#but I didn't see any bowties | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

talkbycolor · 6 months ago

Note

Hello there! I have to say, I really, really, REALLY LOVE your Kindergarten au. Little Yanderes as noisy children and MC as a Teacher who is not being paid enough XD.

Feel free to ignore if it's uncomfortable for you!

This is my first time asking so sorry if I am bothering you, But how will the mini yanderes react if they were kissed in the lips, not in a romantic way but like a parent showing love and care <3

how Mini!Yanderes react when MC kisses them¡!

A/N; even if MC kissed them like a parent the yanderes would hear wedding bells so JASHJHSAJS also the thought of an adult kissing a child on the lips is a bit weird to me so i will change it to kisses on cheek or forehead. i was listening ddlc soundtrack to write this AND SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG

Pairing(s); "Mini!Yanderes" and GN!Reader

CW; this is actually fluff / need to remark MC just see the little yans as kids they need to take care of, no one has special treatment

Sunny Day Jack.

Jack would be the one to take the initiative, in this case, the first time he kissed MC's cheek would have been during the school photo.

Early spring, all the children had arrived well-groomed to the classroom, MC finished combing John Doe's hair while the professional photographer adjusted his camera in position, the children moved from one side to the other, except Jack.

Jack finished adjusting his bowtie, very dedicated to being the most handsome child in the photo.

Finally MC gathered them all in different rows, placing themselves behind in the center.

"I will only take it once so if you need to go to the bathroom or sneeze do it now." Said the cameraman in a listless voice, no one had any protests or urgency so he raised his hand, specifically 3 fingers.

"Three… Two… One." A flash of photography dazzled them, the curious little ones ran towards the man to be able to appreciate the photograph.

And then they saw in the photo how Jack had jumped and pulled his teacher's arm to kiss their cheek, causing several students to immediately cry.

As for Jack's reaction:

He considers himself a winner, he probably looks for other ways to ask for kisses since MC is quite open about giving affection to his students, nothing too overwhelming.

Can't stop thinking about their future as a married couple.

A manipulative bastard will surely fake accidents or work twice as hard on his tasks to get that reward.

John Doe.

John Doe is a student who needs sensitivity, but don't give him too many kisses on the forehead or you'll overwhelm him.

A day like any other, the class activity required flour and water, something simple to mold and non-toxic since many of the students love to put things in their mouths, so full of curiosity.

MC finished helping everyone create their mixtures, Keith finished making flowers with his dough while Tenebris ate it.

The children learned and had fun, it was comfortable.

Until some sobs made the teacher run to where a little long-haired boy, John Doe, who couldn't stop crying, the dough had gotten stuck in his hair.

Of course, prepared for any occasion, MC took the little boy to the bathroom to wash off all the dough, which fortunately wasn't as sticky as the time Peter put gum in Mycheal's hair.

"There you go, see? Simple, are you okay, Doe? Don't cry, everything is fixed now." MC comforted their student with hugs and coos, kissing Doe's forehead.

"Again?" He asked with those huge eyes full of tenderness, MC gave more kisses on her student's forehead, who asked for more and more between laughs.

They had to stop when they realized that Doe was convulsing with happiness on the floor, it did scare them.

As for Doe's reaction:

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA"

He reacts in an exaggerated way, with adorable and loud giggles, hugs, red cheeks, his happiness is evident.

He is like a cat with dilated pupils and he scares MC.

Alan Orion.

Great project for class! Alan and his mom drew a picture of the solar system and he was in an astronaut suit, he didn't learn half of the names of the planets but it was enough to get a kiss.

The theme for that day was to draw a picture of things they want to do when they grow up, Alan carried his drawing to the board while holding it up over his head.

"I'm going to be an astronaut and walk in the stars!" he commented proudly.

"Very good, Alan, come here." MC called him over to place a star-shaped sticker on his drawing.

Alan tilted his head towards the teacher, subtly indicating what he wanted and of course the teacher didn't deny it, kissing the little boy's head.

As for Alan's reaction:

He loves praise, especially from his favorite teacher, and will keep a smile on his face for the rest of the day.

He will seek further validation from MC in other aspects.

Whenever he finishes a new activity he points his head up in anticipation of kisses.

Peter Dunbar.

One day he got sick and didn't got a kiss like everyone else.

Peter was confused, why were his classmates laughing at him while he sat in his spot?

Jack walked over with his arms crossed and a grin from ear to ear.

"Yesterday teacher MC gave us all a kiss." he said mockingly.

Of course Peter immediately ran crying to the teacher to get a kiss on the forehead.

As for Peter's reaction:

He was so upset with himself for getting sick and with the others for getting a kiss before him, he cried for 2 hours.

He asked MC for many make-up kisses, which led to the others asking for a kiss as well.

Peter bit and kicked the ones who came up to ask for a kiss, and ended up being punished.

Ren.

You don't need to be good at naming colors or good at sports when you're smart to win.

Play in the garden! All the kids were very excited, especially Ren, who got the lead role, he was a prince, surely that would delight MC, he had rehearsed so much to be the perfect prince.

The play was pretty simple, he had to dance with a girl and although that wasn't in his plans he couldn't push her off the stage or MC would think he wasn't chivalrous.

The exact minute after the play ended Ren snatched the crown from the girl's head and ran after MC.

"Teacher! Teacher! I have something for you, can I put it on you?" He asked batting his eyelashes.

MC didn't wonder where the other crown came from, they assumed the girl gave it to Ren since… Well, it's Ren. The teacher knelt down with a smile and bowed their head to allow the little boy to place the crown.

They were surprised with a tender kiss on the lips, making them gasp and quickly get up, the crown was on their head... but Ren had stolen a kiss from them!

The little boy was blushing, so happy that he couldn't stop giggling.

It was a shame that there were so many eyes looking at him with great anger at that moment.

As for Ren's reaction:

He was so happy, how could he not be? He had beaten all those losers in the classroom

He made enemies but he tries to maintain a good reputation with MC

The bad thing is that he couldn't steal more kisses from MC because now his teacher was more careful when he was around.

Mycheal.

Flowers are pretty but you are not allowed to pick them from the school garden.

It was early in the morning, not all the children had arrived yet to start class, MC arranged their notebooks and prepared the lesson for that day, while Mycheal walked through the garden looking for flowers to give to his teacher.

He knew that was not allowed but the best flowers were always there, since MC watered the plants every day, so considerate!

Finally he reached the rose bush, that was always dangerous because many times he tried to take them because of how beautiful they were but it hurt a lot, the thorns were terrible.

But today he would do it! A little pain was nothing compared to his teacher's laughter.

The little blond crouched in front of the bush and held a couple of roses, taking a deep breath when the thorns embedded themselves in his skin and he began to pull.

Harder and harder until his body fell on his back, tears came out of his eyes but he smiled when he saw a pair of red roses in his hands.

"Teacher! Teacher! Look what I made for you!" He was so proud of his bouquet that he was unable to see MC's worried face.

"Mycheal, you know you shouldn't pick flowers from the garden… Come, let's put them in a vase and heal your hands." MC said, taking the little boy's little hands to give kisses to his palms, which were bleeding a little because of the thorns.

As for Mycheal's reaction:

Mycheal learned to use gloves to pick flowers, but he can't do it anymore or he'll get punished.

Now he gets into fights on purpose to get kisses on his wounds.

He's also gotten kisses thanks to sharing his lunch with MC.

Keith and Tenebris.

Nap time in the garden, but there are always a couple of kids who don't sleep.

All the little ones were resting on the padded floor, covered by blankets after MC read them a story…

All except Keith and Tenebris of course, the twins were sitting near MC, Keith wanted more stories while Tenebris just wanted hugs.

Their teacher decided to read the story of "Sleeping Beauty", a simple story with a happy ending, he got to the part where the princess was woken up with a kiss, which gave Tenebris an idea.

The boy stood up and ran straight to the wall, crashing into it and falling to the ground, although he didn't use that much force it did scare MC, who didn't understand why the boy did that.

"Tenebris needs a kiss to wake up." The boy whispered with his eyes closed, waiting for said kiss.

Although ridiculous, it was also adorable so the teacher bent down to kiss the little boy's forehead.

"Me too! Me too!" Keith whimpered, clinging to his teacher's arm before receiving a kiss on his forehead.

As for Keith and Tenebris's reaction:

They discovered that they will get more affection if they make a truce, both asking for kisses at the same time to get double the affection.

They also both ask for kisses from MC behind the other's back.

Now they always try to stay awake during nap time, so the other students won't bother MC.

Solivan Brugmansia.

Spring event, it's time to bring out your artistic talents! But not in the case of the teacher.

MC had ordered their students to draw a picture of the things they liked most about spring, a simple activity to celebrate the beginning of spring, they were allowed to use crayons, paints, watercolors, chalk…

"Doe, don't eat the colors!" They ran towards the curious child who was trying to put a color in his mouth.

Being a teacher wasn't easy and although most of his students drove them crazy they had to admit that it was adorable.

Time passed, slowly while the children concentrated, it was strange that there was so much silence but not inopportune, the teacher decided to walk around their students to supervise their work, stopping behind Sol.

He had drawn a garden, it seemed that in the background were the horses and… MC?

The teacher sighed, stroking the boy's head and kissing his cheek, he just hoped that his parents wouldn't come to the festival asking weird questions because of how attached Sol seemed to be to him.

As for Sol's reaction:

He still doesn't understand why his parents worry when he draws his teacher, he loves MC!

Prone to developing praise kink.

His artistic skills would evolve thanks to his obsession with drawing MC, which would lead to more compliments and more kisses, clever, huh?

Damon.

Time to go out and play! Sometimes tears bring good things.

The whole group followed the teacher in a row, like baby ducks following their mother, they were on their way to the playground in the kindergarten, holding hands so as not to get lost of course.

They all made a circle on the field while MC prepared the game for the day, nothing too complicated.

In the end they decided to play soccer, nothing serious, just a bunch of little kids kicking the ball around each other.

It could have been entertaining if it weren't for the fact that Damon kept trying to catch the ball with his mouth, it made some people laugh but MC was worried, the real problem came when Ren tried to kick the ball while Damon was so close to catching it with his teeth.

Fortunately there was no blood but there were tears from little Damon, who cried and cried with his arms up, wanting to be carried by MC.

MC told them to keep playing while they tended to Damon, taking him to the infirmary where they made sure to hold him in their arms and caress his sweet little cheeks so that the swelling would go down.

His teacher kissed his head lovingly.

"There, there, there… Are you feeling better, Damon? It's over, don't worry, but you should know that you shouldn't use your mouth in a game where your legs are used, understood?"

As for Damon's reaction:

He understands that injuries mean kisses and cuddles from MC, prone to getting into fights to get more and then blaming Peter.

He's like a puppy, always rubbing his head against MC for attention.

He asks for kisses every day, if he doesn't get them he'll instantly sob like a pup.

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alastorss · 1 year ago

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we've seen Alastor with deaf reader. but what about Alastor and blind reader?

how confusing it would be for them meeting Alastor for the first time with the radio filter overlaying his voice

and how confusing it would be for our deer man to find out he grew soft spot for reader? bc they find his voice very soothing to listen? since their hearing senses are hightened due to the blindness

so in one of their shared peaceful moments he asks reader if they want to see him. and to answer their startled expression he just brings their hands to lay on his face.. for them to "read" his appearence..

sorry if there are mistakes, Im not eng. love your writing sm, thanks for quality food you bring us, fluff-starved people!

💕

a/n: hiii hun!! i'm so so sorry i took so long to respond to this, but i really wanted to write something for this because aaaaahhhhh that's such a good idea omg 😭❤️ i hope you like it!

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Alastor once believed himself to be the demon of all demons.

He was everything a Sinner wanted to be and everything a Sinner feared in one soul—a package wrapped up pretty with a bowtie. He loved it. Thrived on it.

There was something so delicious about terror.

He played into his horrifying image. Purposefully made his presence known; broadcasted screams for all to hear. Power and fame only made him greedier for souls.

Being the center of attention came naturally for him. As natural as breathing, friends would jest. He attracted eyes wherever he went. Some admiring. Some not.

So it was quite a shock when you bumped right into him on the street and didn't immediately comb him over with your eyes.

"I'm sorry," you quickly stammered out, fiddling with your own sleeves.

Finally, you looked at him, but he could tell you were just looking for the sake of looking. Absently, you stared at him as you waited for a response.

Perhaps you expected him to chew you out. To lay a hand on you or to drag you into the alley so he could kick you until you bled. He could see it in your expression.

His heart uncharacteristically ached.

Instead, he steadied you by the shoulders and fixed a stray lock of hair out of your face.

"Carry on, my dear," he mused.

He was surprised with how pleased he was when you smiled at him. Big and wide—charming, really. He was hooked.

Alastor became a frequent in the area, always keeping his eyes peeled for you so he could take your arm into his and ferry you around. You insisted that you were fine, that you didn't need help, but he denied that those were his intentions. He simply wanted your company.

(And to scare off any other demons who had hit you or spat at you before.)

Eventually, you grew fond of him, too.

You could hear him so clearly—the trail of death and despair he left behind was loud, after all. Screaming souls followed his every move. For some reason, it comforted you.

He never tried playing nasty pranks on you. Never tried sneaking up behind you just to scare you, or hit you just because he could.

Alastor did not feel like a demon anymore.

Sinister and cruel, he thought the words didn't suit him when you were walking hand-in-hand.

For as many lives as he took, he had a soft spot for you.

His very presence brought you ease. You knew no one dared to approach a weak Sinner like you when you had him dangling off your arm. He found ways to fill the silence when you weren't chatting, just assuring you he was there.

"You're too kind to me," you once said to him. "You're not an angel trying to trick me, are you?"

"I am!" He chuckled, feeding into your little joke.

The way you laughed made his heart squeeze in the same way it had when he first met you. For a moment he felt nothing but guilt burn in his stomach.

He was the demon of all demons, but for some reason, he couldn't stand you thinking he was a demon at all.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Ever since convincing you to come to the hotel with him, you've not left his side once.

Not that he was complaining about it.

Surrounded with new people and often jolting out of your own skin whenever they began impromptu musical numbers, Alastor could tell you were entirely out of your element.

You were slowly but surely beginning to open up to your new home and the compatriots that came with it. However, you were always the most relaxed with the Radio Demon's soothing presence. He found himself cherishing the moments that you spent alone.

Conversation was not needed to tell each other how you felt. He appreciated that the most.

It's why he is slightly confused when you open your mouth as if you want to say something before snapping it shut with a loud huff. Again and again, you keep it up, sighing and groaning quietly to yourself.

Finally, Alastor has had enough. "Is something the matter, dear?" He asks, peering up from his newspaper to eye you on the other end of the couch.

"N-No!" You squeak, fumbling around with your hands like a cartoon character. "I just..."

He waits for you to continue, only to be met with deafening silence. Sighing to himself, he sets down his paper and scoots over to your side.

"Go on," he gently urges.

"I don't want to be a bother," you say quietly after a pause of hesitation.

He only stares at you, flabbergasted by the way you start to pull away from him. Stopping you by giving your shoulder a squeeze, he swallows harshly.

Your heart is racing so loud that he can hear it roaring in his own sensitive ears.

"You are never a bother," he quickly assures. "Come now, look at me."

Your brows furrow, unsure of what he wants you to do. You slowly turn your head to him with a confused scrunch of the nose. In all the time that you had known each other, he had never asked you to do something so pointless.

"Look at me," he pushes, hands sliding down your arms to take yours. He tugs you closer and brings your hands up to his face, allowing you to cup his cheeks.

Careful not to nick your skin with his teeth, his smile softens. Your hands roam his face tenderly, subtly squeezing at the fat of his cheeks. With your fingers tracing every part of him, from the bridge of his nose to his brows to the infinite curve of his smile, you relax.

"I'm a monster."

He had always tried to convince you that he wasn't terrible. That he was worthy of having your hands cupping his cheeks. But you could feel it—his smile. His antlers.

He's never felt vulnerable before. For some reason, it feels good to open up to you.

"You're just as pretty as I always imagined," you tell him with a shake of your head. Alastor flushes at your words.

No dishonesty. No fear. Your heart has stopped pounding in your ribcage.

That's right. He was kind to you, even though he was a beast. The demon had always thought that what he wanted most was to be feared, but he was wrong. You knew his heart before his form.

He shifts so he can kiss your fingertips.

"Well? What would you like to say?"

You suddenly freeze up, lips pressed into a thin line. Flustered, you sputter. "Nevermind, please just forget about that!"

"Oh? Keeping secrets from me isn't very nice, darling~" he muses. You groan, pulling your hands back to your own face to hide it.

Alastor only laughs, static crackling in his voice as he does. He leans forward, gently prying your wrists to reveal your face again so he can press his lips to your forehead.

He knows. The way you melt into his arms is enough. No conversation needed.

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terry-perry · 1 year ago

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to help you practice your alastor writing, how about reader is one of carmila’s daughters and she introduces mom to her new boyfriend: alastor!

Headcanons or imagine, your choice!

Ooh, I like this concept!

You have known Alastor for some time now due to the Overlord meetings that happen now and again.

You found him to be quite handsome as well as funny.

You knew he was probably a little crazy, but it was all right if he was. What demon wasn't?

You would glance at him often during these meetings and cover up the giggles you'd have over his remarks.

It wasn't until one day he did a particular job putting Vox in his place, having you release an audible snort, and finally got Alastor to notice you.

He invited you to lunch, and you two had been going steady since then

You wished to keep it under wraps for as long as you could

Your mother was a protective woman, and although she was always neutral towards Alastor, seeing him as nothing more than a fellow Overlord, you weren't sure how she'd feel if he was your boyfriend.

So, you met in secret and went on dates that were more on the subtle side so it looked more like a casual outing between two work associates

Those who knew, for the time being, were your sisters and the residents of the Hazbin Hotel

Clara and Odette knew all about Carmilla's protective nature and were fine with covering for you. They were sure to tease you about the relationship, in the meantime.

As for everyone at the hotel, they were on board with helping to keep the relationship a secret as you two spent time alone there

Alastor may or may not have threatened a few of them just to ensure things

Charlie, in particular, was happy to help out in any way with this budding romance

All Husk could say was that he prayed that you knew what you were doing, getting with a demon like his boss

When you two weren't spending time together at the hotel, you were "bumping into" each other in the city where you'd then go on walks or have lunch together

Anyone who'd dare question these interactions would have to answer to Alastor

You were right in thinking that Alastor was no prince, seeing the way he threatened those who defied him or how he took delight in heinous things like blood and violence, but you didn't mind

In a way, he was still an old-fashioned gentleman who treated you well

Alastor himself found it beneficial to be courting the daughter of a powerful arms dealer

His genuinely liking you was just gravy!

Things were going well for the last several months until one night at dinner Odette let it slip that you had plans, the following day, with your boyfriend

"Boyfriend?" Carmilla questioned as she walked back to the table with her refilled drink. "How long has this been going on?"

You stammered, for a bit, slightly intimidated by your mother's stoic stare. "A few months now,"

"I see," she took a sip of her drink before speaking again. "Bring him over next week. I wish to meet him."

Cut to you and Alastor outside your home preparing to have tea with your mother

You fixed yourself and even him for what seemed to be a million times until Alastor placed his hands over yours to get you to stop fixing his bowtie once more

You grew more flustered than before as he pierced you with a teasing grin that carried a hint of reassurance

"This is nothing I can't handle. Not to worry, my dear!"

And yet you couldn't help but notice the small flinch he did when the door suddenly opened to welcome you in

You took each other's hand as you went in, your mother greeting you both right away

Turned out she knew already!

"You've been seen out with him for months, and his broadcasts have been full of more voices than normal. It's not rocket science."

"Told you she enjoyed my show!"

You were expecting her to have several questions for him, but that wasn't the case

Carmilla knew Alastor was respectful and had trusted associates such as Zestial who would vouch for him

She, too, believed the relationship could come with some benefits. He could be of some use to the family.

Plus she raised you well enough so that you could judge others for yourself and take care of yourself if need be

Alastor would be stupid to take advantage of a family who holds a large assortment of weapons that can kill both demons and exorcists

Like with many things, Carmilla approves, but within reason

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ohdeerfully · 1 year ago

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hi! I have a request, I've never really done this before but I'll give it a shot. so my request is that Charlie is tasked by heaven to watch over a very special human soul via a device that is like a full 360 VR kind of setup and this soul just so happens to be Alastor's immortal wife (he didn't know she was) whom he thought had died with him during a bad event and wound up in heaven but she didn't and She stayed the same since the 1930s like her looks stayed the same and her love for Alastor stayed too she never once tried to move on even when her new friends in this time tried to get her a guy but she just refused still wearing the wedding ring her gave her

I hope it's not too much to ask it can be changed to whatever you see if you have full creative control over it!

thank you for your brain anon

theres a couple awkward POV shifts in the story and im super duper sorry about that D: im not good at those

An Eternity

alastor x reader (angst) TW: reader is female, reader gets a lil drunk and drives but shes fine(i do not condone this pls dont drink and drive im so serious), yearning goes ouchie ):

join my discord!

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Alastor rarely, if ever, talked about his time alive. He saw it pointless; a waste of time and energy. How could it benefit him if somebody else knew his history? If anything, it would only open up weak points. And, being an Overlord, he couldn’t afford that.

The only hint of his past was a band on his finger that he never took off. Even after decades in Hell, nobody saw him without it.

People often asked, of course, because how in the Hell did the Radio Demon get hitched? Even in life, he was probably just as unusual and off putting. These questions were always met with a dismissive wave and a laugh, but anybody who knew him—which wasn’t many, truly—would recognize the strain in his voice as he brushed them off. Whatever the story was seemed to only grow more painful with time.

He was deep in thought, humming absently as he trailed through the hotel. He ended up meandering by Charlie’s room, which was cracked open. He took this as an invitation to let himself in, cheerfully grinning as he saw the girl sitting on the edge of her bed looking extremely confused.

“Hello, dear!” He announced himself, standing up straight and fixing his bowtie with one hand. “What does this afternoon have in store for the Princess of Hell?”

“Heyy, Al,” Charlie responded, still frowning at the contraption in her hand. It was a rather bulky thing; an unappealing piece of new technology, Alastor decided. Still, he loomed from behind Charlie with a curious bend in his neck. Her shoulders were stiff, and he couldn’t tell if it was from frustration with the thing in her hand or discomfort at him watching her.

“What is that peculiar thing?” He finally asked, since Charlie made no attempt at explanation. She seemed too focused to really pay him any mind.

“Something Heaven gave me to watch some curious soul they can’t control,” She murmured, fiddling with a couple buttons and knobs. “They’ve got me doing some ridiculous things. I mean, some human soul shouldn’t even concern me. But, they promise these favors will help with my hotel.”

Alastor hummed in response. He of all demons would recognize a manipulation tactic when he saw one—convincing a powerful demon princess to do your chores and promising to help her desperate project in return seemed like something the angels would do. He didn’t care one way or another, as long as Charlie’s naivete didn’t get in the way of his own goals.

He took a few steps back when Charlie stood, seemingly finished with setting up the box. He grinned, amused, when she pulled it over her head. It wasn’t the most flattering thing, and pretty bulky on her face. She looked ridiculous, honestly.

“Modern technology,” He sighed dramatically, leaning down onto his cane as he continued to observe her. “Only getting uglier.”

Charlie didn’t respond to his comment, looking around at what Alastor saw as nothing. She played around with the settings again, and adjusted the straps on her head again, before looking around again. She let out a successful sounding “hell yes” before pulling a remote of sorts from her pocket. She pushed on a joystick.

“What are you doing?” Alastor asked plainly, the building curiosity finally becoming too much. “Why do you have a box on your head?”

“It’s like…” She began to explain, trying to think of how to make sense of it to him. “Like… imagine you were looking through the eyes of somebody else, but still standing in the same spot..?” Her voice tilted at the end, unsure of her explanation.

Yeah, no, Alastor had no clue. But he dismissed it as unnecessary, as he often did with any technology he couldn’t understand.

“I’m seeing… Earth, I guess,” Charlie explained more. “Following around this girl.”

Alastor was only partially listening, humming quietly to himself as he just observed. He wondered if he should just leave—nothing interesting was happening. He was curious to see what antics Heaven was pushing on the Princess of Hell, though.

“Wanna try?” Charlie offered, lifting the headset up away from her eyes. Alastor immediately scrunched his nose up and narrowed his eyes.

“And look as ridiculous as you? Hah! No thank you,” He sat down on a chair near the wall, leaning against the back of it. He threw one leg up over the other. Charlie shrugged in response, and pulled the contraption back down.

Alastor sat for a while, absently thinking about what he wanted to do later as he waited for something to happen.

“Oh! Hold on,” Charlie suddenly said, causing Alastor’s ears to straighten to attention as she reached up and pressed a button. A holographic projection appeared out of nowhere, manifesting through some strange magic. “Forgot I could do that. This is what I’m seeing in here.”

Alastor stood and walked closer, leaning forward on his cane as he studied the projection. It seemed like some kind of bar. He mused at how different modern bars looked from the speakeasies he would frequent during his own life.

“What heavenly task are you doing in a bar?” He joked, trying to find something interesting in the projection. It just seemed like generic bar business. Loud, flirtatious women and boisterous, over confident men. That, at least, was the same from his day.

“Like I said earlier,” Charlie explained, looking around the room. The projection seemed to follow her movement, and Alastor recognized that he was basically seeing through her eyes. How curious. “There’s some… soul they lost control of. And they want me to report to them about her.”

Alastor was very curious to see what kind of soul broke from control of literal heaven. He watched rather intently, leaned forward against his cane to watch the projection.

Charlie turned another knob, and the sound of tacky pop music and loud chatter began to emanate from the bar scene. Alastor wasn’t a fan of newer music, but he was often forced to listen anyway in the hotel lobby.

“Is it possible to turn down that dreadful noise?” He complained to her, announcing his dissatisfaction.

“No. I need to be able to hear what the woman is saying,” Charlie answered stubbornly. Alastor’s microphone of a cane began to obnoxiously play a song of his choice for a moment in retaliation, but died down after a few moments. After all, Charlie ignored his attempt at aggravation, so there was no point in keeping it up.

Charlie looked around the bar, searching. Finally, her gaze settled on a fancier booth with half drawn curtains. From her angle, she could only see a woman. She looked frustrated.

“---get out of your shell! It’s about time you start talking to some guys for once,” Charlie caught the tail end of the woman’s statement. She was gesturing wildly around, exasperation evident in the jagged movements. “I’m sick of watching you pine for somebody who’s been gone for ages.”

★

“Ten years isn’t ages, Mechiele,” You drew your finger against the table, making shapes with the rim of water that the condensation from your glass left. Nearly a hundred years, more like, You commented to yourself. You never told anybody that you were an immortal being. Nobody believed you when you did, anyway.

You sat your cheek against the palm of your hand and lifted your gaze to your friend, who looked at you with a sharp frown. You shot her a weak smile.

“Can you just drop it?” You asked, nearly pleading. You didn’t want to cry tonight, being a little tipsy—you were an emotional drunk. You didn’t want to embarrass yourself blabbering about a dead husband.

“Come on,” Mechiele said impatiently, pushing your pleas aside. “There’s so many hot guys in here, I bet one would just love to take a piece of work like you home and-”

“Mechiele.” You hoped your tone was enough to shut her up.

You should’ve known better, honestly. Mechiele was already abrasive when she was sober, but with the amount of drinks she’s had tonight…

“No, no, no! You bum! Get your ass up right now and get out there! And take that ring off while you’re at it!”

Mechiele quickly lunged at you, a much too playful look in her eye considering how pissed you were right now. You yanked your arm away from her grasp, cupping your hand protectively with the other, shielding the golden band on your finger from her.

“Fucking drop it!” You snapped at her, standing from your seat. “I’m going home. You’re too drunk. I’ll drive.”

“You’re so fucking lame,” Mechiele droned, falling back into her seat. She wouldn’t budge when you urged her to stand and come with you. “He’s fuckin’ dead! Get a new man, already! Alastor’s not-”

Mechiele stopped abruptly when you smacked her. It wasn’t an incredibly hard smack or anything, barely enough to leave a red bloom on her cheek, but it was enough. She looked at you through narrowed eyes. You returned the same expression.

You left the booth and stormed off, cursing under your breath about it all. About Mechiele, about this stupid bar, about the tipsy feeling in your head, about Alastor—

You folded your arms together as you briskly walked to your car, yelling in frustration at your heels and ripping them off your feet. The ground was a little wet and cold, but you didn’t care. After making it to your car, you threw yourself in an switched it on.

You thought for a few moments. You were lightheaded after a few drinks, but you really didn’t want to wait for a taxi. You’d probably be fine, yeah? Sure. Against your better judgment, you began to drive.

It was a long drive, but it gave you some time to think.

You missed him. You pined for him. Nearly every night was agony, missing the presence of the only man you’ve ever fallen in love with.

You cursed whatever higher power there was for making you this way—immortal. How cruel it was, to make you live forever to suffer this longing. You didn’t even notice when you ended up in your room, but you let yourself fall face first onto your bed, curling up into a ball.

Even more, you cursed yourself for ever falling in love. You should’ve known it would only lead to an endless torture of heartbreak. You would never love anybody the same; although, you don’t think you’d want to, even if you could.

You were born to suffer. To spend an eternity in life without him.

★

Charlie continued to watch in shock for a few moments, her mouth dropped at the mention of the Radio Demon’s name. The previously hidden woman stepped from the bar, a furious look in her eyes as she stormed away. Mechiele was left with stubbornly folded arms and an empty glass of alcohol.

“Heyyy, uh, Al, how common is your name..? Do you know…” Charlie asked a bit awkwardly. She got no response. She lifted the headset, and realized he was gone. Even still, there seemed to be a lingering feeling of intense static, and the air somehow felt a bit heavier than before.

★

This had to be some cruel, sick joke, right? Heaven had to be toying with him, finally finding a way to torture his soul. His wife—she was dead. It had been nearly a hundred years since he died, and even if she had lived till she was old—

Alastor was pacing his room, ears pinned and eyes wide in frantic thought. Oh, how he yearned for her. He had managed for so long to push the memory of her away, to lock up his loss in a tight cage as he climbed the ranks of hell; it had all come rushing, barreling, torrenting back when he had seen her—or, no, somebody that looked like her—step out of those curtains. It was only a coincidence that that woman looked like his wife, and only a coincidence that she had a dead husband that shared his name.

His wife was in heaven, no doubt; which was where she belonged, of course, but Alastor had spent the last decade pining for somebody who he could never see again. If given the choice, Alastor wasn’t so sure himself if he was kind enough as to not tear her soul from Heaven and down to Hell by his side. Alternatively, even if Charlie’s idea of redemption were to work, Alastor was truly irredeemable. It was all wistful thinking, anyway.

Alastor’s claws dug into the curtains of his window, staring out into the streets of Hell in an attempt to concentrate on one steady stream of thought.

When billions of people touch the Earth, it’s only natural that coincidences like this rise. Right? He tried desperately to convince himself of different possibilities. It just made no sense.

A knocking at his door made Alastor’s grin curl in deadly malice. He really wasn’t in the mood.

He paced to his door, opened it just enough to fit his body in the frame, and glared down at Charlie. She was wringing her hands together nervously, and only seemed to grow more timid as the heavy, almost palpable ambience of his radio static filled the hallway she stood in.

“I’m busy,” Alastor said bluntly. His lips were curled in a sneer.

“I can tell,” Charlie responded. "I know you don't like talking about yourself-" She began to ramble on about him talking to her about his feelings and whatnot, but Alastor didn’t listen as he shut the door again.

Though, the interruption did give his mind a chance to slow. He sat on a chair in the corner of his room, and opted to fiddle with the radio on the drawer next to him. He tuned it—or, more just magically infused it—to play some jazz to try to keep his head level.

It would take some time to rebuild the dam that held back the memories of his wife. Even just the mere thought of her made him feel weak, and he hated it. The only soul he was capable of falling in love with—gone, forever.

Alastor never took the whole “eternity of damnation” thing seriously, considering the power he held and how comfortable he really was in Hell. However, when he remembered her—

Hell truly was torture. And he was cursed to spend his eternity in death without her.

#ohdeerfully #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader angst #angst #mutual pining OM NOM NOM NOM #i love angst im sorry guys

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crows-in-the-house · 9 months ago

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Bill Cipher x Reader possesion hc's

tw: harm to reader, violence and blood?

i think he would posses you in your sleep, making sure you are deep in nightmare realm, getting in only when he's sure you won't wake up :

he will start his fun with drawing eyes on your eyelids and your forehead, maybe whole body if he's in the mood,

and the best part? It's going to be with a the pernament marker sucker!

if he gets bored he might start drawing triangles or riddles, sometimes just in places you won't see, like "Bill's property" on your nape (ha! you still have that you fool!)

oooh, and maybe he will tattoo that if you've been ignoring him lately

just so you know haha

will try to see if he can bite of ur fingers

will eat spiders (his fav human must be well feed)

will bath you in nailpolish so you're "well preserved"

will prank call random people hoping he finds any of the Pines numbers (so you two can go on a murder date!!)

will make a fashion show!

but don't hope it will turn out well, he will cut out "clothes" out of your curtains, make a shawl out of toilet paper and use a grater as a bracelet. Later you may just find yourself half naked cuz he bearly knew how to put back normal clothes on you (he will defend himself saying that real clothes are boring and out of style)

on the other hand he will also put on lots of jewelry and accesories - so you may also wake up with three hats, old winter glove, two bowties (which you didn't own earlier?) and 6 rings on your toes. enjoy!

sometimes Bill will just watch tv. Maybe he will comment on "my little ponny" or other shows, what else can he do? He has to talk to somebody, you know, while waiting for his lazy human. The next day you can feel ur throat burning and eyes itching

"what about building a portal?" - you would ask. Well no, he obviously does that. It's just that it's not so enjoyable when you don't have anyone to boss around! So he gets bored quickly and nags you about it later. Or send you more nightmares about it, cuz how dare you be so sloppy with your work!?

he will also draw himslef on all your mirrors so you can look at him every time u try to look at ur relfection (if you try to clean that off, he will just scratch it with something sharp the next day, so better be cearful, theres going to be lots of glass shards everywhere)

prolly will just throw brokade everywhere cuz its pretty

if he's feeling lonely or desperate he will start rewiring your brain, maybe adding a few fake memories where he's your hero, or putting himself in a place of somebody that helped you in hard sytuation. Remember that one time you got sick and somebody was next to your bed 24/7? Yeah it was Bill, do thank him.

will read all your thoughts about him

will drink a soup made of energy drinks and candy

will write his name on ur brain. or heart. or lungs, maybe just everywhere, why not?

will act like you in front of the mirror and compliment himself!

will try making a piercing. if he fails with your ears he will just practice on your tights! And neck!

will haunt down your friends, you better tell them you were just playing tag with them. Yes, with a knife, who doesn't?

will try to lick your eyeball

and elbow

also will hurt your body in weird ways but that obvious

(buuuut maybe, just maybe, he will make you not feel all the pain the next day. If he likes you that enough, that is)

#bill cipher x reader #yandere bill cipher x reader #yandere x reader #bill cipher x you #gravity falls #thetalkingcrow #bill cipher headcanons

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knight-a3 · 4 months ago

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Hazbin Masterpost

Heavenbound Masterpost

Sir Pentious

So the problems I had with the canon design is that he looked more like a slug than a snake and there were too many eyes. His design just needed to be streamlined. I guess I'm not a fan of the eye motif in general, but that's a personal preference. I altered the colors to add more variety to the hazbin cast, and to reference his early design, which had quite a bit of green.

More notes under the cut, including a human and angel design

I based his design off of the Indian monocled cobra, because the design of its hood was most similar to Pentious', and Hognose snakes. Hognose snakes also have a hood, although not near as impressive as cobras. If that doesn't help to ward off danger, they are will play dead. They are very insistent about playing dead too. It's honestly hilarious. I thought the behavior fit Pentious' overall pathetic demeanor.

Body:

I slimmed his lower body to match his upper body to get rid of the slug look. He also doesn't really have much in terms of shoulders, his suit jacket has padded shoulders to make it look like he has them.

Then I changed the vertical lines to horizontal, which can open to reveal eyes, I guess.

Head:

So a snake hood is literally just their neck. They flatten their neck to make themselves look bigger than they are. I don't have to strictly follow that, since he's a demon and not a real snake, but I felt the need to somewhat allude to the fact. I also liked the animation of his hair/hood as it went up or down and wanted that to stay. So I had the hood part attach to his neck before the collar of his shirt, and the hair is an extra part.

I adjusted the mouth shape to more accurately resemble a snake's, which has a space for the tongue to pass through. The teeth aren't always visible, because snake fangs only show when the mouth is open. I didn't really consider what it would look like for him to unhinge his jaw, but he can totally do that.

Clothes:

I wanted to give him a more clearly Victorian outfit. Specifically late Victorian, because he apparently died in 1888. Fashion was basically transitioning into Edwardian at that point. But the hard part is that men's fashion didn't change as dramatically as women's over time. In a simplified style, I had to make sure it didn't just look like a regular suit. Especially since he doesn't have pants to help complete the look.

I opened his suit jacket to show the waistcoat(vest), and include a chain for a pocket watch. I chose to give him a cravat because it has Victorian vibes, and helped me in my quest to reduce the number of bowties. The tie pin looks like an eye because I didn't see a reason not to.

Top hats were fairly popular in this era. Bowler hats were probably more popular, but the top hat has an older vibe and steampunk aesthetic.

Egg Bois:

I don't actually understand them. He created them, but I don't know how that works. Or why he made them eggs. But they're there. Frank is there. I think one should be named Egbert. Yolkshire(oh, with a Cockney accent too). Um... any other egg pun names?

Mannerisms:

His height is variable, based on his mood and if he's trying to be intimidating.

I didn't consciously decide this, but I kept drawing it and liked it, but he tends to stick his tongue out and hold his hands up. It's pretty autism-coded.

Human: Soooooo. I did see the S2 leaks. I incorporated some things, but changed some as well, so I don't think this will be significant spoilers or anything.

Really long hair was not Victorian style, but there wasn't exactly a strict standard either. So I gave him the longest that I found examples of. Facial hair would have been typical for men to have, but I guess he didn't get the memo. Maybe he was worried about it getting caught in the machinery.

His name is Mr. Pendleton. I don't know a first name, but I sorta like Simon. He was a socially reclusive weapons engineer. To be perfectly honest, I don't have all that much else to say. I'm not sure how deep canon will delve into his human life and I don't want to theorize much at this point. So I'm not sure how he died either. Maybe it was a weapons malfunction.

He might only be in hell because he felt guilty about something that might be spoilers to say. It was honestly a pretty mild sin on his part, and I wonder if he was redeemed because his sacrifice relieved him of that guilt. I'm sure the show will touch on that though.

Redeemed: So the direction I'm going is that angels are more human-like in appearance. Those in hell look different because the place corrupts their appearances. But that mean his redeemed design had to be very different than canon. But it was a chance to give him his iconic hairstyle without worrying about historical accuracy.

(Feb 18, 2025 - added a note to say there are human and angel designs under the cut)

#hazbin hotel #hellaverse #hazbin hotel redesign #sir pentious #hazbin pendleton #human pentious #angel pentious #heavenbound au #a3 art #fanart #digital art #character sheet

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mediumgayitalian · 9 days ago

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try shit tuesday reference post

ongoing and (hopefully.) frequently updated! here is a list of my current ideas & hopefuls including any outlines or snippets i have available. the nsfw will be linked from a separate post on my sideblog, @subwillsolace. set up will look like:

idea

general outline/summary

snippet

5+1s (from yalls suggestions):

5 times Will wouldn't accept help and 1 time he did

cecil pov. five times, in the process of growing up, cecil watches his friend refuse help -- from his brothers, from chiron, from cecil himself (when his brothers were gone), from lou ellen, from his younger siblings. and one time cecil sees will accept help from nico.

"Solace, if you don't give me something to do right this second, I'll shadow travel myself right off a fucking cliff," Nico threatens. Will scowls. Cecil straightens, eyes wide. "Fine, you jackass," he grouches, all but flinging a roll of bandages at Nico's head. "Do it right."

5x Hazel had to learn something about the modern world and 1x she didn't

hazel pov. honestly i dont have much of an idea for this one yet so ill come back to it (& would be happy to brainstorm w the person who suggested this).

Will one 5x Apollo campers didn't make it and 1x one did

longer fic, will pov. cass's death, then diana's, then lee's, then michael's, then coming back to the overcrowded infirmary to realize he's alone. to kayla and austin's claiming, as if that will help, this time. and then one time he gets his siblings back -- from nero, when his father rescues them.

Will knows something is wrong because Michael doesn't let him see. Michael always lets him see. He struggles in Michael's grip but he doesn't struggle hard, because he is afraid. He can see the ends of Diana's hair but he cannot see Cass, and he can feel the grass, soaking beneath his bare feet. He does not look down. Instead he clenches the back of Michael's ratty hoodie and breathes through his mouth and says, "Michael, let me go. Please."

five times nico helps will fix his outfit and one time will helps nico fix his

nico pov. the first time he gives will clothes, which is a spare t-shirt because his got blood-soaked fixing a field injury. the second time is because they are going on a stealth mission and no, will, wearing all black is actually not conspicuous in any capacity, i know im doing it but it Fits With The Vibe, you are blond. yes i am discriminating. yes you are going to wear the polo shirt im giving you. sorry. the third time is a toga because will is visiting new rome and is Super pumped about it and oh my gods he looks good in a toga no one is supposed to look good in a toga??? it is a bedsheet???? huh???? the fourth time is. a very homoerotic collection of gifts. for his birthday. it is a wardrobe basically. like acessories and everything. he makes will try it all on in his cabin and it starts silly and gets real gay real fast. the fifth time is a full on tux he makes will wear to his cousins wedding because NO, a dress shirt and jeans is NOT black tie are you on crack. and there is a moment with fixing the bowtie that is. well its something. and there is dancing as slow songs play etc etc. the plus one is a horrible 'if lost return to mr. cullen' 'i am mr. cullen' twilight couple's shirt set will buys nico that he is so excited about that nico has to wear and then endure the immediate onset humiliation from all observing parties.

"Like -- this?" He pushes through the door, mouth screwed up in confusion, and Nico's mouth goes dry. He is -- Nico is not sure whom to blame, exactly. He does not make the robes, he left no instructions with the tailor, only get him a toga for the love of the gods he cannot go to council in shorts and please make sure it fits. But he had not thought to specify the robe be Roman; he had not thought he'd need to. Because what Will is wearing is a chiton. And it looks good. Nico feels his disgusting amount of honey cake do a full, enthusiastic barrel roll in his stomach, gunning for the track up his esophagus. "It looks bad, doesn't it." In other words, he is about to die.

five times nico can’t sleep and one time he can.

nico pov. once in early early camp days, where he misses his sister and sneaks out of the hermes cabin, sneaking up on and scaring the Shit out of a blond boy spying on chiron arguing with a camper in the big house. a second time the first night he is on the streets, sobbing, scared and furious and alone. a third time, half-delirious, trying to fix his own injury in a random country he has shadow-travelled to. a fourth time, in the barracks at new rome, aching with guilt over lying to percy. a fifth time, in the infirmary, watching will work. and in that same first time, when will quietly offers to help.

im leaving the following blank cus i dont have idea for them YET ill come back later

five times will gets trauma flashbacks and bottles it up and the one time he doesn’t.

five times will gives up his personal life for camp and one time he decides to put himself first.

five times nico is away from home and one time he returns

5 times people meet Will for the first time and 1 time he sees someone again if that makes sense

omg five times nico ends up at the infirmary (ill/ injured) and one time (the only one time ever) will gets nursed back to health again

five times will had an emotional breakdown and one time he finally explode (plus if nico is the one he break into )

five times nico didn’t accept will (thinking he doesn’t deserve him) and one time he finally does (bonus if will too try to accept nico) (bonus bonus the timeline is when they were new into relationship aka before toa)

bigger fic (aka probably several chapters) ideas:

lee's backstory.

starting with a pretty young lee. generally just a long story going through his life thinking hes a mortal, although a weird one, in new york, including the time his mother sits him down the nth time he freaks out about monsters he cant prove are there and quietly telling him schizophrenia runs in the family. his teen years as he gives up trying to make people believe him and just learns to take the monsters on himself, decking weird dog head things and stabbing cyclopes in their stupid massive eyes. he wakes up to a bow, once, on his bed. he doesnt tell his mother. he uses it. all the way to his first year at camp, where hes 15 years old and taken by a satyr when his school is blown up with him in it. all the way to the day he wakes up, older sisters already gone, battle on the horizon, and knows he is going to die.

He’s not looking at her when he walks in, just barely before the last second of the bell. She’s looking at him, though. “Lee Fletcher?” Lee whips his head up, pausing at his seat. The woman has the greenest eyes he’s ever seen — unnaturally so, like pools of chlorophyll — and they lock onto him like the scope of a crossbow. “Uh. Yeah.” There’s a click as the door closes. Lee swallows, sliding slowly into his desk, keeping his hand, as surreptitiously as he can, down low by his thigh, just out of view. “You the sub?” Cody sneers from beside him. “You having another episode, freak? Mrs. Cobb has been here all semester.” Lee glances over at — Mrs. Cobb. She watches him carefully, strange eyes carefully blank, scared hands still and stiff on the arms of her chair. He has been in this Calculus II class for seven months now. He has never seen her once. Cody hasn’t either. But Cody’s a fuckin’ dumbass. “Right,” Lee says lightly. “I’ll up to dosage to three batteries a night. Can always count on you, Codster.” Cody scowls deeper, kicking over Lee’s backpack. His books go flying across the front of the classroom, papers fluttering about like butterfly wings. “Whatever, tardo.” “Language,” says Mrs. Cobb. Her voice is low, gravelly; like Lee would expect for someone her age, only there’s an undertone to it, a smoothness he’s never head before. Like the rustling of leaves in the breeze right before you fall asleep. She watches him, again, eyes the only thing that track him, rest of her as stiff as a branch. “If everyone is ready, we’ll get right to it.” Without waiting for input, and completely ignoring the group of kids gossiping away in the corner, she wheels towards the blackboard and starts writing. It does not take long for the few students awake to lose interest. She doesn’t seem to care. “You have a desk, Lee Fletcher.” Lee blinks, coming back to himself; his books have been gathered and his backpack has been zipped. His knees ache, and there are at least four spitballs in his head. Mrs. Cobb pauses, tilting her head to the side. “It’s a challenge in the classroom, isn’t it?” Lee curls a hand around the strap of his backpack. “What is?” “The ADHD.” She taps her stick of chalk, tap, tap, snap. “Useful out in the world, though, I bet. Makes you quick.” There is no reason for her to know about that. Even if she has been his teacher this whole time — and Lee knows she hasn’t, even though he cannot recall who she’s replaced — the school does not have the information. Lee knows. He filled out the forms. He gives up on pretence. “Who the hell are you?“ “Your teacher.” She wheels around, thick eyebrow raised. “And your elder, so I’ll thank you not to speak to me that way.” Lee’s mind races. She is human-sized — Lastrogonians can’t hide that. Neither can cyclops. An empousa would never in a million years choose an elderly form, and their concrete brick of a school is nowhere near so much as a sprout for her to be a dryad, even one of the nicer ones. If it was a minotaur, he’d already be dead. He fuckin’ knew he shoulda read more in his Ancient Zoology: An Alpha to Omega Guide on Ancient Creatures book. Stopping at P was a mistake. “I know you’re not human.” He unzips, as quietly as he can, blindly ruffling through the smallest pocket. “You’re not fooling me, I’m not —” The background sounds of the school go white. Lee faintly, in the back of his tongue, tastes copper. Mrs. Cobb reacts half a second before he does. “Everybody down!” ——— He woke up to ash and heat. Slightly more heat than ash, if he had to quantify.

cabin 7 fic the one time will got really sick

the time will got a fever as a kid and his body went so sun hot when trying to fix it that he would burn anyone who touched him and his siblings just had to watch him suffer. lee pov. him slowly noticing that will is getting sick and then quickly trying to do something about it but it happens FAST and will gets a really really high fever but not just high for a human -- high for will. it burns to touch him and he glows so brightly it is impossible to even look at him without scorching your eyes. hes in pain and hes in danger and lee is terrified because he doesn't know how to fix it. (as referenced in the kayla & lee fic)

Lee probably would have caught it a little sooner -- any of them would. Except: Apollo kids don't get sick. Not really. Not when flu hits hard and fast, as it does every summer, not in '01, Cass tells him, and half the camp got cow fever, somehow. Someone needs to tend to the sick and dying. Their father knows that, and has blessed them. Lee can't really remember being sick ever, except a cold, once, when he was about four. At first he thinks it's another one of Will's migraines. These, all the blessings in the world cannot cure. There's nothing viral about inflamed blood vessels in the brain, there's nothing bacterial about a fever from white blood cells fighting off an illness that isn't there. When Will starts shrinking from the light and wincing at every scattered sound, that's when they know -- the four eldest, Cass, Diana, Lee, and Michael -- know to guide him carefully back to the cabin, pick him up if he's fighting, and send him to sleep before it gets worse. Pray it doesn't stick around when he wakes up. They're not perfect, and they miss it sometimes. They come on suddenly and fast if he's been crying, or if it rains. Sometimes he gets good at hiding it. This one they just miss.

will is turned into a nine year old and keeps asking about his long dead siblings

the outline is huge im posting it separately and linking it here

Will wiggles his feet into falling apart, light-up Star Wars shoes, stomping them once to check that they work and grinning when they do. "Where's Lee, anyway? He's supposed to work mornings so he can do archery in the afternoons." He looks up, hands on his hips in a pose Nico recognizes, intimately; a pose that says I am about to reveal information I gleaned from being a diary-reading little snot and I'm cute so I'm gonna get away with it too. He says: "Allegedly it's because the range is less crowded in the afternoon but the real reason is because his boyfriend said one time that he looks regal in full sun. So." He looks out to the gathered gaggle of them, beaming. The silence rings louder than a mausoleum. No one speaks. "Oooookay," Will says, rocking back on his heels. "Michael, then? Where is everybody?" It is Annabeth, finally, who thinks quickly. "They're on a quest," she blurts. She clears her throat, looking away. "Uh, brand new. As of yesterday." Will tilts his head. "All twelve of them? I thought the rule was three." "...They're going on four separate questions." "Oh, okay. How come I wasn't allowed to go?" "Well, on account of you being nine." "Aw."

the one story where will has a ptsd episode in front of the entire camp and percy as the only one who recognizes it for what it is helps him through it.

another big outliner posted here

They're a lot, mostly. Enough that there is no one looking when a couple giggling Hermes kids load a whole watermelon into a half-rigged trebuchet. There is no one looking when it sails across the sky, thundering through the air; there are a few people looking, when it cracks clean across the ground, showering onlookers in a sea of red. But there are a lot of things sailing through the sky. Some more prudent than others. (Someone gets brisket-ed. That someone, coincidentally, begins their lifelong commitment to veganism.) There is no one looking when Will Solace freezes. There is no one looking when he stands, blank, to steady feet, and walks slowly across the warzone, miraculously safe from cakes and breads and fruits at all kinds of speeds. There is no one looking when he kneels, hemline stained crimson, in the wreck of the stone floor. There is no one looking when he pieces the chunks of jagged green rind in his hands, and starts to sing.

nico raising lee and michael's ghosts to make them give permission for will to get divorced.

this is so funny i’m so mad at past me for never writing it fully. will’s older siblings (read: lee and michael) convinced him that since this was an ancient greek camp they had to follow the ancient greek rules. and children had to get married before they were ten or they’d have to marry mr d. and will was CRYING about it terrified so he went and got married to cecil with like the ancient oaths and stuff so that he didn’t have to marry mr d, and when his siblings found out there were like oh fuck 💀 but like what are you going to do. unmarry them. so nico asks will out years later and will is like i. i want to say yes so badly. but unfortunately we’re going to half to get my husbands permission first. and nico is like your WHAT and will is like IM SORRY IM SORRY ITS SO STUPID BUT I DONT WANT TO PISS OFF HERA. IM SORRY. MY FUCKING BROTHERS WERE SO STUPID. lol.

“Oh, Nico.” The small smile drops completely from Nico’s face. Blood curdles in his veins, it feels, going sour at Will’s wide, round eyes; identical to his dropped open mouth, parallel to his arched brows. Rings of pity. Nico tries, barrenly, to mitigate the damage. He searches the blind-white plains of his mind for an escape, for an excuse; for a waved hand and laughter, for a quiet, dignified nod, for an easy shrug and a sharply turned heel. Instead the inside of his skull scrapes hollow, echoing the swelling pound of his chest, and his eyes burn hotter, hotter, hotter. “Nico.” The misplaced distress in Will’s voice is intolerable. I am so sorry, it says. I didn’t know you felt that way. Nico can feel the bricks rapidly laying in the space between them, thick and heavy and blocky, carved with don’t worry about it and of course we can still be friends. He saves them the trouble and stumbles backwards, away from Will’s outstretched hands, strangled flowers scattering on the splintered roots between them. “Nico, hold on –” The new air between them is cold enough to sting his face, and Nico uses it to propel himself into motion, stumbling backwards and flinging himself through the trees, through the shadows of them. Will follows quickly, still shouting, but Nico knows the forest better than he does and Will’s a klutz. Every other word gets cut off by a yelp, by the sound of branches snapping and dryad cursing, by frantic, distracted apologising. “Nico, you fucking jackass, hold on a second! Let me – speak, godsdammit!” Not a half chance in Hell, except for the genuine anger in Will’s voice. Worry, he could understand – it is in Will’s nature to worry. About Nico especially, he has found. Guilt, even more likely; pity obviously. But anger confuses him. He hunches in the shadow of an old pine tree, half-shroud in its bending needles. Will runs right by him, needles catching in his frizzing hair, slowing to a stop in a burst of sunlight. “Feel free to help me fix this!” he shouts, face turned at the sky. Immediately, several thick clouds are almost dragged over to hide the sun, an astounding act of paternal bravery to which Will responds with several choice words about child support and two stark middle fingers. “Thanks a lot!” “You’re going to get smited,” Nico croaks. The state of his own voice startles him almost as much as Will, who jumps three clean feet in the air and would have twisted his ankle on the way back down were his bones not blessed with holy grace. "Nico!" he cries, dashing over. "Nico, my brothers were fucking stupid!" Nico pauses. He blinks. He swallows, glassy eyes drying. "Huh," he says, eloquently.

trans girl will.

in a hecate cabin mix-up, will gets turned into a girl. a few things are noticeable to nico: 1) will is very, very pretty. 2) his face falls, perceptibly, when well-meaning friends insist that regardless of what he looks like he is still the will they know and love and they should refer to him as such. 3) clarisse, stubbornly, refuses this. 4) will does not avoid her. 5) will does avoid nico. nico intends to get to the bottom of what is going on with his boyfriend. girlfriend. partner. maybe.

...brushing by Clarisse as he walked by. She caught him by the wrist, and he stopped, waiting. Even that was almost impossible to see from this angle. Clarisse looked at him firmly. “Don’t look at me like that, girl. I can play the villain.” “I know.” Will hesitated. “Thank you.” She nodded, and Will scampered off, ducking around the back of the pavilion and disappearing into the Big House. Nico watched closely. When Clarisse caught his eye, she snarled at him. Something was definitely up.

will’s garden of grief.

after the massacre of Every fucking one of his siblings will just went silent. totally mute, wouldn't speak a word. walked around camp like a ghost. and like. it's not that no one noticed it's just that Everyone was grieving right. no one was very attentive of everyone else. you were working thru ur own shit. chiron, tho, who is Millenia old and is unfortunately very practiced at grieving, did his best to help. by which i mean he kept naomi informed when she asked, because when she called her son he would just sit there. so i like to imagine around october naomi got tired and picked him up. drove him to the town they grew up. but not only is he silent hes Angry. and its obvious. he's stiff and miserable and fights but is impossible to fight with because he Wont Fucking Speak and hes thirteen years old so what is she supposed to do? honestly? hes thirteen and his eyes look thirty two. hes haunted. so she sends him to her parents. now naomi is no longer close with her parents. never could be after they kicked her out. will isnt much close to them either, but they love him, and theyve always wanted a relationship with him, even if its strained. so he gets booted off to their ranch and naomi cant tell if hes mad about it or just at the world. she doesnt go with. she stays home with di and cries a lot because she knew some of those kids, too, they wrote her letters, and shes grieving in her own way. in some ways she lost her son. and in his year at the ranch will learns to…live with his grief? kind of? its just work. day in day out. his grandparents care for him but they dont quite know how, so its not like hess talking about his feelings, not like theyd know what to say if he started. he just wakes at dawn and works til twilight. apollo comes to visit him once. grandparents dont know what to do. direct him to the stables will is cleaning. and apollo just sits. will keeps working. they dont say anything. will is furious with him and apollo knows it. apollo is weeping. hes grieving too. when will finally looks over at the end of the day the sun is setting. and apollo is gone. but there are packets of seeds where he was sitting. and will whips them at the fucking wall in fury. how dare he? thats what his siblings are worth? seeds? new growth? get fucked, apollo. get fucked all the way down. how dare you cry. but few days past and those seeds start growing. theyre no normal plants. not really. they glow, and they dont die. there's something odd about them. the animals are intrigued, but wont eat em. snakes and mice sit quietly together among the growing stalks. will's grandpa builds a fence around them. just to keep the horses from tramplin' 'em. they don't tend to, but it cant hurt. they're pretty to look at any way. slowly will comes to sit with them. and then to care for them. and slowly, he starts planting his own next to them. bay tree for michael. borage for diana. carnation for cass. chamomile for lee. flowers for all his siblings, every one, and then it keeps going, he keeps planting; moonlace for bianca, oak for beckendorf. he is obsessed. he spends all day in that garden. he barely sleeps. he barely eats. he passes out in the moonlight, in between the carnations. he heals in that garden. sobbing into his hands. one day he brings nico there. shows him the moonlace.

"Will. Say something, to me." There is nothing but the labored edge of his breathing. Even that is near soundless, muffled as it is; the phone is off the receiver and dangling halfway to the floor, she knows it is. She can picture him, leaned against the cracking office chair, blue eyes blank, connecting dots in the popcorned ceiling. Hands limp at his sides. Still. "Will," she begs, again, and tries not to cry. "Will, baby."

michael's videos.

everyone in the infirmary cus it’s a rainy day and they’re bored and they go to turn on the ancient vcr player and it starts playing a home video michael made. will drops what he's doing and half-walks half-crawls over to the tv, hairs on his fingers raising as they brush the screen. everyone watches with held breath, as they see and hear the thousands of different ways will was loved, will was taken care of.

“Will, I’m bored.” Nico will never say it to his boyfriend’s face. He’s smarter than that. But gods above, is it fucking funny watching his eyes twitch. In Will’s defense he is of course justified. He has been nagged all morning and afternoon. In fact, most of the brats whining at him in the infirmary probably don’t even need to be here — it’s just cold and rainy, grey and sad, and the infirmary is light and warm and sweet-smelling. If Nico had to listen to thirty complaining demigods waste his time for upwards of six hours, he’d lose his shit too. But he’s not the one with a saviour complex, so he gets to enjoy the several deep, calming breaths Will takes, sniggering into his DS. He gets to enjoy Will's eye twitching as he slaps a smile on his face, visibly shoving down the murderous urges. “The really cool thing about me not being your mom,” Will begins, voice carefully measured, “is that your boredom is not my problem.” “But Wi-ill!” “Fucksake, Cecil, fling a pen at someone! Count to three-hundred thousand! Hold your breath until you pass out, I dunno. But let. Me. Work.” He stands for a moment, glaring, then stomps off to the nurse's station muttering to himself, slamming a bunch of vials and jars onto the counter. Nico starts to feel a little bad. But then the complaining starts up again, and it is hard not to laugh. Four people whine in tandem: “But you’ve been working all daaaaaayyyyy!” "You're boring," Gracie adds, sticking her tongue out at her brother. “That one actually is your problem,” Nico points out. He ducks back down behind his DS when Will whips around to face him, betrayed, biting back his grin. Will's glare goes nowhere. “Just saying.” “How about I punt you into the sun, di Angelo. Gods. You heal a guy outta the goodness of your heart.” The thing about Will, though, as much as he huffs and rolls his eyes, is that he does, in fact, care, and people’s discomfort does, in fact, bother him, even though it shouldn’t and he should probably spend less time going out of his way. Whatever. He’ll learn. Now, though, he stomps over to a forgotten corner opposite to the door and drags out the most ancient TV Nico has maybe ever seen, which is saying something because his family actually owned one of the first TV sets to ever hit Italy, and shoves it towards the middle of the room, because he hasn’t learnt, and probably won’t. “Woah.” Kayla blinks. “Where’d that beast come from?” "Dude." Will blinks right back at her, aghast. “It’s, like…been here.” “It has?!” “The whole time, Kayla.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “How many shifts have you worked in this building, again?” “Oh, shut up. Like you can name every single thing that exists collecting dust in this place.” “I can so! I clean it!” “Sure, Jan. The four inches of dust on the VCR play — gods, the VCR player, that’s fucking crazy — say otherwise.”

mortal diner au w hot goth drifter nico and absolutely whipped gone for him immediately waiter will.

will is working the diner easter somethin cus there’s no school and he’s finally old enough to get paid on paper (14). nico comes in, he’s 16, with his own car (pickup truck) and a job to do in town (tile the pastors backyard). will brings him his order and sticks, endlessly curious. nico is blunt but perhaps amused. every year nico comes on the same day to do the same job. he’s been emancipated since the day he turned sixteen and doing odd labour jobs, tiling mostly, all around the south. he reads in his spare time. and he writes will letters, to which he tries to reply but never knows where nico is so nico only ever gets them when he’s in the state with his p.o. box. every time he’s there he and will hang out for longer and longer. earlier when will is fifteen and it’s nico second visit he comes broken. scarred up hands from a year of working and a broken bone that ain’t healed right. will quietly has him come back to his and helps heal him up. THIS is the first time nico stays a while, but he gets spooked and leaves a little early. he sends a letter, though, to thank him, and will sends it back, and di grumps when she notices. comments on what shes heard about who will is writing letters to damn near every day and he should watch himself. naomi tells her its harmless and she had her puppy crushes too. di reminds her that this boy will is obsessed with is a deviant with an eyebrow piercing. and must she forget that the her puppy crushes on boys with eyebrow piercings is the reason will exists. and naomi has nothing to say to that but helps will smuggle his letters out when he needs to.

when will is seventeen he and nico spend The Night together, wherein they sleep together. this is after day after day after day of letters, and the rest of the day hanging out. clear for the first time that nico is serious about him. will is wide eyed and desperately desperately happy. will waits and waits the next year. eighteenth birthday comes and goes. college is right on the horizon and nico won’t know where he is. he plays with the defer sememser button, unsure. but nico finds him, the last sunday before september. wills stuff is already packed, he’s washing tablecloths. he hears nicos truck rumble and sprints out so fast nico damn near hits him, throwing open the already unlocked passenger door and pressing nico against the window, kissing him. he runs back in to write a note and jumps back in, and they drive into the sunset. based on the song suds in the bucket.

"Trucker?" asks Lou Ellen, voice tinny over the landline speaker. Will hums, leanin' over the counter. "Contractor, I think. Tools in the back." "What kind?" "Contraptions, Lou, I dunno. Cutter, maybe. Blade'a some kind. One'a them -- mixer, thingies? Lotsa buckets." "Someone gettin' a pool in, maybe?" "Could be. Could be." Will's doodled-on homework slips to the sticky floors, facedown. He doesn't notice, busy reachin' up to his tiptoes tryna see 'round the cracked-open door. The engine finally kills, but the lights stay flicked on, spotlightin' a table in the far back corner that has yet to be cleared from its patrons this morning. "Betcha he's forty. Divorced, drifting 'round with nothin' to do on the holidays. Baldin'." "He's not baldin'," Will argues, laughin'. "You guess every man is baldin'!" "'Cause each one'a them is!" "Naw." Will flicks his eyes over to the clock, bitin' his lip. "Betcha he's cute." "Oh, you think he's cute. Shocker. Betcha he's short." "What, 'cause he's in a truck? He's a contractor, Lou." "Truck raised?" "...Yeah." "He's short. He's short and forty and divorced and will leave you a quarter for a tip, if any. Stop lookin' right now." "Well, I gotta feed 'im." "Yeah, pie. Put them other thoughts away." Will ducks his head to muffle his snort. He has no other thoughts -- well, not really -- but it's fun to rile her up. "Whatever you s --" The lights flick off, front door shovin' open. Will jerks his head up, eyes wide -- "Is he out? Is he short? Tell me he's short!" -- and leans so far over to follow the black boot that follows that he tumbles right over the counter and joins his textbook, shrieking. The poor landline clatters to the floor, cuttin' Lou's every other word. "Will -- what -- you -- okay -- murderer??? -- I'm --" He rushes to stand, managing to dust himself off just as the man pushes the creaky door open wide enough to walk in, glancing up at the bell-less frame. "Huh," he says. It's a boy. Or -- a teen, rather.

mortal au but it’s not actually mortal is it ft. slowly dawning horror and amnesia.

nico wakes up to nothing on his phone but one contact labelled ‘will texas’. cannot remember anything else. and is like well. shit. and calls going “are you — will texas?” and will laughs out loud he’s like well technically! who are you? what do you need.

and they meet up and it turns out nico had amnesia and has maybe been a victim of some kind of robbery?? or something. so will, the youngest doctor in the state — made headlines and everything — takes him to work to get him checked out. they even stay together, because will recognises him: they dated, for a little, in their late teens. the gag is they fall slowly in love. roommates to lovers kinda deal. but they also fall slowly into realisinf something is Wrong (the real will and nico have been cursed by a god to slip into a dream realm when they’re out fighting them or something, except they’re so down bad and so in tune with each other that they fall into the SAME DREAM and get each other out without realizing).

Nico jerks awake on a bus. Which feels — wrong.

teacher au

will was a paediatric nurse who noticed a lot of the long term care kids were falling severely behind and spent most of his shifts tutoring them, realised he loved teaching and went into that, where he met nico -- the band teacher ('failed' music prodigy, who ran from the practice when his sister was killed and has not been in contact with his father for years). (fair warning this one is gonna be set in. toronto. bc thats what i know. lol.)

The building is old. Run-down. Will waits, outside the doors with the broken windows. He is -- certified, still, technically. His friends tell him the hospital remains short-staffed in the two years he's been gone. He could go back, right now. Turn around. They'd take him. He inhales, squaring his shoulders. He forgets to exhale and sways a little. This does not bode well. He taps his fob on the scanner beside the doorbell and manages to walk inside without tripping.

retelling of canon from BoO

slight divergence where everything is mostly the same except the entire time nico can see the ghosts of lee and michael hovering over will's shoulders, accidentally clouding him from the sun.

There isn’t enough time to clear a cot. Will barrels in their direction almost faster than Nico can see, sliding to a spot on a clear spot on the grass, right before they drop him. There is blood everywhere. Pooling. The gets heavy. Like a ringing in his ears, Nico starts to hear strings. “Hear that?” murmurs Michael, grinning. He nods over at Will, where he is muttering, where he is shifting. The strings play louder, and louder. “That’s the violins.” Lee nods. “They play in his head.” There is a background of cello, Nico things, every two beats; arpeggioing over ever half-note, over every minor second. Paolo moans, and the music swells. Enveloped in green, in golden, Will slams his hands to the ground. In a perfect circle around them, extending to the edge of onlookers’ toes, grass dies — bees stop hovering, dropping like stones before melting into the ground, disappearing with the dandelions into the packed earth. Will inches closer to Paolo’s prone, bleeding form, waving a white-hot hand from skull to knees, breathing heavy. Nico kneels to the ground, slowly. He presses his hands over the soft grass, and exhales, closing his eyes: he winced at the onslaught of noise, of rapidly birthing and dying spirits singing so high they screech, scrabbling over each other for a spot, for a moment of touch to the solid ground. He pushes, slowly, as far as he can outwards, past the song of snake and slug, cell and skeleton; he extends his reach to the firm line of Will’s circle and pushes through the hardened ground. It is silent. His eyes fly open. “Sterile,” he breathes, mouth falling open. “It’s sterile.” “As a wine barrel,” Michael confirms, grinning. “Ah, yes. The yeast-addled wine barrel. Famously free of microbial life.” “Fine. Whisky barrel.” The archer turns to his brother, scowling, and punches him on his blood-spattered shoulder. “Man, you ruin all my fuckin’ metaphors. Sterile as a whiskey barrel. Sounds like shit. Asshole.” Lee grins through the broken V of his mouth, unrepentant. “Not my fault your metaphors are dogshit.” He shifts to put his crushed eyes in Nico’s direction, skull-pierced eyebrows wagging. “The music is getting louder. Something big is going to happen — keep an eye on the sky.” Nico glances up, dutifully, and indeed the few clouds are churning: they’ve circled, now, in the dead centre above them, previously powder-white cumuli darkening something serious. Nico hears muttering again and drops his gaze back down to watch it, to watch Will slow the blood flowing from Paulo’s stubs, watch him hold a hovering, heated hand over the rapid rise-and-fall of his chest, two waving lines extending from his thumb and pinky to circle around the protruding bone. He can understand it, for the first time, Nico realises. His muttering as he heals. Gravelly and under-his-breath, the koine Greek travels neatly to Lee and Michael’s waiting ears, echoey like weeping along the Styx. Lee, whispers the voice, tickling Nico’s cochlea, what do I do? Lee steps forward, humming. His cracked fingernails are gentle on the heated skin of Will’s neck. “Well,” he murmurs, squeezing his shoulders, “what can you do?” “Enabler,” Michael snorts, nudging Nico’s elbow. “He’s gonna get him smited.” The violins slow, and Will’s breathing follows. He closes his eyes for a half of a second, leaning into Lee’s touch. “Arms,” he orders, in English. Lee floats back. Several onlookers shift nervously. “Will —” “Arms.” Annabeth passes them over, shaking. He lines them up below both stumps, turning them carefully, and exhales, quick and sharp; when his closed eyes open again, they are nothing but sockets of pure light, glowing with every breath, pulsing along with every measure, with every intensifying bow.

no gaia au where a few years post Battle of Manhattan

nico is streaming a video game and gets attacked mid-game but the goddess he’s fighting sends him back in time as a final effort to beat him. it works, landing him in medieval europe, but he manages to keep his stream somehow. in his quest to get his ass back to the future and stay alive in this wack ass place where no one washes their hands he meets the town apothecary, will solace, who everyone thinks is insane and who, as a seer of the future, believes nico’s story immediately. nico takes him back to the modern world with him when he finally makes it back.

He panics and it is stupid, it is, because he is still a fucking demigod even though he is a demigod 500 years ago. He can fight. He can handle himself. He can shadow-travel wherever the fuck he pleases, for Hades' sake. But he's also human, with a human brain. And human brains have evolved very little since they were invented a hundred thousand years ago so when he gets chased with actual pitchforks and torches the part of his brain that can do calculus or whatever ceases functioning, and the bigger part of his brain that has been around since lizard times goes gronk should leave. And Nico, who is no greater than the stone age man clubbin' about in his noggin, leaves. At great speeds. He runs, is what he is trying to say. And shrieks a little. The mob is big, okay. There are like. Ninety people. And none of them can be hurt by his sword.

nico and will sending each other constant letters

nico leaves for a long mission for his dad in the underworld. will is convinced they were about to kiss goodbye but nico got spooked and is Furious and Blushy about it. few days later he gets a letter and ends up More Furious and Blushy. the fic gets both mellower (in terms of will's attitude) and more desperate as their letters get more poetic and yearning in nico's absence and will really, truly starts to miss his best friend. i haven't figured out how to end it yet i just Really want to write their letters.

And Will screamed his frustration so loud the camper jumped out of his skin, squeaking out an excuse, and walked quickly off, which was just as well because Will doubted he could be very much help when he was so busy stomping back to his cabin, burying his face in his pillow, and screeching until his voice went hoarse. "Fucking boys!" he shouted. Lou Ellen, in his cabin for some reason, flipped a page of her magazine, snorting. "Hear, hear." And that was that. -- -- -- Except that wasn't that. Because Nico sends him letters. "I don't get any of those," Percy observes , peeking over his shoulder. Will slams the paper to his chest. shoves his face away, and storms off, face burning. "Maybe because you are a tool," he mutters darkly, and flushes worse when he does not mutter at all, and Annabeth laughs so hard she chokes. He ducks into the stables and presses his steaming forehead to the wood, eyes squeezed shut, letter clutched to his chest as he waits out Annabeth's wheezing, Percy's hurt mumbling. "I'm not a tool, am I?" "Oh my gods I am going to pass out." Once she reassures him, giggling, and drags him off Somewhere Else, Will peeks out. There is Clovis, curled up on the ground, but he is out cold. There is Miranda, a little ways away, tending to an olive tree, but she minds her own business. There is Connor, rigging...something, but that is okay. Will knows his pressure points. He exhales, willing the heat away from his face. It doesn't work. He sits down in Guido the Pegasus's stall, anyway, shooting him a small smile in greeting, and smooths out the letter on his thigh. It reads:

vampire nico x witch will. outline & snippet here.

i wrote these ones down but i cant remember what my idea was for the fuckin life of me so:

will's burn scars & abilities exploration ft. post- toa apollo.

the seer will mortal au.

that one little will pov piece from vampire money.

time loop fic where will wakes up every day as an eight year old, in his first year of camp, with all his siblings alive. every day it gets harder and harder to try and get out — it’s just so safe there, and he is surrounded by everyone who he failed in the present. to get back to the present he has to let go of the past. (i remember this one i just dont have a lot to say about it rn ill come back to it later)

royal au long story (i.e. from the beginning) (i didn't forget this one either but i can't find my fucking outline so i'll come back when i do find it)

nsfw list here

remaining (i think) 100 ways:

“No, no, it’s my treat.”

“Sorry I’m late.”

“Watch your step.”

“It’s not heavy. I’m stronger than I look.”

“I’ll wait.”

“Look both ways.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“Drive safely.”

“Well, what do you want to do?”

“One more chapter.”

“It looks good on you.”

“Close your eyes and hold out your hands.”

“That’s okay, I bought two.”

“We’ll figure it out.”

“I picked these for you.”

“I’ll drive you to the hospital.”

“Did you get my letter?”

“I’ll do it for you.”

“Call me when you get home.”

“Are you sure?”

“Have fun.”

“I made reservations.”

"I don't mind."

“I’ll pick it up after work.”

“I’ll help you study.”

“I did the dishes.”

“You didn’t have to ask.”

“I bought you a ticket.”

“I’ll meet you halfway.”

“We can share.”

“Do you want to come too?”

“I’ll still be here when you’re ready.”

“Is your seatbelt on?”

“Stay there. I’m coming to get you.”

“You can tell me anything.”

“I hope you like it.”

“I want you to be happy.”

“I believe in you.”

“You can do it.”

“Good luck.”

“I brought you an umbrella.”

“Take a deep breath.”

“Be careful.”

#lots a shit on here damn #anyways. enjoy #longpost

55 notes · View notes

honeyhonest · 1 month ago

Note

the most i can think of now regarding requests, cuz of the one ask, is fellow putting on a fancy outfit and shit getting steamy with him cuz he notices the reader growing flustered and decided to fuck with em lmao

this was sent LAST YEAR and now I'm writing it just bc I don't want to do anymore requests on pomdove I'm so tired

it's a good prompt also

minors do not interact, 18+ only

✧˖°. a few minutes late

warnings: afab!reader (you/yours pronouns), ramshackle au, reader is adult yuu, kissing, fingering, fellow is mean and rough, "doll" and "honey" used, some teasing about virginity but more about the concept? it's not serious and doesn't imply anyone's a virgin idk, excessive swearing, edging for reader, no orgasm for anyone!!! not TOO long, not proofread I'M LAZY!!!

"Is he almost done in there?"

Grim tugs at your pant leg for the umpteenth time. You can't even scold him for complaining; you're forty minutes late.

"I don't know," you say, and, catching movement out of the corner of your eye, you scoop up the direbeast. "Are you really that excited for the party?"

"All the good food'll be gone by the time we get there!"

Of course. You smile and scratch behind his ears. The movement in the hall becomes a shadow, which becomes a boy. "Is he still in there?"

You shrug, and Rollo clenches his jaw. "I've made a poor enough impression as it is, it wouldn't being do myself- or you- any favors, to be tardy,"

You glance between the tightly-shut bedroom door and the direbeast in your arms.

"...Right, here," you say, setting the latter into Rollo's waiting hands. "I'll walk Fellow out when he's done. The rest of you go on without us, tell them we'll be there soon."

Rollo doesn't argue. He sets Grim on his own two feet, straightens the little beast's bowtie, and then walks him to the door, Gidel not far behind (you can tell from the thump, thump, thump of his rubber mallet being dragged across the uneven, splintered wood).

The door slams. Rollo is unhappy.

"You almost done in there?" you ask, knocking on the oak. Some shuffling, swearing, and sighing comes from within.

"Yeah, yeah. No one likes a nag, y'know,"

"Not nagging. We're almost an hour late to the party,"

"Wasn't talking about you," he mutters, and then: "They're all gone?"

You look over your shoulder, to the stairs, as if to make certain that the door is shut.

"...They're gone,"

"Finally," and the bedroom door swings open. "Whaddya think? Too much?"

Your eyes widen at the sight. You'd always known that Fellow could clean up nicely when he wanted to, and you'd already seen him in that gaudy Playful Land garb, but this was...

...Well, he looked nice.

That's all.

"It's a nice suit. Where'd you get it?"

He sniffs and wipes his nose on the sleeve. "It's the little do-gooder's. We're the same height,"

Rollo's. He's not going to be happy about that.

Fellow catches that look and leers over you, ruffling your hair. "Don't gimme that face, doll. It's not like he was using it,"

"Yeah, but-"

"But, nothing," he says, straightening his tie. "I didn't own another suit, and he'd have been madder if I'd shown up in my casuals. I'll tell 'ya, never seen a teenage boy more worried with manners... it'd do him some good to meet a girl, get his dick wet or 'somethin."

You sigh, and as he fusses with his cufflinks, your eyes fall to the crotch of his pants. Rollo is a rather thin character, and the suit was obviously tailored to his proportions. Not Fellow's. And it showed. There was a noticeable strain around...

"See something you like?"

You just about jump, but Fellow cackles and settles his hands on your shoulders, keeping you on your feet.

"You're a little scatterbrained, aren't ya?" he teases. "At least you've got your looks. I could just eat you up... bet you'd like that, eh?"

You glare (what else could you do?) and he snickers, squeezing your shoulders.

"That little schoolboy's been getting to your head. You used to laugh at my jokes,"

"He was here before you,"

"Please," Fellow scoffs. His hands stay where they are. "He didn't give a damn about you until I came along. All of a sudden he's attached to your side."

You give him a look. "He doesn't trust you,"

Fellow rolls his eyes, as if that were a ridiculous thing, to not trust him. His hands stay settled on your shoulders, though they also start pushing you towards the wall.

"Sure he doesn't. He's scared I'm gonna take your innocence. Oh, your poor, poor purity! Whoever will defend your tight little hole without him around!" he mocks, placing a hand over his chest. "Tch. You're not so innocent. He's wasting his time."

You raise an eyebrow. Fellow grins, giving you a good look at his fangs.

"I've seen the way you look at me," he cups your chin in his palm. "Like now."

Your lips part, and he takes that as some sort of permission, gently pulling your face towards his and giving you a meek kiss on the mouth.

It's nothing, but that's just the point, isn't it?

"...And now I've soiled you," he smirks. You don't want him to withdraw, but he does. "Ruined you for anyone else... you're essentially a whore now. By proximity to a debauched, perverted man, like me!"

Your eyes widen, and he laughs again, tapping the tip of your nose.

"Oh, relax. I'm teasing. I wouldn't lay a hand on 'ya, honest," And then he leers over you, lowering his voice. "Unless you wanted me to."

No words come from your parted lips, and none from his, at least not before he kisses you again- and seriously, this time. His hand holds the back of your head, forcing you closer to him and his teeth, as if he were really trying to eat you.

Fellow's fangs scrape your lip, not painfully, but warningly, as if reminding you that you've been backed into this corner by a predator. His tongue follows, forcing into your mouth, pushing against yours until you're choking, and then he finally relents.

"Not bad," he pants, his breath against your bitten lips. "I would've gotten dressed hours ago if I'd known there'd be a reward for it."

He punctuates that by pressing you harder against the wall, nearly knocking the wind out of you.

"I don't know if-"

"They can wait a few minutes," he mutters, his fingers finding your waist and furrowing into the softness of your side. "Can't they?"

You nod, almost without thinking, and both of Fellow's hands slide to the small of your back, arching you closer to him until your stomach is touching his, and then he lets you fall against the wall again.

"I didn't want to go to that party anyway," he murmurs, holding your hip with one hand and sliding the other into your pants. "Fucking assholes, all of them. Your friends are fucking assholes, doll."

His hand squeezes your hip, coaxing your legs apart for him. He makes a point of pressing over your underwear, a little harder than he should have, just to hear you yelp when the pads of his fingers find that sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Pretentious, pompous, self-serving little pricks," he mutters, pressing circles into your clit. "They think they're so much better than me, but look at me now. Books won't teach 'em how to touch someone like this. Lift your leg, honey."

He hooks your thigh over his hip, angling you to slip his fingers under the waistband of your underwear and feel through your folds.

"Wet enough," he decides, and with no deliberation, he pushes a finger in. The movement makes a squelching sound, much to his delight. He feels around for a moment, as if figuring how much you'll be able to take, and then he pumps his finger, letting you stutter and stumble over whimpers to get a few words out.

"What's that? I can't understand you when you mumble. You should really speak up, it's bad manners," Fellow chides, pushing in another finger before you even have the chance. He slowly pumps, deeper and deeper until his palm is pressed flat against your clit. He braces himself against his arm on the wall beside you, his breath warm against your ear.

"If we had the time, I would fuck you stupid," he murmurs. "This damn house is never empty enough."

And then he withdraws his fingers from your cunt, glistening with slick in the candlelight. He admires the way they gleam, the fruits of his efforts (if you could even call it that), and he sucks them clean.

"...Well, that's enough of that. We're late, and I don't feel like being burnt to a crisp by the altar boy and your other bratty friends,"

Fellow wipes his fingers on the front of his (Rollo's) jacket and leans you onto his side, supporting your weight all the way to the door.

#twst smut #twisted wonderland smut

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junedenim · 9 months ago

Text

kiss me now before it gets too cute

part one

if you already fucked him, might as well keep doing it

warnings: smut, a little angsty, a little fluffy, a lot of fucking in various ways, etc.

word count: 4.4k

His hands are inching your legs. You've got him on his knees. He's unbuckled your little black-heeled Mary Janes. He's playing with your left leg's stocking, toying with the nylon, reaching the lacy trim. The detail irritates his skin. He looks up burning desire through you. "You get all dressed up for me?"

"I wear this all the time," you reason. These stockings were freshly purchased from Harrods but you don't like to let your desperation be known.

He shakes his head as he pulls the stocking down. "No, you don't. I know what you wear. I have to look at you every day."

"Have to?" You run your fingers through his soft ruffles of hair.

He smirks up at you as he throws the stocking behind him. "Want to." He moves over to your right leg. The tips of his fingers travel up the leg, sending goosebumps through you. He grips his thigh tightly, leaning in to kiss your knee, then up your inner thigh.

"Did you see what Gunner wore today?" You ask as he pulls off your other stocking.

Alex chuckles. "That stupid bowtie?"

You laugh through your nose. "With the little skulls all over it."

Alex looks up with a gasp. "I didn't see those." He shakes his head and nonchalantly takes off your panties. "God, Gunner is so stupid."

"The guy does design work for a living and I have never seen someone dress more like an idiot."

"Uh-huh." Without warning, his mouth is on you, charged and gnawing. It's heat and his nails digging into your thighs and you can’t help buck against him, but he seems to like that if the satisfied sounds he makes are anything to go by. He fucks you with his tongue, stroking your clit, teasing it, tugging it, pulling a string of obscenities from you that fall out alongside sob-like moans. “God,” you rasp, tugging on his hair, “higher,” and he shifts, accommodating, devouring, until—“God, yes—” and he doesn’t let you go until you've ridden out every wave. The next thing you know, you're on her back, legs shaking, your whole body covered in goosebumps.

His body crawls over you. "Did you bring a change of clothes?" You're dazed but nod. He kisses you. "Good." The next moment you open your eyes, he's taken his shirt off. You reach up to undo his buckle. "I can give you a ride to work tomorrow if you want."

"I drove here." You haven't really done that yet. You don't want to do that because this isn't something serious and he's your boss and even if allowed by your company, you want a career, the kind that he has. He'll be viewed in the same light as before but any success you get from that point forward will be labeled as being because of him. Maybe you're overthinking. He's never mentioned doing more than this but he is a nice guy for offering the ride. "But thank you."

He nods and is unaffected by your decline, too busy distracting you with a kiss. It's suffocating how good he is. He stands up to take his pants off while you dispose of your top and bra. It's rushed. The way you guys fuck is always rushed.

He's on top of you, pinning you down with his body. He enters you in an instant and hits the back of you. You fight to push your hips up but his weight prevents you. The pleasure is too much and has you writhing around as he rapidly thrusts into you. You moan in his ear and he groans in yours. His breath is hot in your ear, muttering, "Fuck."

It's sweaty and something about it seems gross but it's too pleasurable and too quick to even think about what either of you are doing and how his sweat mixes with yours. Your eyes are closed, clutching him, and he's stuttering noises as you're hit with an orgasm. He pulls out and his cum lands on you. You get the thought that another part of him has made a mess on you.

He's landed beside you, stomach caving with heavy breaths. You roll over. "You know, you can come in me if you like."

"Oh," he says. His eyes flutter open, staring up at you, all doe-eyed brown. "Okay. I didn't think...I didn't know you'd be cool with that. I didn't think we were doing that."

Your cheeks flush and you feel silly like some lovestruck teenager too naive to realize that you might not be alone. "Yeah. Right."

"I mean, I just—I didn't know you'd be comfortable with that." He turns his head in your direction. "I'm, you know, clean if that's what you're wondering. I'm not, like, fucking around with anyone else either."

"Okay. I'm not either. But if you wanted to you could."

You had been doing this for a couple of weeks, closing in on a month, and you rarely talked about what you were actually doing. You two talked. You learned about him, he learned about you, you laughed, he laughed. It was all sweet and light-hearted but you never went beyond that. You'd make fun of co-workers and you'd tell funny stories from university but you never talked about the hard things and the haunts of each other's lives. You know they are there. You've spotted things in his house that have been tucked away. The curtains in his room are too feminine to have been picked out by him and the conditioner he lets you use when you shower here isn't his. You remembered when he used to bring a woman to the office's Christmas party. You don't talk, not really.

"Yeah." He nods aggressively. "Same to you."

"Cool."

Work is dull. Elizabeth is out sick, which means there's nobody to talk to while working, and Alex and you have kept your relationship at work, strictly work-based and secret glances, you know, minus that one time in his office.

You're eating lunch in the breakroom, strategically taking your break when nobody else would be so you wouldn't be forced into any conversations. You're reading from a magazine with your feet propped up on another chair, stabbing at your salad leftover from one Alex made for dinner yesterday. There's an intimacy to it that you consciously choose to avoid.

The door to the breakroom opens causing you to sit up and remove your feet from the chair quickly. It's Alex and his empty mug. He looks so serious until he makes eye contact with you and a smile etches itself on him. "Don't stop on my account," he tells you. The door closes behind him and he walks over to the coffee machine.

You relax back, returning your feet to the chair, but keeping your eyes on him. "The whole office should pitch in and get you a coffee IV drip."

"Well," he brings the mug filled with steaming liquid to his face, "I was up late last night." He takes a sip from it but you can still see that smirk peeking out.

"By choice." You flip your magazine open, a smile playing on your lips as you read.

You hear him walking up behind you, his stare on you. "What are you reading? The Sun?"

You scoff, "It's The Economist."

"How intelligent," he comments.

"I stole it from Elizabeth's office." You laugh and close the magazine, tossing the issue onto the table. "I'm done with my lunch anyway."

He sits in the chair opposite of you. "Keep me company for a little."

"You have trouble occupying yourself?" You joke.

Alex chuckles. "No, I just, you know, like talking to you." It's too serious for work. He's staring at you and this is more intimate than when he fingered you on his desk. This should be reported to HR.

The door swings open again and you stand with your (Alex's) empty Tupperware. Gunner walks in with a jig in his step that makes you laugh under your breath. "Oh, hey!" He looks over at you. "A group of us are going out for drinks after work if you want to join." It's directed at you, he doesn't spare a glance at Alex.

You ignore loose plans you made with Alex about another night of sex and decide to say, "Sure."

"Great!" He cheers. Alex stands up, moving toward the exit. "Oh, uh, Alex, man," Gunner stutters, "you can come too if you'd like."

He shakes his head. "No thanks, Gunner. I've got plans." You're left confused if he's lying to Gunner or if he lied to you. But then again, you don't have the right to care.

Gunner exhales a sigh of relief. "The boss, am I right? I didn't exactly want him spoiling the fun. He scares me."

You shrug. "He's fine."

"Yeah, I mean, he's nice, and all, but he's leering, if you know what I mean."

Yeah, you know. You can practically feel him leering over you from a hallway away.

You can feel him leering over you at a bar he's nowhere near. It feels like his presence follows you everywhere these days. Maybe it's because you're with people from work. Maybe it's because he won't leave your mind ever.

Later that night, when you're drunk and at home lying in bed. Alex calls you. The sound of his voice and his simple ‘hey’ make your whole body buzz. Alcohol has made you loose and his voice makes you looser. You're hanging on him and his every word.

He continues, “What are you up to?”

“Nothing much,” you giggle.

“Oh, yeah? You have a fun night with Gunner?” He mocks.

"Yeah. What did you get up to?"

“Some work I've fallen behind on. I didn't really want to hang out with Gunner and all of you.”

“Even me?” You pout even if he can't see you. You're lost in a haze.

There’s a long enough pause that allows you to think that either he's waiting for you to talk or unwilling to answer. Things have felt awkward since last night. You realize he’s waiting for you to fix it. “What’s up, Alex?”

“I was just thinking about you.”

Fuck fucking fucked. Your heart starts beating a little faster. “Oh?”

“You wanna come over?"

“That’s not a good idea,” you say and bite your lip. You tug the covers over you, not for warmth, but to have something keeping you grounded. "I'm drunk."

"I could come and get you."

You're giggly saying, "No, don't. I'm in bed. I'm comfy in bed."

"Oh, yeah?"

You stretch out and emit a moan of pleasure. "Mhmm."

“Fuck.” He clears his throat. “I’m fucking hard just thinking about you.”

“Oh?”

“I really wanna fuck you.”

What is it with those words? It’s not like you haven’t heard them before. Go to any bar before closing, find a group of sad men or drunk frat boys, and you’ll hear that phrase 100 times over. But he says them and it shoots through you like a laser.

You try not to sound out of breath, a task that’s becoming harder and harder by the second. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Are you gonna make me beg?”

“I don’t know, maybe.”

“Fuck.”

“Take off your pants,” you command.

“Okay.”

You hear the unmistakable sound of a belt buckle being opened and dropping to the floor. He breathes loud enough you can imagine he’s next to you.

“Now touch yourself,” you say in your most breathy whisper. Through the grunts and groans, hums and murmurs, you hear him swearing under his breath. You draw out the words, “Are you hard?”

His answer is more urgent, more agitated. “Really fucking hard.”

“What do you need?”

“You. I need you.”

Drunk with your newfound power, you take pleasure in letting him wait, listening to his every moan as he plays with himself on your command; thinking of you, listening to the sound of your voice, possibly imagining his hands being yours. Your skin prickles and your body craves friction. You tremble with anticipation, getting increasingly frustrated by your lonesome state wishing you did let him drive over here.

“You fucking like that?” You ask.

“Mmhm," Alex hums. "What are you doing?"

"Me?"

"Yeah, you playing with yourself?"

Your hand lays over your cloth shorts. You could creep your hand down and do it but you wait. "No."

"Touch yourself, yeah? For me? Think about me touching you." The thought had already entered your mind before he said it. You itch, desperate and wanting him. Your hand reaches down and you shiver at your own touch.

Your breath is heavy against your phone as you ask, "How bad do you want me?"

"Really fucking bad. I want you fucking me."

"What are you going to do?"

“Yeah, fuck, I’m gonna—”

His loss of words turns you on even more. Your thighs rub together like they have a mind of their own and your fingers work away on you.

“Are you gonna fuck my mouth?” You ask. You can practically hear him working away on himself.

“Oh—”

“Fuck my mouth, Alex,” you say, his incoherent noises ramping up your performance even further. “Fuck. It.”

“Mmhm.”

“Are you gonna come?”

“Yes,” he breathes out. "You?"

You don't want him to know about you. The way he's made you rub yourself so intensely there's not even a chance to think. “Yeah," you moan into the phone.

“Yes. Oh fuck—”

There's silence on his end and you feel yourself overcome with bliss. Then, before either of you can say anything, you hang up the phone.

For the first weekend in about a month, you don't see him. Neither of you reached out and you're not sure if it's because of Friday's phone sex or if he really does have plans. You can never tell with Alex.

When you wake up Monday morning you're greeted with a text from Alex.

Wear something sexy for me?

You're not sure what to say back. He isn't usually this upfront, not since you first started this fucking thing. Since then there's been an unspoken understanding of what you're doing. Every move you've made to catch the other's eyes has been through choice. Never through soliciting.

What about you?

Are you going to wear something sexy for me?

He replies, Isn't a bowtie all you need?

You drop the phone like it's turned into hot lava in your hand. You have tried to will yourself to forget kissing Gunner at the bar like you did. It was a minimal makeout a handful of rounds in before he got you a taxi and you went home. You didn't want to deal with Gunner today at work and you definitely didn't want to deal with Alex ever knowing.

You wear what you want to wear and if it's sexy then that's completely unintentional. Even if your ass looks good in these jeans. He'll look sexy either way in his suit. So fucking annoying.

Elizabeth is back at work, which is nice, though you decide to spend most of your day in your cubicle, scared of being cornered by Alex or Gunner. God, are you the office slut?

You have your head buried in your hands when he knocks on the door. Your head snaps up and there he stands, smug and smirking. "I had a fun time on Friday."

"Yeah. I was really drunk."

He laughs, "I know." He inches closer and you hate yourself with every step he takes. "Let's do it sober sometime?"

Then, Alex walks in. "Oh, sorry," he apologizes.

"No, no, no," you insist. "You're fine."

"I just, uh, need to talk to you. Come to my office when you get the chance." You wish he would scoop you up in his arms and take you away. Instead, you're left to suffer with Gunner.

"I should probably go talk to him," you say to Gunner as you stand up from your chair.

"Boss calls. But let's hang out sometime, yeah?" He offers.

You don't bother answering. You walk out of the cubicle to Alex's office. Your heart thumps in time with every step. You give a light knock on the door and open it to see him, mimicking you. His feet are propped up on his desk and he relaxes in his chair riding The Economist.

"Very funny," you note as you shut the door.

He looks up and plays clueless. "What?"

"Shut up," you laugh as you sit in the chair across from his desk.

"You're wearing jeans," he remarks.

You rub your hands on the denim. "How observant of you."

He shakes his head. "Too casual for work."

"Half the staff wears jeans. You and Ed are the only ones who bother dressing up for some reason."

Alex shakes his head again. "I don't like you in jeans."

You frown dramatically. "That sounds really sad."

He chuckles. "I wanted easy access."

You quickly reply, "I'm not fucking you in your office."

"Okay."

You stare at each other from opposing sides of the room; the room that only feels to be getting smaller and smaller.

"What were you and Gunner talking about?" Alex inquires.

"I thought we were talking about work," you counter.

"I thought you were brighter than that."

You roll your eyes. "Personal business."

"How were after-work drinks?"

"Fine. I made out with Gunner." You're not sure if you're telling him to make him jealous or if you just need someone else to save you from the embarrassment of doing it.

Alex stares at you for a moment. Once he detects you are serious, he starts laughing. "Seriously? Really that desperate?"

You scoff at him. "I was really that drunk. You should know that from our phone call. I would have to be drunk to do that with you."

"You seemed to enjoy yourself." His smirk is only growing. "Even if you hung up on me."

That makes you smirk, challenging him and raising an eyebrow. "Whoops."

"Whoops?" He repeats. "It should be a punishable offense what you did to me."

"You gonna spank me at work? That's definitely an HR violation."

"Fuck HR."

"That's disturbing."

"Yeah, sorry." He seems genuine. "I just really want to fuck you right now."

You look down at your thumbs, twiddling them. "Then why didn't you call me this weekend?"

"I was busy," he excuses.

"Sure," you say entirely not believing him. "You weren't embarrassed?"

"What would I be embarrassed over?"

You shrug and look back up at him. "I certainly had you in the palm of my hand."

"Yeah?"

"I didn't know if you were the type of man who liked that." He was always dominating with you and while you two did have a decently equal level of power with one another it was hard to deny when Alex was shoving his cock down your throat that he had the upper hand. Let alone the fact that he is higher up in the company.

"Do you know how fucking hot you are?"

You laugh confused by him, furrowing your brows and squinting your eyes. "What?"

He leans forward on his elbows across his desk. "Do you even know what you do to me? I'd do whatever you say."

"I don't believe you."

"Yeah, you probably shouldn't." His eyes look down at the floor and you're unsure where his somberly remorseful tone comes from. "But I'd do anything you tell me to. Well, within reason."

You laugh. "You knew I was about to dare you to do some dumb shit."

He points his finger. "I could see the look in your eyes."

"Well," you sigh, "you know me too well." That intimacy creep comes up and it sends chills down your spine. Sometimes you want to go back to when he was a stranger to you. Sometimes you want him for yourself. Instead, you're left wondering whether he was out with someone all weekend and if you even have the right to care.

His silence seems to say the same thing. He leans back in his chair with no emotion on his face before a smile cracks on his lips. "So, Gunner, huh?"

"Shut up!"

Alex corners you at the end of the work day. The timing is too perfect for you to not think it's planned as you step on the elevator together. "Come over tonight?" He asks you.

"Why can't you come over to mine? Why do I have to be inconvenienced?"

Alex blows a puff of air out. "Don't let power go to your head."

You shrug. "Your choice."

"I'll be over in an hour. I'll bring dinner."

"You don't have to."

"I want to."

You separate in the parking lot and an hour later, he shows up at your door, a paper bag of takeaway in his hand. You eat on your couch because you don't have a table and he wears his suit while you wear your pajamas—your nice pajamas. His eyes stare at the spaghetti straps on the tank top as they slide off your shoulders. He notes that there isn't any bra underneath.

"Why'd you hang up on me?" He asks.

"Hmm," you say like you have no clue what he's referring to even though you definitely do and you want to push it down completely.

"On Friday, why did you hang up on me?"

"Because I finished," you say, even if it's not the full truth that you're terrified of him like Gunner is. That this could be something more but you aren't sure if you want it to be. That he picked up dinner from a restaurant you love and you know that's why he went there on his way here. That he hates your apartment because it's small and further from work and he gets stuck in traffic on the way here every time but he still came with no fight. That you looked over at him on Thursday night and thought about him coming inside you and wanted it so badly. That he really has all the power because you're so scared to make the next move.

"Okay." You can't figure out if that hurts that he doesn't care. You hate the confusion. You hate that you let him get to you at all. You hate that he's not fucking you right now.

Alex takes your plates and goes to the kitchen to wash them. You pad across the floor, coming up behind him. His hands scrub away at the plate and the water is loud enough that he hasn't noticed you.

You reach down to his belt and you feel him tense up. "What are you doing?" He asks as he shuts off the water.

You unbutton his trousers and touch him over his underwear. "Giving you a handjob." You pull his cock out and start tugging on it. He's moaning and you feel uncontrollable.

"Stop. I want fuck you." He pulls your hand away.

"Yeah?" You giggle.

Heat surges through him as he cups your face and kisses you. You travel backward, heading toward the couch. You open your mouth under the seeking pressure of Alex's. You curl your hand around the back of his neck and rest it there, keeping him close.

You land on the couch with him on top of you, strong in his kiss. You push him to lay back and straddle his lap, settling with your thighs spread wide and your body leaning heavily into Alex's. You curl your fingers into the front of his shirt and kiss with hunger.

"Alex," you whine as Alex twists your nipples over your tank top. "I want—"

You moan helplessly into his mouth. "How wet are you right now?" He's dirty with it. Always lacked a cleanliness in his teasing during sex. "You need attention? I can feel how hot you are, grinding against my cock. You don’t even realize you’re doing it, huh?"

"Then do something about it," you tell him.

He's quick in moving you to tug your shorts down. "Fuck," he groans, realizing you're not even wearing panties.

He runs his finger through you, making you quiver. "God, it's like no one has ever touched you."

"Shut up," you mutter as his fingers enter you. He's quick and you don't allow much room for yourself to breathe as you dig your head into the crook of his neck as his two fingers work away at you. "Fuck me," you moan.

And he takes it literally. He takes his fingers out and directs you onto his now hard cock.

"Fuck, you feel so good,” he gasps, hips twitching up. You start riding him, rhythmically moving your hips, which Alex's hands initially clutch onto.

Heat rushes into your face at the words, the way they make you squeeze around his cock, cling to his shoulders, and moving yourself deeper into him.

Alex reaches down to rub at your clit with the hand, little bursts of pleasure. "Oh, god," you mumble.

You can hear the smile in Alex's voice when he says, “Yeah? You like that?”

"Uh-huh." He lays you down on the couch and starts thrusting into you, a deep ache you feel all the way to your toes.

"You feel so good, so tight around my cock." His voice sounds strained now, a little breathier and hoarse as his hips snap forward.

You capture him in a cage with your legs around his waist, urging him deeper and deeper into you. "Harder," you whine. He fills you again in one thrust and doesn’t stop, fucking hard into you, hard enough that you can’t focus on anything else but the way it makes you feel.

You're close and his form is sloppy, which means he's close. "Fuck,” you cry as you come.

"Can I do it in you?" He asks quickly and breathlessly. You nod rapidly and he lets go his cum filling you. He collapses on top of you and you wished you had done this in your bed because he's heavy and you can feel his cum oozing out of you.

"I have to clean up."

"Okay."

You're brushing your teeth before bed and you see him in the mirror, standing in the door jamb looking at you. The sight is so domestic-looking that it nearly makes you sick if it didn't feel so sweet. He's standing in his boxers watching you brush your teeth.

"What?" You utter with toothpaste in your mouth.

He looks down at the floor. "I, uh, didn't do anything this weekend, if that's what you think."

You spit out your toothpaste. "You can do whatever you want, Alex. I'm not the boss of you."

"I know, but we are kind of..."

You shut the running water off. "Kind of?"

"Look whatever this is I just want you to know you don't have to worry about anything." He's evasive.

You're blunt with it. "You mean STDs?"

"Yeah," he lightly chuckles.

You look at him through the mirror. "You don't have to worry about me either."

"Gunner doesn't have anything?" He jokes.

"I don't think Gunner has ever actually been with a woman." You share a laugh with him. You rest your hands on the edge of the sink and calm yourself, telling him, "But I don't want to do that with Gunner."

"Who would?" He chuckles, pleased with his own joke.

"Yeah." You smile at him before looking down at the sink basin, staring at the drain. "Well, I'm not going to do that with anyone, you know, as long as you're not going to do it with anyone."

"I'm not going to do it with anyone." And then he disappears off into your bedroom.

a/n: i guess this is a series just like everything else. what can i say? i can never leave anything well enough alone.

#alex turner fic #alex turner x fem!reader #alex turner x oc #alex turner x reader #alex turner x y/n #alex turner x you #junedenim #alex turner #alex turner smut #arctic monkeys

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slutforalastor · 1 year ago

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"Ah, he's got this problem." Your friend Mimzy waved her hand. "You know how animal demons get. I'd take care of him myself but I wouldn't want to spoil our working relationship. We go way back, you know."

Slowly, you nodded. "You'd consider it a personal favour?" That was how things worked in Hell. A consideration for a consideration. And dealing with the Radio Demon in rut was hardly a small favour, even if it did play well to your preferences.

"To me, yeah." Mimzy smiled broadly. "Just take him to a private room in the back and see that he's calmed down before it's time for the show. If he's cranky he's gonna start eating people, ugh." She fluttered her hand again. "Don't worry, though, he's an absolute sweetheart."

Seeing the Radio Demon turn sideways to get through the door, eyes glowing red and his huge rack of antlers festooned with cables, you were starting to doubt Mimzy's definition of sweetheart.

THIS POST CONTAINS MATERIAL NOT SUITABLE FOR MINORS. 18+

Content: Rutting, antlerplay, role reversal, give and take, banter, mutual masturbation, light femdom, biting, marking, a lot of flowery language for smut

You'd heard the stories and rumors, saw the occasional report on VNN, but you'd yet to encounter the Radio Demon for yourself. Even pushed to the edge where something resembling humanity plunges into dark depths of depravity, he's maintaining a grip on decorum, his wavering smile barely forming the syllables when he introduces himself as Alastor, his voice impossibly mimicking the sound of a mono recording from a bygone time. Mimzy is going to owe you big-time.

"I'm doing well, sir. I have to say, you look like you've had an awful day."

"It is... most inconvenient," he stammers, shaking his head like a beached animal trying to throw off water. Just as Mimzy had requested, you'd waited for him in the private room, and you're still laying in the bed, your body draped across the two rows of firm pillows, down to your lingerie for his ease. With wobbling steps, he begins to close the distance, loosening his bowtie.

"I really must insist that this matter... stay between us." The restraint he's displaying seems as though it's taking every bit of faculties he can spare; his breathing, his sight, his ability to stand, all seem to be sustained with the minimum amount of effort possible. Even glazed in electric red, you can tell his eyes are focused intently on you.

"Who would believe me, anyhow?"

"... Too true, no one would dream of calling me a liar," he agrees, pulling his waistcoat off and leaving it in a heap on the bureau. His undershirt is the same deep red, intersecting black stripes making a cross across the center of his chest. He rolls his sleeves up, then sets his cane on top of his waistcoat. "Any... sensitivities I should know about?"

"I like being kissed on the neck," you venture, playing it safe for opening bids.

He laughs wickedly, the glow casting light further than it could reach before, his antlers growing another section in size, branching out that much closer to the ceiling. "Oh, Mimzy didn't tell me you'd be so pure. Surely you have something more entertaining than that?"

"You think I do this sort of thing often enough to have an itemized list?"

He tuts at your attempt at banter, removing his shoes and leaving them in the gap under the bed. "I don't have time for experimentation, my dear. I'm asking if you think you can handle what I have to give."

"I've handled everything so far," you smirk.

"Let's see how you handle the best, then," he mutters. With a wave of his hand, a black tentacle rises to wrap around your midsection, pinning you in place. He's climbing onto the bed, teeth bared like an animal seconds from pouncing. There's hunger in his eyes, desperation in his motion, a frantic bent to the way he's starting to falter, his kayfabe crumbling with every push of his knees. He's got your legs open, mounting you, and you can feel something alive and thrashing, barely contained by the slacks tenting away from his midsection. His eyes are narrowed in ravenous anticipation, his hips pressing him into you, etching his longing lengthwise against the fabric of your underwear. You feel your upper teeth against your lip, knowing that despite all your talk, you can't hide how appreciative you are of his straightforward approach.

With a hoarse exhale, he fumbles with his belt, the restraining tentacle slipping southward to yank your panties down. Your eyes catch a glimpse of how prepared you are for what's coming next, the evidence staining a dark spot in the light fabric. The Radio Demon hikes his slacks down to the midsection of his thighs, the tip of his firmness kissing against your entrance, his erratic movements keeping him from slipping in. You take it in your hands, which makes him rear up in ecstasy, a hissing growl punctuating the reaction, and align it directly where it needs to go. With a thrust motivated by nothing more than primal need, he forces himself deep into you, grunting in satisfaction at your breathy gasps when it settles into your apex. He gives you little time to adjust, burying himself into you with harsh, crushing strokes, the red in his eyes leaving a tracer every time you shut your eyes against the force of it. His hands are against your forearms, pinning the both of them on either side, and when your head goes back, he finds the crook of your neck with his teeth, his tongue, his lips, seasoning you with scratches, leaving welts from kisses and bites. They sting like fire, they excite like aphrodisiac.

"Is that what you mean, my dear? Is that what you're looking for?"

You whimper something that sounds close enough to assent for him to grow bolder, making a map of your body, marking a trail, carving canyons, raising landmarks that stand red and pulsing against the canvas of your skin. All this in the throes of his rutting deep into you. It drives you mad, your legs wrapping around his waist, bidding him to see just how much of his mind he can lose.

"God, your fucking taste. It'd be such a shame to just devour you, though. So many uses for the whole." Or maybe you're using the homophone of that word to make him seem kinder.

A flailing hand finds your throat, freeing your arms by necessity. You catch onto the rack of black antlers nearly driving themselves into the headboard, using them for leverage to arch your back. You can't tell if you've irritated or excited him with your little move, but the result is the same; he's pressing you with enough force that you can feel the force of it in your midsection. You're seeing red, the sound of him making a mess of you ringing in your ears, two organs vying for sensations yet to be experienced, every other part of you a mere pretense, a chorus playing ensemble to the true performance. And he's reaching the climax of it, his bucking hips shaking your entire frame. You can feel every shift of his disposition in the bone of his antlers, and you hold on for dear life as his urge rushes into your lower half, filling you with thick heat. You're moaning unconsciously, letting him keep you impaled for as long as it pulses with diminishing vigor, feeling every twitch in his shaft as it empties itself. Finally spent, he releases you, the tentacle unwinding from around your waist. Your fingers, knuckles sore from strain, release his antlers, and you extricate yourselves from one another. You can feel his seed weep from between your legs, your breathing rapid, your skin slick with sweat. He collapses onto his back, his legs still entangled with yours, the fabric of his slacks a strange texture on your drenched skin. Straining, you lift your head up, seeing that despite his exhaustion, his cock hasn't calmed one bit.

"Still... not satisfied?"

"This damnable rut..."

You pull yourself up, your lower half numb and leaving a trail of translucence as you crawl to the space between his legs. You wrap a hand around him, and he breathes a hissing inhale that tapers into a low, long groan.

"I didn't ask you..."

"You look like you're in misery, you really don't want the help?"

"I am in no position to keep going..."

"So let me handle it."

You can see the conflict playing out in his expression, but his hips gently bucking against your hand tell a different tale. "Not a soul can know about this."

You nod your assent, giving the part that needs it more of your attention. It's as lively as when he was frotting it against you, throbbing with want, coated with spend. It makes a marvelous lubricant, the wet sound of skin against slick skin nearly obscuring his quiet moans.

"I couldn't help but notice that you have sensitivities of your own, sir."

"Surely you can't mean..."

Your free hand dances like a bird across the branches in his horns, his vocalizations and submissive thrusts suggesting that you have stricken quite the nerve. He's already oozing pre into your palm, a searching hand walking a blind path between your legs, caressing you in kind. You've got a wild idea, just crazy enough to sound worth doing. There's a real chance you'll never cross each other's path again, might as well indulge. You spot a path that ends in a blunt point in his rack, and take it into your mouth, flitting your tongue against the rough material, firm and tasteless, but eliciting such a response from him that you'd not dare release it. His fingers are stroking you with all the effort they can muster, his thrusts weak but sincere.

"Cannot believe... you're getting away with this," he whines, his voice so submissive compared to the one you first heard that it threatens to send you over the edge. Why not press your luck? You straddle his waist, inching him into you margin by maddening margin. He's got no more clever quips for you, his curled claws clutching fistfuls of ruined bedsheets. The view from on high is a pleasant one. A few more motions, and you feel that sensation alighting in him once again; you're ready to join him. His whimpers go up an octave, the crackling filter in his voice thickening, distorting. For the second time, he climaxes inside of you, your own orgasm arriving in tandem. The both of you cry out, his subdued and sweet, yours unrestrained and carnal. You fold into him, his initial reaction wanting to pull away, but he grants you this favor, letting you find the crook in his neck in parallel. He speaks unfiltered, more as Alastor than as the Radio Demon.

"You know, it can be so hard to find willing assistants for these difficult times. Perhaps I could call on you again, my dear."

Maybe it should be you that owes Mimzy.

#alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor x you #radio demon x reader #the radio demon #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel

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foxcantswim · 2 years ago

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FNAF Movie / / Vanessa x F!Reader [Safety Latch]

(gif by me)

Vanessa teaches you how to repair Freddy. She's definitely feeling platonic things right now. Contents: Fluff, Angst(ish), First Kiss Warnings: N/A WC: 1,598

(Freddy repair process is based on Help Wanted 1 gameplay)

You nervously circled around Freddy. Even as he sat on the chair he still towered over you. You had only been working at Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria for a few months now as the new overnight security guard, you were quite surprised when you got a call telling you to repair the animatronics despite no prior training.

You had thankfully met an officer called Vanessa on the first night on the job, she seemed to know quite a bit about the animatronics.

"Try not to worry too much," Vanessa said as she leaned over to fumble around in some drawers nearby.

"What if I break him?!" you exclaimed, worry in your voice.

Rolling her eyes with a smirk, she looked over at you, "You won't break him. I'm here to teach you the basics."

"I'm surprised you even know how to..."

She shrugged, "There's a lot you don't know about me, Y/N."

Vanessa brought out a small strange looking box and placed it on the desk near Freddy, "What's that?" you pointed towards the box.

"His music has been glitching out a lot lately. That is a music box. I think it's about time he got a replacement, god knows when he last had one," she stood up from her stool which was directly in front of Freddy, she then beckoned you over with her finger, "Sit."

Gulping harshly, you walked over and sat down. Freddy was currently deactivated, yet a slight twinge of fear ran through you. Your eyes landed on a blue bin to your right, there was a couple of different clothing items within it.

Vanessa noticed your curiosity, "That's just in case he has anything inside him that doesn't belong. We always make sure he's thoroughly cleaned out."

You let out a shaky breath with a nod, "Okay... Okay." Vanessa switched on some extra lights to give you more lighting, hoping to help you out a little bit more. Her hand soon landed on your shoulder in comfort. Both of your eyes soon landed on the huge animatronic in front of you.

"Right. Lets get this over and done with." She removed her hand from your shoulder, sadly, and she grabbed a toolkit from a shelf, "Hopefully he doesn't have any irreparable damage," she really did hope it was just the music box that needed switching out.

"Where do we start?" you said, your eyes not daring to leave Freddy.

The blonde put the toolkit onto the desk before moving back to your side, "Okay. First things first we need to get into his chest cavity. I'll walk you through it." She pointed up towards Freddy's chest, "First you need to grab his bowtie and pull it out towards you."

"Wh-What? What if I break it, I-"

"Y/N..." she sighed, "You won't break it. It was designed to do this. You're not scared of this little teddy bear, are you?" she teased as her hand landed on your upper back, pushing you forwards ever so slightly, you shivered under her touch.

A pout had landed on your face at Vanessa's words before you decided to finally raise a shaky hand up towards the bowtie, attempting to face your fears. You had been saying that you were merely afraid of breaking the animatronic... But truthfully you were worried about what this thing was capable of, after all it seemed to be sentient from what you had seen in the past few months.

Finally your hand grasped the bowtie and pulled gently, you didn't expect the chest cavity to fly open so quickly causing you to flinch back.

"There... Good job. That's step one done," her hand moved to your shoulder and squeezed it, "Thankfully there doesn't seem to be anything that doesn't belong in here... Now here comes the fun part," she said through a sigh, sarcasm in her words.

Within the chest cavity you could see some sort of mechanism swinging from side to side, behind it there was a device that seemed to resemble a music box.

"Right, this thing here," she pointed towards the mechanism that was swinging, "Is the safety latch. It causes a shutdown if anything gets in the way. So don't touch it. And don't touch any of his wiring, you can get a nasty shock from it," she eyed the music box in the bottom right of his cavity, "All you need to do is take that out, and then push that red button right there on his endoskeleton to reset his safety latch. Easy?"

You nodded, "Y-Yeah... Sure."

All you had to do was grab the music box without touching the safety latch that was occasionally swinging in front of it. Simple.

"And then you have to reconnect the new music box. Then we are all done. There doesn't seem to be any other damage, so that's all we need to do."

Your already shaky hands seemed to shake even more as you slowly reached towards his chest cavity. You stopped yourself just short of the music box, narrowly avoiding the safety latch.

"Hey... Take it easy. No rush," Vanessa reassured.

A few moments passed and yet your slowly retracted your hand, unsure of what to do. You definitely didn't expect for Vanessa's own hand to slowly lay on top of yours, "Here... I'll help you," her voice was soft, her face flushed a slight red.

You could feel your heart beating rapidly as Vanessa's cool skin smoothed over your warm hand.

"And... Here we go," she slowly guided your hand towards the music box, the safety latch still slowly swinging left and right. Her head was next to yours, her breath tickling the side of your ear. You could feel her chest resting against your back as she leaned over your shoulder, "Just one quick grab, okay?" you flexed your fingers as Vanessa moved your hand closer.

It was over before you knew it, Vanessa had successfully guided your hand to the box and helped you remove it with no complications. You were surprised at how easy the box seemed to detach.

"See. You did it," her voice was quiet as she still kept her head next to yours, "Nice job, Y/N," she removed her hand from yours finally, you had to stop yourself from reaching back out for it, "Lemme get that for you." She expertly pressed the red button whilst dodging the safety latch, the latch then slowly came to a stop.

You placed the damaged music box onto the desk before grabbing a new one. Vanessa stepped aside so you could put the new music box inside the chest cavity. At least the safety latch no longer moved, this was a piece of cake.

"You'll be a natural in no time," Vanessa smirked at you as you finished connecting the music box, "I'm proud of you for not fucking it up at least."

You couldn't help but smile.

Vanessa proceeded to close Freddy's chest cavity and put the bowtie back in place.

You didn't really know what came over you, but you decided to stand up from the stool and walk over towards Vanessa, "I definitely couldn't of done it without you." She turned around to meet your gaze. You could already feel the blush spreading across your cheek as you reached up to kiss her on the cheek, "Thanks, Van."

A shy laugh escaped Vanessa, "No worries, Y/N."

The pair of you still stood face to face, neither daring to move away. You barely caught Vanessa's gaze flickering down to your lips, you felt as if your heart was about to beat out of your chest.

Vanessa took you not moving away as a sign, and she slowly leaned in. Her lips brushed against yours, almost feather light. Your eyes closed shut at the contact. She couldn't stop herself from smiling into the kiss as she decided to deepen it ever so slightly. You were shocked at the sudden kiss, you never even thought about Vanessa having feelings towards you.

You stepped forwards to get closer to her, but Vanessa abruptly pulled away as her back banged into Freddy.

She let out a laugh, "Sorry, Freddy," she pat Freddy's knee. She looked back at you, a soft look in her eyes. You were about to speak but were cut off by Vanessa pecking your lips once again, "We'll have plenty of time to talk about this later, Y/N," she smiled.

"Y-Yeah..." you gulped.

Vanessa's hand cupped your jaw and her thumb rubbed your cheek. You were just about to lean into her touch but she suddenly pulled away. She nodded her head towards the door, "Come on, Y/N. It's about time we go and check up on the others. They're not going to repair themselves." Her hand interlocked with yours to your surprise.

Your breath hitched as you were dragged out the room, she shot a wink your way.

A part of you didn't want to do this anymore, another sense of dread washing over you. But an even bigger part of you would do anything to be that close to Vanessa again. You'd do anything to get her to guide your hand again. In any way she wanted.

Vanessa opened the door.

You simply smiled once you saw Bonnie.

Vanessa x F!Reader - Jealousy (Fluff,Angst,Established Relationship)

Vanessa x F!Reader - Total Insecurity (Angst,Hurt/Comfort)

#fnaf movie #fnaf #vanessa shelly x reader #fnaf vanessa x reader #vanessa fnaf #fnaf movie fanfic #vanny x reader #vanessa shelly #vanessa monroe #fnaf x reader #fnaf gif #security breach

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