

“You good?” Husk asked, pulling out a menu.

“Yeah,” you rubbed your temples, willing the forming headache away. “Just a lot of homework to do.”

____________________________________________

It was late, the sky turning towards darkness as opposed to its usual red light.

The Greed Ring always smelled like metal to you. Not copper, like blood, but like the cold steel of coins. You weren’t in the Greed Ring, of course. Sinners couldn’t travel out of Pride - technically. Yet the stench clung to them nevertheless.

You landed at the bottom of the cement path leading to the mansion, outside the gates.

Normally your meetups were discreet, often conducted in the shadows of terraces, rooftops, or alleyways. Oh so rarely did people invite you inside.

But not this time. This employer loved appearances so much so that he rented out a mansion on the edge of town just for this: a meeting that would last five, ten minutes tops. The vanity of Greed…

The demons next to you jumped as black smoke began to curl away revealing a hooded figure.

“I believe I am expected,” a deep voice growled from beneath the fabric. Concealed in shadow, the shark demons opened the gate to let you pass, their guns shaking in their hands. Nearing the door, another set of demons stepped to the side, their eyes filled with fear.

Ugh, how you so enjoyed the scent of terror as it wafted in waves from their forms. Pathetic, honestly.

You found Crimson sitting before his fire, a glass of whiskey in hand, his hat set on the table next to him. The imp rubbed the bridge of his nose between forefinger and thumb, clearly it had been a long day. The servant standing next to him, whiskey bottle and towel in hand, leans down to alert him of your presence.

“Huh? What?” The crime lord jumps to his feet. “Already!?” He lets out a joyous laugh, before finding his hat and setting it between his horns.

Out of the corner of your eye, the waiter slinks from the room. The liquid in the whiskey bottle jostling as he shakes in fear.

“Chaz is swimming with the fishes already, aye!?” Both hands grabbing the lapels of his suit jacket, he stands before you, offering you a seat at the end of the table. Sliding into the head chair, he offers you a drink, which you refuse of course.

He takes a long sip of his whiskey, letting the burn sink in before continuing. “Did he suffer?”

You frowned. No questions. He knew this. That was part of the deal. It was always part of the deal.

“Ah, come on, can’t fault a guy for trying?” He laughs, but you aren’t amused.

As if on cue, a shark demon enters the room, dropping a suitcase onto the table before skittering out of the room. Crim opens the case and turns it towards you to reveal fat stacks of cash lining the case’s bottom.

“It’s all there, I assure you.” He lights a cigar and leans back in his chair. “Pentagram City currency, not the Native stuff.”

You ignore the money. You knew it was all there. You knew none of the bills were traceable. Crim was a pro when it came to moving money around. You didn’t have to worry about covering your tracks from this job like the last ones. Honestly, you didn’t deal in money that often. Your trade was in souls, but Crimson was a Hellborn, and head of a mafia gang at that. You’ve never done business with a Hell Native, so you were hoping your reputation was enough of a threat to keep him quiet.

But, the money wasn’t why you took this case.

You narrowed your eyes at him, knowing he could see their yellow glow - the only part of your face anyone ever saw - before slipping a black gloved hand from your cloak. His eyes find your fingers, uncurled before him expectantly, as the scent hits your nose.

Fear.

You knew this diphsit wasn’t stupid enough not to be afraid of you. Was it the sight of your claws? Or the red still staining the leather?

“Right. Right.” He dug into the hidden pocket of his jacket, producing an obsidian calling card. The flames from the fire flicker across its metal surface as he holds it out to you.

Finally, you had won this card back. It had taken forever to track it down after the last person you entrusted it with lost it in a game of cards. Of all the things to wager! You’d have killed the demon, but senseless death wasn’t part of your repertoire.

The card disappeared from the Pride Ring soon after, passing amongst the hands of Hell as it made its way downwards. It eventually became useless, a piece of metallic junk which eventually landed in Crimson’s hand. He figured out what it was, of course he would. He had eyes and ears everywhere - even in the Sinner’s Ring. So when he appeared in Pride a week ago and summoned you in the dead of night you knew you had to do whatever you could to get the calling card back.

Even if it meant taking down a low level mark and solving some petty personal drama. The calling card now safely tucked away in the leather of your shirt, you stood and made your way to the door.

“Ain’t you gonna take the money?” Crim motioned to the suitcase still sitting open on the table.

With a flick of your wrist the case closed, locked itself, and slipped into the Void.

As you exited the room you could hear the imp demon call out after you, “Pleasure doing business with yous!”

Crim was known to be a man of his word, or he’d soon find himself a dead man…

Link to Chapter Two!

Masterlist Link: Masterlist

#alastor smut #alastor x reader #alastor #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #reader insert #x reader #alastor x reader smut #alastor shadow #smut

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tilly-tilly-2827 · 7 months ago

Text

Why so Early?

Reimagining An Offer from a Gentleman #4

Synopsis: Benedict is hungry. Sophie is hungrier. What more is there to say? Or the first time Sophie takes matters into her own hands. Quite literally.

⚠️ SMUT SMUT SMUT? First time writing original smut. Is it smutty enough? Is this even a smut? I really don’t know. But this one is just cute and slutty. Or is it…? I’m spiraling. Hope you enjoy🥰

Post on AO3 from here!

Benedict felt quite dazed, lost in the afterglow of their lovemaking. But he knew he had to go again, with his newlywed wife laid elegantly naked before him, spread across his master bed like a forbidden fruit, ready to be devoured again. Sophie was still breathless and in raptures, not quite recovering from the sweet ecstasy Benedict had brought her to from their climax. But he knew that it wasn’t enough. Still feeling the intense heat of his body, his hands again wandered between her legs, wanting to taste more, ravish more.

More, more. Again Again.

After a rushed wedding and a small reception, Benedict and Sophie had turned straight back to Wiltshire, setting their way to my cottage. To avoid the rumors, he heard other people say, but Benedict was just happy to finally have Sophie all to himself. The last few days, he had hardly time to see her, with his mother and sisters hovering over her, dragging his to-be-wife across London shop after shop.

“Please, there’s no need to spend such fortune on me, Lady Bridgerton,” He heard Sophie whimper so many times as Benedict chuckled over his tea.

“Nonsense,” Violet had reassuringly replied every time. “You are already my daughter, my dear. You must have another dress for the reception. And you must call me Violet….”

But with the marital vows made(with floods of tears from Sophie, Benedict, Violet, and somehow Anthony) and the wedding cake finished (mostly by Colin), the two finally made their way to Wiltshire (despite angry tears from Hyacinth; how dare you take away my Sophie! I OBJECT to the marriage, Mother…”)The moment the carriage arrived in front of my cottage, Benedict had scooped Sophie off her seat and simply carried to his master bedroom, and settled her against the pillow and the sheets.

“Benedict!!” Sophie giggled as he nuzzled her neck, softly pushing her against the mattress.

“Do you have a problem, dear wife?”

“We have to greet Mrs. And Mr. Crabtree properly…” Her voice changed into a suppressed moan as Benedict nipped the edge of her ears. He slid his hands to her back, gently undoing the knots and the ribbons of her dress.

Buttons are so much easier, Benedict mindlessly thought as he skillfully pulled down her bodice, remembering the first time he had almost taken her down on the ground.

“But we greeted them at the door, my dear.”

“Benedict, I barely saw their faces!”

Satisfied with his handiwork (Sophie was now only in her chemise), he softly cupped her breasts over the thin fabric, his fingers softly teasing the tip of her bosom. He grinned as she mewled and squirmed under his touch, but he knew she still resisted to what would soon overflow.

“But Benedict, it’s disrespectful…”

She tugged his shirt in meaningless defiance, but of course, Benedict guilelessly removed his jacket and cravat; swiftly peeling off his shirt and onto the floor.

“But I’ll be disrespectful toward you, my dear.”

“I don’t feel disrespected at all, Benedict.”

“My dear, dear wife,” He whispered to her in his low seductive voice, which he knew would melt her in a puddle,

“It would be disrespectful to you if I didn’t fulfill my marital duties, is it not?”

It was the first night of their honeymoon, and as a husband should, he ravished her through and through, taking her down from front to back, sinking her into the sheets, sinking himself inside her warmth. With two years’ worth of dreaming in fantasy, of desperate craving, how many times he pounded inside her, it never seemed enough. Sophie was barely keeping up, the overwhelming sensation that fired inside her, the boundless hunger Benedict held was beyond her limits, beyond her imagination.

Although Benedict had taken her several times before the marriage, he had always been the sweet gentle lover, slowly guiding and leading her to pleasure and ecstacy. But in their marital bedroom, Benedict was like a man possessed, almost feral, desperate to mark her as his own. Sophie finally understood the depth of his appetite, the depth of his desire, the depth of his love towards her, and she tried her best to respond to his blazing devotion, but she could not think, or think at all. She could only but clutch tightly around his arms, bearly breathing between gasps and moans.

----------------------------------------------------

“Did I hurt you, Sophie?”

Sophie smiled softly as her husband asked her hesitantly with a slightly guilty look on his face. His fingers softly caressed her cheeks, and Sophie softly nuzzled her cheeks on his hands, enjoying his warmth.

“How could you ever hurt me, dear husband?”

“Did I go too rough on you?”

But Sophie laughed wholeheartedly, placing a small peck on his flushed cheeks.

“It was lovely, Benedict.”

Tired and breathless, but immensely satisfied, Ben softly wrapped his arms around his wife, cuddling her against her body. Finally finding the covers pooled around the foot of the bed, Benedict pulled them over their embraced bodies.

The woman in his dreams finally in his arms. Sophie Beckett, no, Sophie Bridgerton finally inside his embrace. Benedict smiled in contentment as he finally let his back rest against the sheets.

“I love you, Sophie.”

He softly whispered to her, placing a small kiss on her forehead.

“I love you too Benedict.”

At last, Benedict closed his eyes, feeling happier than he ever did before.

But he also did feel Sophie softly climbing on his thighs. He opened his eyes in surprise, and Benedict saw Sophie softly place her lips on his, timidly tickling the corner of his mouth, slightly hesitant about where it may lead. Benedict smiled softly, happiness bubbling up to him furthermore, enjoying the slightly tottering kisses Sophie was initiating. After all, he had always been the one who was stealing (and sometimes begging for) kisses, and he was pleasantly surprised by Sophie who had been so bashful from the beginning to initiate a kiss. But he was quite sleepy.

It was a perfect sweet kiss, and Benedict slowly closed his eyes, letting his mind wander, thinking how wonderful it is to sleep with the comfortable weight his wife of over his body, her smooth skin laid against his….

“Benedict,”

Benedict jerked awake, slightly lifting himself from the bedsheets as Sophie whispered his name breathlessly in his ear, her fingers softly running through his brow curls. His heart pounded as he saw the continuing flame in Sophie’s deep green eyes when he just managed to crack open his drowsy heavy eyes.

“My sweet, sweet, Benedict.”

Sophie cooed seductively as she put her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss even further. Try what he does to you, the wicked devil in her mind whispered to her. She softly trailed the edge of his lips with her tongue, thoroughly enjoying the sweet taste. Gently nipping his bottom lip with her mouth, her kisses moved from his chin to his jaw, and slowly moved to his neck, softly nuzzling his nape with her lips. Sandalwood and soap, the familiar smell seemed to fuel her fire even more.

Benedict groaned as Sophie placed a small kiss on the edge of his collarbone, her hands softly fondling his nipples. He softly snaked his arms around her waist, gently pushing her closer to him; encouraging her to continue the tender exploration Sophie was doing to his body, but he was, still a little sleepy.

So warm, so beautiful, Sophie thought as she ran her hands across his chiseled body, caressing the strong arms that held her tight, that loved and ravished her with all his might. Slowly, she let her hands wander lower and lower until they reached his thighs. She found herself shamelessly staring at his figure, the place she thought she would never experience in all her life.

I need to wake him up.

Her delicate fingers softly touched the tip of his manhood. His body jerked at her touch and she softly smiled, the power she had over his robust body was empowering, but she had learned from the past hours that this was not enough.

“Benedict”

Benedict could swear he saw her lick her lips ever so slightly as she whispered breathlessly,

“I want you…to get it up.”

Perhaps I have woken up the devil, he thought to himself, as she traced the outline of his length.

“Just once more, my love?”

The pure innocence in her tone, as if a little child were asking for another bite of chocolate. But the view in front of him was far from innocent, but right down erotic. Only white sheets gathered around her hips, Sophie was completely bare before him, glowing and shimmering under the moonlight. With her legs straddled over his thighs, her fingers softly caressing his heat, her face was flushed and breathless, her eyes burning with desire. Her presence alone would drive anyone to insanity; she was his Aphrodite, the goddess of love and lust, beauty and passion.

“Drink to me only with thine eyes,

He found himself uttering those words under his breath, overcome with the sensation and the dreamlike scenery that was spread before his eyes,

“And I will pledge with mine;”

There was a soft smile on Sophie’s lips as she followed his voice. Ever the romantic, she softly thought.

“The thirst that from the soul doth rise

Doth ask a drink divine;”

Gently grinding herself against his thighs, she softly placed a small kiss on his heat. The soft stimulation she left choked him, leaving him panting, and breathless.

“But might I of Jove’s nectar sup,

I would not change for thine.”

“Better than the kings of gods himself ?” Benedict tried to tease her newfound anticipation, trying to make a smirk, but he found himself gritting his teeth in a second, his hand tightly gripping the sheets of his bed as Sophie wrapped his manhood around her hands, slowly stroking his length.

“Sophie, Sophie, Sophie,”

“Flesh stays no further reason but rising at thy name.”

“Sophie, please,”

“Did William Shakespeare compose of deceit?”

He wanted to reply, but he could only groan. The teasing grazings of her thumbs were agonizing, and he tilted his head against the pillow trying to find some kind of relief. She grinned somewhat mischievously.

“So much for men’s carnal lusts and appetites, isn’t it?”

“Please, just wait a moment, Sophie, I just need time to recover, no, I mean I can get it up, but it’s just that men need more time to…”

Benedict moaned as Sophie’s lips again teased his manhood, tenderly tracing his manhood with her tongue. Sophie softly smiled, feeling his hardness return against her lips.

“I need you, Benedict,” Sophie murmured breathlessly against his lips as she took his hand, placing them on her soft breasts, as her hip movements grew more erratic.

“Give me my sin again,”

All at once, Benedict realized that although he was a rather sturdy man, (and women in the past have praised/chastised his physical stamina), his vitality was nothing compared to his beautiful wife before him, who had spent a lifetime in manual labor, working from dawn to dusk.

While he liked to consider himself as a young man of thirty, Sophie was still two-and-twenty, finally letting herself sink in the carnal lust and appetite that Benedict had led her in, the place Sophie had relentlessly rejected and repressed for years. For the most heartbreaking reasons. She was learning the pleasures and the depth of her sexuality, and Benedict was more than welcome to assist. Sophie was finally letting it go, falling apart in front of his eyes.

And luckily, he was fully restored by this point.

Benedict softly placed his hands on her hips, slowly guiding her to his heat, a soft moan escaping from both lips as she sank herself into his arousal. He gently guided her hips forward and backward, leading to her sweet pleasure as Sophie gripped his neck.

“My heart, my body, is ever at your service, Sophie.”

-----------------------------------------------------

“I’ve never thought I would want this so much.” Sophie quietly said as she rested her head against his chest, his arms tightly wrapped around her body. It was so peaceful and quiet that the moment almost felt ethereal, as she softly traced the lines of his rib cage, and his warm hands gently brushing her dark blond curls.

“By this do you mean my coc…”

“No! No! No! I meant….well, yes, but…”

Benedict chuckled as he planted a soft kiss on her ears that had turned bright red at his tease.

“I’ve…I’ve always been so terrified of it.”

Sophie’s voice was soft, almost like a prayer.

“It always felt so sinful, the ……craving desire I felt toward you. That I was going to drown myself in carnal flames, the sin of bearing another tragedy.”

Benedict tightened his embrace around her body. He knew that her thin ankles, her blistered hands and the remaining scars were a testament to her tragic past, and there was nothing he could do to erase her horrific memory. But he held on to her tight, wanting her to know that he was there by her side, she would never be alone again.

“But being in your arms, I never felt so pure.”

Benedict couldn’t see her face, her forehead nudged on his chest, but he knew she was crying softly, feeling the warm tears against his body. And somehow, his vision was beginning to become blurry as well.

“Sophie, can I ask you something?”

His voice was hesitant, almost apologetic.

“Of course, my love.”

“Why did you let me take you down on the sofa that day? If you were so scared of it?”

Sophie fell into silence, deeply sinking in thought.

Perhaps he should never have asked her that question. Perhaps she was regretting it, and he was the one pushing her to the sin that she feared for her whole life…

“Because I knew that you loved me, you foolish man,”

Sophie looked up at him with the most radiant smile he had ever seen, her moss-green eyes still shimmering with tears,

“And I loved you too,”

----------------------------------------------------

Benedict knew that it was a beautiful morning. Although feeling the soft sunlight pouring through the window against his back, he was not quite ready to open his eyes, wanting to stay in a peaceful slumber for a little while. He yawned and reached out his arms, trying to hold his dear wife in his arms again. He wanted to feel her warmth, and a wicked part of his mind yearned for Sophie to calm the wicked hunger he felt between his legs…

But his hands only felt the coldness of the silk sheets.

Benedict jerked awake, a slight panic taking over all his emotions.

Was it all a dream? The wedding? The cakes? The tears? The lady in Silver? Sophie Beckett? Had he been dreaming the most wonderful dream in his bedroom in my cottage?

Benedict leaped off the bed, grabbing a robe from his bedside. He looked out from the windows to the grounds but there was nobody in sight. The guest bedroom was empty as well, the bed furnished perfectly without a trace of being used, and Benedict felt a feeling of dread become stronger and stronger. The sitting room, the dining room, the library, nowhere he could find his wife, and he could feel his soul slowly descending into madness.

“Mrs. Bridgerton, there is no need for you to be in the kitchen! I’m handling everything perfectly at this moment, without your assistance!”

Mrs. Crabtree’s exasperated cry echoed through the hallway.

Mrs. Bridgerton. Mrs. Bridgerton. Sophie Bridgerton.

Benedict repeated his housekeeper’s voice repeatedly, a sense of relief spreading across his body.

So it isn’t a dream after all.

…But why was she in the kitchen?

Benedict dashed through the hallway to the servant’s halls, the conversation between Mrs. Crabtree and his wife becoming more audible.

“Mrs. Crabtree, please just let me take this..”

“Mrs. Bridgerton, how many times do I have to tell you to go back to your bedroom? You are the lady of the house…”

“Please Mrs.Crabtree, call me Sophie, not Mrs. Bridgerton.”

Judging from the grumbled tone of Mrs. Crabtree, Benedict assumed that the exchange of conversation had been going on for quite a while. As Benedict finally reached the door, he found his wife and Mrs. Crabtree desperately fighting over a tea tray.

“Oh, good morning Benedict!”

Sophie’s smile was so energetically cheerful.

“Mrs. Crabtree had made us such a beautiful breakfast, Benedict. I woke up rather early, so I wanted to be some help to Mrs. Crabtree…”

“I tried to stop her,” Mrs. Crabtree sent an apologetic look at Benedict, “I’ve tried to tell her that she does not need to lift a finger in this household…”

“Mrs. Crabtree.”

Benedict cut Mrs. Crabtree’s voice, completely aware that he was being rather rude. But it was the morning right after his wedding night. Mrs. Crabtree would surely understand, wouldn’t she?

“Might I borrow Mrs. Bridgerton for a while? Better get my wife off your hair for a while, perhaps for a few hours?”

“I see no problem there, Mr. Bridgerton.”

And in that moment Benedict again picked Sophie off her feet, carrying her over his shoulder. Sophie simply shrieked, her view had turned completely upside down.

“Benedict! But the tea! And the eggs! Anf the bacon! I was rather hungry this morning….”

“Newlyweds,” Mrs. Crabree sighed as she listened to the rhythmic thumping and uncomfortable racket above them. But Mr. Crabtree didn’t miss the small smile that crept up on her lips.

#Writer’s Notes

Ben Johnson and William Shakespeare.

I truly love your poems and plays.

You guys are geniuses; the masteries of words.

My writings are trash compared to your most beautiful, exquisite verses.

But I really know you guys were just SLUTS

Respect to the greatest sluts in England.

#benedict bridgerton #bridgerton #benophie #sophie beckett #benophie fics #benedict x sophie #an offer from a gentleman #bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton smut

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emmg · 19 days ago

Text

WIP whenever

because @heylittleriotact uno reverse'd me lmfao

bc grading essays is overrated, so here’s a lil’ something from the ridiculous fic I’m forcing my keyboard to suffer through. Plot? Absolutely none. Just Emmrook going on “dates” (and like also… smutty dates) suggested by the other clowns haunting the Lighthouse. This one’s SUPPOSED to end in a coffee date—because Lucanis—but I haven't written that yet lol

Honestly, it’s like… smut-crackfic with necromancy puns that should be punishable by law. I keep saying I’ll write a serious Emmrich one day, but let’s be real, that day isn’t today

Anyway, title? Don’t have one. I'm just throwing a bunch of dashes and slapping a read-more right before it gets too long so it doesn't invade anyone's dash

--------------

It’s the most absurd scene. Like, truly bonkers.

She hovers in the doorway, conveniently camouflaged by shadows, because though the cringe levels are searing her soul, she simply cannot look away. It’s like watching a runaway cart barreling downhill, if said cart was cobbled together with blissful ignorance and top-tier ineptitude.

There, crammed onto Harding and Neve’s favorite tiny sofa, are Lucanis and Emmrich. And they’re... talking? Sort of? It’s the most agonizing conversation she’s ever been subjected to, and that’s saying something. Lucanis is flailing his hands around, using them more than words, trying to drive home whatever point he’s failing spectacularly to make. Meanwhile, Emmrich, ever the dignified one, has one leg crossed so neatly over the other that it creates this little triangle of space that she suddenly wants to crawl into and hide from the embarrassment radiating off both of them.

"You see," Lucanis laments, his fingers forming that universal gesture of the confused and the desperate, “we went for coffee. But she, well, threw it back. Like a shot of spirits. It was not just any brew. This was from the frost-bitten slopes of the Vimmark Mountains. A dark roast with notes of juniper and just a hint of wild honey. You don’t just drink something like that—you experience it.” He shakes his head. “Her focus was all on that new case file, instead. And fish. Fried fish."

Emmrich nods along thoughtfully. “I understand. However, if I may be so bold, Lucanis, have you perhaps thought of discussing something besides coffee? A change of topic might open new avenues.”

"I did offer to sharpen her knives."

“Knives,” Emmrich repeats, as though weighing the term’s philosophical import. “And… Neve is known to possess a significant collection of blades?”

“No,” says Lucanis, flat as a pancake.

“Ah,” Emmrich replies, offering a sage nod. A wise and knowing “ah,” as if that somehow clarified things. "An unusual approach, then."

Desperate to claw himself out of this conversational pit, Lucanis asks, “Well, what is it you and Rook… do?” He stumbles over the words, as though simply asking has exhausted his entire social skill set for the year.

And now, it’s Emmrich’s turn to squirm. She can almost see his moustache twitching, wishing it could detach itself from his face and make a run for the hills. He looks away, frowning slightly, as though consulting some vast internal library.

They don’t go on dates. Please. Not even the hilariously doomed sort that Lucanis somehow subjected Neve to. For one, neither of them has the time for candlelit strolls with the world about to be ripped apart by blighted elven gods strutting around like they own the place.

Usually, she just pops into his room and fucks him while he pontificates about the finer points of romance. Oh, she always lets him go on for a hot minute, but once her lips are on his throat and her hands start wandering further south, he finally gets the hint, and that highbrow nonsense about “dignified courtship” goes straight out the window.

Emmrich, after clearing his throat, finally answers, "We discuss books."

From her shadow, she snorts. He's not wrong, technically. Just the other night, she had perched in his lap while he was reading some dry treatise on Fade energy attunement and the properties of dawnstone. He’d even launched into a detailed explanation while she kissed her way down his jaw and neck, hardly deterred by the lecture. Finally, when her hand wandered beneath his shirt, Emmrich, after a brief struggle to finish his monologue, allowed the tome to tumble from his grip.

So yes, “discussing books” might be accurate, but it’s hardly the whole story. And yet here sits Emmrich, steadfast in his scholarly pride, while Lucanis looks ready to take a long walk off a very short pier. She’s not sure which of them is more tragic.

“Hm,” says Lucanis, apparently having reached the absolute zenith of his conversational abilities.

“Ah,” Emmrich replies, with all the enthusiasm of someone describing mildew yet also, somehow, managing to sound very polite about it.

She saunters over to break this pathetic monotony of wall-staring both are currently engaged in.

“My dear,” Emmrich perks up, relief flooding his face as though she’s just rescued him from the depths of some social hell. His voice is full of that charming lilt he uses when he’s desperate to salvage his dignity.

He makes a half-hearted attempt to stand, all dignified and well-bred, but she waves him off with a lazy hand, signalling him to stay seated. And stay he does. Without missing a beat, she slides into his lap, practically draping herself sideways over him, arms winding around his neck. He tenses for a moment, exhales in resignation, but eventually gives in, one hand resting at the small of her back, fingers just barely grazing the line between respectable and… well, decidedly not.

“I hate when you do that,” Lucanis snarls from across the sofa, jabbing a finger at her.

“Yes, it’s not very proper,” Emmrich says with solemnity, though he’s showing absolutely zero signs of protest about her whole backside pressing against him.

With a serene, mischievous grin, she stretches her legs, casually extending them until they’re firmly invading Lucanis’ personal space.

“Mierda,” he grumbles, swatting at her ankle with all the fervor of a cat being swiped at by an annoying feather. “Rook.”

She just grins that beautifully infuriating grin. “Go back to your pantry, Lucanis,” she says sweetly, her tone one of pure, serene malice. “The gouda is getting lonely.”

Lucanis stalks off, glowering as if he’d chuck a knife at her head if he had one in hand. And she’s fairly sure he would.

She blows him a kiss. He shows her the middle finger. They’ll have coffee in the morning.

Meanwhile, Emmrich, ever the portrait of indulgent patience, looks up at her from his cozy place beneath her with a satisfied hum. “How was your day, darling?”

“Good,” she sighs, stretching further until her legs are practically colonizing whatever’s left of Lucanis’ side of the sofa. “Yours?”

Emmrich raises an eyebrow. Makes a contemplative sound deep in his throat. “Enlightening. Lucanis and I were just having… an intriguing discussion.”

“Oh?” she purrs, eyes glinting. “About what, pray tell?”

“Courtship,” he says, savoring the word as though it were some priceless artifact he’s just dusted off from an ancient shelf.

She smirks. “I’m sure you gave him absolutely riveting advice.”

“I certainly tried.” He heaves a great sigh, even rolls a shoulder in a semblance of a shrug. “Though, I fear our preferred methods diverge.”

“‘Preferred methods’?” she echoes, giving his thigh a playful squeeze. “Do enlighten me.”

Emmrich gives her a look that’s half-scholar, half-sufferer. “Well, I fancy a touch of romance, some… sentimentality, if you will. And Lucanis…”

“And Lucanis?” she goads.

“His idea of a grand romantic gesture involves… knives,” he finishes with a sigh of pure exasperation.

She can’t hold back the snort that escapes. “I mean, yeah, it’s Lucanis. Did you expect anything different?” She presses a little closer, trouble dancing in her eyes. “But for what it’s worth, I do love talking about books with you… so very much.”

Emmrich doesn’t miss a beat, a hint of sarcasm curling his lips. “So I’ve gathered.”

“Tell me more about your books, Emmrich,” she coos, batting her eyelashes with all the enthusiasm of a third-rate actress in a chintzy Orlesian play.

“If you’re genuinely interested, I would gladly oblige.”

“Oh, I’m interested,” she purrs, lowering her voice to a husky whisper. “In you talking… while you bend me over your desk.”

Emmrich rolls his eyes, his facade of feigned innocence dissolving in an instant. “There it is,” he says, shaking his head, fully resigned, and yet absolutely, unflinchingly unbothered. “Right on schedule.”

She giggles, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips, laughing against his skin as his mouth curves into a smile. His hand moves down her back, rubbing a little more insistently, as if he’s grounding himself—or maybe just unable to resist the urge to keep her right there.

And she doesn’t make it easy for him. She drags her legs back, swings one over his lap, and settles herself down, straddling him. For a moment, she just studies him, tracing her fingers through his hair, brushing little gray strands back, pressing featherlight kisses along his cheekbones. She moves to his jaw, his forehead, then teases at the edge of that absurdly high collar he insists on wearing like he’s hiding some grand secret rather than just a very biteable throat.

He is fine, she muses, is he not? So impossibly precise, so painfully detailed. He’s all sharp angles and sleek lines, with those maddeningly long fingers that look like they could carve through a mountain if they set their mind to it, and legs that seem to go on for days. Tall, lean, graceful, and—she smirks—a touch too verbose for his own good.

There’s a tragic elegance to him, too, a sort of quiet, melancholic dignity wrapped up in age and maturity, like a bottle of rare, finely aged wine that’s only gotten more complex with the years. A shame, really, that he’s about to be thoroughly enjoyed by someone who wouldn’t know a fine vintage from a spoiled ale.

She’ll savor him all the same, every last bit.

When she takes his hands, winding her fingers through his, she feels him smile—a real, soft thing, so she leans down and steals it right off his mouth. She licks along the seam of his lips, teasing, before he finally gives in and parts them, letting her kiss him in earnest.

“I like your rings,” she murmurs as she pulls back, letting their mouths part with a wet pop, a little string of saliva snapping between them. “They make you look expensive.”

“Not too expensive, I hope,” Emmrich teases. “Otherwise, I fear I’ll meet the same fate as every artifact your merry Lords of Fortune collect. Pilfered in the night, sold to the highest bidder. One moment here, the next—poof. Gone.”

She makes a show of sighing, voice deadly serious. “Oh, don’t worry about that. I’d rig the auction, slip in a pretty penny or two, then plant an inside man to bid on you. Coin in one hand, you smuggled back to me in the other. All in one night.”

He laughs, that rich, throaty sound she loves, and she can feel it rumbling up through his chest. “All that trouble just for me?”

She leans in, lips brushing his ear. “Consider it my own little courtship ritual,” she whispers, nipping at his earlobe. “Better than dinner and a walk, don’t you think?”

He chuckles, his hands slipping to her hips, holding her close as if he’s half-tempted to test just how well she could pull off that heist. “Dangerously persuasive, as usual.”

For a while, she stays just as she is, savoring the closeness, every slow inhale filled with the scent of him, the warmth of his body against hers. She steals little kisses, grazing his jaw, breathing her laughter against his skin each time he starts to smile. She loves the quiet, the intimacy of it all, though she loves his voice just as much. Sometimes, she asks him to read aloud, not for the content, but for that smooth, careful cadence that rolls through her and makes her feel so, so good. She’ll rest her head in his lap, fingers idly tracing patterns on his hands, kissing his knuckles, his fingertips, watching his face as he reads.

Now, there’s nothing for him to read, but she leans into him all the same, letting his quiet words fill the space. He murmurs, babbles, whispers soft nonsense as he unlaces her hair, fingers brushing through the waves, watching as they fall in gentle cascades over his lap. She exhales, content, her eyes half-closed, perfectly happy just to listen as his voice drifts around her, soothing and familiar.

She simply listens, resting her head on his thigh, gazing up at the ceiling, fingers trailing over his hands, kissing his fingers one by one, lingering on each touch. Her teeth gently scrape along his skin, letting her tongue follow in a slow, winding path. She feels his breath hitch, hears him stumble over his words as she nibbles down each finger, tracing her tongue along the edge before she takes it into her mouth, sucking just enough to leave him squirming. She lets each finger slip from her lips with a wet pop, savoring the way his composure falters, how he tries—and fails—to keep his voice steady as she drags her mouth over the center of his palm, kissing, licking, leaving nothing untouched.

He’s given up on this one-sided dialogue entirely, his gaze drifting from her to the room around them—the door, the table, the empty corners where nothing but dust bunnies, or perhaps a few stray Fade bunnies, lurk in silence.

“Dear,” he murmurs, glancing down at her. “We ought to move.” He gives her a gentle nudge, even tries to rise himself, but she’s not having it.

“Oh, but you look so good here,” she protests, her voice dripping with mock innocence. “They’re all asleep, Emmrich. Even Lucanis, that kitchen rat, is probably curled up in his pantry right now, snuggling his precious wheel of parmesan.”

Emmrich lets out a long, put-upon sigh, like he’s reaching deep into his reserve of patience, maybe for some scolding remark, but he finds none. His shoulders drop as he finally relents, letting her kisses chip away at his restraint. She leans in, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper, detailing exactly what she wants him to do with those hands of his—where she wants those fingers, how she wants them stroking, filling, plunging, curling…

“Well then,” he manages, and she laughs, a short, wicked little sound, straight into his mouth.

She slips down his body, her hands already at his waist, working his trousers loose with a grin that says she knows exactly how flushed he’s become. She murmurs something obscene, barely a whisper and almost incoherent, her smirk widening as she leans in closer, taunting, “Come on, Emmrich, don’t tell me no bone was ever… poked… in that crypt of yours, right out in the open for all to see.”

“It’s the Grand Necropolis,” he corrects, like that’ll somehow keep his dignity intact, “and we most certainly do not… poke.”

She undoes the last of the many - too many - buttons on his trousers before freeing him just enough to take him in hand. And oh, would you look at that, for all of his posturing he's already hard. All that wriggling on top of him certainly led to something, she thinks.

“Oh?” she hums, tracing her fingertips over his bare skin, savoring the way he stiffens under her touch. She leans forward, her lips brushing against his length as she murmurs, “Not even a quick tumble between the tombs? Not a single bone used for inspiration?”

His restraint crumbles as she flicks her tongue over him, taking her time, drawing out each little shiver, each catch in his breath, making sure he’s utterly undone before she finally lets her mouth close around him, her gaze locked on his as she starts to take him deeper, her mouth warm, wet, greedy. And as she feels him sink back, his hands clenching in her hair, she knows she’s finally broken that perfect composure, and she couldn’t be more pleased.

Then she pulls back just enough to speak. “So, tell me, is this what you meant by reanimation techniques?”

Emmrich sighs, dragging his free hand over his face as if he could somehow block out the utter cringe tumbling out of her mouth, his fingers twitching, though she doesn’t give him a moment’s peace. She lowers her head again, sucking him in, hollowing her cheeks, before releasing him yet again, his cock slipping past her lips with an obscene, wet pop. “You know," she muses, "I’d say you’re looking rather stiff.”

A sharp exhale escapes him, a half-laugh, half-moan that only encourages her further. She picks up her pace, taking him deeper, her hands braced against his hips as she moves with a steady rhythm, doing that little thing with her tongue she knows he likes, she knows that everyone likes, a talent truly, swirling all the way around, pressing it flat on the underside of his cock, only to suck her way up, breathe hot air against him, before swallowing him again.

Between every few breaths, she pulls back just enough to taunt him, her voice syrupy with mock innocence. She can barely hold back the laughter as she watches him react, his hips bucking ever so slightly with each tease, like clockwork, so deliciously predictable. “Come on, love. I thought resurrection was your specialty?”

“Blasphemy,” he mutters above her, though there’s no real heat in his voice.

“No, no.” She rests her cheek against his thigh, stroking him instead with a slow, deliberate touch, her palm warm and slick, her grip firm. “Think of it as… a rather intensive course in raising the dead.”

The absurdity of it hits her right as she says it—her last attempt at an erotic pun officially surpassed—and she breaks, a snort escaping as she buries her face against his leg, her shoulders shaking with laughter.

But then she feels his hands shift, pulling her up by her arms, and she yelps, startled, before giggling as he hauls her up, settling her right back on top of him.

“That’s quite enough of that,” Emmrich whispers.

As he catches his breath, she wipes her mouth, grinning at him with all the smug satisfaction of someone who’s just completely dismantled a man who prides himself on his restraint. She feels his fingers on her chin as he angles her face back towards his so he can kiss her and she's not shy, she tangles her tongue with his immediately, tasting as much of him as she can reach, even tracing the edge of one canine before retreating for breath.

“Think you could, I don’t know…” She waves a hand around aimlessly. “Necromance my pants away?”

He smiles, curling her hair around his fingers where it frames her face. “No, dear. I’m afraid that is not in my skill set.”

#my rook is a chaos goblin in case you haven't noticed #emmrich is emmrich idk what to say #emmrich volkarin #emmrich x rook #wip whenever #the fact that we don't get to make inappropriate necromancy jokes is a tragedy #emmrook

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keeponquinning · 2 years ago

Text

Yes, Professor — Part One of Three.

Joseph Quinn x Erotica Novelist Fem!Reader. 18+

Word Count — 4.6k

Summary — slightly based on this, but mainly. You're Joseph's secret writer girlfriend who you met amidst the start of his convention tours, things are hot and heavy between you two, though strained for the inconvenience of not living in the same city and not being official. You're forced to spend a week apart but plan to meet up with him back in London on the last day of his Con appearance, and after teasing him for his Professor type choice of outfits, well, you just couldn't resist showing up dressed as your professor's favorite student, now could you? We thought not.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Part One — He's in London, you? Are not. In a party for you best friend's boyfriend, you manage to get him in a call, hearing his voice, laughing, conversations wishing to see his face, but you can take what you can get.

Preview —

Warnings — Not too many, nothing really smutty happens this part, maybe some dirty talk. Established relationship, it is a big ol' RPF and my first attempt. If not your thing, that's valid AF, just don't be mean / a dick about it. I am but a drop in this massive ocean called Tumblr, just swim on past and enjoy the waves without me if it bothers, I beg. There's also cursing. 18+ so minors, PLEASE, DNI!

Notes — Oh, this came out sooner than my last one, huh?? Mainly because I decided to split this into three parts instead of one big ol' one shot. I def learned my lesson lmao I had a lot of fun writing this, dialogue and banter are my fave things and there was a lot of that in this. Kinda fell in love with these two and planning on doing an actual multi-chaptered fic with them, how they met, all that jazz, let me know if it's something you'd want. Or not, if I get just one person like "yes, please" I'll do it bc people pleasing tendencies fuel me. I've left Reader pretty vague and ambiguous but we do have her mentioning Joseph's British-ness and obviously not living in the same continent because transatlantic romance is so rom com it hurts, but, feel free to ignore that and implant your own background on her, kinda the point, right?? Alright, hope you like this! Like, Reblog and Comment, they fuel me and make my heart go pitter patter!

Taglist — @lunaapis , @munsons-mayhem28 , @inourtownofhawkins , @hopperscock ( i fucking love this url you have no idea )

"What are you wearing?"

You hear an amused chuckle on the other end of the call, along with a distinct clicking of tongue. "...don't I get a hello first or are you missing me that much?"

A snort comes out your way, totally undignified, but he'd never call you out on it. "I mean, I am, but... Shut up." He's cackling now, that laugh that makes you smile stupidly and you're glad you're on an audio call rather than face time — though you wouldn't mind seeing his stupidly pretty face. "I'm serious, what are you wearing?"

"Why are you asking?" his voice strained, amused, but strained. He must be smiling, his laughter barely dying down.

Taking a deep breath, you explain, "Because I haven't seen you in a week and from the photos I've been seeing of you all day today... I need to prepare myself for when I see you tomorrow."

"I need you to repeat that, not the nonsense about my clothes but the...seeing me tomorrow bit."

Your eyes closed, lips stretching in a smile that, in the crowded room you were in the middle of, you tried to suppress. Teeth biting your lip, eyes cautiously looking around the party you were attending but your mind being on a man across the pond as it were, you let out a soft scoff. "....I need to prepare myself for when I see you tomorrow."

"Damn fucking right you will," his voice low, almost a growl that was...unfortunate, considering your surroundings. But more important, his tone was wistful. You heard the sound of gentle squeak, taking to mean that he sat on his bed, one that you missed very much at the moment. "I can't wait for that, and you will be needing to prepare yourself once we're alone... I fucking miss you."

"Mmm, your voice notes kinda gave that impression, yeah," you chuckled, hearing his as well. "Though I enjoyed hearing them when I wake up. It's lame, but, I do miss hearing your voice first thing in the morning." You hear him take a deep breath, exhaling with a soft hum. "Among other things. Hotel beds are just a bit too cold without you."

"Mhm, feeling the same way with my own bed, darling. Have to remind myself it's just been a week, but, feels a bit longer. Can't wait to have you back, though I know, temporarily."

"I know," this time it was you that sounded wistful. You knew you shouldn't, it was a good reason you'd be away from him. The latest in your book series was out there, digitally and in a week, in physical form. The gap between that and the previous book a bit too wide for your liking, or that of your publisher and readers. It was good that you finally finished it, but in that, included a tour of the book, which meant away from him, your sort of boyfriend. "At least you'll have me for a week, well, between your filming, anyway. Enough time for your friends to get sick of me and then wish I went away to have you to themselves again and for my friends to miss the me that isn't attached to your hip."

"Hah," he scoffed, a sound of a stretch that you could only assume was him laying down on his bed. "My friends are sick of me now, keep complaining about how I miss you. Even have Wes saying if I'm this needy without you, can't imagine how you handle me by your side, so, you've somehow got their sympathy and on your side, I'm the problem now, apparently." You couldn't hold in the laugh that barked its way out of you, and you could hear the offense even from the other line. "Oi. Don't laugh, you knew I was needy from the get go, I made no attempt to hide that."

Recovering from the laugh, you have a nod, though you knew he couldn't see, "Yeah, you are a bit of a clinger." Your smile still lingering, eyes soft, "But... It's...kinda one of your more endearing qualities, so... I'll take it."

"Oh, how gracious of you, accepting that I fucking adore you to the point of being miserable enough without you and getting on my friends fucking nerves"

He always made you laugh, you didn't even know if he intended to, but you could hear him laughing alongside you, so he must have, right? "God, hearing you curse is the best, y'know? You seem like a nice, proper boy, but then you curse and it..." You shake your head, "Makes me miss you more."

You heard him scoff, a wet sound, and you could almost see him licking his lips with a smile. "I know, dead sexy and all that... Hard to resist."

A shrug of your shoulders, more to yourself, of course, "...it kinda is. Makes me wanna do things to you to make you curse more..."

He groaned, which was also a lovely noise on its own. "Don't say things like that when you're not in grabbing distance, it's not fair."

You smiled, almost wickedly, eyes catching sight of your best friend, the only reason you were away from him at the moment. "Yeah, well, at least you're alone on your bed, I'm surrounded by people in my pretty dress, not getting grabbed and kissed by you and..." you trailed off as said best friend stopped in front of you, a pointed brow arched. You cleared your throat, smile still in place, "Which is totally fine, because I'm here to support my best friend and her crazy talented boyfriend on his birthday and album release and I'm totally fine with it."

"Mhm," she let out with a nod, "What I thought. Hi, Joe, can you two say goodbye because said boyfriend is gonna start up in a few minutes and I will not have you two have phone sex while he's performing, thank you."

"Excuse me!"

"You're not excused! You're so not excused — you're not allowed."

"That's just—" you were about to say rude when you very clearly hear the cackling on the other end of your call. "Stop laughing! You're not allowed to laugh right now, that's not fair."

"I'm sorry!" he let out, his voice thin, high, and you could hear an attempt to calm the laughter — but an attempt he did not win as more laughter came rolling out, making your lips twist and wanting to laugh despite yourself. Why did his laugh have to be so infectious sometimes? "I'll stop, I swear..." he continued, making you roll your eyes, looking at the smirking face of your best friend. "....oh, god... Tell Jen I said hello."

You couldn't help but let out a soft laugh, looking over at her, "The painfully British one says hello, because manners maketh the man I'm sure."

Jen cackled as well, shaking her head, "I'll give you two like, ten minutes, tops. You're introducing them, remember?"

"Of course. Ten minutes." A mock salute given, you watch as she turned toward the stage of the intimate venue, just a smaller group of closest friends. Taking a deep breath, directing your attention to your phone, "J o e."

"Oh, no, not Joe. I'm always in trouble when I get Joe instead of your usual Joseph."

"Damn right, that was not cool, I know we're not official, but, you have to have my back. It's the most chivalrous thing to do."

He snickered, "I'm... I'm sorry, I'm sorry! But, well," you heard him release a soft laugh, then heard, "...not to point fingers but you did start the conversation asking me what I was wearing... So was that...not where this was heading...?"

You clicked your tongue off the roof of your mouth very disappointingly, kind of. "No, you perv, I just wanted to know if my sort of boyfriend is going to continue dressing up as a slutty professor so I can figure out how to handle seeing that in person."

"I—" he started, but words cut off with a snicker, and then a proper laugh. "You—Okay. Several things. Don't fucking call me your sort of boyfriend. I am your boyfriend, just.... Well. Secret boyfriend. At least for now—"

"—until your publicist deems me worthy of being known to be dating you."

"No, just... Until we're more established, is all. And I am looking forward to that, taking you to events and such. I'd love to go to the book tour with you, show off how fucking proud I am of you and this book. But... I also don't want to overshadow your accomplishment, the way it's so mad right now. But I am your boyfriend, I know you say it in a joking manner with Jen and our friends, I get it, but... And it's fine to joke about it. Really. But I need you to know it's real for me and I hope it is for you, too. It... It is, isn't it?"

You smiled softly, his words warming your heart more than they should, once again blown away by his sense of sincerity. You never really dated anyone like that before and sometimes, it honestly takes you by surprise. "... Yeah, I know. And I don't mind it, honestly. I'd end things if I did... You're my boyfriend and I'm your girlfriend and...if my joking around hurt you in any way, then I'm sorry, you know I don't mean it. Not with something like this. You...mean a lot to me in a very short amount of time and...it's kind of overwhelming sometimes."

There was a soft sigh, a pleased one, from the other end of the call. "I know. I feel the same. Was never expecting you, or anyone, not like this. And no, you didn't hurt me, not one bit. There's no worry of that. I just needed you to know, I'm in this with you."

Though you certainly didn't need to hear it, there's a lightness from within your chest at his words, a light ease in your breathing and your soft smile grew wide. You didn't need him to confirm what you already knew, but, it was lovely to hear. "Me too. I'm in this, too. Especially if you're going to be sweet like that," you end with a light chuckle, joined by his own. "Not fair on your part. But, I'll let it pass."

"My girlfriend is very gracious like that, I'm so lucky to have her."

"Don't you forget it. Okay. I'm assuming you had more to say?"

"Yes, thank you for that. Was quickly getting side tracked... I just wanted it to be known that I am severely disappointed that phone sex is off the table, that broke my heart since we've been in an almost constant state of phone tag, its ridiculous," you giggled at that, actually giggled which was rare. And he knew it, you could hear his chuckle, and though you couldn't see him, you knew he was pleased with that smug little smirk on his lips. "But, I'll survive that. Also. Slutty professor? I've no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, come on. You dress like a romantic, slutty professor to these things and you know it."

"I think someone's too far into their own erotica stories and confusing some things, I... Dress as a professional. I have to. My stylist deems it so and I just...do as I'm told."

"...Joseph. What were you wearing today, and don't lie, I've seen the pictures. I just wanna hear you say it."

"You're being absolutely ridiculous, I... My loafers, my favorite ones, trousers, erm... Blue button shirt and... Well, a cardigan..." There was a pause, and you knew he was rethinking it all. "...beige cardigan and.....my dark grey...coat—okay. Maybe... Maybe it was a bit professor-ish. You...might be on to something there..."

"Uh-huh. Dressed like a professor who cares and has long office hours for any of his students to come by to unwind..."

"Stop that," he let out with a laugh. "That should be your next book."

"Oh, who says it won't be? I'll dedicate it to you, for inspiration. I'm assuming you'd be open for me to come to you for...brainstorming? Test out scenes, just, y'know, for the sake of art and authenticity?"

"Morning, noon and night, yes, I'm all yours and your....creativity." He chuckled, softly, there was a lingering silence between the two of you, and then a groan from his end. "Just out of curiosity... Would... I dunno, say...a sweater vest, erm... Like....Oof, a grey one with a dark jacket, that um... Is that slutty professor chic, you think?"

"I fucking knew it."

"Hold on! It was... It was a thought... Are you into the slutty professor look, though?"

"Why do you think I called you in the first place? Yes, of course I'm into it. Do you know what it's like, seeing your pics all over my social media, people sending me pics of you with that cardigan and long coat and just... Do you?"

You could almost hear his smug smile as he let out an even soft chuckle. "I do, actually... You're wearing that burgundy dress aren't you?" Your brows rose, though you didn't say anything, not yet. A soft little hum buzzing into your ear through your phone. "I've been stalking your instagram the past week, so I saw the picture you posted today. It's that burgundy dress I like. The one with the bow at the hip and the... The matching choker with the jewelry that you think is almost tacky but... I like it. Gave me something to look at the other time you wore it, remember that? Was it New Years? Took you to an empty room right before countdown, lifted your skirt and—"

"S t o p, we're not doing that, not now," though you smiled, remembering the moment quite clearly, feeling your skin flush especially as he laughed then. He had such a nice, deep, warm laugh sometimes. "...okay, so, yes, I'm wearing that dress... It's not the same, though, like, aside from that choker you love so much, it's pretty tame in comparison..."

"Mm, not for me. I love that color on you. I love anything on you if it means I can take it off of you. And—a cardigan's tame. A long coat is tame."

"The hell a long coat is tame, that's... Anyway, you wear the slutty professor really well and it's not fair. Especially if you're going to to do tomorrow. After being away from you a week... That's cruel, baby. I won't even be able to touch you until the con's over." You heard him hum, probably thinking the very same. A thought comes, making you chuckle suddenly, "I should retaliate."

"...oh god," he let out, clearly recognizing when a wicked thought comes to mind. "Pray tell, how?"

"Why... Professor..."

"....Oh, fuck."

"Yup. By dressing up as one of your favorite students, of course."

"....jesus fucking christ." You heard a small groan, "God, you would, wouldn't you? I don't know if I could take that. It's been a week, body going in withdrawal without you and the sight of you with knee high socks..."

"Hmm. Telling that the knee high is the first thing you go to. Noted."

He chuckled, "Yes, well... The thought of you in knee highs is rather... I wouldn't take them off. Not the entire time."

Your smile widened, biting your bottom lip. "Yeah? Mmm. Well, good, because I'd definitely wear your favorite colors, just for you, Professor."

"Fuck off," he said softly, though, and when you laughed, you heard him let out a breath. "Shit. I can't shake the image, now. My favorite student, dressed so pretty for me. Looking nice and soft...with uh..." He exhaled, "Burgundy knee highs, snug and soft..."

You kept a careful eye around you, trying so hard to suppress your smile. But the sound of his voice was so...alluring, finding yourself squeezing your thighs a little bit. "Keeping up with the color theme, I see..."

"It is my favorite color at the moment, especially on you."

You hummed, "Okay. Question, knee highs or thigh highs?"

"No," his voice instant, "Gotta be the knee highs. I'd want... I'd want your thighs absolutely bare. For my fingers to run and roam over the skin... And...then, y'know... I wouldn't be able to resist to kiss you there as well. Gentle ones of course, but, being away from you this time...wouldn't be long until I start biting..."

A breathless laugh escapes you, now not even caring if anyone looked or listened in on you. It had been a while since you talked to him in real time, without having to push play, it was too good to cut away from. "For someone that says they can't write for the life of them, you're not doing too bad, Professor. You might give a run for my money if you ever decide to go into the erotica business."

"Mmm, tempting, but no. I'll leave that to you. It'd just be a novel of me fucking you and I'd rather have the real thing. But... Was I good enough to get you wet for me, darling?"

It shouldn't make you blush, you built your whole career in literary dirty talk and seducing your readers with your words... But when Joseph did it, his words and voice always struck you deep. Much deeper than any other partner had, which was slightly scary and mainly thrilling. You felt the heat creeping up your neck, a soft giggle being awarded to him. "....you know you are." You heard a pleased sigh from him, taking in a deep breath as you try to calm yourself. That no, sneaking off wasn't an option, that the growing ache between your legs would have to wait, even if you wouldn't have him talk you through it, guide you toward climax in the only way he could. But. "You got me wet and feeling it now every time I walk around in my pretty burgundy dress in a room filled with people."

"Well... I'm alone in my lonely room with a very bothersome hard on and... Probably feel lonelier still when we say our goodbyes and I'll only have my hand and thoughts of you in your pretty burgundy dress, wet, wishing I can feel just how wet you are."

You let out a breath, closing your eyes a moment. "...and I'd wish it was my hand, my mouth, on that...bothersome hard cock," you heard him groan, making your heart flutter, as well as your cunt. "Like I've been fantasizing this past week."

He took a deep breath, you could hear the exhale produce static on your end, a soft hum. "Same here, love. Suppose we'll be doing the same thing tonight..."

With a dejected sigh, you have an affirming hum, "Our ten minutes are about done. Otherwise I'd sneak to a room somewhere and..." You chuckled, "Tell you in excruciating detail the things I'd do to you to make you curse." His laugh comes out at that, making your smile spread further on your face. "But. I am due on stage to introduce my best friend's boyfriend and his band, so... She'd kill me if I missed that, and then would go and kill you, and no one wants that."

"No, no, we do not. That's fine. More to release when I see you tomorrow. Probably keep you to myself for the rest of the week, fair warning, darling."

"Yes, Professor. I'm very okay with that."

The way he groaned at that made your heart flutter again, as well between your legs. You did miss him, terribly, your fingers and toys did little to satisfy you, not without his warmth, his kiss, the moans you'd swallow and hunger for more. "...keep that up and I won't want you to call me anything else."

"Is it bad I kinda like it? P r o f e s s o r?"

He gave a helpless laugh, "Shit, it is. It's very bad of you. Naughty, even. Wicked. My poor coc—"

"Tomorrow, only until tomorrow. And then I'll make it up to you, in any way you want me to. I'll call you professor if you want me to."

"I knew there was a reason you're my favorite student..." You smiled and you could feel he was smiling too. "Okay. I'm going to give you back to your best friend, again. Thank her for me, for letting me have you to myself for this long."

"I will, she'll expecting nothing less. Think of me?"

He chuckled, and you could picture him shaking his head. "When am I not? Especially right now, left to my own devices... Until I have you to myself again." You heard him take a sharp intake of breath, "Have fun, yeah? I love you."

You felt like a teenager again, at the sound of those three words, said recently, right before you left. A slip of the tongue, but meant with sincerity from you both. "I love you, too. I'll see you... Bye."

"Bye, darling. I can't wait."

There was a heaviness that weighed on you as you ended the call, knowing it had to be you, otherwise you wouldn't end it at all. The warmth of his voice lingered, the image of his face imprinted on your brain, curling your fingers around your phone. A thought hitting you like lightning, going to messages and tapping quickly.

Send me a voice note. I wanna hear you.

He liked it.

Your smile widening as you turned around, dumping your phone into your purse and with your heels, made it toward the small stage where the band were setting up. Hands went to Jen's shoulders, hugging her from behind. "I'm all yours, now. He said thank you for letting him have me for the call."

She scoffed with a roll of her eyes, "Gross, you guys are gross."

"Shut up, we're cute." Jen seeming unconvinced. "Whatever, I'm happy."

Your best friend gave a shrug, "Then that's okay." You pulled away and stood beside her, and she took a breath. "He does seem to make you happy and... I don't hate that. Just the whole...secret relationship thing gives me pause." Crossing her arms, she looked to you, raising her brow. "Be honest.... You really okay with it? Because if you are, I'll back off and be one hundred percent for you guys. Because he is nice and seems crazy about you and I haven't seen you this happy in a while... I just don't want you hurt, y'know? I'm not being a bitch—"

"You're never a bitch—" you interjected, pausing as you two looked at each other, and you smirked. "Okay, well, yeah, you are, but for good reasons. A boss bitch, through and through." You paused a bit, giving a shrug of your shoulders. "I dunno. We talked about it... I kinda get it, he kinda blew up overnight and doing...so many things and I... I can't even imagine. I got booktok and like... Well, this book tour, but, obviously nothing on his level. He seems more concerned about if it came out, he'd overshadow my book and the press for it." Which you did appreciate, you worked hard, but part of the reason you got the book done as fast as you did was his encouragement. Being the first to read your pages, his excitement over the story you crafted holding a huge part. "It would have been nice to dedicate the book to him, but, since we aren't....out, didn't really feel right."

"Mmhm..."

"But. I don't know, at first it was kind of fun, sneaking around, dodging photographers, you know. Secret affair type of thing except not being horrible with spouses to cheat on, that kind of thing? And we were casual at first, seeing other people, until... We weren't and...not casual anymore. I mean, it's kind of still fun but also...not."

Taking a deep breath, she sighed. "And how long until it's not kind of fun for you?"

Looking over at her, you frowned, hating that she had a point. "I don't know. I'm not there yet... And I'm hoping it doesn't come to that because... I'm really fucking happy with him." Raising your brow, you give her a reassuring smile. "I'll be careful. And if I'm not, you can kick my ass about it."

"Deal," she agreed to, seeming a little lighter about the situation. "So, is he still going to dress all Mr. Darcy as a Professor when you see him?"

"I swear, he's a walking Jane Austen leading man, like it's just straight up Professor without him even trying." She laughed, you joining in. "It's gotta be a British thing, it has to." Laughing a bit harder, "I teased him with an idea, though, dressing up like a student."

"Oh? Oh, that'd be perfect. Are you meeting him after that con or...?"

A sly smile comes across your face, then, looking at her with a slight chuckle. "Mmm... Don't laugh, but... I actually planned on surprising him at the con?" Your smile widened as she gasped, looking at you agape. "I bought a photo and autograph with him. I knew there'd be no chance on the day of and I thought it'd be cute, you know? He doesn't know."

"Oh, God, I hate to say it, but that's fucking adorable! And kinda genius." Her eyes widened, "You know, though... I mean... The set up's too perfect, you have to dress all slutty student."

"Hey, slutty is for Halloween, I'd be dressed as his favorite student, with knee highs, he seemed very into that."

If her eyes could widen even further, Jen's would, letting out a bark of a laugh. "Oh my god, knee—no, no," shaking her head. "You are doing this. You are gonna do this. Listen...we're gonna make this happen."

"We don't have time, I'm getting the red eye, remember? And by the time this is over—"

But she was determined, shaking her head, "Nope, look. You're gonna introduce the band, because you are my amazing writer friend and words are your thing. We'll stay for a few songs, and then I'm going to take you shopping, okay? I'm making this happen, I'm gonna make this happen for you."

"I thought he gave you pause and you're gonna work this hard to make a fantasy come true for him?"

She wagged her finger from side to side, "Oh, no, no. Not for him, for you. Look, he seems great and he probably is, and maybe there will be a time where he's like a brother to me, but right now? I believe you when you say he makes you happy and that you're happy with him, I see it, so, I'm doing this for you. Because you are my best friend and that's love, bitch."

"I love you. Like... You'll always be my first love, in a totally platonic kind of way. Only because of the fact that you're annoyingly straight."

Jen sighed, "I know, it's a pain, but, we'll always have each other's backs and our hearts, before anyone else." Her gaze going toward the stage, her musician boyfriend giving her a nod, releasing a soft smile. "We didn't do so bad, though. You're up. Make me proud of my boyfriend, okay?"

"Oh, yeah, how do you want me to go about it? Soft and emotional, very serious or...roast him but from the heart?" You both looked at each other for a moment, the answer quite clear.

"Roast him."

for your consideration....

#words did come hither — writings #joseph quinn — writings #joseph quinn smut #joseph quinn fic #joseph quinn x fem!reader smut #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn x reader

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novamirmirsblog · 2 years ago

Text

Choo Choo +18

Genre: fluff/smut

Pairing: Natasha x fem!reader

Word count: 3,029

Request: no

Warnings: SMUTTY SMUT SMUT. MINORS DNI <3

A/n: it's funny cause this was supposed to end with just a kiss but that damn other fic has broken my brain and I needed to procrastinate going back to it for a little while. Anyways, enjoy this unhinged fic cause I stayed up till 1am writing this lil pot of nonsense <3

You were settled down, just about to open your book when a redhead burst into your cabin.

The two of you just stared at each other.

"Can I help you?" You asked uncertainly, suddenly second guessing that this was even your cabin to begin with.

"No, just-" She cut herself off, looking around the cabin before her eyes settled back on your face "act like we know each other?"

Ah. So she's not bought a ticket then. At least she's pretty. You thought to yourself as you gave her a curt nod. She took that as an invitation to sit down opposite you.

You could feel her silently watching you as you tried to read the same paragraph for the third time. With a sigh, you closed your book and looked at the woman opposite you. Her full lips, green eyes, and high cheekbones gave her an effortless sort of beauty.

"Train hopping?" you asked. Perhaps it wasn't the best idea to ask a stranger about their potential crimes but you figured this was ridiculous enough and if she didn't like it, she could crash in someone else's train carriage.

"Something like that." Her expression was guarded but her eyes were curious.

People's eyes give too much away. Your grandmother told you that.

"Where are you headed?"

"Same place as you."

"What's your name?" Granted, that should have been the first question you asked but you weren't expecting company.

"What's yours?"

"I asked first."

"You also got answers to all those other questions. It's my turn."

You scoffed "I'd hardly call those answers. My name is Y/n. Now that's an actual answer."

"Natalie."

Something about the way her demeanour shifted made you think she was lying but this was a long train journey. You'd get the truth out of her eventually.

"So Natalie, are you going to answer any of my questions truthfully?"

"My answers haven't been not truthful." She leaned back in her your chair.

"They haven't been truthful either."

Her eyes gleamed. She seemed to like this game. "Ask me another."

"Why? You'll just tell me another half-truth" You wanted to pout but that would be childish and the last thing you wanted was for this woman to think you were a child.

"How else will we pass the time? You can try to get the truth from my half-answers." The innocent look on her face made you suspicious.

"I mean I have plenty to pass the time. You don't even have hand luggage. It seems like you're the one who needs entertainment more than I do."

"Fine. Go back to your book then." She turned nonchalantly, looking out the window with her chin resting in one hand.

You opened your book again when she gasped. You ignored her and she was silent for a few moments before gasping again. She continued this for ten minutes before you gave up reading yet again.

"What?"

Natalie smiled at you triumphantly "The clouds are just so pretty."

You sighed. "Tell me your name- your real name and I'll play your game."

"I go by Natasha now." Her voice was a little quieter than it had been, a little more muted. You wanted to know why.

"Where are you from?"

"All over." Glee entered her face now you were entertaining her idea again. You couldn't help but smile.

"Are you a natural redhead?"

"Does this look dyed to you?" She sounded slightly offended.

"Got any siblings?"

"Sort of."

Strange answer. Most people either had siblings or didn't. Maybe they were estranged. Or maybe it was more of the 'found family' sort of situation.

"Boyfriend?"

"Used to. if you could call it that."

You cocked your head. You wanted more than that.

"Well what would you call it?"

Natasha leaned forward, placing an elbow on each of her legs and lacing her fingers together. You had a sudden thought that this must be what your cat looked like before he pounced on an unsuspecting rat.

"Experimentation."

You mimicked her position, which may have been a bad idea because the two of you were now a lot closer than you should have been, but it was too late to back down now.

"And what did you find?"

You could have sworn her eyes darted to your lips for a brief moment but it was over before you could even register it properly.

"That women make prettier faces when they cum than men."

You choked on air, moving away from her as you felt your face heat up. Natasha just gently laughed at you.

"Y/n, are you a prude?"

"Oh, so you're asking the questions now?"

"Maybe your questions were boring me." that glint still hadn't left Natasha's eyes.

"Well were they?"

"No."

"Well ditto." You said, trying to calm your face and breathing.

"Ditto?"

"Yes. Ditto. The answer to your question - it's no."

"You sure?" Natasha bit her lip and looked at you through her eyelashes.

"Y-yep. 100% sure." you cleared your throat "A-anyway, do you like movies?"

"Yes."

"What's your favourite movie?"

"I like spy movies." Natasha looked about sheepishly.

"Why do you look so guilty?" The amusement in your voice was obvious enough that Natasha glared at you.

"Because I'm a super secret international spy."

"Uh hu. And you just readily gave up that information?" you asked, skepticism heavy in your voice

"Who's going to believe you?"

"Alright Miss super spy. Show me a super spy move then."

Natasha got off the chair, placing her left arm next to your head and leaning in close, her breath mixing with yours. Her eyes stayed on yours the whole time and just as you thought she was going to close the gap between you and kiss you, she pulled away triumphantly, your bracelet dangling from between her index and middle finger.

"That proves nothing. All that proves is that you're a thief." You tried to calm your flustered heart, your words coming out a little more clipped than they meant to be.

"A thief? No no, you're the one who stole my heart." Natasha smirked.

"Does that line ever work?" You laughed before reaching for your bracelet.

Natasha pulled the bracelet away from you just as your fingertips brushed it.

"It's pretty. I might keep it." Natasha gently twirled the bracelet, the metal chain glinted in the afternoon sun and bounced light around the carriage.

"Natasha give it back."

"But I like to keep pretty things." Natasha looked dead at you when she said 'pretty things' and you'd be lying if it didn't do something to you.

"It's not yours to keep."

"But it could be. For this train ride at least." You had the faintest feeling the two of you were no longer talking about the bracelet.

"You're not a magpie. Give it back."

"Ah the magpie, my spirit animal." Natasha looked wistfully out the window and you followed her gaze, half expecting to actually see a magpie.

"Natasha whatever-your-last-name-is, did you just offer up free information? You're getting soft."

Natasha let out a note of laughter, looking almost shocked at herself for, indeed, telling you something unprompted.

"I suppose I did. You're making me soft." Natasha told you in an accusatory tone.

"I am not! You're doing this on your own."

"If Bruce could see me now..." Natasha seemed to shrink just the tiniest amount as she flopped down next to you.

"Who's Bruce?" You hoped you wouldn't regret that question.

"The boyfriend." Natasha gave you a look

"What did he say?" You had seen that look enough times to know he did something.

"Nothing really but that was the problem." There was a beat of silence before Natasha seemed to word vomit "I can't have children." Natasha gasped at her own statement.

She hadn't meant to say that. The way confusion clouded her face made that evident.

"Do you want children?"

Natasha didn't answer, her confusion slowly turning to horror.

"It's okay you know." You said before Natasha could continue down whatever line of thought she was currently on.

Natasha looked at you questioningly so you elaborated.

"It must be my face or vibe or something. People tend to tell me things they probably didn't mean to speak into existence."

"It's your vibe. Definitely your vibe."

The two of you sat in silence for a little while. Sometimes people needed a push and sometimes they needed space. You got pretty good pretty quickly at learning which one was appropriate and when.

Natasha spoke softly "I don't know if I want them or not. It's just not fair I didn't get the chance to make that decision for myself."

"No it's not. But it doesn't make you any less. Besides, you're funny and gorgeous so I'm sure you'd have plenty of women lining up to have your babies."

Natasha then let out a quiet laugh. You thought that was your favourite laugh so far. It was kind of like when you get someone to smile after they had been crying. You couldn't help but smile at her as you watched her sit up a little straighter and that playful look re-entered her eyes.

"You think I'm funny?"

"Sure. Funny looking." You smirked at her.

"I can't be funny looking and gorgeous."

"I never said I found you gorgeous. Maybe I'm straight."

"Spaghetti is also straight until it gets wet."

"That is horrible!" You laughed "In fact, that's almost as bad as when men say 'you just haven't found the right man yet'." You put on your best 'man' voice and Natasha joined in with your laughter.

"Okay okay, that was terrible." Natasha said between breaths of laughter. "I just couldn't help it though! Besides how else would I figure out if I've got a chance with the pretty lady I'm sharing a carriage with?"

"I mean you could always just ask." Neither of you were laughing now. The tone was a little more serious.

"Well?" Natasha prompted

"Well what?" She had made you squirm. It was only fair you returned the favour.

Natasha sighed and rolled her eyes, a smile playing at her lips. "Are you into women?"

You grinned "Maybe." You said in the same tone Natasha had used before, when she was giving you half-answers.

Natasha gasped "That's a super secret spy move! You can't use that. It's trademarked."

"Does this answer your question then?" You said as you slowly moved closer to her face, your hand reaching for her jaw.

Natasha's pupils grew bigger as her eyes darted from your lips to your eyes. You were pretty sure her gaze also landed on your breasts a few times but it wasn't like you could talk, you had certainly looked at hers. She put one hand on your neck and another on your chin, running her thumb over your lower lip. You took her thumb between your teeth and gently licked it, causing Natasha's breath to falter in the most beautiful way. You shifted even closer to her, your knee bumping into her thigh before releasing her thumb from your mouth and moving your lips to hers. The kiss was brief at first, you wanted to test the waters, to make sure you really weren't misreading the situation. Natasha made it clear that she wanted the same when she pulled your face back towards hers. The hand that was wrapped around your neck moved to your collarbone before returning to where it was previously to tug gently on the baby hairs that lay there. You let out a light groan at the sensation, wanting to be impossibly closer to Natasha.

The smell of her perfume invaded your senses and you wanted to lick it off her neck. So you do. You lick and nibble and suck your way down her neck, starting at that spot just below her ear. The groans that Natasha lets out only encourage you.

"Y-yes. Right there." Natasha breathes out as your teeth graze over a particularly sensitive part of her neck. You bite harder, causing Natasha to moan into your ear, before soothing the skin with your tongue.

Natasha moves her hands to your legs, running her nails up and down from your knee to your upper thigh, never letting her fingers get to where you need them most. You kiss her harder, unbuttoning the first few buttons of her crisp, white shirt, giving your access to the swell of her breasts. You watch as they rise and fall with jagged breaths that betrays just how needy Natasha is. You glance up at her to see her staring down at you with an intense expression. You kiss the tops of her breasts as you work your hands around her and under her shirt to run your fingernails along her back. The loud moan Natasha lets out has you praying the sounds of the train muffle her.

"What do you think about?" Natasha asks you breathlessly. "What do you think about when you touch yourself? Do you think about inadequate exes? Or do you think about fucking strangers?" Natasha threw her head back as you pinched one of her nipples. Her question made your brain short circuit. Natasha took this opportunity to push you down on the train seat as she straddled you.

"From now on I'll think of you." Natasha began to grind her hips on your thigh. "Of how pretty you look under me." You groaned in response.

Natasha paused for a moment to slip her slender fingers into your shorts and she smirked when she felt how wet you were through the fabric of your underwear. Your thighs were embarrassingly slick from just the mere thought of Natasha and now she was actually touching you, it was like the floodgates had opened.

Your hips bucked up involuntarily when Natasha finally finally touched you where you needed it the most. Granted, it was through fabric but you'd take anything at this point. You unzipped Natasha's jeans and tugged weakly at them, hoping Natasha would let you take them off.

Natasha got off you briefly, pulled off her jeans and then scrambled to get back to you. "Take your top off" She demanded.

You sat up, pulling your tank top over your head as Natasha straddled your lap. She whimpered as she moved against you, the dark spot on her underwear growing larger and soaking through to your leg. You watch as she moves her hand into her panties and clench around nothing when you hear just how wet she is as she fucks herself. You grab her wrist and pull her hand out from where it was nestled. She groans in displeasure and looks at you with fury in her eyes. That fury quickly transforms to lust when you bring her fingers into your mouth as you lick them clean. Natasha grinds against you harder and faster, chasing her high. Your hand replaces hers and you circle her clit and she shoves her fingers deeper into your throat. Your eyes water as you gag, drool running down your chin.

"Fuck you look so beautiful." Natasha cried out needily, "Should have bought my strap." She muttered, more to herself than you.

You dipped your fingers lower, curling them into Natasha as you rubbed her clit with your thumb. You stroked inside her as you felt her flutter around you. Natasha removed her hand from your mouth, instead using it to steady herself above you as she got closer and closer to the edge.

Three little words were all it took to push Natasha over the edge and into relief. "Cum for me."

Her body collapsed on top of you as she panted into the crook of your neck. Your fingers were still inside her when she finally sat up a little, resting on her elbows, looking at you with a dazed expression. You licked your lips as she moved her hand between you, grasping your fingers and taking them out of her with a moan, before licking them clean.

Natasha moved down your body, littering kisses as she went

"Nat-" You moaned out as she reached the top of your underwear. You could feel her breath on you and your hips once again bucked up needily.

"Hush. You don't want anyone hearing us do you?" Natasha said as she peeled your panties down, past your knees and over your ankles.

You whimpered as you bit the back of your hand in an attempt to keep quiet when Natasha kissed your clit. Natasha moaned as she tasted you, the sound shooting right through you. With your free hand you twisted your fingers into her hair, tightly holding on to try to ground yourself. The feel of her tongue and fingers was overwhelming. You felt as if you were going to float away. You squirmed as she added a second and third finger inside you but she held you down with the arm that was previously stroking your thigh. You began to tremble and your legs started to shake.

"Tasha I'm gonna-" You couldn't speak in full sentences, your tongue felt too big for your mouth and your mind was filled with pleasure.

"Good girl." Natasha mumbled into your clit and you let out a whoreish moan. "Come on pretty, cum for me like the good girl you are." You let go, allowing the pleasure to overcome you as your vision blurs a little around the sides.

The two of you lay there, pants echoing around the room. Natasha's face is covered in your juices and she wipes it with the back of her hand. You whimper at the sight. Natasha reaches over to the little table in the train cabin and grabs a napkin. She writes something down on it in lipstick before reapplying some to her lips.

"Give me a call. Maybe we'll be heading in the same direction again."

The conductor announces that the next stop is coming up and Natasha gives you a kiss on the forehead before pulling on her jeans and rebuttoning her shirt. She's gone before the train pulls into the station and you hope your paths cross again as you put her number into your phone.

#natasha romanov #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha x reader #natasha x you #smut #natasha smut

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wolfboy88 · 3 months ago

Note

for the make me write thingy: can i ask for all of them? all of them are so cool

Of course you can darling. It just took a hot minute!

🪦Graveyard Secrets/Hook Up (Thiam/Thisaac/ Thiaac)

"But there's someone there," Liam insists, breathless as the figure draws near, emerging from the mist with a sinister glint in their eyes and a wicked grin on their face.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" Isaac chimes in, his voice cutting through the heavy silence.

"Theo and I are just getting to know each other a little better," Liam tries to explain, his nerves getting the best of him while Theo remains cool and collected.

"I see," Isaac responds dryly. "It's about time. I was starting to think I'd drown in all that homoerotic rivalry nonsense."

"What are you doing here?" Liam finally finds his voice.

"Just making sure you two haven't killed each other," Isaac replies, his smirk unyielding.

"Kill each other? No, we've moved past that," Theo jokes with a smirk. "I'm just about to make him mine."

"That'll be a first," Isaac snickers. "Usually, it's you who's on the receiving end."

🏡 The Hellhound(s) Next Door (Liam/Halwyn/ Jordan)

So this one’s changed from a Liam/Halwyn pairing to a Liam + married Halwyn/Jordan. And it’s more smutty than spooky with the whole neighbour/voyeurism thing again.

"Well, that sounds like a recipe for boredom or mischief," Halwyn interjects. "Why don't you come join us for a swim later? Cool off and let us get to know you.”

Liam tries to hide his eager enthusiasm. "Yeah, that sounds great. I'd love to."

Jordan grins. "Awesome. We'll fire up the grill too, make it a proper pool party."

"Oh, uh, that sounds perfect," Liam says, already imagining the toned, glistening bodies of his new neighbours as they lounge poolside.

🐺 An Omega & his Alpha (Thiam/Dark Theo)

Slowly, Liam begins to regain consciousness. His eyelids flutter as he adjusts to the dimly lit surroundings. As he tries to sit up, he realizes that he is restrained and unable to move. His wrists are bound to a table, but it's not just any table —it's an operating table. And it soon becomes clear to him that he is not in a hospital; instead, he finds himself in a dark and eerie underground lair, resembling an operating theater from a horror film.

🐈‍⬛ Cat Got Your Tongue

So, this one I can’t decide on who I wanna pair Scott up with. I really wanted to do my favourite Scott rarepair Scosh (Scott x Josh) but there’s a hint of Lahey Brothers in this one and Scott either needs to end up with Isaac or Jordan. Thoughts guys?

Unfortunately, the hottest guy at the party seems oblivious to Scott's existence. Yet, he is the one person Scott would willingly allow to touch him all night long.

He's so hot and distracting, that every time he gets near Scott, accidents happen. Drinks spill, food drops, and Scott's job is hanging by a thread.

But as the night goes on and the party progresses, Scott notices the attractive man watching him. The man can't seem to take his eyes off Scott, and it makes Scott feel tingly and more clumsy than ever.

🧞‍♂️I Dream of Theo (Thiam)

Liam's heart races, torn between confusion, shock, and...something else he didn't dare name. "How is this possible? Am I hallucinating?"

"You never heard of a genie, Dunbar. Or a djinn, if you want to get technical." Theo's grin is downright predatory. "Should I call you master?”

Liam's mouth goes dry. "Master?" he squeaks, cheeks feeling warm.

🕳️ The Mythical Bathhouse (Thiam/Monsters)

Summoning his courage, Liam approaches the Berserker, his steps steady and determined. The creature's gaze follows him, its expression unreadable beneath its mask. Liam's heart races, but he refuses to let fear consume him. He has come too far to back down now.

As he approaches the entrance, the Berserker graciously steps aside, granting him passage. Liam's heartbeat quickens, and he cautiously steps through the entrance and into a seemingly ordinary locker room.

🏚️ The Horny Phantoms of Hale House (Thiam/ Hale Men)

Late into the night, after hours of setting up their gear, Liam and Theo finally retired in their shared sleeping bag, nestled together like they normally would back in their bed.

Theo, however, took comfort to a new level, snuggling against Liam and using his chest as a pillow. His hand roams down, playfully skimming over Liam's stomach before slipping into his pants.

Amused, Liam chuckles, “I can’t believe you’re getting frisky in a supposedly haunted house.”

“Got to past the time somehow,” Theo replies with a mischievous grin.

“You’re unbelievable,” Liam laughs. “Only you would think to use this a place to hookup.”

“Don’t lie, you’re thinking the same thing,” Theo teases, now boldly caressing Liam’s hard cock. “And I saw you sneakily checking out those pictures of our phantoms”

“Apparent phantoms,” Liam reminds him.

“So, who’s your favourite?”

🧛‍♂️The Vampire’s Vice (Thiam/Dark Liam)

“Mmm, is that a stake in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” Liam taunts, grinding his thigh against Theo’s hardening length.

“Fuck you,” Theo mutters, though his heart isn’t really in it; the friction sends him spiraling deeper into the vampire’s intoxicating grasp.

“Fuck you? That’s an intriguing proposition, but I think it’ll be the other way around,” Liam teases, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “You won’t be the one doing the sticking, hunter boy,” he chuckles, and Theo shivers in response. “I’d much prefer to take you,” Liam whispers, his gaze intense as he holds Theo’s eyes.

#make me write #Spooktober wips #my wips #my writing #teen wolf

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conkers-thecosy · 1 year ago

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Hullo!

So, this might be long, but I wanted to write a proper wee writing update. I have my fingers in a few pies and as October is coming to an end, and thus "Bagginshield-tober" with it, I thought it might be nice to let folks know what my plans are as far as projects go!

I've got three chapters left to write for "Stealing Moments, Moments Away" - I've decided not to do the prompt for Sunday, so this weekend I'm going to park my butt in my desk chair and write those last few chapters. I'm out on Tuesday (my friend is doing a drag show, so I'll be at work all day, then going out for dinner and drinks right after) so I won't have time to update the final chapter on Tuesday. I'm thinking of updating Monday's chapter on Sunday, and Tuesday's on Monday, but we'll see!

Once that's done, I'm going to take a few days off! I wouldn't usually, but I've had such a busy month and I got a bit burned out there for a bit, so I think I need to start scheduling breaks for myself. Next weekend I'll get cracking on "Backs to the Wall" and hopefully get back to weekly chapter updates with that once again!

Now, I know folks were waiting for me to start "King" in November (because that was the original plan!) but if October has taught me anything, it's that I can't work on multiple projects, haha 😅 I had meant to do NaNoWriMo and work on it for that, but honestly? I got so stressed when I was writing "Poet" for Camp NaNo and it's actually the fic I'm least proud of in my whole collection. I've worked so hard on the series, I really want to do the finale justice!

I do feel bad because I know folks are waiting for this one, but I'm going to focus on "Backs to the Wall" first, then write the smutty one-shot set directly after "Poet" and then work on "King". I really hope no one is too disappointed, as it's likely that I won't make a start on it until the new year now - please forgive me! 🙏

After that I have another canon-verse one-shot that I've been toying with since day dot, and then I might branch out into some AU ideas. But that's a ways off yet!

I know this is a bit of a long post, and honestly I don't know how much anyone will be interested in any of this, but I just wanted to document it somewhere for anyone who might be wondering what I'm up to! I wouldn't want to leave anyone hanging, especially after changing plans with regards to what I'm working on in November.

Thank you to everyone who has been reading and supporting and showing any kind of interest in my little fics! I mean to keep scribbling out my silly bagginshield nonsense for a good while yet, so your enthusiasm keeps me going!

Ily guys! 💛

#conkers corner #writing update #soldier poet king series #backs to the wall #bttw #bagginshieldtober #bagginshield-tober #stealing moments moments away #oh dear.... now I have to decide if I tag this as bagginshield?#I don't usually... I don't want to be annoying?#I'm sure anyone who's interested is already following me. so?#sorry for waffling on #I hope this isn't too boring haha

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luvwich · 5 months ago

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wip whenevers

i was tagged by @ghostoffuturespast to share some work in progress! there's a lot of work and not much progress to speak of but here's a run-down of everything in active development

shanghai 57

some cp77 characters for the this story i've been piecing together. that's regina jones and an OC of mine, mariano torralba / tiyo nano, in their wild youth! (their middle age is wild but their youth was, too)

the fic is mostly-outlined and i'm in that stage of trying to catch a vibe on character voice, setting, all that good and extremely difficult stuff

hypercritical season 3

elsewhere in that universe i've been plotting this nameless post-canon fic that continues mike and vania's story from where crescent&redwood left off.

i will put my cards on the table, a lot of this one is motivated by me wanting to continue their "dynamic" with johnny, lol. (throuple airhorn) (i reveal my cards with a flourish and nobody is surprised, because i have posted excerpts of this before and because it's me)

but i'm also really grooving on the quasi-solarpunk setting where we last found them, and wallowing in the angst V feels after her decision to do the surgery and fuck people over.

Amidst a five-by-two grid of other structures, V's was the last greenhouse on the left. It was a ramshackle assembly: panes of reclaimed plexi-glass bound together with scrap metal and thick cords of hope. A dinky little thing that seemed always on the verge of failing. Though one or two bad storms had jeopardized its integrity, it was still here. She smiled over a shoulder at it as she plodded over the darkening ground toward dinner.

sometimes i do weird shit like use graphviz to plot out what i think the emergent themes of a thing are. i don't know if this helps me in any way but it's fun. the nonsense i'll go through just because i want a blorbo threesome i stg. pointing and laughing at myself.

royal blue

i'm writing a follow-up chapter to that fucking bummer one-shot i wrote about valerie and river a little while back. i can't leave them miserable like that!

breached (smutty collab)

i worked with @streetkid-named-desire on a one-shot with their OCs VG and batsheva and it turned out really cute :3 lookin for beta readers rn!

V's interface dribbled into the emptiness, everything but the maze and mouse thinning out into wavering lines. He could feel what she was doing through his avatar. The sensation wasn't quite the same as when he was in realspace, but it sizzled through his nerves like the aftershock of a dream. Somewhere in the netrunning chair's hardware, bits and bytes were scrambling to make sense of the feeling of Bea's wet, beautiful mouth dancing over his cock. The result was an exhilarating, electric connection that felt like neither life nor the Net.

bg3 bros helping bros

last but not least this is most likely the next thing i'll actually publish, and it's A Bit Different for me! i was possessed by the idea of Rugan and Gale having a hush-hush no-homo encounter a while ago and reeled off some lil bits for the fabulous Zhentil Keep discord. for whatever reason (probably because i have 80 other things to work on!!) i picked this up again over the weekend.

Now, Gale wasn't the slightest bit wrong. It was a nice cock, and anyone who espied it had the right, nay, the duty to say as much. But how'd he manage a glimpse from so many paces away, at the edge of moondark at that? Perhaps he'd deployed some perverted hocus-pocus in order to steal a look at the Zhentarim serpent.

i have some kind folks beta-ing this, and i really need a title. it's the first thing i've written for bg3! i was trying to ship rugan with my tav but this scene has gripped me and i kind of love him with gale more now?? it happens

#my writing #wip whenever #lw

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ajvocals43 · 2 years ago

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Mine

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus Size!Reader

Word Count: 1058

Warnings: Slight swearing, slight smuttiness (if you squint), bad writing probably, body image issues

A/n: Another birthday fic I wrote for the wonderful Dean Winchester. Also can be read as a prequel to the fic I wrote last year: Birthday

"Up."

"No.” He gave me a look that I knew to cut off, “Dean, remember my thing about sitting on things that aren't made for sitting on?"

"It's a metal counter top. I promise there is no chance of you breaking it." And then he took matters into his own hands and lifted me onto the island himself. I had tried not to but I couldn't help the sound that came out of me at the feeling of being picked up. I knew he was strong but I didn't expect that.

"Dean are you-"

He didn't let me finish. "Y/n, I already told you. Your gorgeous body is not nor has it ever been ‘too heavy’. I would tell you if it were different, okay?"

“No, you wouldn't.” I protested, “I don't get this way for no reason, I'm big, I know that. I-”

He knew me well enough that he already knew where I was going with this. “Yeah. Big… beautiful… and mine.” He pulled me into him before saying, “I'll tell you as many times as you need to hear it, there is nothing about you that doesn't make me crazy about you. There's a reason that you are the longest relationship I've ever had. You and Sam are my everything. I wouldn't trade either of you for the world. Don't ever doubt that. Now sit there and let me feed you cake because it’s my birthday and I feel like feeding my gorgeous girlfriend.”

And that was all he wanted to say apparently because the next thing I knew, there was a piece of cake on a fork in front of my face. I didn't fight my smile, opening my mouth anyway to let him feed me. And I wouldn't lie, that cake was amazing. Some kind of mix of chocolate and vanilla that melted on the tongue and I couldn't help the moan that escaped at the taste.

When my eyes finally opened again, (though I'm not sure when they closed) I found Dean with heat in his eyes. Even after how long we’d been together, I was surprised that I could be the cause of that look from him.

“Shouldn’t I be the one feeding you because it’s your birthday?” I was scrambling for a subject change. There was too much to do between the pie in the oven and the party waiting to be put together in the next room. I didn't have time to act on his look, no matter how much I wanted to.

He shrugged before saying “You know me well enough that I wouldn't eat it, as close as Sam seems to think it is. Especially since you made me a pie that is currently in the oven.” He leaned in to seal his lips to mine in a soft kiss that made my heart flutter with its sweetness.

It was then that the timer on my phone went off for me to pull said pie out of the oven. When I straightened from the oven, placing the pie on top of a hot pad, Dean came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. “That smells delicious.” he groaned, “My favorite kind of present.”

“Well that's good, considering the other one.” I mumbled.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean asked. Shit, did I say that out loud? “Y/n? What's wrong?”

“Okay so you do have a present from me, but I got it impulsively and I thought it was a good idea but now I'm not so sure…” I tried to pull away but he wouldn't let me.

“Sweetheart, what is it?” He seemed concerned. I felt the heat creep up my neck as I tried to find a way to explain the nonsense that had come out of my mouth.

I didn't end up saying anything. Instead, I took his hand that had been stroking my hip underneath my shirt and moved it up to the lace that covered my breast.

He groaned. “I stand corrected. Happy birthday to me.” he murmured in my ear. A shiver ran down my spine at the tone of his voice. That heat was back. His lips started placing slow kisses along my neck, his hands roamed my body, feeling the lace and killing my brain cells. Specifically the ones that would keep me from letting this go further. It took all the strength I had to fight off my arousal and Dean.

“No. Not now.” I said softly.

“What’s wrong?” it was like a switch had flipped. In an instant all the heat was gone, replaced by confusion and worry.

“I don't have time. I have to go to the store, remember?” I tried to pull out of his arms again to no avail.

“To hell with the store.” he nuzzled his face back into the crook of my neck.

“No, remember? I have to go get the stuff for burgers. Isn't that what you wanted for your birthday dinner?”

“But you take forever when you go to the store.” he groaned and I laughed both at the tickling sensation and at his attitude.

“Unless you want to go, I have to.” I told him, hoping he’d take the bait so that I could call Sam and the gang in to help set up the surprise party I had planned for tonight. His arms disappeared from my waist and he was walking over to the table to grab his coat and keys. “Where are you going?”

“To the store,” he said plainly. “I'll be back in half an hour.”

“You're ridiculous.” I said, shaking my head. I hoped he believed my acting skills because otherwise I was screwed and this surprise was ruined. Luckily, he hadnt seemed to notice anything and with a quick kiss to my lips, went down the hall towards the garage.

And then he scared the shit out of me when he popped his head back in the kitchen saying, “Don't think I’ve forgotten about my present.” I had to laugh as I ran to catch up and walk him to his car (to make sure he got there this time). I waited until I couldn't see his car in the garage anymore before I texted Sam.

We’re a go

To which I got the response:

You're lucky he’s in love with you.

Masterlist

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superficialdomina · 1 year ago

Note

Writer Self-Rec Fics Ask Game

Rules: writers list your top 5 favorite fics of yours and then send this to 5 writers! :)

@divine-knight-hand thank you for this lovely ask!!! I'm sorry I forgot about it for so long - I think I was a bit embarrassed to answer, since I have such a pathetically short fic list, but I will list the five that I HAVE written in order of my favourites.

1. Devoted (sub!Loki/domme!Reader, established D/s relationship)

This is easily my personal favourite, even though it's much less popular than some of my others. It's rather fluffy (for a highly smutty story!), and I really like the way it came together (no pun intended).

2. Missed connection part 3 (Tom Hiddleston/Reader. Smutty/angsty fic with a hint of fluff and a bit of a sad ending. Total self indulgent nonsense.)

I don't know if it's fair to call these three separate stories, but this part is my favourite. It's long-ish but it was the most fun to write. It's also a bit more recent and tbh my writing is just better than in some of the earlier stuff.

3. Vulnerable (sub!Loki/domme!Reader)

I guess this is kind of my sub!Loki origin story. It was my first ever fanfic and... it shows? When I read it back now I cringe at it pretty horribly. But it's somehow by far my most popular story.

4. & 5. Missed connection parts 1 & 2 (Tom Hiddleston/Reader)

The opening scenes for Missed Connection 3, these are my least favourites. Not because I don't love and appreciate them - I really do - but again, I read back over them now and think how much better I could have written them. Part 1 is a bit thirsty/angsty but smut-free.

Tagging some authors - I would love to know your favourites! What are your self recs??

@acidcasualties @lokisgoodgirl @mochie85 @muddyorbsblr @lokischambermaid

#sub!loki #tom hiddleston fic #fic asks #ask game

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brynnmclean · 1 year ago

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(there was a post making the rounds about writing smutty drabbles for people to read while a lot of Americans are presumably surrounded by family for the Thanksgiving holiday-- and, well, this is longer than 100 words and it isn't smut, but here's Mairon/Artanis for y'all from the Uncorrupted Mairon AU:)

ETA: an AO3 link!

Mairon gasps apologies into Artanis's mouth, but she barely hears them for the ringing in her ears. More important words fill all the hollow places fear had carved inside her, relief flaring like fire over his assurances: Yes, of course I'm coming with you, I won't leave you now, not ever.

Outside of this room in Tirion, the Noldor shudder in fear and dismay, but Artanis clutches at Mairon and weeps over how her joy blazes in the dark.

"I made silver rings," Mairon says when the necessity for air means she must stop kissing him. Tears track down his cheeks too and she can't help but litter kisses on his face until his mouth curves into a smile, though he still looks rueful. "I meant for them to be prototypes. They aren't perfect—"

"Show them to me," she laughs, now realizing what the half-fond, half-despairing look Findaráto had kept shooting Mairon's way has meant for all her months of wondering. Mairon untangles himself from her grasp to bring a small wooden box out of his desk and there they are in his hands: two silver betrothal rings gleaming in candlelight, defiant against the shadows and the despair that had struck her heart at the idea of leaving Aman without him.

She holds her right hand out so he can slip her ring on her finger, a band reminiscent of ocean waves and ship rope, Telerin design in Noldorin custom—perfect, even for all Mairon's protests. When she says so, he shakes his head but puts the ring's twin on his own hand.

"I never meant to make you doubt my commitment. I was going to do it all in the proper order when they were made right," he says, the words flowing out of him fast, all his secrets cut loose.

"When you were satisfied," she replies, pushing him onto the daybed of his quarters and climbing into his lap. What an impossible word, satisfied. She shoves her hands into the russet waves of his hair and thrills at the sound he makes, hungry. "You would have kept me waiting a hundred more years."

"No," he groans, gathering her up in his arms. Even through the linen of her dress, she can feel the warmth of his body and she wants him closer. She rolls her hips into the hard lines of him and he falls back, taking her down with him flat onto the bed. "Yes. All right. I never would have been satisfied, but you deserve—"

She kisses him until he stops talking nonsense, until they're both gasping and laughing and maybe crying a little still, but when she says, "Bind yourself to me," he says yes. Yes, of course.

He knows the vows to make, has learned every word passed down among the Eldar. He murmurs them reverently into the skin of her throat, the curve of her breast, the softness of her inner thigh.

When they reach the end of the ritual and there is only the part Eärwen and Arafinwë had told them no one could teach them, that they would have to discover for themselves—Artanis opens her mouth to say something, she doesn't know, nerves overwhelming her, but Mairon holds her close, and says, “I know.”

He sounds just as loving and lost as she is for a moment—and then he hums a few notes of a Song she has never heard before, but recognizes immediately. It’s theirs.

#rough drafts #my fic #an uncorrupted mairon au #artanis x mairon #galadriel x halbrand #fell in love with the fire #rings of power #silmarillion #the darkening #haladriel #happy american thanksgiving to all celebrating right now and to all the rest! happy thursday 💜

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the-fiction-witch · 5 months ago

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Shall We?

Media - Pistol (Disney plus / FX) Character - Malcolm Mclaren Couple - Malcolm X Reader Reader - Y/n (Nicknamed Natty) Rating - smutty moments Word Count - 3000

I sauntered down from the bus stop, doing my best not to look too upset. My boots make a loud clack on the grimy pavement with each step I take. I kept my hands in the pockets of my jacket as I passed the heaps of black bin bags stacked high. I saw the pink shop front already opened up so I headed inside letting the door fall closed behind me as I made my way inside the graffitied store full of racks and shelves. 'Moonage Daydream' playing from the jukebox in the corner, As I went across the shop floor I undid my jacket and slipped it off hanging it over my arm as I went for the curtain to the back room.

But before my hand even touched the curtain, My path was blocked.

I didn't even want to dignify his nonsense today, but I had to look up at him as he was in my way.

There Malcolm stood, in his usual shoes, black leather trousers, his white sleeveless shirt printed with the cowboys touching tips, his dark curls well tussled. His wrist leant against the doorframe, his hip cocked in the other direction and his hand in his pocket completely blocking the entrance to the shop's back room. He smirked down at me with that knowing grin.

"Problem. Speak."

"I'm not in the mood Malcolm," I glared,

He removed his hand from his pocket and rested his thumb on my chin forcing my eyes to his, "Natty. Speak."

"I don't have a problem," I told him, as I ducked under his arm and headed down the corridor to the back room, but as I hung up my jacket he followed,

"And I can shove my cock up my arse. We both know we're bullshitting. So speak Natty." He says wrapping his arms around me from behind, and giving my body a little sway in his arms,

"Malcolm, I am in the kinda mood where I'm willing to kick you in the nuts."

"There's ever a time you're not willing to kick me in the balls?"

"...True," I sighed, "I'm just really not in a good mood today," I told him shoving him away and heading back to the shop floor letting my red hair loose from the bun,

"And the reason is?" He followed me once more,

"None of ya business," I sighed as I checked the desk for everything,

"Natty, come on." he leant on the desk beside me,

"Will you quit calling me that!" I sighed, "Why do you even call me that anyway?"

"You always try and ask for American Beer, notably Natual light," he explained, "And ... it pisses you off so much when I call you Natty,"

"True," I sighed,

"So, come on. What's making those blue eyes cry?" He tapped my nose,

"You really wanna know?"

"I do,"

"You won't just be a cunt?"

"I won't be a cunt,"

"You are going to at least pretend to give a shit?"

"I will actually give a shit."

"Fine," I sighed, grabbing the letter from my bra and handing it to him before taking some shirts to restock them,

"And for the record, I do give a shit about your problems."

"Do you?" I rasied an eyebrow,

"More than I do anyone else," He shrugged, "May I read?"

"No I handed you a letter from my bra so you could sniff it, Yes you can read it!"

"I mean I'll do both if you let me," He joked before he looked, "... Home Office," He muttered actually reading properly, "Dear Miss Natty," He joked, "we are writing to inform you that the Work and Education Visa you where granted on the 17th of May 1977 is now due to... Expire! ...On the 31st of June 1979. As you are aware if you do not return to your home country, notably The United States of America before midnight on the 31st of June 1979, An official warrant will be out for your arrest. If you proceed to stay beyond your Visa expiration you will face imprisonment, deportation and a one Thousand pound fine! As well as have your potential future Visa's rejected. Thank you have a nice day at the Home office!" He read,

"Yep," I sighed as I stocked,

"That doesn't seem like a 'thank you have a nice day' kinda letter."

"The passive aggression of the British government,"

"... But the 31st that's only three weeks away."

"I know,"

"When did you get this?"

"This morning,"

"So they expect you to just pack the life you've had for two years up in less than three weeks, book and board a plane back to the States?"

"Yep,"

"And how long is it going to take to get a new visa and come back?"

"Six months,"

"Six!"

"If they approve me, which they might not cause they are

"really dickish about that,"

"You could just stay?"

"And get arrested? No, thank you."

"Cha-"

"You dare say chaos I will shove a fire poker up your British ass."

"Fine," He sighed setting the letter down and leaning on the counter, "What's the plan then?"

"I don't know," I sighed resting my hands on my hips as I turned back to him, "It's all a bit of a whirlwind. I don't wanna go back, I want to stay here. I love it here, I've made a life here, I have a flat, a job, I don't want to just pack what I can and go back to some shit stain in Brooklynn till I can come back. If they'll even let me back,"

He sighed, "Come here,"

I sighed treading across the shop, resting my forehead on his shirt, and he slowly encircled me in his arms, laying his cheek on my head,

"We'll figure it out," He said, "You know I'd look after stuff for you till you got back,"

"I know. I just... don't want to leave,"

"Is there any way of getting your Visa extended?"

"Nope."

"Can you apply for a new visa?"

"Not without going back to the US,"

"...Can... you apply for a different visa like a student or something?"

"Not without being arrested,"

"Fine," he sighed, "Natty?"

"Umm? What's going on in that head Malcolm?"

"Ohh no idea I have no clue what's going on in my noggin," He sighed, "But... You can stay if you're are a British citizen,"

"Yes, but I'm not."

"But can we make you one?"

"Again with the crimes Malcolm,"

"Sorry I don't have a lot of respect for the actual laws" He sighed, "But... it's possible, right? just go for the citizenship test?"

"I have to have been here five years."

"Ah."

"And the test takes six months,"

"...God damn with these wait times," He sighed, "Okay..." Suddenly his eyes lit up,

"Oh god. I know that look,"

"You can apply for British citizenship for if you marry a British person."

"...They still might throw me out-"

"But they'll let you come back and stay forever if you are married to a Brit."

"And how exactly do you suggest I do this?"

He simply looked down at me, "Hi natty,"

"... Malcolm... are you... suggesting what I think you are?"

"You wanna do some immigration fraud with me?" He chuckled,

"Why is it always crimes with you?"

"Come on think about it? A quick trip up the registry office, sign our lives away. Boom you're my wife! You can apply for citizenship, and even if they make you wait a couple months it'll at least delay it and then you can stay here in London."

"As nice an idea as it is, they would know it's bullshit." I chuckled going back to stocking,

"How?"

"We're not romantically involved?"

"They don't know that," He shrugged, "All the office is gonna see is us turning up and signing a bit of paper, I'm sure we can hold hands and look cute and in love for like ten minutes."

"Okay, but what happens during the application process when they start asking questions? we can't fake a relationship"

"Pretty sure we can natty,"

"We have no evidence of anything,"

"... We have evidence of you working in a business that I co-own, We're already pretty good mates so people have seen us together at pubs and such, we have photos of us together, you have ticket stubs from bands I've managed, sounds like we could work all that into pretty believable friends into lovers kinda thing," he explained, "and technically I'm not on Viv's apartment paperwork haven't ever been so just claim I moved in with you and we live together"

"...I- I don't like how quickly you came up with that." I glared, "Malcolm is this the first time you've thought about this?" I asked suspiciously,

He looked a little sheepish, "I may have had this on a back burner in my brain,"

"For how long?"

"...A... amount of time."

"Okay, but even so what's gonna happen when they come checking it legit?"

"Again. I'm pretty sure we can fake it for... an hour if someone came around to check it,"

"So they turn up at eight am on a random Wednesday and find me very much alone and single in my flat?"

"Say I'm out, call me and I'll come by with like some shopping or something and we can fake it from there," He shrugs, "Or..."

"Or?"

"Or... I can move in?" He sighed, "At least for like a while till we know they don't suspect anymore, I kinda need a new place to live anyway,"

"You do? What's wrong with the flat?"

"Viv refuses to buy me food anymore, she's been an ice queen, the kid doesn't want me around and she keeps bringing that damn boy toy of hers over and fucking him. I think half the time just to piss me off."

I crossed my arms, "So the trade here is, I get to stay here potentially forever by you pretending to be my husband, and you get an apartment where you don't have to listen to your Ex fuck her boyfreind?"

"That's the jist of it yeah Natty, So? shall we?"

"... Alright Deal."

I felt... rather weird about all this, I mean I'm happy I get to stay... but I mean, can I really pull off being in love with Malcolm? Let alone the various potential checkups. He'd already moved into my spare room and honestly, things were really nice, I kinda liked seeing him more, and only having to do half my chores. I like that a lot. And not having to take the bus as he lets me drive his car ... I like that too. I stood inside the store trembling a little to think this was really happening.

I never thought I'd get married,

Least of all to Malcolm of all people,

As Vivienne tightened the back of the dress she'd made for me, which... I had thought was kind of her at first... Now... I'm almost convinced it was a murder attempt.

I know Viv has never exactly been the biggest fan of me, never knew why. I assume personality clash. But... these last few weeks have felt like personal attacks.

The dress was... chaotic of course with ripped white petticoats, a black latex stained with red paint, one torn tulle sleeve, and a corset back which she was currently lacing me into... Violently.

"Oww!" I whined a little,

"Oh suck it in Y/n." She demanded,

I sighed and did my best not to complain, I mean it's a free wedding dress. And I can always say I got married in a Vivienne Westwood.

Just... to Malcolm... which sounds far less impressive.

"Viv?"

"Mhm?" She asked as she worked tightening it more,

"Are you... Okay with all this?"

"Fine." She snapped,

"It- It's not like-"

"I'm fine. Not like Malcolm and I were together for several years, have a child together and never once did either of us want to subscribe to the modern slavery of marriage," She said with a pointed tone to her voice,

"It's not romantic. It's just for paperwork." I told her,

"Mhm. That's why you've moved in together." She snapped finishing the dress, "You're done."

"Thank you," I nodded trying not to be rude as I slowly emerged from the dressing room,

"Awwww You look so pretty!" Jordon smiled at me,

"Thanks," I smiled trying not to feel... a little giddy,

I'm getting married even if it's for show it's still kinda exciting,

"I did my best," Viv sighed sitting on the chair with a glare in my direction,

"You'll make a really nice bride Y/n," Jordon smiled,

"Thank you," I blushed a little,

The moment was broken however by the sound of Malcolm as he came from the back room, singing 'Here comes the bride' to himself or well...

"Bum, bum, bum bum. Bum, bum, bum bum."

Until he emerged, in his latex trousers, his sheer black shirt and a leather jacket leaning on the wall,

Jordon wolf-whistled at him, and Viv just rolled her eyes,

"The groom is here," He smirked, "Now where's my blushing bride?"

"Hi," I waved,

"Hi," He smiled coming to look at my dress, "You look really nice Natty,"

"I do?"

"Very cute," He smiled taking my hand and giving me a little spin, "a very lovely bride for visa purposes. So? Shall we?"

"Alright, let's do this," I nodded,

He squeezed my hand and we headed out of the shop and down to his little green mini, He went to the driver's door and opened it for me, "Mi lady,"

"Thank you, sir," I chuckled climbing in and getting prepped to try and drive in this damn dress as he climbed in the passenger side, so I started up and headed down the streets,

"Does Viv hate you?" He asked looking at the dress more,

"I'm starting to think she might," I nodded,

"Well, I think you look nice,"

"Thanks, Malcolm," I chuckled,

"Remember we need to look loving."

"But not too loving like we're faking it."

"Exactly, so just let me handle it." He smiled

I nodded trying to focus on driving.

It was all over and done so quickly, so simply, made me wonder why I hadn't done this years back. Literally, it was a ten-minute queue, a five-minute chat with an officiant, signing our names, taking a copy and that's it. we didn't even have to fake kiss... which I'm mad about, cause Malcolm has been insisting we practice for like the last three days, Legally We're married.

We drove back to the apartment grabbing a fish and chips takeaway for dinner on the way home, I unlocked the flat door and went to step in but he stopped me,

"Yes?"

"I have to carry you,"

"What?"

"I have to carry you over the threshold," He chuckled,

"You really don't have to,"

"I want to, Come on Natty,"

"Fine," I rolled my eyes,

"Up we go little lady," He chuckled picking me up and tossing me over his shoulder ignoring my squeals as he carried me into the apartment and tossed me down on the sofa, "Hey wife,"

"Hey, husband,"

"How long do we have to do the whole... faking being in love thing?"

"Just a couple months, until they do all the checks and stuff," he said shutting the door, dumping dinner in the kitchen and sitting down with me, "Or... you know, for simplicity's sake? We could just... do this forever?"

"What?"

"Maybe... we could, kinda just be husband and wife?"

"Are you serious?"

"Deadly,"

"... was this... all some scheme!"

"Less of a scheme and more of, I had come up with the concept in theory ages back and when I read your letter I kinda just went for it..." he explained, "Frankly even I'm surprised I got this far,"

"You absolute cunt."

"We just got married and you're just now figuring that out?"

"You are a dick." I chuckled, "You really couldn't just ask me out like a normal person you had to wait and convince me to marry you just as my visa was about to expire, move in with me, and have us go through a whole wedding."

"Chaos." He smirked, "You're like my best mate you really have never picked up that I like you?"

"...Kinda, never really thought about it too hard," I chuckled,

"And... do you?"

"I mean, yeah but I never thought..." I began, "I hate you sometimes," I chuckled laying my head on his shoulder,

"Hate you too Natty, my cute little wife," He chuckled pulling me onto his lap and letting us share a rather tender kiss, "Now... there is one more thing we need to do to make this marriage nice and legitimate,"

"Oh?" I rasied an eyebrow,

"We need... to consume our married don't we?"

"That's not a thing Malcolm and hasn't been for many, many decades."

"Ohh it's a thing little lady, They could say our marriage is null and void if we didn't consummate it. So? shall we?"

"...Okay," I blushed a little,

"Come on Natty, let's go make our marriage bed messy." He smirked picking me up with him and carrying me towards my bedroom,

I yawned a little as I heard the screams and cries from the nursery, But I stirred and gave Malcolm an elbow,

"You're turn,"

"Hummm?" He groans,

"baby. Crying. Do something."

"I did it last time."

"No, I did. Go on husband off you go,"

"Fine," He yawns sitting up and rubbing his eyes, and wandering through the apartment to go check on the baby, and of course, he was back fairly soon holding baby Iris, "She requires boobs,"

"Alright," I sighed sitting up and taking her to give her a feed,

Malcolm came and sat down beside me in the bed, "Morning Natty,"

"Morning Malcolm,"

"She's a hungry girl this morning,"

"Umm she didn't want to feed last night so she's probably hungry, silly girl,"

"Silly little Iris," He chuckled, "How's mummy this morning?"

"Fine, How's daddy?"

"Happier now his girls are here," he cooed, giving my cheek and her head a small kiss,

"There we go all done," I cooed as she finished up so I wiped her little chin and handed her to Malcolm as he was better at burping her,

"what's the plan?"

"sleep. then... chaos."

"I love it." he agreed, "Come on then you back to bed," He cooed as he finished burping her and he carried her back to her crib soon returning and crawling back into bed for a cuddle,

I smiled and cuddled up close to him rubbing my nose on his chest as he wrapped his arms around me close,

"Y/n?"

"Yes, Malcolm,"

"I love ya,"

"I love ya too," I chuckled giving his lips a gentle sleepy kiss,

"...As we're both awake... did you maybe wanna?" he smirked peppering my neck with kisses,

"why do you always get horny in the morning?"

"Cause I've been dreaming of you all night," He smirked, "so? shall we?"

"Come here you stupid man," I cooed pulling him into a kiss and slowly dragging him on top of me,

#tbs smut #thomasbrodiesangster #tbs imagines #thomas sangster imagine #tbs imagine #thomas sangster #thomas brodie sangster #thomas brodie sangster imagine #thomas brodie sangster smut #tbs #pistol series #pistol #pistol fx #disney plus #disney pistol #malcolmmclaren #malcom #malcolm x reader

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beefrobeefcal · 1 year ago

Note

I love your writing and am so excited to read more! Chubby!Frankie is so hot and feral 🖤 I want to make him a birthday cake just for him and watch him eat it on his birthday ❤️ Most of my thots are food themed so I'm excited to find this type of fic! Have a lovely day!

ASK AND YE SHALL RECEIVE!

Everyone enjoys a bit of cake... some enjoy more at a time than others - thank you, @neverwheremoonchild for your generous contribution to the THOT TANK!

Beefro 👌🥩💜

--------<3----------

Beefro Proudly Presents:

a Chubby!Frankie one shot

The Catfish & The Mouse: Happy Birthday, Frankie! Part 1

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader (Mouse!)

Summary: Frankie has his cake and eats it all.

Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI)

Word Count: 1,623

Content Warning: Smutty smutty smut smut (alluded to), Belly Worship, Belly Stuffing, Oral (m-receiving), shirt popping, birthday nonsense

Author's Notes: Chubby!Frankie is a happy boy! Part 2 coming soon to a Beefro's Bistro near you!

Thank you @theywhowriteandknowthings for their time, energy & eyeballs - you're review is greatly appreciated!

__________________________

“So… what’s the verdict? A barbeque or are you going throw him a private party yourself?”, Hannah asked, wiggling her eyebrows at you from across the table.

You laughed and took another drink of your latte. “Not sure… I asked him and he didn’t give me a straight answer. But he was insistent that he get a Reece’s Pieces birthday cake.”

You had gone out shopping with Hannah, and the topic of Frankie’s birthday came up. Anytime it was one of the group’s special day, there was generally some sort of get together, and Hannah was the queen of party planning.

“Oh, Frankie… what are we going to do with him?”, Hannah mused. “How about we just take him to the bar and make they guys watch as we drink ourselves stupid?”

“Love that idea. I’ll tell him that because he didn’t answer, you and I planned something special for him – us! Drunk!”, you nodded with a big laugh.

By the time you got home, you’d worked over your bank account pretty well picking out birthday gifts for Frankie. As you were hiding your haul in the linen closet, you heard Frankie come in through the kitchen door from the garage.

“Mouse? You home, baby?”, he called out. You heard the fridge open and him open a beer.

You shoved the rest of the bags into the closet – you’d sort it out later – and skipped into the kitchen.

As you rounded the corner, you stopped and stared at Frankie. He was covered in grease and dirt… and was standing in your clean kitchen. Your eyes looked at the dirty foot prints on the floor and the finger smudges on your fridge.

Your face must have projected the internal screaming that blasted in your brain and Frankie held his hands up.

“Baby.”, he said, taking a step towards you with a cheeky glint is his eye. “Come and give me a kiss.”

Another step towards you. Your eyes widened and your jaw tightened, as you took a step back, knowing where this was going.

“Come here, princess.”, he smiled wryly. “Missed you, baby. Gimme a kiss.”

Another step to you. And another step back from him.

“Frankie… stop.”, you warned, swallowing thick. As much as you hated the mess, seeing Frankie dirty and sweaty from working in the garage did something to you. But you would not allow him to make a mess of you or your house right now!

He flashed you a bright smile, his hands in front beckoning you. “Pretty baby… just a little grime… come on, princess, come get dirty.”

He took a quick step towards you, and you hopped back and yelped, “Stop right now or no birthday cake!”

He stopped in his tracks and pouted, hands falling to his sides. “Aw, Mouse… don’t say that! I’m gonna clean it up!”

“You better, Francisco Morales!”, you shook a finger at him. “Or no cake.”

*****

It was here – Frankie’s birthday! You’d stay up late the night before to finish decorating his cake. You wanted it ready and waiting for him when he got up, as he insisted that “cake is for breakfast on your birthday”. It wasn’t a rule you followed for yours, but you would happily make sure Frankie got his wish.

You got up before he did and made your way to the kitchen to put up a few decorations. You had him for the day, and tonight, Benny had a fight. You’d all go to the bar to celebrate Frankie afterwards – it’s what Frankie wanted.

Once the final streamer was tacked up, you heard Frankie calling you from the bedroom.

“WHERE’S MY BIRTHDAY BLOWJOB?”, he yelled.

You barked out a laugh as you hopped down from the counter. “Coming right up, Frankie!”

You walked into your room and crawled onto the bed as Frankie laid back, lazily stroking his cock.

“Getting it all fired up for you, princess…”, he grunted, voice cracking with sleep. “Take your top off… wanna see your perfect tits.”

Not one to argue with a birthday boy, you straddled one of his thighs and took it off and shook your tits; Frankie groaned and reached out his free hand to grab one. “Oh fuck…”

“When we’re done here, I’ve got breakfast all ready for you, honey.”, you cooed, as you reached and took over stroking his cock.

Frankie sat up and grabbed the back of your neck, maneuvering you in position, then he gently began pushing your head down. Your open mouth took in his weeping, angry tip, and you rolled your tongue over it and sucked.

“If breakfast is what I think it is, then you need to get moving, princess.”

*****

After Frankie unloaded into your waiting mouth, and you both cleaned yourselves up, you had your hands over Frankie’s eyes as you navigated him to the kitchen.

“No peeking until I say so!”, you laughed, making sure his eyes were closed as you scampered to the other side of the kitchen table, and Frankie nodded, eyes covered.

“Okay, look!”

Frankie opened his eyes and scanned the table; a small pile of presents and a double-layered sheet cake that read, “Happy Birthday, Frankie Baby!” across it.

“Happy birthday, baby!”, you shouted as he came around to hug you.

*****

Frankie had opened his gifts while you sat with him. When he asked how big of a cake piece he should cut for himself, he just about fell off his chair when you informed him that the whole cake was his piece if he wanted it.

Good god, did you spoil him.

“You don’t have to eat it all-“

“I’m gonna.”, he interrupted with a grin as he rubbed his hands together.

Before he got to work, he went and changed into a different, looser pair of sweatpants, and then he dug in.

Just a few bites in, he had completely forgone cutting pieces off the cake and was now eating from the tray directly.

“Jesus, this is good, Mouse.”, he said with a full mouth before swallowing, and continued with a laugh. “Can you imagine if I was trying to lose weight and you made me stuff like this?”

You gave a little laugh and came around, standing next to him.

“How’re you doing, baby? Getting full?”, you asked teasingly as you rubbed his belly.

He put his hand on top of yours and smiled at you. “Nah, princess, don’t worry... got room for the rest.”

He went to take another bite, but you stopped him. “Frankie… I wanna try something. You know that button up shirt you have with the stain on it?”

He nodded as his grin grew on his face, knowing where you were going with this. He changed his shirt, and it was already a little tight over his tummy.

“Nice knowing ya, shirt!”, Frankie said as he went back to work.

Frankie sat back and sighed. A good portion of the cake was now causing wide gaps between the buttons and pulling the shirt taut across his belly.

“One of these better pop soon or I’m not gonna be able to finish. Getting pretty tight.”, he huffed, poking one the straining buttons.

“I guess it’s a well-made shirt.” You said as you leaned on the table, next to him. Your fingers danced over the exposed skin popping through. “Come on, baby. Get back to it.”

You got up and went to get him something to drink. You heard Frankie take a deep breath, then a few ping-ing sounds, then Frankie groan, “Thank fuck!”

You turned around to see that Frankie had popped two of the central buttons, and his belly had pushed out.

“Now I got more room.”, he said as he dove back into his cake.

By the time all the cake was in Frankie – minus some of the frosting that decorated his face – he was sitting back patting his taut belly.

The only button that remained on the shirt was the one that sat on his sternum. The rest were either on the floor or table.

“Fuck me, Mouse…”, Frankie tried to stifle a small burp. “I’m full.”

You’d pulled a chair up and sat next to him and your hands gently massaged his bloated tummy, feeling how solid it felt under your fingers.

“Oof, Frankie… your tummy’s solid.”, you gasped. “You feeling okay, honey?”

“M’fine… just full of cake… best thing to be on your birthday.”, he grinned as he patted his tummy.

He tried to stand up and winced, rubbing his packed stomach. “Fucking heavy, too. Oof.”

He stood to his full height, stretched his back and he looked adorable; he had a bedhead still and frosting on his face, and was wearing a shirt only held on with one button and low-slung sweatpants. The star of the show was his big tummy, framed by the white button up.

“How do I look? Like I’m ready to party?”, Frankie asked you with a wink and a grin.

“Oh boy, do you ever!”, you laughed, taking his had and tugging him to the den.

Frankie spent the rest of day on the couch. You spent the morning portion of his couch time sitting on his lap, rubbing and massaging his tummy, helping him deal with the heavy contents of his stomach.

“You having a good birthday so far?”, you asked as you finished his rub and patted his belly.

“Mmmmmyeah….”, Frankie moaned happily as his hands found your waist, eyes shut and feeling drowsy. “Got my dick sucked by a pair of beautiful lips, opened presents, loaded up on cake, wrecked a shirt, and got a tummy rub from this smoking hot woman sitting on my lap. I can’t ask for more.”

__________________________

TAGLIST:

@harryleatherfit @harriedandharassed @theywhowriteandknowthings @toxicanonymity

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