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bitethedevil · 2 days

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Taming the Wolf (Raphael x Tav): Chapter 5

Tags and Warnings for this fic: Plus-Size!Tav, Druid!Tav, Tiefling!Tav, Dark!Raphael, Breeding Kink, Mind-control, Non-Con and Dub-Con Elements, Sex Pollen, Master/Pet Dynamic, Somnophilia, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

A link to read this fic on AO3 (kudos or comments make the author very happy <3)

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Fic Summary: Tav tried to avoid fulfilling her contract to Raphael by leaving the Crown of Karsus on the bottom of the Chionthar, leaving her contract unfulfilled by a technicality. Although, no situation is so bad that the new Archdevil of the First can't find a way to profit off it. All the other archdevils of the Hells have their own lineages of tieflings on the Material Plane and Raphael is not going to feel left out...

Chapter Summary: Haarlep helps out (NSFW).

AN: Warning: Mention of Baby-Eating (don't even ask...)

“Do you think I’m stupid?” she asked them with a scoff.

“I think that a woman in your position can’t afford to not grab at the opportunities presented to her,” Haarlep answered. “And I would be delighted to help you.”

She sat up in the bed to look at them better. It was unnerving how they were wearing Raphael’s face and yet their facial expressions were so different from his.

“Alright, second question then: are you stupid?” she asked. “Even if it was not a completely outrageous idea, how do you suppose you would explain a baby that does not even look like him? You might be able to take his form, but the child would take after your true form.”

“Oh, come now…” they pleaded. “Use your imagination a little, druid. That’s nothing a simple glamour spell won’t fix. Please…he starves me.”

She raised an eyebrow at them and looked them up and down.

“Ah…so that’s what this is all about,” she said. “I should have guessed. I’m busy enough being used by your master. I don’t need to be used by his pets too.”

“This is about revenge,” Haarlep said with a fire in their eyes and desperation in their voice. “That little brat has gotten too much power, and it has gone to his head. I used to have him wrapped around my little finger and now he keeps me in this demeaning collar, unable to feed myself while he is either too busy literally fucking you or figuratively fucking the other eight archdevils of the Hells.”

She watched their expression. They were truly desperate. There was no doubt about it. She did feel oddly bad for them. Their predicament was not too different from their own and they were both under the thumb of the same sadistic man.

“What would I even gain from this?” she asked with a sigh. “I am tired, Phaelar…or Haarlep or whatever the fuck your name is, and it seems my time here has barely even begun.”

“Peace,” they answered. “If he thinks that you are pregnant with his spawn, he will lose interest in fucking you. When I came in here, you thought I was him. How would you have known any better if I came in here and demanded what he does? You can blame it on me. I will take the punishment for it. It would be worth it to see the look on his face.”

She thought about it for a moment. It was a fucked situation, but she was considering it. Haarlep was not the only one who wanted revenge.

“And unlike with him,” Haarlep said. “You will be in complete control of it. I can’t touch you because of the collar, but I’d wager that you can touch me. Here.”

Haarlep held out a hand to her. She readied herself to be shocked by the collar, but when she touched his palm, no shock came. Haarlep smiled. She withdrew her hand.

“I’ll think about it,” she said. “But only on days where I am particularly fertile. I don’t want to waste any attempts.”

Haarlep whined and rolled their eyes, but then looked at her and nodded in understanding.

“Fine, fine,” they said and got off the bed. “I’ll come and visit you then.”

The days went by. She had not gotten her period when she was supposed to. Most likely it was due to stress and the staff at the fortress did not exactly help. The physician who tracked her cycle was starting to threaten her with gynecological check-ups to see if she was lying about it. The whole thing was awful. She wasn’t even sure if she should hope that it came or not.

Raphael kept badgering her too. There was not a single dinner where he did not ask her and if she snapped at him, he would either tone her out or use the collar if she got aggressive. She did however learn that he was more careful with using the collar as much as usual while she went through her pregnancy scare. Something told her that if she was going to try and escape, she should wait until she was pregnant so he would go easy on her if discovered.

Eventually her period did arrive a week too late. She felt an odd empty feeling in her stomach when it did. She was neither relieved nor stressed about it. The idea of lying and keeping it a secret did occur to her, but it would not do anything to help her. Eventually Raphael would no doubt find out anyway.

That empty feeling was becoming a theme for her. She had anything and everything at her disposal. Raphael was generous with her, just like he had promised. None of it mattered though. Her fate was the same and eventually Raphael would visit her again.

A day before he was supposed to, she got a visit from Haarlep in Raphael’s form once again.

They smiled at her when they entered her chamber and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“So…” they said with a seductive smile.

She really did not feel like it. Although, on the other hand, if it worked, she could stick it to Raphael and she would not have to endure his ministrations for nine months. She nodded. Haarlep began sliding out of his clothes and she stopped them with a hand gesture.

“Could you maybe…take any other form than his?” she asked.

Haarlep tilted their head as they looked at her.

“Oh, are you afraid that he will feel it?” they asked. “He shuts it off, you know. He only allows the connection when he wants to after he got the crown. Trust me, I have tested it thoroughly. He won’t feel it unless he gets suspicious and checks in, and he is in a meeting somewhere in Dis right now. He’s distracted.”

She honestly had not even considered that part of it, but that was sort of a terrifying thought too.

“Good to know, but it’s just…” she muttered. “I’ll see enough of Raphael’s for the next couple of days. It would be nice if you could be someone else.”

Haarlep paused half-way out of the doublet they had no doubt stolen from Raphael’s wardrobe.

“Well, darling, the options are rather limited,” they said with an apologetic smile. “He only allows me those of himself these days. The collar will react if I change into anything else.”

“How about your true form then?” she asked. “Surely, he can’t forbid you from using that.”

Haarlep’s smile faltered immediately. They were so much more expressive than Raphael was and there was a clear sense of melancholy on their features. They shook their head and schooled their expression into a tight smile.

“No, I’m afraid I can’t,” they said and shook out of the doublet and carefully folded it in their lap.

“Why?”

“Because I can’t!” they snapped.

Tav was shocked at the sudden outburst. She had really only been curious. She had no idea it was a tender subject for the incubus. They weren’t looking at her anymore. They were looking at the doublet in their lap. They reached forward and placed it on a chair near her bed before moving their focus to the buttons on the white shirt they were wearing underneath. It was painfully quiet for a while before they spoke up again.

“Apologies,” they said with a small bitter smile. “I suppose my hunger makes me grumpy. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I suppose it’s a reasonable question…”

She watched them while they fumbled with the buttons of their shirt. The question had clearly thrown them off.

“Well?” she asked gently.

Haarlep sighed deeply and shook their head. They leaned back on the bed, resting their weight on their arms.

“I have never told anyone…” they mumbled and looked at her.

They looked her up and down, but there was not the same hunger in their gaze as there had been the other times they had spoken together. This was a look of pity more than anything else.

“Centuries ago, I left Mephistopheles service as a gift to his son,” they began explaining. “I had seen the little brat around in his daddy’s castle. I had slept with him plenty of times before I ever came to Avernus… Now, Raphael’s relationship with his daddy is a complicated one. One day Mephistopheles wanted to humble his son at court after he had been a particularly naughty boy, so…he had me walk through the throne room, in front of the whole court, in his form and my best lingerie.”

She watched Haarlep smile in sadistic amusement at the memory, but their expression soon turned slightly sour again.

“Needless to say, Raphael was less than pleased. He has always been a sensitive boy, that one. Then eventually I came to stay in Avernus with him. We bickered a lot in the beginning. He was being unreasonable, as he always is, and I may or may not have mentioned that particular incident. I remember him fuming about it. I was used to Mephistopheles temper, and Raphael is his spitting image when it comes to the hereditary hissy fits.”

Haarlep sighed and a note of that same melancholy as before washed over their features. She was listening intently.

“I don’t remember much of what happened, truth be told. I just remember being woken up in his bed…some old greyed mortal wizard and him standing by the end of the bed. I was in the same form that I had used to humiliate him with that day. The one that looks younger and prettier than he does now. They had made me forget…”

“Forget what?” she asked. “What do you mean?”

“My true name and my true form. No matter how hard I try, my old memories are blurred. I can remember my time before Raphael’s service but every memory where I was wearing my true form is blurred. My true voice incoherent, my form blurry and unrecognizable, the memory of feeling my own body numbed… I had nightmares about blurry forms in mirrors for decades. Pathetic, really…”

Haarlep shook their head and changed into the younger looking Raphael in a flash of fire.

“This is who I am now. My body is his in the most literal sense and even my name is formed after his…” Haarlep mumbled and then made an imitation of Raphael’s tone: “’So, you don’t forget who you belong to, dear Haarlep’ he had said as his reasoning, the bastard…”

She was quiet. She truly did feel bad for them, fiend or not. She gently placed their hand on their shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t imagine what that must be like.”

Haarlep smiled and looked at her hand. They immediately returned to their usual aloof mood.

“Oh, not to worry darling,” they said with a sigh. “You won’t have to imagine soon. Raphael always ends up shaping everything around him into an image of himself in some shape or form. I do wonder though if I did make you pregnant… Would I even be able to look at the child or would it be a blurry blob as well since it has my true features, do you think?”

It was a terribly depressing thought, and it was said with such a light tone.

“I…I don’t know,” she said.

“I suppose we will never know if I keep yapping about my sad and horrible past,” they said as if it was a joke. “Again, I apologize. Hunger just makes me so moody, and I am starving.”

She shook her head and tried to shake herself from the heavy discussion they just had, but it was difficult.

“Alright…” she said. “How do we do this?”

Haarlep settled down on the bed and untied their pants before patting their lap in invitation. They were already hard. How in the Hells they managed to be aroused after what they just spoke about was beyond her. A feature of being an incubus, she assumed. She was really trying her best to return to reality and shake the feeling of dread.

She slid out of her nightgown. Haarlep watched her with bated breath as she did so. She crawled to straddle his lap. Her movements were clumsy and awkward, but Haarlep did not seem to mind in the least.

She looked to the side to distract herself from the form under her as she tried to lower herself onto him. It hurt. She was not at all in the mood for it yet. She cursed under her breath.

“No rush, darling,” Haarlep purred from under her. “I can’t help, but oh I wish I could.”

It was clear in their tone sounded that they were grieving the fact that they couldn’t touch her. She tried to rub her cunt on their cock instead to get herself wet. Haarlep let out a satisfied moan at the friction, though they could feel as much as her that she was not into this. Haarlep fed on her pleasure, and they would not get satisfied unless she was enjoying it too.

“I am not sure that you can kiss me without me accidentally kissing back, but I could spit in your mouth?” they suggested in a low tone with a smile. “Would you like that?”

Not really. She knew perfectly well the effects of their spit and how excruciating it could be. Then again, that had been with Raphael who teased and denied her. With Haarlep she could just take what she wanted, it seemed. She looked at them and nodded.

“Open your mouth.”

She did. They spat into it with the accuracy of someone who had done it a thousand times. She wrinkled her nose a bit as she closed her mouth and swallowed it. It only took seconds before she could start feeling her whole body tingle. It was more potent directly from the source and she grew wet so fast that it seemed entirely unnatural.

She parted her lips in a small moan of relief as she started sliding over his cock with ease now as she ground herself on it. Haarlep hummed in satisfaction and gripped the sheets not to touch her.

“Much better,” they purred. “You are doing so well…”

Their eyes looked almost in love as they watched her. As if she was the most beautiful being they had ever seen. Despite her knowing it was pure hunger being sated and nothing else, she had never had anyone look at her quite like that and the feeling went straight to her abdomen.

She moved to position them at her entrance. She slid down onto them with a breathless moan. Her whole body was on fire. She began riding them at a steady pace. Her hand went to her mouth to quiet herself.

“No, let me hear you,” they protested softly from under her. “Please…I want to hear those pretty sounds of yours.”

She moved her hand away from her mouth. She was not even sure why she did it in the first place. The guards outside thought it was Raphael in here with her anyway, but it was as if a tiny sliver of fear of getting caught was still in the back of her mind despite her dulled senses.

Her moans were getting louder, and she upped her pace. The spittle along with being able to take what she wanted felt like utter bliss. It did not take long before she was riding them like there was no tomorrow and Haarlep seemed to be living for it. They were feasting, as their moans turned into feral growls, and they started babbling dirty words at her. Their claws would surely rip up her mattress with the way they were digging into it to not touch her.

“Mm, you are so good,” they growled from under her. “So delicious…That’s it…Take what you want from me, my sweet greedy girl. Fill that pretty belly of yours…Yes, yes…mm.”

They were growling like an animal in heat, and it went straight to her core. She rode them harder. She was so close. Her nails dug into their chest. She almost screamed when she came. By the look on Haarlep’s face they were seconds behind her. She could feel them starting to spurt their seed inside her.

She felt a sharp, strong tug backwards and then a loud thud as the back of her head hit the wall on the opposite side of the room. Everything went black for a second as she grabbed the back of her head in confusion. She blinked and gave Haarlep a terrified look before the door to her chambers shot open.

She felt a cold shiver go through her whole body and she lowered her gaze to the floor. She did not need to look to know who just stepped inside her chambers. So, this would be how she died, she thought for a moment. She could hear his slow, heavy footsteps enter the room, followed by a loud slam of the door behind him.

“When the cat’s away, the mice will play, I see…” Raphael drawled in a dangerously calm tone. “Haarlep…my dear…would you kindly explain yourself?”

There was complete silence in the room. The kind of silence one might imagine there would be before the world crumbles down around your ears. She looked up at Haarlep. There was a slightly unhinged smile on their face.

“I am simply making your new pet feel welcome, master,” Haarlep said in a quiet voice. “And helping out, of course. Dreadfully punctual thing, all that baby-making and you are oh so busy these days.”

It was clear that despite their big mouth, Haarlep was scared of him too, even though they were better at hiding it than her at the moment. Raphael stared them down.

“Besides,” Haarlep said and looked at her. “She begged me to help.”

Her fear turned into anger at the drop of a hat. She opened her mouth to protest, but she barely got a sound out before Raphael pinned her with his glare.

“You will be quiet until spoken to,” Raphael growled at her and looked back at Haarlep. “You came inside her. I felt it. You have never been burdened by intelligence, Haarlep, and yet, you still manage to surprise me with your idiocy. Did either of you truly think that I was unaware of anything that happens here?”

They were both quiet. Raphael looked at her again. His eyes trailed down her body with a look of disdain. His eyes lingered at her sex that still dripped with Haarlep’s cum. He looked her in the eyes with a hateful, sadistic smile.

“If a child comes out of you that does not look like the perfect image of myself, I will fatten it up at your breast, make you love and care for it, before I feed it to you in pieces. If I am feeling gracious, I might kill it before doing so. Do we understand each other?”

The threat made her blood go cold. She knew that he meant every word of it. She gave him a slow nod. A big toothy smile spread over his features. He turned to look at Haarlep.

“Change into her form,” he ordered.

#raphael bg3 #raphael the cambion #bg3 raphael #raphael x tav #haarlep x tav #nsft #baldur's gate 3 #bg3

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dovesdreaming · 3 days

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Caught with the tide

Summary: You wished people saw you as more than just the daughter of mr smee and your wish might just come true in the most unlikely form of Harry hook.

Masterlist

Growing up as the daughter of Mr. Smee, you were used to being in the background. Your father had always been content to serve, to follow Captain Hook without question, playing the loyal sidekick. You, however, weren’t quite as eager to fade into the shadows. You wanted more, more than being known as the daughter of a henchman, more than a life of quietly fetching things for people who barely noticed you were there. But on the Isle of the Lost, ambition could be dangerous. Especially when you crossed paths with him.

Harry Hook was nothing like your father. Where Smee was gentle and kind-hearted, Harry was unpredictable and wild. He walked through the Isle like he owned it, his sharp grin and gleaming hook daring anyone to challenge him. People feared him, respected him, and you.. well, you tried your best to stay out of his way. The last thing you needed was to attract the attention of Captain Hook’s son, with his charming arrogance and reckless swagger. But of course, fate had other plans. It all started when you were assigned to work on the docks. You had grown up around ships, so it wasn’t a surprise when you were tasked with maintaining them. The work wasn’t glamorous, but you didn’t mind it. It gave you time to think, to dream of something better. Besides, the docks were where you felt most at home, out of sight, away from the chaos of the Isle.

At least, that was the plan. Until Harry Hook showed up. It was an overcast afternoon, the clouds heavy with the promise of rain, when you heard the familiar clank of boots on the wooden planks behind you. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. The sound of his hook tapping against the dock gave him away every time. “Well, well, if it isn’t Smee’s little lass” Harry drawled, his voice thick with that infuriating Scottish accent that somehow made everything he said sound like a taunt. You sighed, wiping your hands on a rag before turning to face him. “What do you want, Harry?”

He leaned casually against a post, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he looked you up and down. “Just checkin’ in. Can’t have ye slackin’ off, now can we?”. You rolled your eyes. “I’m not one of your crew, Hook. I don’t answer to you”. Harry smirked, pushing himself off the post and sauntering closer. “No, but ye work on my ship. That makes ye my business”. You squared your shoulders, refusing to back down even as he came dangerously close, the scent of saltwater and leather clinging to him. “I do my job. Isn’t that enough?”. His smirk softened into something more calculating, his blue eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at you, like he was trying to figure you out. “Yer not like the others” he said after a moment, his voice quieter, less teasing. “I’ve noticed”. You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden change in his tone. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Harry tilted his head, studying you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. “Yer different. Not just Smee’s daughter. Ye’ve got somethin’ else”. You frowned, unsure if he was complimenting you or mocking you. “And what exactly do I have?” He tapped his hook lightly against his chin, pretending to think. “A spine, for starters. Ye don’t cower like the rest of ‘em”. He grinned again, but there was something more genuine behind it now. “I like that”. You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “Is that your way of saying you’re impressed?” Harry chuckled, the sound deep and rough, like he didn’t laugh often. “Aye, lass. Maybe I am”.

You crossed your arms, fighting to keep your cool despite the warmth spreading through your chest. “Well, don’t get used to it. I’m not looking for your approval”. Harry’s grin widened, his eyes gleaming with something you couldn’t quite place. “No? Shame. Ye might be the only one on this bloody Isle who doesn’t care what I think”. You arched an eyebrow. “Maybe that’s because I know what you are”. His grin faltered just slightly, but he didn’t back down. “And what am I, lass?” “A pirate” you said simply, meeting his gaze with unwavering confidence. “You take what you want and leave the rest behind”.

For a moment, something flickered in his eyes, something darker and more vulnerable. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by his usual cocky smirk. “Aye” he said, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “But maybe I don’t want to leave everythin’ behind”. You swallowed hard, the weight of his words sinking in as the space between you seemed to shrink. There was something electric in the air, something that had been building between you ever since Harry had first started showing up at the docks, always finding some excuse to talk to you, to challenge you. And now, standing this close to him, you realized just how dangerous this game had become.

Before you could respond, the sky opened up, rain pouring down in heavy sheets. You gasped, looking up at the sudden storm, but Harry didn’t move. Instead, he laughed, throwing his head back as the rain drenched him, soaking his hair and coat. He looked back at you, his eyes wild with excitement.

“Come on, lass” he called over the sound of the rain, holding out his hand. “Let’s make the most of it!” You stared at him for a second, unsure if he was serious. But then, without thinking, you found yourself reaching out, your hand slipping into his. His grip was strong, grounding you as the rain came down harder. And just like that, the world seemed to fall away. Harry pulled you out onto the dock, the two of you running through the downpour like children, laughing and spinning as the storm raged around you. For the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself be free, free of the expectations, free of the Isle’s harsh reality.

For a moment, it was just you and Harry, lost in the chaos of the storm. Eventually, you both collapsed under a nearby overhang, breathless and drenched, but still laughing. Harry’s hand was still in yours, his thumb tracing small circles over your knuckles in a way that made your heart race. “Yer full of surprises, lass” he murmured, his voice soft and almost tender.

You looked over at him, your breath catching at the way he was looking at you, like you were something more than just Smee’s daughter, like you were someone worth noticing.

“Guess you’ll have to stick around and find out” you said, your voice equally soft. Harry’s smirk returned, but it was different now- less of a challenge, more of a promise. “Aye, maybe I will”. And for the first time, you realized that you didn’t mind the idea of having Harry Hook around. In fact, you might just be hooked.

Thank you for reading!!

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get-more-bald · 24 days

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the biggest thing about X6 is not that he doesn't think of himself as human (though he doesn't, and according to some it's correct) BUT that he doesn't see himself as a Person

#searching through the X6-88 tag on tumblr has not brought me joy #also. 1 thing about is that i hate hate hate the (i think) canon blue eyes he has. like. for fucking what #1st i saw them on tumblr and thought 'well thats stupid. whyd you give him blue eyes? so hed look special? thats weird. at least its uncanon #also. on god. i saw some post headcanoning the companions' appearances and it was p cool UNTIL they got to x6 #and they gave him grey 'almost white' eyes for literally no reason. like if you want to go with the scary factor theres so many ways for it #but no. some people think that blue/grey eyes are sooo special. and for what #<- i have brown eyes but im not just being salty. it really sucks. i dont wanna be the one to call fandom racism but it does smell like it!#also like. i didnt want to go on a stupid tirade about racism in the tags again but the way fandom treats x6 AND preston is just upsetting #other people have made some very good points about it and im not going to repeat them here (also noones gonna read this)#but like... theres 3 'main' black characters that i remember: preston garvey (whom the stron majority of the fandom hates/disliked)#x6-88 (basically the players slave? also hated for being mean and unfeeling (which is justified imo). no quest no freedom no nothing)#and gloria (who i havent met in game but ive heard some actual criticisms of (like. the way shes treated ingame) and noone else talks about)#if theres any other Named and Important characters. sorry but i literally do not remember them #coming back to x6 being justified in being unemotional/mean. he was literally raised this way. he doesnt consider himself to be a person #being he was made that way. he is a Thing and hes meant for one job and hes made to inspire fear #and hes not supposed to have emotions so he just. doesnt. if he does he cant express them anyways #1 if fallout4 was a better written game (or 2 if x6 was white) i think thered be SO much fanfiction about him. the possibilities are endless #i have something brewing in the back of my head. i might start writing even though i suck and its going to be bad #ANYWAYS. general fandom thought on x6 are WRONG and im being a HATER. fuck everyone who doesn't like x6. if you dont like x6 get off tumblr #especially if you like gage but not x6. leave fr #i just woke up wtf am i doingggg

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buckyalpine · 9 months

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40s Sergeant Barnes with a nurse and a Sergeant kink (and breeding and house wife kink, virginity loss). This was supposed to be a pure smutty drabble but then I got in my feelings and added some fluff and angst but I promise Bucky is still a dirty, nasty little fuck in this. Just with a sweeter ending. The one he deserves.

Listen just imagine what a cute, sexy menace Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes would be just waking up from an injury when his eyes flutter open to the pretty nurse he’s been eyeing from the day he started. You’re not a shy, dainty little thing, nope. Not at all.

You bark out orders like a drill Sergeant and one glare from you is all it takes to get everyone in line and on task without a second thought. Even his superiors are scared of you, biting their tongue when you stitch them up and send them on their way before running off to your next patient.

Bucky was in love.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes” he rasps, throwing you a charming smirk while you roll your eyes in response, shaking your head. "How'd I get so lucky, got a my little angel tendin' to me"

“I see your injury hasn’t stopped hurt that mouth of yours Sergeant" You quirk an eyebrow while he playfully huffs as you change the dressing covering a gash on his abdomen. You swab the area clean and he doesn't flinch even though you know it must burn like hell, his muscles tensed while he continues to watch you with heart eyes. "Now you know I'm not your little angel, I got 20 other men to fix up, you better be out of this bed as soon as you're all healed up"

“C’mon sugar, you're breakin' my heart" Bucky gives you a little pout with those perfect lips and you catch the twinkle in his eye as he looks over your form with complete admiration. He loved your sassy, take no shit attitude and it's taking everything in him to calm himself down so he doesn't get a hard on right there in front of you.

"You'd tell that to a cat with three legs if it was in a nurses outfit" You try your best to not give into his flirty comments and puppy eyes, knowing damn well he's a heart breaker but he makes it so difficult when he continues to woo you with his boyish charm.

He can't help but chase after you; catching the way your eyes always dart around with anxiety when his group returns from an operation, relief flooding them when you finally spot him. He loves your indifferent attitude, patting him down to make sure he's uninjured but your furrowed brows and the tiny pout on your lips give away that you're worried.

How can he just let you go. Every time you check over him, he needs you closer.

So much closer.

"Ms. y/l/n, Sergeant Barnes is requesting you in his tent, he says it's urgent"

You shake your head looking over at the time, quietly making your way over to the tent he's stationed at, thankful that a number of troops were sleeping so you wouldn't be seen as you quickly slip inside.

“And what hurts now” you sass with your hands on your hips seeing the soldier in perfect health, doing your best to assess him without letting him know.

"Always checkin' over me" Bucky chuckles, seeing what you're doing; his words making your cheeks heat up, "Knew you cared about me sugar"

"Well what am I doin' here" You give him an unconvincing huff, struggling to keep your voice steady, refusing to meet his eyes, keeping your gaze on his silver dog tags instead. It doesn't help that he's handsome as hell with a light dusting of scruff covering his cheeks. Bucky's never seen you flustered before and it evokes something in him, all the blood in his body rushing south seeing your fingers twitch.

All he wanted to do was kiss you but now-

“Help your Sergeant out doll” He whispers, taking another step forward till his chest brushes against yours, his hand coming to tilt your chin up, "Will you?"

You gasp feeling his hardness press against your thigh, your heart fluttering wildly as his thumb traces your lips, any semblance of control you had slipping away feeling the warmth of his skin.

“Y-yes Sergeant Barnes”

His lips press against yours, soft and sweet, a stark contrast to the way his body was screaming for him to pick you up and toss you onto his cot.

"Sweet like sugar" He lets his hands fall to your waist, pulling you flush against his body while your arms drape on top of his shoulders. You stand on your toes chasing more of his lips and he chuckles at the needy whine you let out when he pulls away for air.

Now let's say your first night together was actually quite tame. He kisses you again and you swoon when he repeatedly checks in with you before going any further. His hand slips under your skirt, letting his fingers toy with places no on else has touched. With each night, he needs you more and more until he can't hold off any longer and neither can you.

You sneak into his tent and this time he doesn't hesitate to undress you completely, not when he needs you bare with nothing separating you both. You feel your heart race as he lies on top of you, draping a thin sheet over himself when you shiver at the chill night air. You feel his body heat instantly warm you up, his heavy cock resting between your soaked folds.

"Are you sure, sugar?" He asks, his hand cupping your cheek and stroking your skin.

"Please Sergeant" You whisper and the way you say his title makes his cock twitch. There's something so different about you when you're in his bed, a sweet little bunny giving herself to him completely. It drives him feral with a need to make you feel good, make you cry for his cock and his cock only, to keep you nice and full of him.

You don't look twice at anyone else and here you are completely naked in his tent with your tight little virgin cunt, your legs spread open so he can put his dick in you; there was no way he was ever going to let you go.

"You tell me if it's too much, alright?" His lips tickle your neck as kisses your skin while rubbing his heavy cock through your folds, coating it in your slick, "Breathe for me"

He slips his tags into your mouth as he starts to press in, the initial sting making you bite down hard onto the metal feeling a mix of pleasure and pain. You whine at the way he stretches you open, your thighs squeezing around his waist, nails digging into his shoulders.

"Shhh, that's it love, doin' so good for me so good for your Sergeant, look how you're takin' all of me baby" He looks down to where you're both connected as he continues to slowly push himself in till hes fully sheathed inside you. He gives you time to adjust, slipping his tags out of your lips and letting his tongue lace with yours instead, his balls already throbbing with how tightly you were squeezing his cock.

"Please-Sergeant" your heels press into his ass desperate for him to move, gasping when he starts to slowly roll his hips, barely pulling out.

"I got you love-don't worry" Bucky moves as slowly as he could not wanting to hurt you, taking just as much care of you as you had with him countless of times.

But he can only keep up at that pace for so long. Your muffled whines and moans don't help the way his mind is already spiraling. His pretty little nurse all spread out just for him, taking his raw, bare cock in her soaking pussy, squeezing him so tight, he was only a few strokes from cumming.

If it were up to him he would've proposed on the spot, thinking about making love to you on your wedding night, seeing you all shy and sweet wrapped up in soft white lace. If you were his wife, he'd take you apart every which way, not giving a fuck about traditions, taking you right on the dining room table.

You'd be the prettiest little thing for him to come home to, such a good wife all dirty just for her husband. Only he'd know the way your mouth would slobber all over his cock like your life depended on it. The way you'd moan at the taste of his cum. Bucky's eyes rolled back at the thought of you with nothing but some heels and a string of pearls he'd put around your neck while he stuffed you with cum and emptied his balls in you.

"S-Sergeant-I-oh god" You whimpered feeling his cock grow harder, your pussy pulling him right back in, feeling the coil low in your belly pull tighter and tighter as he hit that spot.

Meanwhile Bucky's jaw clenched as he felt his balls pull tight to his body, the tip leaking steadily in your pussy. His mind spiraled into places he didn't think would exist before he met you, rogue thoughts he only entertained when he had his dick in his hand. The harder he fucked you the more he thought about how gorgeous you'd look with a swollen belly.

Fuck, imagine if he got you pregnant right then and there. That nurses uniform would no longer fit you. Everyone would know he knocked you up, your perfectly round tummy carrying Sergeant James Barnes' baby, breasts heavy with milk, God, he wasn't going to last-

“Gonna let your Sergeant pump you full of cum?” He pants, letting his hands grip onto your hips like his life depends on it, the wiry hair at the base of his cock rubbing against your clit.

“Yes!!” You sob, biting down onto his shoulder to keep your cries down while he continues to fuck you into oblivion. You don't understand how such filth can spew from that pink, pouty little mouth of his. "Please-please-need-youI-I'm gonna-"

"M'yours sweet girl, m'all yours, go on, cum for me love, cum on my cock, it's all yours" He gazed into your eyes, cooing at your parted lips and sweat slicked skin. It didn't take long for you to shatter around him his lips smashing against yours to swallow your moans.

"Want your cum Sergeant" You beg , desperate to have him claim you from the inside.

"Oh fuck baby, y-you can't say that, m-gonna, oh fuckkk" Your words throw Bucky right off the edge as he lets out a deep groan stilling his hips and shooting endless ropes of his spend into you. You both lay in comfortable silence, your fingers playing with his hair; his usual kempt brown locks now disheveled .

“Y’know m’gonna marry you” his scruffy cheek nuzzles into your neck as he continues to stay deep inside you as his cock softens, “after all this is over. Gonna put a ring on that finger”

His words send a different wave of emotions over you, feeling more safe than ever, clinging onto him as tightly as possible. You let a whimper slip out and he pulls away from your neck with an expression of concern.

“What is it love” Bucky coos, wiping away the tears that slip you, stroking your cheek while you bite back a sniffle.

“Do you mean it? After this is all over?” You weren't sure what Bucky would want-there was still a war going on. Anything could happen. Perhaps this was just to keep his bed warm. Something to keep him calm, you were just someone to-

"Of course sugar" Bucky presses a firm kiss to your forehead, silencing the thoughts that tried to run wild. "You're mine"

And of course he gets his happy ending. Because when it's all over, he gets the ring for the girl he loves. He's on one knee, proposing to you with the sweetest words. He treats you like a princess on your wedding night, making love all night long until the sun is up.

There isn't a surface in the house he's left untouched. Nothing makes him more feral than moaning for his pretty wife, constantly taking her hand and wrapping it around his cock, watching that diamond glint with each stroke.

It doesn't take long for you to feel a little squeamish, knowing all the tell tale signs.

The day you tell him he's going to be a dad is one of the happiest days of his life. There isn't a single night that goes by where he isn't nuzzling his face into your tummy, talking to your little one.

Everything was perfecttt.

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sunsetsimon · 1 month

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blue collar simon ♡ because i'm going insane

pt 2 here

☼ he's waking up around 4:30am most days, due to starting at a new job site that gives him a longer commute. he's grumbly when his alarm blares, quickly turning it off and sitting on the edge of the bed for a minute to stare off and come to. his footsteps are quiet as he heads to the bathroom, brushing his teeth and giving his face a rinse to clear it from sleep. simon makes sure to keep his hair short, only needing to run his fingers through it to tame a few wild pieces that stick up on the side.

☼ most mornings you get up with him, his alarm waking you up even with as quickly as he turns it off. "go back t'sleep love," he leans over, cupping your cheek lovingly as you try to blink the sleep out of your eyes.

"gonna pack your lunch si," you say, so quietly he almost doesn't hear you. he knows better than to argue though, you're already up and nothing is better than having you help him get ready for his long day.

you slip on one of his hoodies on your way downstairs, practically swimming in the fabric as it rests on your mid thighs, hands covered in the long sleeves. his heart swells, you look so cute when you're tired and stubborn, refusing to let him leave without a proper lunch.

☼ he's not able to talk much throughout the day with how busy he is. sometimes you only get a quick 2 minute call while he's scarfing down his lunch, complaining about how their project manager was being a dick that day.

"'right babe. gettin' back to it so i'll call you when i'm leaving, whenever the fuck that'll be."

"okay si. i love you, be careful."

"always am. love you."

sometimes you get lucky with a random picture of something on the site, having no idea what it is you can only respond with a "what am i looking at?"

"fuckin' dumbass rookie can't mark out a straight line to save his fuckin' life."

whatever the hell that means. simon thinks it's funny though.

☼ comes home with new cuts and bruises everyday, the wrap on one of his fingers soaked with dirt and blood. his hands are cut up and scarred, calloused and rough to the touch but you still love them, those hands provide everything for you. you're constantly having to remind him to clean under his nails after a long day though, refusing to be touched until they're squeaky clean.

☼ he never gets home at the same time, a supposed-to-be 10 hour shift can quickly turn into a 12 or 13 depending on how much work needs to be done. not a week goes by when he doesn't have overtime, and though he makes a lot of money, he's fucking exhausted when he gets home. lazily unlacing and kicking his boots off at the door while coming in, practically with a limp, his knees and feet fighting to not give out from pure exhaustion.

still finds the energy to shove his dirty hands under your shirt though when he catches you at the stove preparing him a plate. his unkempt stubble scratches your neck as he inhales your clean, addicting scent. planting soft kisses along the skin, you almost melt into him until you smell him, dust and sweat clouding your nose.

"ugh simon! you can't be all over me while you're dirty," you whine, trying to pull away from his tightening grip on your hips.

"can't help it when y'look so damn good. missed you all day," he grumbles, pulling your ass back against his growing bulge in his work pants, thrusting against you through layers of clothing.

"eat and take a shower first, then we can talk," you give him another shove - much to his dismay. apparently he wasn't as tired as he thought.

#cod x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #blue collar!simon #sun's ☀️

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systlin · 4 months

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So, to explain my little adventure I just got back from, it is necessary to set the scene by explaining a few things.

My dog is a Great Pyraneese. She weighs 90 Pounds. It is mostly muscle.

My neighbors a quarter mile down the road have chickens. They like to let them free range.

Now, this is not a problem at all, EXCEPT for the fact that whenever Tyr sees them something deep in her little livestock guardian breed brain goes "Oh, I am supposed to be Responsible for this Livestock." She will attempt to plonk her 90 pound furry ass down as far towards their yard as her leash will permit and want to sit there and simply stare at the chickens. She is not aggressive towards them, she simply wants to lie down and Keep An Eye On Things, the way a good livestock guardian dog is supposed to. It is the same reason she would love to fight the foxes that live under the falling down farmhouse down the street to the death and is very upset that I will not let her.

The PROBLEM is, well

3. My neighbors also have a miniature poodle. She is convinced, in every cell of her 15 pound body, that No Other Dogs Should Come Anywhere Near Her Fucking Yard. She has no concept that Tyr outweighs her by 75 pounds and is absolutely convinced that she could win this fight.

Normally if she's outside she is out in the fenced backyard and this isn't a problem. I also don't let Tyr wander into other yards, because it's rude to let your dog pee on the neighbor's grass unless they've said they're fine with it and also I live in Fuckass Nowhere. There's plenty of county owned grass on the roadside for Tyr to pee on. Still, even if I'm coaxing her along past the chickens, she will want to slow down and drift over to that side of the road to look at them.

TODAY, however, the mini poodle was NOT in the backyard. She was in the unfenced front yard, and as soon as we walked past she saw another dog not ON her yard, but heading TOWARDS her yard, and she hurled herself into battle with no thought for her own safety.

Now, Tyr is not aggressive towards other dogs. There is an exception to this, though, and it is 'unless an off leash dog comes running full speed in the general direction of one of Her People while snarling and barking'. If this happens, I suddenly have 90 pounds of Great Pyr ready for mortal combat on the end of the leash.

This brings us to item 4

4. I broke my left arm in April and while it is healing and good for light use now, 'Light Use' does not include 'restraining 90 pounds of furious livestock guardian dog convinced her person is about to be attacked by a reactive dog'

This means that I looped up the leash short and controlled her one armed. I did not think about this twice particularly. I know I can do it and just. Did it. I wouldn't walk her if I couldn't control her, after all. Once she figured out that no, the poodle was NOT going to attack me, she calmed down, but was still growling.

But I did this as a panicked neighbor dude came running out to try and get his dog, convinced that his kids were about to watch their beloved pet get turned into Great Pyr chow.

Oh and

5. I did this while wearing a Wonder Woman tshirt

So, long story short, his 4 year old daughter is convinced now that I actually AM Wonder Woman, because "She's Strong Like Wonder Woman!" and my neighbor learned that his poodle dug out from under the fence, how's everyone else's days going.

(All dogs unhurt)

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kaiijo · 4 months

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ROMANCE TROPES — [HAIKYUU]

characters: hinata shoyo, miya atsumu, bokuto koutarou, sakusa kiyoomi content: gn! reader, the msby four, rich sakusa (i am a rich sakusa truther until the end), bokuto picks you up, sakusa is implied to be taller than you notes: omg i lowkey want to do a fuller version of sakusa’s part

hinata shoyo ✶ love at first sight

slouched in a plastic airport seat, hinata’s leg bounces anxiously as he awaits his flight. rain beats down the side of the windows and he prays to whatever universal force there is that the flight leaves at the right time. he couldn’t fly with everyone else earlier since he celebrated his grandmother’s birthday with family but it put him on a late night flight that lined up with an incoming storm.

he scrolls mindlessly through his social media feed, double-tapping a photo of oikawa’s reunion with his high school team and tanaka’s anniversary post for kiyoko.

the speaker system crackles to life. “attention, passengers of flight 7644 to sapporo, due to inclement weather conditions, the flight has been delayed an estimated two hours. we apologize for the inconvenience and thank you for your patience.”

hinata curses under his breath, already on his way to pulling up the black jackals’s group chat to tell them. he pulls his cap off, running a hand through his hair with a long sigh. his phone begins to buzz with texts, no doubt from his coach telling him to keep them updated.

he rests his forearms on his knees, slumping forward and skimming through the messages. then, he feels a cautious tap on his shoulder and a soft voice asks, “excuse me, do you have a charger i could use?”

when he looks up, hinata thinks the greater powers that be answered a different prayer of his. because holy shit he has never seen anyone as beautiful as you. you’re in a comfy-looking pullover and sweatpants and hinata only realizes he’s just been staring silently for a few seconds when your expression turns apologetic. “i’m sorry to bother you, i’ll ask someone else!”

“no, no, i’m sorry,” he says, words tumbling out of his mouth. he scrambles to unzip his backpack, rummaging through until he triumphantly pulls out his charger. he hands it to you and you thank him. before you can leave, he blurts out, “i’m hinata.”

“oh!” you stick your hand out and tell him your name with a small smile and when you do, hinata knows that he’s gone.

miya atsumu ✶ brother’s best friend

osamu’s not sure how atsumu managed to weasel his way into his plans. it was a bit of a blur, atsumu practically crashing through the door of onigiri miya as osamu closed up shop to go get drinks with you, begging to be included. he supposes to reason was pity and atsumu’s pleading look as well as the fact that you work far away that had him agreeing to his brother tagging along.

it was in your last year of high school that osamu figured out his brother had a big, fat crush on you. honestly, it should have been more obvious, especially with the way atsumu flaunted himself and often paraded around the house shirtless when he knew you were coming over. it bothered him at first, thinking bitterly that ‘tsumu couldn’t let him just have one thing to himself? but over time, the annoyance faded as he saw atsumu prove that this wasn’t just a flight-of-fancy, and osamu has already made peace with the very real possibility that you could be his in-law someday. that is, is atsumu could even tell you in the first place.

it’s a little disturbing, osamu thinks, watching the way atsumu flirts with you and wondering if he too makes the same googly-eyes at someone he’s crushing on or if that’s the way he sounds. you giggle when atsumu tries to take a sip of your margarita, telling him, “order your own then, ‘tsumu!”

“nah, yours tastes way better.”

“can’t take this scrub anywhere,” osamu says, earning a laugh from you and a glare from his twin.

you pat atsumu’s shoulder and osamu can’t believe you don’t feel how atsumu melts into your touch. “i’m actually glad both of you are here,” you say, “because i wanted to tell you guys that i’m moving back to tokyo! my boss promoted me so i’m back at main headquarters! isn’t that great?”

“that’s awesome,” osamu says, speaking for both himself and atsumu, who looks like he just won the lottery.

bokuto koutarou ✶ opposites attract

whenever akaashi introduces you and bokuto as a couple to new people, he always gets pulled over to the side and asked in a whisper, “how did those two get together? he’s so… and they’re less…”

akaashi can’t say that he wasn’t surprised when you and bokuto started dating back in high school, given that they two of you were on very different trajectories. obviously, bokuto was the captain of fukurodani’s volleyball team while you were student council president and vice-president of chess club. bokuto’s grade sat at the lower end of the spectrum while you were always within the top five students in your class. bokuto liked loud, screaming parties while you preferred a quiet night with a few friends.

so when bokuto grabbed him by the shoulders one day and shook him, saying that he needed to tell you how he felt, akaashi was taken off-guarded. he didn’t even know you knew each other beyond having a mutual friend, him.

maybe back then, akaashi would have agreed with the person asking him but now, he just tells them to observe the two of you. because when akaashi does, everything falls into place. like right now, as he and bokuto sit in the stands, watching your final chess match. if you win, you’ll hold onto your spot as a national champion and go on to compete internationally.

out of the corner of his eyes, akaashi watches as bokuto sits at the very edge of his seat, chewing on his bottom lip. it’s clearly killing him not to cheer and it’s a testament to both his devotion to you. your hand hovers above the bishop before you switch quickly to the queen and move the piece with confidence, setting it down and announcing, “checkmate.”

the crowds erupts into the cheers and you’ve only barely finished shaking your opponent’s hand when bokuto flies out of his seat and barrels towards you. he sweeps you off your feet, spinning you once and setting you down before planting a big kiss on your cheek. you’re beaming as you’re handing your trophy, and bokuto steps back to let you soak up your spotlight. akaashi can’t help but notice that bokuto is beaming too and clapping the loudest.

as the crowd starts to disperse, akaashi and bokuto join you again, ready to take you to your planned dinner. before you leave, bokuto says, “i was going to do this later but i can’t hold it in anymore, babe.” and he gets down on one knee with a ring box akaashi is all-too familiar with.

sakusa kiyoomi ✶ reunited childhood sweethearts

“try not to look so dour, sweetheart,” sakusa’s mother tells him as she fixes his tie. sakusa wants to grumble some choice words but he knows better than to complain to her. besides, he’s only partially paying attention, eyes darting about the crowd and back towards the venue’s entrance.

he settles on adjusting his mask with a barely audible sigh and mumbles a quiet thanks as she flits to fuss over his older siblings. he glances again, disappointed as a different group of people waltzes in. he knows his older sister wouldn’t be so cruel as to lie to him that your family will be in attendance but the anxiety is making his antsy.

the two of you were inseparable as children with you being one of his only friends growing up. you spent you days squirreled away in some nook reading or outside playing volleyball. your mothers always cooed that you two would get together one day, and as he got older and learned what that really meant, sakusa found himself hoping too. but then your parents took you and your siblings abroad, leaving him alone and heartbroken. he cut you off, hoping the distances and time would make your departure hurt less, but it didn’t.

sakusa doesn’t recognize the voice that calls his name but his head snaps towards the doorway. you’re standing in between your older sister and younger brother, waving at him. his heart skips a beat. your social media postings don’t do you enough justice; you’re even more attractive that the pixels he’s spent hours staring at.

you still have that ever-present smile on your face and you quickly break-off from your family to bound over to him. without even thinking, his arms close around you as you embrace him tightly. you feel so familiar and he doesn’t want to let you go as you part. evidently, you don’t either as you keep him close still, only leaning away to look at him. “you’re so tall,” you laugh, more shyly you add, “and very handsome.”

this time, sakusa thinks his heart stops.

#.𖥔 ݁ ˖ kaiijo writes #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #msby x reader #black jackals x reader #hinata shoyo x reader #hinata x reader #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #bokuto koutarou x reader #bokuto x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines

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garoujo · 1 year

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✩ ˛˚ . GOJO SATORU — you know as soon as you get out of bed, satoru isn’t going to be far behind you, especially when you’re draped in his shirt.

ஜ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ warnings! f!reader, insatiable satoru :3, mostly teasing, some morning scenes as he tries to drag you back to bed, you’re in his shirt, he lifts you up at the end. ♡ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ note! i am so very obsessed + crazed, i can’t stop <3

it’s still early, barely light outside as you stand in the kitchen of your shared apartment. you’ve left your boyfriend gojo still in bed, you felt a little bad waking him up when he always looked so peaceful, probably tired out after the night he’d given you lastnight— the evidence of his efforts still burning on your skin where he’s left his mark.

but it had still been an effort to peel him off of you no matter how soundly he slept, having to pull yourself away from the warmth of his chest— his arms were like a puzzle with how tightly he wraps them around you, but you thought he’d appreciate waking up to some coffee and breakfast on his day off.

the air in the kitchen is still cold, something you’ve put down to the early morning— the roads outside are still quiet but there’s a slight breeze along your bare thighs when you move. the rest of your body is fine though, draped comfily in one of satoru’s ridiculously huge shirts, the perks of your boyfriend being over 6’3 ofcourse—plus he always payed such expensive amounts for his clothes, it was almost guaranteed they were gonna be comfy.

you giggle as you scoop a ridiculous amount of sugar into your boyfriends coffee cup, the ceramic identical to yours— his idea when he started coming over more often, but you still thought his sweet tooth was adorable.

“oh? good morning to you too, sweet thing.” your train of thought is interrupted by the smooth, still sleepy drawl as you shoot a quick glance over your shoulder to see gojo already approaching you. he couldn’t be apart from you too long afterall— it’s like his soul was tied with yours. he’s still shirtless, his hair is messy from sleep— snowy peaks framing his features while his sweatpants rest dangerously low on his hips.

“you’re awake early.” you sigh out, dreamily as you feel your boyfriends chest press against your back, his long arms circling their way around your waist from behind as he rests his head in the crook of your neck.

“mhm, how my supposed to sleep without you, hah? so cruel.” there’s a slight whine to gojo’s words, you can still hear the sleepiness in his tone but it makes you smile when it’s followed by a smeared kiss along your jawline. you roll your eyes before you lean into him, feeling his fingertips trace along the hem of your shirt, his shirt that’s hanging around your thighs before he speaks again.

“you teasin’ me?” his words are lower this time, a little more than a growl as he plays around with the fabric between his fingers— grumbling before he’s deliberately pressing his hips into you from behind. he’s close and warm, making sure you can feel the problem you left him with this morning when you got out of bed without him— straining against the fabric of his sweats.

“‘toru, it’s 8am. you’re insatiable.” you giggle out, a sweet little sound so early in the morning and it only seems to draw gojo in closer to you— smiling into his next kiss along your throat as he rolls his hips into you.

“oh, but you left me cold and alone, i think you gotta make that up to me, no?” he’s teasing you, trying to lure you back into where he wants you most— not that he wouldn’t have you anywhere, he’s already had his way with you around this whole apartment. but he wants nothing more than you between the sheets right now, wrapped up in him and the plush mattress beneath you both.

“i’m literally making you a coffee. you needed the rest.” you try to argue but you should know that gojo’s never one to back down. you feel his fingers trail slowly underneath the hem of his shirt, before he sighs with the first teasing swipe along the inside of your bare thigh, so dangerously close to your folds that you shudder. no panties either? you really were teasing him.

“hah? but i feel better than ever.” he tries to argue, oh so convincingly before he’s turning you to face him— peppering sweet, ticklish smooches along your features until you’re arms are wrapping around his shoulders and your eyes are finally on him.

“oh, i’m sure~” you grin, his crystalline gaze is sleepy as you brush your fingers through his bed head— scratching at his scalp before he’s sending you a lopsided grin, followed by a quick peck against your lips.

“got no choice. you need a demostration? let’s go, sweet thing. only one way to show you.” is all you hear from gojo before he’s suddenly got you thrown over his shoulder, and you truly forget how strong he really is until he’s handling you with such ease— holding you with one arm like you’re as light as a feather.

“satoru! what about breakfast?” not that you’re putting up much of a fight, you can basically feel the smug look that’s on his face already as he turns to drag you back to bed. you grumble, defeated but it quickly turns to a shriek when you feel your boyfriends free hand come down sharply on your ass as he chuckles.

“hm? don’t mind. i’m hungry f’ somethin’ else right now, baby.”

#݁ . ࿓ : sealed#jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 5 months

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reunion

Pairing: Art Donaldson x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only. minors, please get off my lawn.

Notes: Not beta-read because when is it ever.

Length: 4.5K

Warnings: Slow burn; unrequited love; angst; yearning; divorced Art Donaldson; oral sex (female receiving); vaginal sex; safe sex

Summary: It wasn't that Art Donaldson was the one that got away. It was more like Art Donaldson was the one that never really knew you existed.

"Did you hear Art Donaldson is supposed to be here?"

The question is whispered behind you and makes your hand freeze in its signing. You're half-bent over the table at reception, fingers tight around a pen as your mind is jogged.

No way was he turning up, that's what Anne had said.

Tashi will be there, she's the head of the goddamn reunion committee, the ink is still wet on their divorce—that's what Anne had said. Hell, she'd sworn it.

So what the hell is he doing here?

The sound of your name jogs your attention and you manage to finish signing in. You straighten, taking up your name tag and haphazardly slapping the adhesive onto your top. You need a drink, and quickly. You're halfway to the bar before you feel someone wind their arm through yours.

"Okay, I know you didn't wanna come—"

"Anne."

"And I so appreciate you being here so that I didn't have to come alone—"

"Anne—"

"But I got some news and it's going to be a little shocking so I think you should hear it from me—"

"I know he's here."

"What?" Anne freezes, her arm dropping from yours. You turn to see her looking stricken, her cheeks pinking with panic and embarrassment. You sigh softly, glancing around your fellow alumni. Less than half of them look familiar; your eyes catch on the odd face before you realize that you're inadvertently looking for him.

"Look, there are, like...Five hundred people here, alright?" You add. "I probably won't even see him."

"We can go."

"Look, we made the trip, we're here, we may as well stay. It's fine, okay? We're all adults here! It doesn't matter!" Your insistence is chased by a slightly hysterical laugh. "It was, like, a hundred years ago."

"...You're sure?"

"I am positive."

Positive that you need a drink, and positive that you're going to regret agreeing to stay.

It wasn't that Art Donaldson was the one that got away. It was more like Art Donaldson was the one that never really knew you existed.

You were friends, sure. You palled around, had a few classes together, hung out at a few parties—but he was so in love with Tashi Duncan that you'd never made his romantic radar. You'd forced yourself to believe that that was for the best, that you didn't need his love or romantic validation to be happy. But you couldn't pretend that wanting him didn't sting.

He'd had a couple of girlfriends while you were at Stanford, but you could always feel, always see that they were never really his priority. It was Tashi, then tennis, then them.

The two of you had kept touch a little after college, but you'd pushed yourself to move on. Conversation had begun to fade, and when he hadn't tried to keep it up, you had resolved to let him go.

You'd avoided his name in the news as much as you can, but it had been hard. He was on billboards, packaging, tv—it was like you couldn't escape him.

Want melted to sadness; sadness shifted to annoyance; annoyance hardened into disdain. You couldn't see his likeness or hear his name without rolling your eyes. It wasn't his fault, of course, but the prospect of running into Art fuckin' Donaldson made you queasy.

Still, you put on a brave face for Anne, forcing your focus into conversation.

It's a struggle to keep your gaze from seeking him out. You take each sip with a little white lie, convincing yourself that you're looking to make sure you can avoid contact. You spot Tashi a couple of times, but you don't go out of your way to say hello. She's surrounded by a cloud of people—taking pictures, signing programs and name tags and old Duncanator shirts.

When Anne insists on going to say hello, you force a small smile.

"You, um—you go ahead," You nod, taking a couple of steps back. "I'm gonna get some air."

Anne's dark eyes flit over you questioningly before she blessedly lets it go, nodding and going on her way. You turn, swiping a fresh drink off of a passing waiter's tray as you leave.

It takes a few moments for the buzz of conversation to clear from your head. You take a gulp of the prosecco, wrinkling your nose. It's a little sweeter than you usually like, and doesn't mingle well with the three other drinks that you've downed. Tashi's not going to find your lack of presence or greeting conspicuous; you'd been cordial and on speaking terms in college, but the two of you had never been close.

Damn, but it's chillier outside than you thought it would be. The reception had been so warm, so crammed with people. Paired your head being near-permanently on a swivel, you hadn't realize how hot and tense you'd been.

You frown at the waft of cigarette smoke that catches your nose. Who the hell is still smoking in this day and age—

"Are you hiding, too?"

Maybe you can feign that you didn't hear him—that the sound of his voice didn't jog a hundred memories and trigger a flurry of butterflies. But before you can stop yourself, you turn, the words, "I thought you quit smoking," tumbling out of your mouth.

Art's smile widens as he draw the cigarette back from his lips, a stream of smoke pushed out of the side of his mouth.

"I did. Quit quitting, though." He takes one more puff before he flicks it away, drifting closer. "Hi."

Hi, like it's not the first time you've seen him in the better part of a decade. Hi, like neither of you are oceans from where you where when you last saw one another.

"Hi," You manage. He doesn't hesitate to draw you into his arms; he seems to almost do it without thinking. You only allow yourself a moment of resistance before you raise and curl your arms around him. The clean scent of his pressed jacket and woodsy cologne are muddled with smoke. The fingers of one if your hands curls covetously in the fabric of his jacket as his palms smooth gently over your back. You hear him draw in a deep breath, feel him hold it, and then release it with a soft hum.

"How the hell are you?"

Probably better than you are these days.

You shrug a little, mumbling, "Fine."

He draws away, eyes skating across your face.

"You don't sound so sure about that."

"I'm sure."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm."

You can feel him winding up for another pass at it, but you hold your glass out before he can. His fingers brush against yours as he drains it.

"Why are you hiding?" You ask. He shrugs, nods toward the door.

"It's a lot in there. I forgot what these events are like."

"People wanna congratulate you. They're proud."

"Are you?"

"I am, but I'll hold off. Don't wanna crowd you."

Your attention is drawn from Art's smile as you hear someone clearing their throat over the speaker system inside:

"If we could have the reunion chairpersons to the stage, please!"

You glance toward Art and find him fidgeting, his thumb smoothing across his bare ring finger.

"…Do you wanna go back in?" You offer. He considers before he says, "Wait here."

You watch curiously as he darts inside, and are stunned when he reappears a moment later. You just barely catch a glimpse of the bottle of champagne clenched in his fist before he rests his other hand on your lower back, steering you away with an urgent murmur of, "C'mon."

"I'm surprised you came," You tell him. Art doesn't look at you for a moment, and you take the chance to lean back against the hard plastic seat. He's as beautiful as he was the last time the two of you were together, the night before graduation—practically in the same seats. You don't know if he was thinking about that when he'd led the way into the stands, chosen where to sit. Maybe it was pure muscle-memory.

Either way, you don't know how long the two of you have been sitting out there, knees bumping, passing the bottle back and forth. You take in his profile—the slope of his nose and cut of his jaw; the bob of his adam's apple as he swallows.

"My therapist said it would be good," He finally admits. "Told me I needed to get out more, start getting back into events, work at the foundation...What about you, huh?" He turns, brows raising. "You always told me that you hated this stuff."

You're surprised he remembers.

"I do hate this stuff, but," You shrug. "Anne didn't want to come alone."

"You're a good friend. I never forgot that." He sits up and passes the bottle back to you. "What happened to us, huh?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why did we stop talking?"

I couldn't keep begging for scraps of attention.

"I don't know," You deflect. "Guess we just lost touch. It happens."

"I shouldn't have let it happen to us."

You look down at the bottle, sweeping your finger across a slipping drop of condensation.

"You were busy."

"You weren't?"

"Not in the same way," You laugh self-consciously.

"What were you busy with then, huh?" He shifts, thigh pressing against yours. "You used to always say you'd uh—burn out by twenty-six."

"Yeah."

"Did you?"

"Oh, it didn't take nearly that long."

"What!" He laughs. "What the hell happened?"

"I don't know what to tell you, man. A girl can only take a soul-sucking marketing job for so long."

"So what do you do now?"

"Still in marketing, but I'm a manager, so. Still soul-sucking, but making a little more money."

"You like it?"

"God no, but I don't know what else I would do." You pass the bottle back.

"Could find something for you at the foundation."

You wrinkle your nose, shaking your head as Art sputters a laugh, asks, "What?"

"Don't do that, Art."

"Don't do what?"

"I don't need, you know—"

"We could use you—"

"You don't even know what I do at work."

"I bet it's great—"

"You don't even know if I'm a good worker—"

"Sure I do, I know you."

"No, you don't!"

You know it's a mistake the second it leaves your mouth. Art's smile wavers as he leans away again.

"I just mean—" You try.

"I know what you mean. It's been a long time."

"...Yeah, it has." You take the bottle back, drawing deeply from it before passing it back. "I should get going. I'm sure Anne's looking for me."

"Sure."

You don't say goodbye or tell him that it was nice to see him. You just make as hasty a retreat as you can without tripping over your feet.

@ a_donaldsonofficial requested to follow you. 3h

You're not sure what surprises you more—the follow request or the message in your DMs: Dinner?

His groan is sinful and low, and makes you rethink ever losing contact with the guy. Under the warm glow of the diner's lights, his eyes slip shut, fingers tightening around the bun.

"...When's the last time you had a burger?" You finally manage to ask.

"I can't remember." He admits it through the mouthful, and you don't begrudge him the couple of flecks of food that land on the table. You smile, plucking up a couple of fries.

"Art?"

"Mm."

"Why'd you ask me to dinner?"

Art sets the burger down as he swallows, taking off his napkin to clean off his hands.

"I was thinking...About what you said at the reunion."

"Mhm."

"About me not knowing you. You're right. But you know what?" He presses on before you can process your surprise. "I don't think you know me, either."

You think for a moment, brows furrowing. He's right. You know the image of Art Donaldson that's been projected to you over the years—on tv screens, in magazines, in online clips.

"...I don't think I do," You agree.

"Figured we should fix that. Catch up, fill each other in on what we've missed."

"Okay."

"So, after college..." He trails off, waving his hand. "Fill me in."

"Moved to New York."

"Uh-huh."

"Working in marketing."

"Burned out before 26—"

"Yeah, hit my capitalistic peak at 23."

"That fast?"

"I mean, that's the last time I remember giving a shit about work, so. Yeah."

"Relationships?"

"...A couple," You admit.

"Serious?"

"Yeah. One."

"Married?"

"No. Engaged." His eyes drop to your bare left hand, and you hurriedly tuck it into your lap. "Formerly engaged."

"What happened?"

"It just didn't feel right. I don't think either of us were ready."

"...Was it anyone I knew? I don't remember you dating much at school."

"Guess I didn't."

"You weren't shy."

"Well no, but—"

"So what was it?"

"I had the worst crush on you, dude!" It's another mistake, but where the last one seemed to make Art retreat, this one leaves his gobsmacked. His eyes widen, mouth opening in a wide smile.

"You what?"

"Oh, kay, you know what—"

"I had no idea!"

"I was very subtle."

Art leans back in the diner booth, watching you openly. You can see the gears turning in his head, and you wonder what he may be remembering, holding up and twisting about in this new light.

"...Huh," He mutters.

"You can feel free to forget that at any time."

"I don't think I will...I wish I'd known."

You consider for a moment before you shrug. "I don't know. I'm kinda glad that you didn't."

"Really?" His brows knit with confusion. "Why?"

"I don't like coming second, Art."

Art nods slowly, and you see something tight pass across his face before it's smoothed away again.

"You know what?" He smiles bitterly. "Neither do I."

You nod toward his plate.

"Your burger's getting cold."

"So, uh..." Art clears his throat as the two of you take slow, drifting steps to your car. "I'm gonna say two things, and I don't want you to think that they've got anything to do with what you said earlier."

You know exactly what he means, but you just grumble, "I said a lot of things earlier."

"I think we both know which one I'm talking about."

"Uh-huh. So what's up?"

"...I wanna see you again."

"Okay."

"But things are a little...Messy right now. Tashi and I are working on getting Lily into a regular rhythm and it's harder than we thought it would be."

You lean back against your car, tucking your hands into your pockets.

"Mhm...I hesitate to ask."

"Yeah."

"How does this have to do with what I said earlier?"

"I just don't want you to think that this is—"

"A consolation prize?"

"Something like that."

"Whatever you need to do to get in a good place with Lily is fine, Art, you don't need to justify that to me."

"Even if it means you come second?"

You tip your head to the side, pursing your lips. "It's different when it's your kid. I meant that I didn't want to be second to—You know."

"...Yeah," He mutters, looking at his feet as he takes another foot forward. "And for the record, I was thinking of asking you out again by the time we sat down."

"You could've changed your mind."

"I didn't. And I don't want to."

You smile, nodding. "Well I don't want you to, either." You straighten up as you fish into your bag for your keys. "Call me the next time you're in New York."

"Sure."

You reach out, cupping his cheek and leaning in, pecking his cheek. You pull away, smiling at the flush creeping across his face.

"Goodnight, Art."

"Night."

It isn't easy at first. Messages are far and few, mostly how are yous and how was your days. You think that as nice as the little swell of contact has been, that's all it'll be—but the two of you both start to really try. The odd text becomes the weekly phone call. Weekly phone calls become daily FaceTimes. On the nights when he has Lily, they're late, usually when you're getting ready for bed. On the nights when he's on his own, the two of you eat dinner together and chat over your calls. It isn't always perfect, but it's more than you could've anticipated from that dinner a couple of months ago.

"She down?"

"Yeah."

"Are you in a hotel again?"

"...Yeah." Art seems to admit it grudgingly, and you smile a little as you take up your toner and a cotton pad.

"There's nothing wrong with leaning into it if it's working," You argue. "And not to be that bitch, but you're not exactly broke."

"Might be if she keeps ordering room service and movies on-demand."

You laugh softly, turning your attention to your reflection as you swipe the toner across your face.

"How's your day been?" Art asks.

"Fine, standard. I had to fill out an assessment ahead of my annual review."

"When's that?"

"End of the week."

"How do you feel about it?"

"Mm," You shrug reaching for a serum. "Fine, I guess. I'm doing okay, my team's hitting their targets."

"You're doing better than okay."

"Art."

"You are."

"Well. Thank you for that." You glance over as he goes quiet, catching a glimpse of him as you smooth the serum into your skin. You raise your brows at the sight of his gentle, warm smile. "What is it?"

"You're beautiful."

Your face goes warm at the compliment, and you bite the inside of your cheek to tamp down your wide, idiotic smile.

"You are tired, huh," You deflect.

"I mean it."

"...I know," You murmur, reaching for your moisturizer. "Tell me what you got up to today."

"I had a meeting at the foundation. We're starting planning for the gala."

"Oh yeah? Have you done them before?"

"We've had three before, but I was usually playing or training, so I haven't been as involved in the planning."

"How's it been?"

"We're still in the preliminary stages, but it's been interesting, you know, seeing how the pieces come together before I usually see them."

You nod, picking the phone up from the mirror holder and heading into your bedroom.

"Where are you gonna have it?"

"We're still scouting locations...As a matter of fact," Art adds, "We're considering a few in New York."

"Oh?"

"I'll be down there for at least a few days, and I wanna see you."

You grin bashfully as you climb into bed, settling against your pillows.

"I wanna see you, too. Are you gonna, um—I mean, is Lily gonna be with you?"

"No, it'll be Tashi's weekend."

"Okay, cool. Just wanna make sure I don't mess up your time."

"I appreciate that." Art's tongue swipes across his lower lip, eyes sweeping across your face. "I gotta say..."

"Mmm?"

"I'm looking forward to seeing your apartment."

"Oh, really?" You chuckle. "Why's that?"

"It'll be interesting, that's all. I mean, you already take me to bed every night."

You laugh, covering your eyes as you groan, "Oh, god, shut up!" as Art chuckles.

"Let me know when you're free," You add. "Your schedule's gonna be weirder than mine."

"Yeah, I will, as soon as I know what it is." You watch as Art lays down, propping his phone up on the nightstand. "...Can you stay on?"

"Yeah," You soothe, setting your phone on the nightstand in suit. "Until we fall asleep."

"Okay," He murmurs. The two of you settle in on your sides, watching one another on the phone.

"Night, Art."

"Sweet dreams."

The restaurant is picked. Your nails are done, your hair is done; you get a new dress, new shoes, a new bag. You're going to have an amazing night—a good dinner, a great conversation, and, if you have any luck, an amazing good night kiss.

You know the minute you see him that you're not making it to the restaurant. Art's eyes sweep over you in covetous wonder when you open the door. He closes the gap between the two of you, drawing you into his arms, and this time you go without a second thought. He presses his face into your neck, letting out a gentle hum at the scent of your perfume. The tip of his nose trails up over your jaw, his lips brushing the corner of your lips as his forehead rests against yours. He sighs as you draw in a nervous breath, and he sways in, lips pressing to yours.

You raise your hand to cup his neck, shivering as his hands smooth over your hips. He guides you deeper inside, blindly reaching back and shoving the door shut behind you as you fling your purse toward the bench in your entryway. His kisses grow hungrier as he steers you down the hall. You slip your tongue along his, smoothing your hand up to grasp his hair. Your fingers fumble with the buttons on his shirt, exposing more of his pale, muscled chest to you. He slides down the zipper on the back of your dress and leans away just long enough to draw the dress up over your head. His eyes sweep across you, taking in your lingerie.

You hook your thumbs under the band of your underwear, giving them a teasing wiggle as you back further away from him. You expect him to follow, but he steers you back against the wall, dropping his head to suck hot kisses along your neck and down to your chest. He yanks one of the cups of your bra down, taking your nipple into his mouth. You bite your lip, tipping your head back against the wall and whining as he slots his knee between your thighs. You roll your hips down against the hard muscle as he laves and teases your nipple, reaching up to thumb and tweak the other.

"Art—Mm, god that feels so good."

He groans against your skin, trailing his kisses further down as he lowers himself to his knees. You look down as he curls his fingers around your panties—and waits. You smile softly, nodding, murmuring, "Please?"

Art grins, pressing a kiss to your hip before he gently eases the fabric down, waiting for you to lift your feet so he can fling them away. He leans in, swiping his tongue across your aching clit. Your knees would knock if he wasn't wedged between them. You draw in a shallow breath, letting your head tip back as he draws your leg over his shoulder. You shiver at the feeling of the chilly air against your heated, slick flesh. He nuzzles and laps against your cunt, taking each tip of your hips in stride. His hand smooths up your trembling inner thigh, giving your ass a gentle squeeze before he teases a finger into you. You whimper at the touch, unable to help the way your pussy clenches around it.

Art groans at the feeling, turning his head to smear his lips slips against your hip.

"Goddamn," He breaths against you.

"More."

You feel more than hear his gentle chuckle as he eases another finger in.

"Need it bad, huh?"

"You have no idea."

"I'm getting a pretty good idea." He turns his head, leveling a sucking kiss to your clit that makes you cry out. You tighten your grip on his hair as he pumps his fingers harder, curling and scissoring them as he pushes you closer to the edge.

"Art—Mm, god, fuck, yes—Yes—" Your toes curl in your shoes as your hips rabbit down against his face and fingers, chasing the swell of your orgasm. You look back down as he draws back and find his lips and chin shining with your juices.

"Bed," He urges.

"You can fuck me right here."

Art laughs, standing and smoothing his hand over your thigh.

"We're doing this right."

"We could be doing this right...." You slid your hand down his chest to palm his cock through his pants. "Here."

You grin as Art's eyelids flutter, his dick twitching against you.

"Bed," He insists again.

It isn't far to go, and the two of you are entirely bare by the time you get there. You scooch back onto the bed, spreading your legs as he rolls on a condom. He's over you a moment later, and you watch the bulge of his biceps as he braces his hands on either side of your head. You bite your lip as you feel the brush of his cock against your entrance. You reach down, grasping his cock and guiding him closer.

You tip your head up, tongue teasing the seam of his lips as he eases into you. You melt into the mattress as he crushes against you, filling you completely. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, sliding your legs over his, as if you'll manage to fuse the two of you together. Art's tongue swirls around yours before he captures your lips in a kiss, rolling his hips slowly.

"More," You plead, but Art keeps his pace achingly steady, even when you try to pick up the pace.

"You feel so fucking good," He breathes, "Even better than you taste."

"Harder, Art, please, god damn, please," You whimper. He tips his head to the side nipping at the hinge of your jaw as he reaches down, hiking your hip up even higher. Your mouth fell open with a stunned moan as he presses deeper, the slap of his hips filthily filling the stifling air around you. You arch up against him, nails raking down his back as you feel the swell of another orgasm.

"Art."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm—Fuck, almost—"

"That's it." He sucks his fingers between his lips before he slips them between your bodies, swiping across your tender clit. You begin to close your eyes, but he tuts softly.

"Don't—Don't close your eyes—Look at me," He orders between breaths. You force yourself to focus on Art, taking in the flush on his cheeks, his almost dazed eyes.

"You, too—" You urge.

"Yeah—"

"Oh—yeah," You gasp, unable to keep your gaze on his you cum. You feel Art's hips slap roughly against yours before he slows, groaning low in his chest. You draw in a deep breath as your heart pounds in your chest, sinking back against your pillows as he settles down over you. You smooth your hand over his nape, smiling as he nuzzles against your shoulder, dropping tender kisses to your skin.

"...Art?"

"Yeah?"

"I think we're going to be late for dinner."

"You know, I've been thinking."

"You've been doing a lot more than thinking, mister," You mutter, and grin as Art laughs. You cuddle closer against his side, nuzzling into his chest as he tightens his arm around your shoulders.

"I'm glad I didn't know you liked me in college."

"Really?" You tip your head up, brow furrowing. "Why's that?"

"...I wasn't ready for you back then." He smooths his fingers along your jaw, eyes wandering your face contemplatively. "It's like you said, you know. You would've come second."

You nod, turning your head to press a kiss to his palm.

"I don't think I was ready for you, either," You admit. Art smiles.

"And you are now?"

"More than."

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @amneris21

@ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity

@millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ;

@buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @lorecraft ; @kmc1989

#Art Donaldson x Reader #Art Donaldson x You #Art Donaldson/Reader #Art Donaldson/You #Art Donaldson fic #Art Donaldson imagine #reunion

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ohproserpine · 8 months

Text

v. deer dolly

see all chapters here tags: fem! reader, reader is a performer in a speakeasy, heavy warning for violence and bloof, graphic descriptions of injuries, manipulation, allusion to death, grey morality, references to alcoholism, twisted view of love, gorey descriptions of love, murder

"THAT SLAG!"

Velvette's piercing scream echoed through the meeting room, slicing through the air. Vox and Valentino jolted, turning their gazes toward the source of the disturbance.

"Good-for-nothing piece of shit twat assistant!" Velvette paced the room, her movements agitated and frantic as she angrily tapped away on her phone.

In a sudden surge of anger, she flung her device across the room, sending it flying above Valentino's head. A crash punctuated the air as it collided with a window, the impact shattering the glass into shards that rained down onto the floor.

"Velvette, darling," Vox raised an eyebrow, his voice calm as always, "What's got you so worked up?"

He took a sip of his coffee, the rich aroma wafting up from the steaming cup as he idly scrolled through his laptop. "Is it that showgirl situation again?"

"Oh, bloody hell!" Velvette rolled her eyes. "Of course, it is, you git! It's been literally the ONLY thing I've been banging on about this week!"

Valentino's sigh cut through the conversation as he adjusted his sunglasses. Holding his glittering firearm up to his face, he pressed rhinestones on it with tacky glue, unfazed by Velvette's anger.

"It's just some performer, babydoll. We can find a replacement."

"Are you out of your mind?!" Velvette seethed as she stormed toward them, her heels clicking loudly with each step. With a forceful slam of her hands against the table, it shifted forward, jolting the items on its surface. With a hiss of pain, Vox recoiled, his hand jerking back from the scalding coffee he had spilled on himself.

"The boutique opening is in three days! How on earth am I supposed to find a girl who's got the looks and a set of pipes in time?!" she exclaimed.

Valentino looked up from his bedazzling, a raised eyebrow visible above the rim of his sunglasses. "Have you tried one of my models? I got a lot of pretty little chicas who can charm the socks off anyone. No need to stress yourself out."

"Your models? Do you have any idea how much time and effort it's going to take for me to wrangle those little amateurs into something remotely resembling a professional performance?" Velvette scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Sod off!"

Valentino snarled in response but turned away with a huff, muttering under his breath, "Have it your way."

"If I may," Vox spoke, wiping his hand with a grumble, the sting of the burn still lingering. He tilted his head slightly, raising a single brow. "Have you tried scouting?"

"Have I tried scouting?" Velvette mocked, her hands waving around in frustration. "Of course I have! All I've come across are bloody singers around here, and they all look like they've been dragged through the dirt backwards!"

"Well, have you tried the back district?" he offered, tapping his claws on the long glass table. He watched as Velvette pulled out a pocket mirror from her purse, visibly cringing at his suggestion.

"Why in bloody hell would I go there?" Velvette grimaced as she re-applied her dark lipstick. "I'm not about to waste my time scouring the back district for some dime-a-dozen talent. I need someone who's got class, not gutter scraps."

"Well, there's this performer," Vox insisted, snapping his fingers. A screen materialized with a whiz, displaying a video of a figure in a sparkly silver dress singing and dancing. As the video drew to a close, the camera zoomed in, capturing a close-up of the woman's face. Her features were radiant, a smile gracing her lips as she gazed out at the audience.

Velvette snapped her mirror shut with a flick of her wrist, interest sparking in her eyes. She leaned in closer, studying the performer's features.

"Who's this?" she quipped.

"Dolly, at least that's what they call her," Vox hummed, sliding the screen over to Velvette. "She works at Mimzy's Lounge."

Velvette's expression darkened, strands of hair falling over her eyes as she took the screen in her hands, leaning down to view the image again. The glow of the projection illuminated her face, casting shadows that danced across her steely expression.

"Mimzy?" she uttered the name slowly, her lips dripping with venom. "That's the cunt who tore up my best showgirl!"

"Drama," Valentino chuckled, spinning his bedazzled gun around his fingers.

"Well, this Dolly girl is her biggest star, and she's been making quite a name for herself there," Vox drawled, gesturing toward the screen. With a tap of his claw on the screen, he zoomed in closer. "She's got the looks, the voice, and the stage presence you're looking for."

"And she's managed to shine even in the shadow of that cesspool," he added with a sardonic grin as he sipped from his coffee.

A flicker ignited in Velvette's eyes as she straightened. "Then it's settled. I'll pay her a visit."

"Sounds like you've got a plan brewing, my dear. Care for some company?" Vox spoke with a smirk playing on his lips.

Velvette shot him a knowing glance before a grin tugged at the corner of her lips. "Why not? I could use some of your charm."

"Cher? Dearest? It's time to get up," the radio atop your bedside table rumbled, your husband's voice crackling through the air.

Grunting in protest, you burrowed deeper into the warmth of your blankets, seeking refuge from the harsh bite of the morning. But Alastor's persistent calls refused to be ignored.

"Mon cœur? Cher? W̷A̴K̶E̴ ̶U̸P̷!̶" it blared, the words amplified by hissing static, demanding attention like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

With a heavy sigh, you reluctantly peeled yourself away from the cocoon of comfort that had enveloped you. Sitting up, you felt the blanket slip from your shoulders, pooling around your hips. Memories of last night flooded in, and the remnants of Alastor's romantic gesture still adorned your room. The bouquet sat atop your dresser, with scattered white roses delicately strewn across your bed like whispers of affection.

Despite the tender atmosphere, a throbbing headache reminded you of an unwelcome guest that accompanied you into the morning—the hangover.

Dragging yourself to the side, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and sat for a moment, rubbing your temples in a futile attempt to ease the discomfort. Then, pushing yourself to your feet, you padded across the room, the cool floorboards sending a shiver through your bare skin. You picked up the radio, its incessant blare akin to an annoying alarm clock, with Alastor's voice still grating on your nerves.

"Alright. Alright. I'm up, love," you grumbled, rubbing at your eyes which still felt thick with sleep.

The radio rumbled with delight at your response.

"Hellish morning to you, my dear!" Alastor's voice boomed through the speakers, his jovial tone slicing through the early morning gloom. Despite your grogginess, a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips at the sound of his voice.

"Hellish morning to you too, darling," you returned, laced with affection.

"I trust you had a restful sleep?" Alastor questioned.

"As restful as one can get with a noisy radio blaring in their ear," you sighed, already feeling the weight of the day bearing down on you.

"Hah!" Alastor laughed, the sound making you roll your eyes. "But where ever would you be without my dulcet tones to serenade you awake?"

"Probably catching a few more precious minutes of sleep," you muttered, already regretting the start of another day. “You are insufferable, you know that?”

"Ah, but that's why you love me."

Back in his hotel room, Alastor chuckled to himself as he shrugged on his suit jacket. From his microphone, he caught the rustling of your clothes, followed by the gentle rush of running water.

With a flick of his wrist, Alastor summoned a gramophone, its boxy form materializing atop his dresser with a soft thud. Soon enough, the needle gently descended onto the spinning vinyl record, releasing a soft, nostalgic melody that filled the room.

I'll never smile again Until I smile at you I'll never laugh again What good would it do?

As Alastor began to sing along, his smooth voice seeping through the rusting speakers of the radio, you paused in the middle of washing your hair, caught off guard by the unexpected serenade.

"Stupid, stupid man," you muttered under your breath with a shake of your head. And yet, despite yourself, a smile tugged at the corners of your lips, warmth creeping into your heart.

For tears would fill my eyes My heart would realize That our romance is through

Exiting the bath, you toweled yourself off and approached your wardrobe, humming softly as you selected your attire for the day. After scanning through the hangers, you settled on a vibrant red hooverette dress. With matching stockings and white heels, you completed the look, the final touch being a few roses plucked from the bouquet Alastor had given you, tucked behind your ear.

I'll never love again I'm so in love with you I'll never thrill again To somebody new

Dressed and ready to face the day, you returned to the radio, the soft strains of music and Alastor's voice still lingering in the air. As the final notes faded into silence, you stood for a moment, savoring the fleeting illusion of domestic bliss for a moment longer.

With a pang of sadness, you glanced at the clock, realizing that it was time to go.

"I have to head out now, darling," you spoke into the radio, feeling a tug at your heartstrings. "My shift starts in a while."

"Ah, until we meet again, mon cher," Alastor's voice replied warmly. "Do take care of yourself."

In response, you leaned down to press a kiss against the speakers, a gesture of your affection. The soft sound of the kiss was barely audible, but Alastor's ears perked up and caught the gentle touch against the metal surface. He chuckled softly, then, with a soft click, the radio fell silent.

As you slipped your purse over your shoulder, a thought crossed your mind—should you bring the radio along? The temptation to have Alastor's voice with you throughout the day was strong, but the risk of further damaging the precious device gave you pause. With a sigh, you decided against it, opting to leave it safely in your room, where it would patiently await your return.

Heading out of your room, the lounge was already buzzing with the hustle and bustle of customers and staff. Although no singer graced the stage yet, the speakers blasted with the familiar tunes of Hell’s Top 10 Hits.

"There you are!" Mimzy's voice cut through the lively atmosphere, her smile failing to reach her eyes as she bounded towards you.

"Mimzy," you greeted flatly, acknowledging her with a nod.

"How are ya doin', doll? Just the person I was looking for," she purred with a bat of her eyes. "Alright, listen, I've got a marvelous idea for a performance."

You sighed inwardly, bracing yourself for whatever scheme she had cooked up this time. Mimzy's requests were as extravagant as they were challenging, always pushing the boundaries to maintain her club's "reputation" and squeeze every last dime from these sinners' wallets.

"Let's hear it," you replied, mustering a polite smile.

"So, I was thinking," Mimzy began, tapping her finger along her chin, "how about a duet? A throwback to the good ole days, sharing the spotlight. It's bound to be a performance these wayward fools are going to talk about for ages!"

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by the relatively tame suggestion. The blonde wasn't exactly known for her subtlety or restraint when it came to showmanship. At most, a duet with Mimzy was sure to be a spectacle, for better or for worse.

"And when is this going to be held?" you grinned tensely, hands at your hips. There was bound to be a switch somewhere.

"When else? Prime time tonight!" Mimzy giggled as she threw up her hands with a flourish.

And there it was.

"Tonight?" Your eyes widened, shoulders squaring in shock. "Miss Ma'am, that's cutting it a bit close, don't you think?"

"Bushwa! We'll make it work," Mimzy replied dismissively, waving off your concerns with a flick of her hand. "And I've already got the perfect song in mind. It'll be a real humdinger, mark my words."

"Alright," you sighed, hoping for the best but bracing yourself for the chaos that was sure to follow. "Tonight it is."

"That's the spirit! Hell, why don't you take the morning off?" Mimzy grinned as she hurried off down the hallway to make preparations. "I'll see you tonight! Make sure to be here by sunset!"

Standing by the stairs as stiff as a pole, you watched her skip off with an unusually chipper air. It struck you as odd, but you pushed the thought aside, eager to have the morning to yourself. As you turned away, however, your head throbbed once more, the reminder of your hangover cutting through the moment.

"Looks like a ciggy is in order," you muttered to yourself, rubbing at your throbbing temples. Making your way outside, hoping to smoke away the edge of discomfort.

Trudging along the filthy backstreets, you did your best to avoid the muck and other questionable liquids that lined the roadside. The stench of decay hung heavy in the air, assaulting your senses with each step you took.

No one spared you a glance as you passed; the citizens of hell were absorbed in their own pursuits or concerns, and you blended into the backdrop of the grim landscape.

Finally reaching a clearer stretch of street, you took a seat on one of the benches, the worn wood groaning under your weight. The city bustled around you, a mix of sounds and movements that seemed to blur together.

With a weary sigh, you reached into your bag in search of company—nicotine.

Fingers fumbling through the contents of your purse, you felt the familiar shape of the roll, and with a hum, pulled it out. However, as you continued to rummage through your belongings, a sinking realization settled in.

Your matchbox wasn't there.

Dropping your head into your hands with a scowl, you could feel the stress mounting within you, bubbling up like a simmering pot ready to boil over.

Wallowing in your misfortune, you failed to notice someone approaching you from behind. A sudden tap on your shoulder jolted you, and as you turned, you found yourself face to face with a tall and slender spider-like demon. His frame was practically drowning in a plush white fur coat, the color almost blending into his skin. It contrasted sharply with the sleekness of the black bodycon dress clinging onto his curves underneath.

"Need a light?" he asked casually as he held up a pink-colored lighter.

You eyed him skeptically for a moment.

In hell, kindness often came with a price. Whether it was a favor owed, a debt to be repaid, or simply a hidden agenda waiting to be revealed, nothing came for free. However, when your head throbbed again, you sighed and relented with a nod, accepting the offer despite your reservations.

Angel Dust ignited the lighter, the flame pirouetting gracefully and flickering in the wind. Drawing closer, you leaned in, offering the tip of your cigarette to the flame. With a gentle hiss, the tobacco caught fire, wisps of smoke curling into the air like ethereal dancers. As you took a deep, shaky inhale, the saccharine poison of the smoke flooded your lungs, leaving a bittersweet taste lingering on your tongue. Shutting your eyes, a sense of calm washed over you as you leaned back, letting yourself be carried away by the fleeting tranquility of the moment.

Remembering you had company, you grounded yourself and opened your eyes. "Thank you ever so much, dear. Can I have your name?" you asked, tilting your head up at him. The stranger moved to sit down next to you, the worn wood of the bench creaking under his weight.

"Angel Dust," he said, and your eyes shot wide open, lips forming an 'O' shape.

"The porn star?" you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

"Didn't take you as the type to watch my shit, toots," Angel laughed heartily as his grin widened from ear to ear in response, his golden tooth gleaming at you like a wink.

"Well, I may not be your typical fan, but your name does tend to make its rounds in conversation," you chuckled, shaking your head in amusement. Taking a drag from your cigarette, you gestured with it casually. "I saw you in my husb—erm, the Radio Demon's commercial. Hazbin Hotel, was it?"

"Yeah, and don't worry, I know. Dolly, was it?" Angel Dust replied smoothly, his demeanor surprisingly nonchalant given the situation. Extending his hand for you to shake, he continued, "Nice to finally put a face to the name."

His confession caught you off guard, but you shook his hand firmly nonetheless. "How did you—did Alastor tell you about me? You two must be close."

Angel Dust hesitated, a grimace crossing his features. His crimson eyes darted away briefly, as if weighing his words carefully.

"Let's just say... word gets around in our circles," he replied vaguely, tugging his coat closer around himself.

"I don't know him that well, though," Angel Dust admitted with a shrug, his gaze drifting off momentarily. "Sometimes he can be a bit..."

"A pompous dick with a sadistic streak?" you suggested, exhaling smoke as you raised an eyebrow at Angel Dust, testing the waters.

Angel Dust laughed genuinely, throwing his head back. "Something along those lines, toots," he grinned, taking another drag of his cigarette.

"Well, it's good to know I'm not the only one who sees it," you remarked, a wry smile playing on your lips.

"Believe me, ya ain't alone in that," he agreed. "So, ah—What brings ya out here? Aside from the obvious need for a blow."

"Just needed some fresh air," you admitted with a shrug. "Plus, I may have indulged a bit too much last night and woke up feeling like death warmed over."

"I hear ya," Angel Dust replied, nodding sympathetically as he raked his eyes over your worn-out form, noting the slump of your body and the dark circles under your eyes. You looked so different from the sparkly performer he had seen on stage days ago.

"Hey, I actually caught one of ya shows the other night," he piped up, attempting to shift the conversation to a lighter topic.

"Did you?" you cooed, surprise evident in your voice.

"Yeah," Angel nodded, stretching out on the bench, spreading both his arms across the back of the wood. "Gotta say, ya put on quite the show up there. I mean—ya had the crowd eating out of the palm of ya hand."

A faint smile crept onto your cheeks at his praise, a swell of pride rising within you.

"Well, thank you," you bowed your head in gratitude, momentarily forgetting your fatigue in the warmth of his words. "It means a lot coming from someone like you."

Angel Dust waved off your thanks with a casual flick of his hand, lips jutting out in a playful pout.

"Ah, c'mon. I call it like I see it," he grinned with a shrug. "N'trust me, I've seen my fair share of performances."

Lost in the easy flow of conversation, you surrendered to the comfort of the moment, finding solace in the presence of your spider companion. Hours passed, and before you knew it, the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the park in hues of golden warmth.

A jarring ringtone shattered the moment, causing Angel Dust to glance down at his phone with a whistle. His brows furrowed as he scrolled through a flurry of notifications, irritation flashing across his features.

"As much as I'm enjoying our little chat, duty calls," he sighed, flicking away ash from his cigarette. "Can't keep the boss waiting."

You nodded in understanding, offering a wave as he rose from the bench. "No worries, Angel. Catch you later."

"Looking forward to it, dollface," he replied with a wink before sauntering off into the city streets, leaving you to enjoy the peace alone. After a few minutes of watching the sunset, you decided it was time to go. You stubbed out your cigarette and rose from the bench, making your way out.

As you approached the streets leading to the lounge, the neon lights of the city burst into life, casting vibrant reflections on the pavement. Climbing the stairs to the entrance, you were enveloped by the familiar sights and sounds of the establishment. The air was thick with the scent of perfume and cigarette smoke, mingling with the pulsating rhythm of the music from within.

Mimzy was nowhere to be seen, which came as a welcome relief. And with a last scan to ensure she wasn't lurking anywhere nearby, you made a beeline straight to your dressing room, eager to ready yourself for tonight's performance in peace without a certain blonde talking your ear off.

Taking a seat at the vanity, you began to prepare for the evening ahead, carefully applying your makeup and fixing your hair into place.

A sudden knock broke your routine, prompting you to rise from your seat and stride over to the door. With a quick twist of the knob, you swung it open, revealing an imp demon. White blotches adorned his skin, and he sported sunglasses perched high up on his nose. In his hands, he held up a box, his expression expectant as he waited for your reaction.

"May I help you?" you murmured, tilting your head at him, curiosity coloring your tone.

"Yeah. Are you Dolly?" the imp asked, his tone curt and impatient.

"Yes?" you replied, a brow raised.

"Great. This is for you, lady," he said, thrusting the box of jewelry toward you. "If you could just sign here so I can get the hell out of this shithole, that'd be great."

You accepted the box from the imp demon's outstretched hand, eyeing him warily as he thrust a pen and clipboard in your direction. With a resigned sigh, you reluctantly took the pen and scrawled your signature on the dotted line, handing the clipboard back to him with a curt nod.

"Thanks," he muttered, barely sparing you a glance as he turned on his heel and hurried away, disappearing into the crowded hallway of the club.

Interest piqued, you turned your attention back to the box in your hands. With a gentle touch, you ran your fingers along the surface and lifted the lid of the box. Nestled amidst folds of satin lay a pearl necklace, the orbs gleaming as if moonlight itself was captured and trapped within. At its heart, a rose pendant bloomed, its petals of silver.

Taken aback, you reached for the small card tucked within the box. Gently retrieving, you turned it around to see the words "From Al" penned gracefully in elegant script.

"Oh, you cheese…"

With a soft smile pulling at the corners of your lips, you delicately lifted the necklace from its satin-lined cocoon, feeling the cool weight of the pearls in your palm. As you draped it around your neck, the pendant nestled against your collarbone.

Feeling as giddy as a teenager in love, you turned away from the vanity, your heart fluttering with excitement. With a skip in your step, you crossed the room to the wardrobe, fingers dancing over the array of neatly hung dresses.

Before your fingers could grasp onto a dress, a sudden deafening explosion tore through the air. The sound was thunderous, shaking the walls and causing the ground beneath your feet to tremble violently. The shockwave slammed into you with palpable force, knocking you off balance and sending you crashing to the floor amidst a cloud of dust and debris.

Alarm flashed across your features as your heart pounded in your chest, the adrenaline coursing through your veins like a raging river. With trembling hands, you pushed yourself up from the ground.

What in hell was that?

Staggering to your feet, you ran out into the lounge. As the dust settled, you could see the entrance of the lounge now reduced to a gaping maw, the doors blown open by the force of the explosion. The familiar sights and sounds of the club were replaced by a scene of utter devastation, with debris strewn haphazardly across the floor and smoke billowing out into the night air.

Two ominous figures cast dark shadows amidst the panicked frenzy of staff and customers.

Struggling to discern the figures amidst the chaos, you squinted, trying to make out the details. One of them was a slender demon, dressed immaculately, with cedar-brown skin and long, fiery red curls tied into neat pigtails.

A sinking feeling settled in your chest as you recognized her as one of Hell's infamous overlords. Your heart plummeted further as you caught sight of Mimzy, ensnared in Velvette's vice-like grip, fear twisting her features as she struggled against her captor.

But it was the presence of the figure behind Velvette that truly sent a shiver down your spine.

The TV Demon, Vox.

His gaze swept over the room with a detached coldness, as if the pandemonium were of little consequence. Suddenly, his icy eyes locked onto yours, freezing you in place.

"Mimzy, dear," Vox's voice buzzed with deceptive sweetness as he addressed the shaking blonde. "Why don't you go and have a little chat with your esteemed employee about our... conditions?"

Wide-eyed with fear, Mimzy frantically nodded, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps.

"Make it quick," Velvette scoffed, releasing her grip on Mimzy's throat. The blonde stumbled toward you, her movements shaky and unsteady.

"What is—" you started, but Mimzy cut you off, panic evident as she began to drag you backstage. Without a moment's hesitation, she pushed you into your dressing room, swiftly locking the door behind you.

"Mimzy, what in hell is going on out there?" you demanded, leaning down to her height and shaking her by the arms.

Mimzy's breaths came in ragged gasps as she leaned against the door, her eyes wide with terror. She struggled to find her words, her entire figure trembling as she tried to compose herself.

"It's Velvette," she finally managed to choke out.

"Why is she here? What does she want from us?" you pressed, urgency creeping into your tone as you searched Mimzy's face for answers. But her response only added to your unease.

"You need to go with them," Mimzy decided abruptly.

"Go with who? What are you talking about?" you asked, your voice turning breathless with disbelief.

"She's out for payback, see? And she won't stop until she gets it," Mimzy explained, her tone grave yet determined, like she had some ace up her sleeve. "I gotta level the playing field, doll. She wants a replacement, and she's chosen you."

"I can't just go along with this!" your voice rose to a shout as you began to shake her again, nails digging into the chiffon of her glove. "My contract with you ends in a year. If I go with them, I'll be their pawn for all of eternity!"

"I can't just risk Velvette destroying everything I've built!" Mimzy defended herself, her tone devoid of remorse. "Do you have any idea how much work it took for me to get this place running?!"

Anger surged within you, fueled by betrayal and fear. "What about me? What about Alastor?"

"Oh, him again!" Mimzy shook her arms away from your grip and pushed herself off the door. "You've been so obsessed with that radio fool, you've forgotten who's been with you since the very start! Ever since you got hitched to him, you stopped caring about a damn thing!"

"I cared! And I still bloody well care, Mimzy!" you shot back, your voice rising with anger. Your eyes blazed with fire, cracks beginning to form on your face as your demon form threatened to break free. "But you were an empty, hollow shell of a woman with naught in her head but money! You'd sell out anyone, even me, to get what you want!"

Mimzy recoiled slightly, her façade momentarily cracked by your words. "You-You think you're any better? Running off with your precious Alastor, pretending like he's the savior of your life. But I know you've heard his broadcasts. I know you've seen the news. He's no better than me, playing you like a puppet while hiding behind his façade of being a good man!"

Enraged, you lunged forward, tackling her against the wall. As fury consumed you, your form contorted and twisted, taking on a monstrous semblance. Your features morphed, sharpening into angular lines, while cracks spiderwebbed across your skin like shattered porcelain. Limbs stretched and warped, turning jagged and broken, resembling the joints of a marionette. Teeth elongated into razor-sharp fangs, and as you bared them in a snarl, your lips curled back in a grotesque mockery of a mouth. "Say that again! I fucking dare you!"

"I'll say it as many times as I damn well please!" Mimzy spat, her voice trembling as she locked eyes with your hollow gaze. "Until you get it through your fucking thick, cracked skull!"

The blonde's hand darted to a nearby object, seizing hold of a picture frame within reach. With sudden, fierce motion, she swung it, the weighty wood and glass connecting with your transformed flesh in a sickening thud.

"Mph—!" Biting your lip to stifle a scream, you staggered backward. Thick blood dripped from the wound, pooling on the floor and mingling with the cracks in your porcelain-like skin.

"You've got some nerve!" Mimzy's voice thundered as she stood over you, her pale face flushing crimson with anger. "You wanted that fame, and I made it happen. Now you don't?! Fuck! Some ungrateful brat you are! Willing to throw it all away for some man! Do you really think what he feels for you is love?!"

As Mimzy's tirade continued, her words cutting through the haze of pain and anger, a sense of disorientation washed over you. Her words struck a nerve, stirring up memories that you had long tried to suppress.

Rain poured down, drenching your hunched form. The world around you blurred into a chaotic whirlwind of colors and shapes, disorienting and suffocating.

Beneath the fabric of your dress, your knees throbbed painfully, raw from the harsh scrape against unforgiving concrete. Your hands desperately fumbled in the darkness, searching for something to anchor yourself to. Then, finally, your fingertips brushed against the familiar texture of rusting metal.

With a ragged sigh of relief, you realized you had found the gate of your house. Summoning all your remaining strength, you clasped both hands around the cold, wet metal bars and attempted to pull yourself up.

Through the haze, you felt rough hands sneak around your waist, and as your vision cleared slightly, your husband's face emerged from the blur. His once impeccable suit now clung to him like a second skin, soaked through by the downpour. Strands of his usually neat hair stuck to his forehead, dampened and dripping onto his glasses. Cursing like a sailor under his breath, he scooped you up into his arms, expression turning tense as he felt the icy chill of your body against his own.

If you weren't moving he would have thought you a corpse.

"Cher?" Alastor's voice cut through the fog in your mind, but your response was sluggish, your gaze glassy and dilated. "Merde. Did you drag yourself here all alone?"

Without waiting for an answer, he moved, cradling you in his arms as he hurried back toward your house. Once inside, he wasted no time in laying you down on the sofa.

"Al," you finally spoke, whimpering softly as you raised a shaky hand towards him. Alastor immediately moved towards you, hushing your cries as he pressed a deep kiss on your lips.

Your husband moved to cradle your face in his rough hands, and what he saw shattered whatever fragments of his heart were still intact. Bruises and dried blood stained your body, your skin clammy and pale. Streaks of mascara carved paths down your tear-stained face, and your limbs twitched involuntarily. The taste of whiskey still lingered on your lips, and the fearful haze in your eyes mirrored the terror of a rabbit cornered by a wolf.

"Who did this to you?" he growled, his pupils dilating with anger as he knelt before you, gently slipping your torn stockings and muddy heels off your feet.

"Mimzy," you sobbed out, curling into yourself, the weight of it all feeling too heavy on your shoulders.

"I tried to quit. She didn't let me. The bar. She gave me a drink. More and more. I couldn't stop. I was just so upset." Your words were fragmented, broken by the wrenching sobs that shook your fragile form, vulnerability laid bare before him.

"Mon cœur," Alastor hushed, rubbing circles into your ankle with his thumb. "Calm down. Take your time."

You made an effort, though the first few attempts were shallow and rushed. Eventually, you managed to draw in a deep breath, releasing it in a rush before taking another. And another.

"That's it, my dear. Now, what happened?"

Summoning all your strength, you opened your mouth and began to recount the harrowing events of the night.

Earlier this evening, you had mustered up enough courage to hand in your resignation letter to Mimzy. However, her reaction was far from pleasant. An argument erupted, filled with less than savory words being thrown around like daggers.

Before you knew it, Mimzy's rage boiled over, and she tackled you, raining blows upon you with a fury that bordered on madness, beating you with an inch of your life. And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped.

Her demeanor shifted drastically, morphing from a raging storm into a gentle breeze. With a sickening sweetness, she offered you a hand up, as if nothing had happened. Weak and disoriented, you allowed her to lead you to her private bar, where she poured drink after drink, urging you to indulge.

As per habit, you found yourself consuming the alcohol with reckless abandon, the burning liquid dulling the pain and blurring the edges of reality

Alastor's heart clenched at the anguish in your voice, his expression darkening with a mixture of concern and simmering anger. Slowly, he rose from his seat and lifted you onto his lap, cradling you gently in his arms.

Taking your hand in his, he leaned in close, his voice a soft murmur.

"Let me take care of everything, doll," he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. "She won't ever bother you again."

The tenderness in his voice caused your breath to hitch, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to fall into the reassurance of his presence. It offered a fleeting sense of security amidst everything surrounding you. Yet, slowly as the puzzles fell into pieces, a gnawing sense of dread clawed at your insides.

"Alastor, no," you whimpered, withdrawing your hands and pressing them against his chest, pushing him away with trembling fingers. "Please don't tell me it means what I think it does."

Your gaze pleaded with him, searching his eyes for any sign of reassurance, any glimmer of hope that what you feared was not true. However, your husband's smile remained unchanged—comforting yet chilling—as he pressed another kiss to the corner of your lips.

"I would kill for you," Alastor murmured against your skin, his thumb tracing the contours of your wedding ring. Bending down, he pressed a tender kiss against the golden band, sealing his vow with the promise of bloodshed, lips lingering against the cool metal. As he drew back, you found yourself ensnared by the intensity of his gaze, pools of brown reflecting a manic fervor.

"Please let me kill for you."

Tears blurred your vision as you bowed your head, the weight of his words sinking deep into your soul. You knew Alastor's devotion knew no bounds. Whether it meant causing pain, shedding blood, or delving into the darkest corners of his being, he would do it for you without a moment's hesitation.

A warmth trickled down your cheeks with each blink, tracing a path along your skin. Your eyes burned fiercely, tears cascading down your flushed cheeks and silently dripping from your chin like dewdrops. As you attempted to draw deep breaths, your body shook with a desperation to escape, though you couldn't quite grasp what it was you were fleeing from.

A ragged sound echoed through the room, grating against your senses. It took you a moment to register that the noise came from your own lungs, your breaths torn and jagged as they struggled to find a rhythm.

"Okay," you whispered, the weight of that single word heavy with the burden of guilt and a future tinged with blood.

There was a soft chuckle, accompanied by the gentle touch of a hand moving to caress your cheeks. "Good girl."

Snapping back to the present, you found yourself staring at Mimzy as she raged around the room, her fury unleashed on the surroundings, wrecking anything and everything in her path.

A man who kills for you. A man who dirties his hands for you. Is that not love?

A kick from her sent your vanity toppling over, causing bottles of your perfume and whiskey to crash from its surface. The glass shattered upon impact, releasing splintering sounds that pierced your ears. As the bottles broke, the air filled with the pungent scent of flora, mingling with the rich aroma of spilled whiskey.

It must be love.

With a hand trembling from adrenaline, you ran your fingers through your hair, the sticky feeling of blood staining your palm. Rising unsteadily to your feet, you turned to face Mimzy, strands of damp, bloodied hair falling over your cracked porcelain face.

"You ornery washed-up bitch," you rasped out in a laugh, voice breathless and laced with venom. "I should have left you to rot in that forest."

Mimzy froze, her wide eyes locked on you.

"What did you say to me?" she seethed, her voice trembling with anger as she extended her hand toward the shattered liquor glass and the spilled liquid, her fingers curling into fists.

With a flick of her wrist, the whiskey began to swirl and solidify, forming chains that snaked around your limbs, binding you in place. Your muscles tensed against the restraints as Mimzy manipulated you like a puppeteer. Slowly, you reverted back to your regular form, forced to your knees before her.

The blonde bent down, her grip firm on your face, nails digging deep into your skin as she pulled your head up to face her. "You're here because of me! Everything you've ever achieved was because of me! I made you a star, and this is how you repay me?!"

You recognized the anger in her tone, but beneath it lurked a deeper pain and desperation. The poor gal was fighting to reclaim control over a situation slipping through her grasp.

A sudden knock at the door startled Mimzy, causing her to tense. The door creaked open to reveal the imposing figure of Vox filling the doorway. As he entered the room, a wave of static filled the air, crackling and sending goosebumps cascading over your skin. His gaze swept over the scene, taking note of your restraints and bloodied head before settling on Mimzy.

"What is the meaning of this?"

Under Vox's gaze, Mimzy's confident demeanor faltered, replaced by a nervous tremor in her voice. "I-I was just… settling some unfinished business, mistah," she stammered, attempting to regain her composure.

"You've just damaged the merchandise, sweetheart," Vox stated matter-of-factly, gesturing to you with a wave of his hand. "And we can't have that, now can we?"

With a casual snap of his fingers, the wires from the stage lights above writhed and twisted, tearing free from the ceiling with a deafening creak. They snaked through the air like serpents, wrapping around Mimzy's torso and dragging her away from you with a forceful yank.

With Mimzy taken care of, Vox then turned his attention to you.

"Dolly, was it?" he smiled, voice disarming. "I've got to say, I have always wanted to see you up close."

"You've seen me," you replied with a cold edge to your voice, slowly backing away and pressing yourself against the wall. "I'm here."

"Charmed," Vox smiled, his gaze heating as he drank you in, every detail of you like candy to his eyes. As Vox strode towards you, you instinctively curled into yourself, shrinking back deeper against the wall. He chuckled softly, noticing your reaction, and halted his advances. Instead, he took a seat on the cushion by your toppled vanity, glowing eyes locked onto you.

Pretty Dolly Heart.

Your lips were painted a vivid red, pouting slightly in a frown. Damp, glossy curls framed your face, shimmering in the light and tempting him to reach out and run his fingers through them. Rivulets of blood marred your temple, staining the delicate white flowers nestled into your hair.

The TV Demon was interested in you, and he wouldn't let go until he went home with you tonight, that much was clear.

"I have a deal in mind," Vox turned to Mimzy with a look in his eyes that screamed trouble. "Are you willing to trade your soul for hers?"

Your blood ran cold with fear.

"As Velvette and I are business partners, our souls contracts are intertwined. I'm sure there would be no issue if you signed the deal with me instead," he added with a chuckle, his eyes swirling with a dangerous allure.

Panic clawed at your insides, urging you to flee from the impending doom that loomed before you. But rooted to the spot by fear, you found yourself unable to move.

"Yes! A-Absolutely!" Mimzy's words shattered the heavy silence, her voice trembling with desperation as she nodded frantically. Her eyes remained nervously glued to the crackling electricity of the torn wires still wrapped around her, the fear in her gaze mirroring your own.

With a clap of his hands, Vox conjured a new contract and a strong burst of wind swept through the room, ruffling curtains and causing objects to tremble on their surfaces. Blue light flooded the walls, casting eerie shadows and filling the room with an ominous glow. The atmosphere crackled with electricity, every hair on your body standing on end as if charged with static energy.

A tablet materialized and floated before you, its screen pulsing with a faint, golden glow.

"Make her sign here, and it'll be done," Vox instructed, his voice carrying an air of finality as he handed Mimzy a stylus, tapping his clawed finger along the screen of his tablet.

With a trembling hand, Mimzy took the stylus and held it out for you, the strings of her magic wrapping around your limbs once again. You attempted to shout out, but Mimzy's magic stitched your lips shut, leaving you unable to utter a sound.

Helpless, you watched as your hand was forced to reach out and take the pen into your grasp, your fingers moving against your will as Mimzy guided them to sign the contract. With each stroke of the pen, a wave of despair washed over you, a muffled sob bubbling from your throat as your name appeared on the screen, sealing your fate.

Vox's grin widened, a glint of triumph dancing in his eyes as he held up your old paper contract with Mimzy, the words now rendered meaningless. With a swift motion, he tore it to shreds, the sound of paper ripping echoing through the tense silence of the room.

"Welcome to VoxTek, Dolly."

#next chapter will explain all of their background :DD #sephiewrites #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor imagine #hazbin imagine #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x you #hazbin x you #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel vox

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rafecameroninterlude · 4 months

Note

rafe + corruption kink

warnings: flirting, teasing, groping

“how come you’re here if parties aren’t your thing?” rafe currently had an arm draped over your shoulders, his hand resting on your thigh as he gazed down at your pretty face. “my friend wanted me to get out for a while..” you bit your lip, glancing up at the handsome stranger before quickly looking away. rafe smiled at your nervous antics. you gave him the impression that you’re not used to being in close proximity with men, and that idea enticed him more than he cared to admit. “do you know my name?” rafe watched your breathing quicken when he started rubbing shapes into your skin, his hand slowly moving under the hem of your dress.

“no.. i’m sorry, am i supposed to?” he leaned down so his lips were right next to your ear. “well, you’re in my house.” your eyes widened slightly. “really?! you have a beautiful home.” you smiled nervously. “yeah? you like it?” he got up, taking your hand in his, “wanna see more?” you nodded, fully expecting him to show you the pool outside, or maybe the bar in the corner of the living room, but instead you found yourself following him upstairs. “tell me..?” he trailed off, “y/n.” you answered, swallowing thickly as you two entered his bedroom. “y/n, i’m rafe. do you have a boyfriend?”

he guided you to his bed where he pulled you on top of his lap. “umm, no.. but i go on dates sometimes.” nervously fiddling with the ring on your finger, rafe hummed. “dates, huh? do these dates go anywhere?” he stroked your hair softly, tucking a few strands behind your ear as you shook your head. “i don’t think i understand what you’re asking.” your voice was small, the feeling of his fingertips on your skin made butterflies flutter in your tummy. “do they get to have their way with you?” his tone sent shivers down your spine. “like if we kiss and stuff? no.” you felt embarrassed saying it out loud.

rafe cursed under his breath at the revelation, his cock hardening in his shorts. “how come?” he cleared his throat, trying to ignore the way you shifted in his lap. “i don’t know, i just get scared i’m going to disappoint them.” you shrugged. “and why is that?” finally, you looked up, meeting his eyes. “because i’ve never done anything before.” it was like a switch flipped in his brain, and the only thing rafe could think about was stuffing you with his cock and turning you into his own personal slut. “do you want to?” his hand was back under your dress, as if to coax you to say yes.

you let out a shaky breath, blinking at him. “you’ll teach me?” rafe watched your eyes sparkle as you waited for him to answer. “baby, i’ll do so much more than teach you. i’ll make you feel so good you won’t even know what to do with yourself.” you nodded before a word could leave your lips. “you’d do that?” rafe smiled, his fingers slipping under the waistband of your panties. “of course,” he cooed, “but only under one condition.” your stare faltered when you felt a single digit slide between your folds. “no one else except me can touch this pretty pussy.”

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kingkat12 · 1 month

Text

pornography (eric draven x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, foul language, groping/fondling, dry-humping lol, mentions of substance abuse

summary: when you finally talk to Eric Draven in rehab, it doesn't take long before you get drawn together by a force stronger than anything you have ever encountered. it doesn’t help the situation that you eventually find out Eric has been drawing pictures of you… nude

word count: 2,337 PART 1, PART 2, PART 3

a/n: this is for all the girlies like me that just came home from watching The Crow and got their mind blown by how hot Bill was in it... holy fuck. had to write this blurb because I am so shaken up, I can't feel my face. enjoy!! there will be more parts hihi...

"I fucking hate pink,"

I couldn't believe that was the first thing I said to him-- the dark and broody stranger I had been eyeing through my first few weeks in rehab. He stared back at me, confusion swimming in his big green eyes, probably pondering why I had sat down next to him in the cafeteria. "Pardon?"

"It's a little ridiculous," I tried, watching as he put down his cutlery, pushing his food away as he gave me his full attention. Tugging at my pink sweater, which we were all wearing, I let out a nervous chuckle. "Whose idea was it to put a lot of addicts in pink, anyway?"

My eyes darted down to his hands as I waited for his answer-- they were huge up close, and completely covered in tattoos. I hadn't noticed them from afar; I had only noticed the ones peeking through the top of his shirt when he would pass me by in the hall, or the big eye he had on his chest that I had seen while passing by his room. I knew it wasn't nice to peek into his room while he was changing, but I was quite frankly starved of any male contact-- any girl would go crazy in here.

He eventually shrugged, giving me the answer I least expected; "I guess pink is supposed to be a calming colour. It's not that bad," I watched as the corners of his mouth tugged upwards, giving away hints of amusement. "Aren't you girls supposed to like pink?"

"Maybe," I mumbled, nudging food around on my plate with my fork. "I just don't like to wear it. It doesn't suit me."

The handsome stranger didn't seem to agree, another shrug following accompanied by a shy laugh. "I can't figure out whether you're being sincere or searching for compliments,"

This was most definitely not how I wanted to come off. I straightened up, resting my elbows against the table as I cleared my throat. "I'm just trying to make conversation,"

"... Why?"

"Because you've been staring at me almost as much as I've been staring at you," I put down my fork, hoping he didn't see how nervous I was. In truth, he had been staring-- it wasn't all purely one-sided. I had caught him staring at me in the courtyard, on my way to the shower, and I had also caught him lingering outside my room several times. He would usually leave when I came out, disappearing down the hall with speed I wouldn't even dream to catch up with.

He finally gave in to a smirk, nodding to himself as he lowered his head. "Sorry," It was clear that he hadn't thought he'd be called out like this. However, something told me he wasn't too upset about being caught either.

"Don't be," I said, feeling my anxiety ripping through my veins. Why was I indulging? "I just--"

It was at this moment that a guard appeared behind him, yanking him away from the table with a harshness that made me gasp. I clasped my hand over my mouth, watching as he barely reacted to the brutality.

"Guys and girls eat separately!" the guard yelled at me, slamming his fist down on the table.

My eyes widened, looking back at the handsome stranger. "But I-- I was the one who sat down here, he didn't do anything!" I protested, watching as the guard grabbed him and led him away. Groaning, I ran my hands through my hair, frustrated with the rules at this place. Why was it so fucking strict?

I eventually looked up just in time to see that the man had managed to turn around, smirking my way; "I'm Eric!" he said, holding back a laugh as he was shoved along the cafeteria for everyone to see.

Despite the horror washing over me for getting him in trouble, I managed to croak out my name as well. It seemed that he appreciated that I had at least tried to stick up for him-- What was it that I had just started?

My question would be answered a lot quicker than I had expected.

A few days passed, and more looks and stares were exchanged. I was dying to talk to Eric again. I knew I hadn't been sent to rehab to make friends or get feelings for someone, but something was gnawing at me to talk to him again. I wanted to be around him constantly; what was happening to me? I recognized this feeling-- it was the same feeling I got when I really, really craved something... Fuck, how I missed drugs. Maybe Eric was turning into a substitute?

It wasn't often that the door to Eric's room was open, but today it was. I wouldn't have noticed it if I hadn't taken the extra lap around the institute as usual, hoping to get a glimpse of him through the small window in his door. But today, I didn't have to get on my tippytoes to get a look-- there he was, picking up several drawings that had been scattered around the floor. His room looked like a mess, completely unlike how I was used to seeing it through the tiny window. This looked like the result of one of those raids that the prison guards sometimes did when they suspected there were hidden drugs in a patient's room.

I felt sorry for him; I knew how horrible it could feel to have someone rip through all your stuff. But as I bent down and picked up a few drawings that were at my feet, my lips parted in surprise.

It seemed I wasn't the only one caught off guard; Eric noticed me standing in his doorway, letting out a relieved sigh as he watched me inspect his drawings. He called out my name, leaning against the wall as he sized me up and scanned me, crossing his arms over his chest.

I cleared my throat; "Is this... me?" I held up the first drawing of the bunch. It was a sketch of me sitting in the courtyard, and I was sure that it was me-- I suppose it was my shock asking for confirmation.

Eric snickered, kicking off the wall. "Yeah... Sorry,"

"Stop saying sorry," I shuffled through the drawings, finding he had drawn me in multiple settings, and it was clear that I had been watched the few weeks I'd been here. "These are beautiful, Eric... I guess I'm honoured--" My words trailed off as I finally approached the last drawing. Was that...?

He didn't even try to take it away from me. Eric sighed, looking away as his cheeks flushed a light pink, similar to our uniforms.

Judging by his reaction, I had a feeling he wasn't so against me seeing this. It was a sketch of me, after all-- nude.

I had to swallow rather hard for anything to go down. I couldn't pinpoint why I wasn't absolutely horrified at this. "So... this is what you've been up to in here, huh?" There was no stopping the smirk that spread across my lips, holding back a flustered giggle. "This is next-level pervy, do you know that?"

It didn't take long before Eric's big hands ripped the drawings out of my hands, turning away as he shook his head. "Every artist needs a muse, no?"

"A muse? How can I be your muse if we don't know each other?"

"That's not how it works," he mumbled, throwing away the drawings into a heap on the bed. "Your beauty is all I need to get inspired."

This was enough to shock me into silence. I inhaled a sharp breath, stepping into Eric's room despite knowing it was forbidden. "So now you think I'm beautiful?"

Eric hummed, finally turning to meet my eyes. "It hasn't been the biggest secret, has it?" There was something playful about him, shameless, as though it didn't matter to him that I had just found his handmade porn. "It gets a little lonely in here, I guess. These drawings just... run out of me like water. Can't control it."

There was something so unimaginably tantalizing about Eric. Everything about him made me want to jump him then and there-- was it maybe the result of my withdrawals that were turning my brain into further mush? In a normal setting, this would have creeped me out to infinity and beyond, but knowing this was coming from the man I had been lusting after from afar for several weeks made me excuse it in a heartbeat.

I had no idea what possessed me to close the door to his room and lock it, knowing the repercussions could be severe if we were caught. But Eric didn't seem to mind; his green eyes widened, watching my every move like a hawk.

"It was really pretty and all... The drawing, I mean," I said, inching closer to where he had sat down on the bed. "But would you maybe want some inspiration for the next one?"

Eric's plush, pink lips parted, eyes rounding out in surprise. Despite his shock, his big hands reached out for me as I came closer, and he pulled me in between his legs. I could feel him caressing my back through my shirt, holding me with the utmost gentle touch. "I'll take all I can get," he murmured, looking up at me through his brows, a knowing smirk spreading across his face.

I let out a giggle as he pressed his lips against my stomach through my shirt, enjoying the intense feeling of someone against my skin again after all this time. Eric pulled away, glancing at the door before slowly trailing his fingers under my shirt, testing the waters.

It didn't take long before that wasn't enough for him-- my breath hitched as Eric grabbed my waist, pulling me down with him on the bed. I barely had time to think before the euphoric feeling of being kissed engulfed me. Our lips met in an open, soft kiss, almost as though we were scared to break the other if we were too needy or harsh. As I straddled him, I felt his hands tugging at my shirt, dipping back under the fabric once more. His fingers gently ghosted over my lower back, eventually ending up trailing small circles with his thumbs along the underside of my bra.

If I hadn't been so starved of any human contact in here, I would've never jumped the opportunity like this. But none of us knew how long we had until the guards would bust us, and it only fueled the adrenaline pumping through our veins. Our kisses became desperate, hungry, and I let out a whimper against his lips as he took the liberty of cupping my chest, feeling me up to his heart's delight. I knew I had been waiting for this moment since the first time I saw him, and I wasn't about to let it slip through my fingers-- I decided to let him do whatever he wanted to me, no matter what.

I could feel Eric's cock twitch beneath me, clearly aroused. It was also at this moment that he made me sit up, tugging my shirt off of me before laying back down to scan me. Was he memorizing my body for his next sketch? It wasn't every night that I had a handsome stranger beneath me like this, so I allowed him to trail his hands up and down my body, lips parting in delight. "Fuck... Yeah, this will do," he murmured, pupils dilating at the sight before him whether he wanted them to or not.

"You sure?" I asked, giggling to myself. My hands rested against his broad chest, letting out a sigh of delight; God, he was sexy. As I shifted in his lap, Eric's breath hitched as I seemingly sat down in the exact right spot. Almost as though he was possessed by instinct for a moment, he grabbed my hips, rocking me against him through the fabric of our clothes.

Who would've thought I'd be dry-humping this stranger and enjoy it so much? My hands gripped his shirt, a quiet moan spilling past my lips-- I had forgotten this feeling. This was mostly something I did when I was a teenager, before I figured out how to have proper sex with my high school boyfriend. But it felt so damn fucking good, desperate; it didn't take long before I leaned back down, capturing his plush lips in another kiss.

I craved him like water. I wanted him against me, in me, for him to take me in every possible position ever-- a deep, dark part of me knew I would be insatiable from now on.

But our moment of ecstasy was interrupted when a guard started banging his fist against the door, his muffled yells barely registering through my arousal. Despite my dazed state, it didn't take me long to drape my shirt back on, climbing off Eric with wobbly knees. "Shit," I mumbled, turning to him with wide eyes. "I'm screwed. We're screwed."

Everything about him was so damn beautiful. The kiss-swollen lips definitely didn't help how gorgeous I thought he looked right now. Despite the situation, knowing we were in deep shit, Eric let out a soft chuckle; "I don't think you're screwed enough, actually. We'll get to that another time,"

My eyes widened as I gave into a light giggle. There was no way this was happening-- had my naughty rehab dreams come true? The guard banging against the door was drowned out by the incessant ringing in my ears that festered through my mind as Eric leaned down to kiss me one last time; "I hope to see you around, if they don't kill us,"

"Yeah," I breathed, only now realizing how tall he was as I looked up to meet his gaze. This man was towering over me. Holy shit. "Can't wait to see your next masterpiece."

I couldn't wait. I really couldn't.

(a/n: PART 2, PART 3 here!! enjoy<33)

#the crow 2024 #eric draven x reader #the crow x reader #the crow fanfiction #eric draven fanfiction #the crow #oneshot #fanfic #fanfiction #smut #bill skarsgård #bill skarsgård x reader #bill skarsgard #eric draven

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deadsetobsessions · 6 months

Text

Sea Cryptic! Danny AU- Pt. 5

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4] [Pt.6] [Pt.7] [Pt.8] [Pt.9] [Pt.10]

“So you’re that dead kid everyone’s talking about.”

Danny smacked a trash bag into the purple clad vigilante. “You can pick up the glass.”

“Wait, I’m just here to-”

“Bother me when I’m working? At least the litterer brings me cash. You can help clean or you can leave. Plastics go over there.”

Danny pointed at a pile of plastics, ignoring Spoiler’s bemused look. Hard to tell, really, considering her mask.

“I’ll help clean if you answer some questions!” Spoiler chirped, already moving to pick out the glass in the general trash pile Danny’s managed to gather. He nodded.

“Alright. At least you’re helping. The other one just bothers me and leaves his stuff on the beach.”

Spoiler snorted. “I’m Spoiler. Is the litterer Batman?”

“Sure. I don’t really care what his name is,” which was a complete lie, Danny was a fan. It’s just that messing with Batman (especially after he couldn’t clean up after himself, honestly!) overrode his fan behavior. “But if I catch him leaving shit in the waters again…”

Danny frowned, eyes glowing. He could feel- even with his partial tangibility, the muck of Gotham's waters seeping into his boots. It was not giving 'Live, Laugh, Love' to Danny, and he needed it gone.

“Whatever. They dropped a lot of guns down here. You can deal with those too, yeah?”

“I'm pretty sure that's evidence?!”

“If you could call it that.” Danny plucked away the Styrofoam and the hazardous (more than regular, anyways) materials away from the trash pile so Spoiler could dig through with her gloves without contracting sixteen different sorts of illnesses.

“So, what brings you to Gotham?”

Danny pointed at the water. “Came for school. Stayed because you losers polluted the water with dead bodies and gross chemicals.”

“You go to school?”

“Hey, that’s discriminatory.”

“Oops! No, sorry! I meant-”

Danny waved her off, irritably separating a bottle cap from the crushed bottle. Seriously, what’s the point of putting the cap back on if you were going to throw it in the bay anyways?

“It’s fine. How else am I supposed to learn about the advancements made in the scientific industry otherwise?”

Even if Danny wasn’t too sure that science could sure stupidity, but a halfa could dream, right?

"So... do you just... listen in on lectures?"

Danny stared at her. "What else would I do in a class??"

"Oh. I just thought since you're dead and all, you'd do something more... fun?"

"I mean, I could terrorize the local villains for kicks, if that's what you meant."

Spoiler brightened. "Actually, yeah! That would be helpful! If Mr. Freeze keeps bringing the cold during my latte Thursdays, I'm gonna snap and wring his cold little chicken neck."

Danny snorted. "Alright. I will keep an eye out for this Mr. Freeze." Danny paused. "Hey, tell your friend to come down and help us."

"What- oh. Black Bat!" Stephanie waved her partner down. Black Bat gracefully slipped down towards the bay, casually knocking out two goons gunning for Spoiler.

'Careful,' Black Bat signed.

"Thanks!" Spoiler bounced on the heels of her feet. She swept an arm out. "Wanna help?"

Black Bat tilted her head and, after placing Danny under quick but thorough scrutiny, nodded.

'You can get the salvageable stuff. Anything you can't lift, leave to me.' Danny signed clumsily, placing emphasis on can't.

"You know sign language?"

"I'm not too good at it, I just learned this version."

He knew ghost-sign first, after all.

"Chop, chop. I don't have all night."

----

Danny learned that Black Bat had the skill to knock cans into their designated piles if he threw them in the air so she could kick at them.

"You two can come back anytime."

Spoiler whooped while Black Bat leaned back, smug.

"Wait, tell the litterer he owes me $200. He was short last time."

"...Are you telling me Batman owes you money?"

"Yeah. He might be in financial straights, so I gave him some lee-way."

Black Bat and Spoiler looked at each other.

----

"Hey, so guess what I learned about sea boy!"

Bruce's head swiveled to her with startling intensity. The rest of the clan tuned in.

"He knows sign language! Maybe he even knows ancient sign language! And goes to school, but since he's like, dead, he could only listen to the lectures."

"Bruce, Bruce, do not start a ghost-education plan. Stop. We don't even know if he even-" Dick tackled Bruce, who was already writing a petition as Bruce Wayne to give partial credit to students that diligently goes to class.

"Oh, yeah!" Stephanie shouted over the unraveling chaos. "He promised to fuck with our Rogues for a bit so we can get a break! And we also got a bunch of guns!"

"Where? Gimme!" Jason demanded.

"Do not give Todd more firearms!" Damian cut in.

"Also!" Stephanie grinned as Cass shook with laughter. "Batman's a debtor! He owes Phantom $200!"

"Ain't no fucking way." Tim cackled. "Hear that Bruce? That's karma! For not defending me when he called me broke!"

#batman #danny phantom #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #bruce wayne #bruce has already adopted this kid #just not with paperwork #but that's a trivial matter for BatDad #he's also going to adopt both tucker and sam #dcxdp #sea cryptic! danny au

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veritasangel · 1 month

Text

⋆ ｡⋆ fem pov ୨୧˚ warnings: slight nsfw mention of wedding night ↣ {wc: 1.7k}

older knight! simon - one︱two︱three︱four ︱five︱six - taglist is in the comments

↣ if you don't wanna read it all in one go, the dividers are a good point for that <3

The night was still, the complete opposite of the bustle currently ongoing in the castle. There was a lot of preparation going on in advance for tomorrow. The wedding day of the Princess would be a massive day for the kingdom. A day your Father feared would never come, but thankfully Simon had knocked you off your feet and honestly, you, him.

The soft glow of the moonlight filters through the window as you stand in your chamber. A playful smile tugs at your lips as you watch Simon linger in the doorway, reluctant to leave.

“Si, you must go,” you insist, trying to sound stern, but the laughter in your voice betrays you. “It’s almost midnight, and you know you can’t see me before the wedding.”

Simon smirks, leaning against the doorframe, his eyes warm as they hold yours. “I’ve faced down armies, my love. You really think I’m afraid of a little superstition?”

“Yes,” you replied with a mischievous grin, stepping closer to him. “Because if you stay, I’ll tell everyone that the brave knight Simon was too smitten to follow a simple tradition.”

“Then tell them, it’s not like they don’t already know.” he chuckles, the sound rich and deep, filling the room with warmth. “When people hear my name, they no longer imagine the feared knight. My image has already been shattered, reduced to a lovesick puppy. And for you, I am okay with that.”

As he speaks, he crosses the room and gently brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering as if he can’t quite bear to part from you.

You catch his hand, holding it between your own as you look up at him, your smile softening into something more tender. “It’s only until tomorrow,” you whisper, though the words were as much for yourself as for him.

Simon reluctantly sighs, leaning down as he peppers kisses along your jaw, ��I suppose I’ll have to manage until tomorrow-” he practically whines, the dramatics not lost on you.

Reluctantly, he steps back, letting your hands slip from his as he turns to leave. But before he crosses the threshold, he pauses, glancing back at you one last time. “Sleep well, my future wife,” he says softly and you love how the endearment slips out so easily. You already know he’ll be referring to you as 'his wife' at any chance he gets after tomorrow’s done.

“Sleep well too,” you reply with a tender smile, watching him go, the door closing gently behind him.

The room felt emptier without him, but your heart was full of the promise of tomorrow, of the life you were about to begin together. You sighed, turning towards the window, where the moon hung high in the sky, serene and bright. Tomorrow, you would walk down the aisle, and everything would change.

It was funny really, you never dreamed about marriage before Simon and he never considered it until you. You were complete opposites in some ways, but also not so different at all, you both had come to realise.

As you lay in bed that night, sleep seemed like a foreign concept. Your mind was a whirl of thoughts and dreams of what was to come. You thought of Simon, of the way he looked at you, his eyes full of love and unwavering devotion. You thought of how he had become your anchor, your partner in all things. You imagined everything with him, even the sappy things you know he’d tease you about.

Your heart fluttered with hope and joy as you imagined the ceremony. The moment when you would stand before him, declaring your love and commitment for all to see. The future felt like a beautiful mystery, one you were eager to unravel together.

Across the vast castle, Simon too lay awake, staring at the ceiling of his chamber, his thoughts consumed by you. He had experienced so much in his life, but nothing had ever filled him with the same mix of joy and anticipation as the thought of marrying you.

He replayed your smile in his mind, the sound of your laughter, the way you had banished him from your room with that playful sparkle in your eyes. He couldn’t help but smile at the image, his heart swelling with a love that threatened to consume him.

And of course, you both dreamed of the wedding night. You longed to trace every line of his skin, to press your lips tenderly against the scars that told stories only his body could share. You wanted to know him in every way, to feel the warmth of his presence as you unravelled the layers of his strength and vulnerability.

Simon, in turn, imagined the delicate fabric of your white dress, how it would softly fall away, revealing the woman he had adored from afar for so long. He envisioned the way the gentle light would catch the gentle curves of your form, the way your eyes would hold his as you became one. The thought of your shared breath, your intertwined souls, and the closeness that awaited filled his mind with a longing that was both tender and bold.

The sun emits an ethereal golden glow that settles over the castle as the day begins. The halls buzz with activity, people rush back and forth, the final preparations underway. Even the Kingdom was hectic, everyone preparing to celebrate the long awaited royal wedding.

But in your chambers, everything was surprisingly calm. You stand in front of your mirror, dressed in a gown that flowed beautifully. The white a pristine look you were unfamiliar with and for once in your life, you feel truly nervous.

The door opens, and your mother steps in, her eyes softening as she sees you in your dress. “You look like a dream,” she whispers, tears glistening in her eyes.

You smile, a genuine smile, though your mind was already far away, wondering what Simon looked like- what was running through his mind in this moment.

“Don’t let your thoughts run a thousand a minute,” the Queen begins, knowing you too well as she gently as she tilts your chin to look up at her, “That man is head over heels for you, my dear. I saw him this morning, actually.”

“Has he changed his mind?” you immediately ask, worry crossing your face for a brief moment.

Your mother laughs, rolling her eyes slightly, “You two are both as daft as each other, nobody is running away. Not you, and most certainly, not him.” she reassures you.

“He actually wanted me to give you this-” she says, as she pulls out a dainty bracelet, waiting for you to extend your arm.

“What is it?” you ask as you oblige, allowing her to put it on you.

“Simon said it was his mother’s- a good luck charm, if you will. He wanted you to have it.” she says and you can’t help the way that makes your heart feel. A giddy smile on your face as you realise he’s given you something with so much meaning. Especially since you knew how much Simon adored his mother, how much she made him the man he is today.

You try to steady yourself, taking a deep breath. This was the moment you two had been waiting for, and now it was finally here, it was surreal, but you were grateful for it all.

The heartfelt moments with your closest family and friends slowly filter down as a beautiful melody fills the hall, signalling the start of the ceremony. The doors open, revealing far too many people for your liking. Honestly you’d just be happy if it were you and Simon, but you understand this is a must for someone of your stature. It didn’t matter much anyway when your eyes were only on Simon, standing at the end of the aisle, his gaze locked on yours.

He looked breath-taking like this. You’d have to thank whoever picked that suit out for him because lord knows it wasn’t him. For all he is, and all his accomplishments, you quickly learnt that style was not included amongst that list.

But you can't think about that right now, not when it dawns on you that this is it, the amazing man at the end of the aisle is about to be yours, forever. Your husband.

As you step forward, time seems to slow. Your Father’s arm in yours as your dress glides along the marble floor, moving closer to the end of the aisle.

Simon’s eyes never leave yours, as though he couldn’t quite believe that this moment was real. And when you finally reach him, it was as if the entire world had faded away, leaving only the two of you in this sacred space.

You laugh a little when you notice his nervous swallow, eyes watering just slightly as he tries to keep it together. But with the happiness of it all, you couldn’t stop your own tears from falling and that was all it took for Simon’s to finally fall too. He wipes them away before quickly reaching out to wipe your own, not wanting you to ruin your makeup with tears…at least not yet anyway.

The ceremony passed by in a blur, you both exchange your vows and make promises to each other, some general ones and others, very specific to just you two. But what you would remember most was the look in Simon’s eyes as he spoke his vows, his voice full of emotion as he pledged his love and loyalty to you for the rest of his days.

“I bind myself to you, in this life and the next.” He says lovingly as he slips the ring on your finger.

“And I, you.” you reply, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions. “For all the days of our lives and forever after that.”

As you were declared husband and wife, Simon didn’t hesitate to lean in and kiss you. You were lost in the warmth of his embrace. Not even thinking about the crowd who were now applauding, or your family who were also tearing up at the ceremony.

You look up at Simon, hand in hand, his smile mirroring your own. He didn’t know what he’d done to have you as his wife, but now that you are, he’s certain that he won't ever let you go.

↣ the wedding night smut is going to be the most soft, sickly sweet thing ever and i'm not sorry about it

༄ cod m.list

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