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mypoisonedvine · 1 year

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𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗿𝗲 | emmett x reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | after being rescued from your captors, tension grows between you and the man that killed to save you.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 | nearly 11K (?!?! WTF?)

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | smut (18+ only!!), angst, kind of a slow burn?, age gap (reader is twenty, emmett is late forties), pining, voyeurism, dark themes (slavery/kidnapping, discussions of noncon and loss, but emmett is not dark he's nice!!), traumatized reader (and emmett, let's be real, nobody's not traumatized here), violence (use of guns) and minor character death

This was where you waited— at his feet. Every deal, every ‘business meeting’, every mission report, you sat there on the floor beside his legs. He wanted everyone else to know your place just as much as you did.

Living with smugglers and looters like this was a rough life— but the man who bought you, Paul (though you only knew his name from hearing others speak to him) insisted you had a better life in here as his ‘pet’ than out there running missions for him, finding valuables to barter and sell. Considering there were plenty of missions that not everyone made it back from, you knew he kind of had a point.

But even so, it didn’t exactly feel luxurious being a man’s property. You’d been looked at like a thing, like less than human, like a piece of meat since you got here; and you’d been here just long enough to get really used to it. You sat here on the floor while Paul, his men, and his customers stood or at least sat on chairs.

That was why it felt so different, so shocking, when he looked at you. The man that came today, to trade with Paul. He was lean and gaunt, it was obvious even with his heavy layers of clothes; he had long hair on his head and face, but his icy stare pierced through… and it was concentrated on you from the moment he stepped into the smugglers’ compound.

He didn’t say anything, even when one of Paul’s men shut the bunker door and it was safe to talk— he didn’t react much on his face, either, staying stoic and flat. But it was obvious that you had his attention, even your ‘owner’ noticed that.

“Just bought her,” Paul explained with a proud grin as he tightened his grip on your wrist; you winced slightly. “Slavers picked her up just past the lake, she’d been camping out there for not even a week… don’t know where she was hiding before that. Isn’t she cute?”

You figured that was why he brought you here— to show you off. You, like the guards at either end of the room and by the door, were a symbol of Paul’s power. The other man just looked away from you, and back at Paul. “Can we get to business?” he asked in a rough voice.

“Of course,” Paul replied with that customer service smile of his, dropping your wrist which you held yourself right away. “You’ve got a few extra guns, and we have some extra cans of food— good shit, too, not just soggy old veggies. Or, maybe we can throw in some medical supplies, if you have ammo for those weapons,” Paul explained, gesturing to the table of goods for trade. “Whaddaya think?”

The man was silent, looking blankly ahead at the cans and boxes before him. “How much for her?” he asked suddenly, lowly.

Your heart stopped for a moment; feeling the man’s gaze run over you, you looked away and pressed your lips together. “Oh, she caught your eye, huh?” Paul purred. “Sorry, pal— not for sale. But the folks I bought her from had a couple other girls, how’s about I tell them where to find you and they can strike up a deal of their own?”

The man shook his head. “Her. I want her.”

Paul did that thing he did where he sat up straighter, and dropped his smile; you bit down on your lip to hide a whimper, because you got very fucking scared whenever he did that. “If you’re not interested in what’s available, you’d better just leave now and keep your guns, old man.”

He paused for a moment, nodding in acceptance. “Alright,” he said, “I think I will.”

He held tighter onto his gun, looking down at it for a moment.

“After all, this thing’s pretty damn useful.”

It was only a couple seconds of pure chaos. He shot Paul first, then stood up and took down all three men in the back of the room— one of them pulled his pistol fast enough to fire back, but he missed, and in a split-second he was on the ground with the others. You screamed, covering your head with your hands; your ears were ringing, and your whole body shook with shivers as you dared to glance over at the bleeding, lifeless bodies just a few feet away.

“C’mon,” the man said— it took you a half-second to realize he was talking to you, even though you were the only other living person in the room, “grab what you can. We need to run.”

We. He just killed them all, like it was nothing… for you. And now you were a we?

Shuddering, you could only shake your head. “N-no, no,” you choked out, whining when he grabbed you and yanked you to your feet; you could hear the commotion outside the room, it wouldn’t be long before someone from one of the nearby bunkers came to investigate the gunshots.

“They’re coming, and they’ll kill us both,” he growled at you, far too close to your face, and you felt your lip quivering. “Help me carry this shit and let’s go.”

It was a long walk back to… wherever he was taking you. Since you ran from the compound with your stolen supplies, you obviously hadn’t said anything to each other— you’d barely even looked at him, for some reason you were scared to.

The only interaction you’d had since you started your trek was when he noticed you shivering, and stopped to take off his jacket and give it to you; considering all you were wearing was a baggy old t-shirt and socks, it helped a lot against the chilly gusts of wind. It was awkward in the silence, not being able to reject the jacket or even thank him for it, so you just nodded as he slipped it on you. It was baggy even on him so it fit you even more awkwardly, but it made your shivers soothe instantly.

He guided you on the trail, keeping his gun close by, and eventually you came to some kind of processing plant; with what little you knew about manufacturing, your glances around the factory made you guess it was once a metallurgy building. Now it was abandoned, and as you climbed down the ladder he pointed you towards, you realized he was taking you right into some horrible small space— with a massive iron door. You hesitated, but he silently gestured you forward; your heart raced, knowing you had no chance of escape from a place like that. Not that you ever really stood a chance of escape from someone as capable as he had proved himself to be so far— but the idea of going into that little room with him made you feel a bit sick. It reminded you of your first day with Paul, of having all your freedom and dignity torn away, and you wondered if this was all just the beginning of another cycle: out of the frying pan, into the fire.

But you had no choice: you stepped forward, crawling into the little nook, and he followed behind you and shut the large round door.

It was pitch black for a moment, and you felt a sort of primal fear— would he really do this here, in complete darkness— would he really force himself on you? You tried to scoot as far away as you could, until a hard wall hit your back; but you knew there was nothing you could do to stop him from doing whatever he wanted to you now, and you closed your eyes in hopes he wouldn’t be cruel. But within a few seconds, he’d taken out a camping lantern and opened it, filling the room with a sort of speckled white light, and you opened your eyes slowly.

“Are you okay?” he asked first, and you weren’t sure how to answer that. “My name’s Emmett,” he informed you quietly. “Don’t… you don’t need to worry, alright? I won’t hurt you.”

You shrunk away slightly, holding your legs to your chest. Paul had said the same thing, but then again, he’d never actually said it like he meant it. In fact, what he’d said exactly was I won’t hurt you if you behave. And he still did. Because he could.

“I don’t wanna— I won’t do anything with ya,” Emmett explained, and you could’ve sworn you saw a slight blush above that long beard. “Just couldn’t leave that place knowing you were there, against your will and all… it’s not right, keeping people like that, keeping girls…”

You looked away, eventually giving him a small nod as a response. You wanted to believe him, he sounded genuine, but you weren’t ready to trust a stranger you saw kill four men so casually.

“Mind tellin’ me your name?” he encouraged softly.

You mumbled it into your arms into the fabric of the old t-shirt which still smelled like the prison he’d broken you out of.

“What’s that, sweetheart?” he pressed.

You said it again, louder, and he smiled a bit at you; you smiled back, too, but it was partially hidden by the tattered shirt’s sleeve.

“Pretty,” he said. “M’gonna keep you safe here, alright? I-I mean, you don’t have to stay here. You can go back wherever you want, I just… I figure you might end up where I found you again if you go out there on your own. No offense.”

You nodded; you weren’t cut out for making it on your own out there, you weren’t too proud to admit that. You used to run with a group of survivors, which made it much easier to get by, but you’d been naive enough to think you could reject the group leader’s advances without suffering consequences: they left you in the night, without a word, and you only made it one more day on your own before getting captured by slavers. That felt like a lifetime ago now, like stories that happened to a whole other person, but it wasn’t actually that long— Paul bought you a few weeks ago at most. Still, those few weeks had changed you as a person, and you went from being terrified of being alone to being terrified of everyone else. Maybe you were still an impossible mix of both…

“I have a decent set-up here… some food and water, a little more since we took some from your old friends back there,” he chuckled nervously. “And, uh, you can sleep in here… sorry it’s so small, never really planned to share it… I— I can find another place to sleep if this isn’t enough room—“

“Why are you doing this?” you interrupted, and he seemed startled to hear you talk so much.

“Huh?”

“Why are you doing this?” you asked again. “For me? I mean… you don’t know me.”

“Well, I could,” he shrugged, “you could tell me about you.”

“But why did you save me?”

“I said so already, I couldn’t leave you there with those men. Young girl stuck in that place, just about the worst thing I can imagine…”

“M’not that young,” you protested, “I’m twenty.”

He smiled a little. “Of course. Sorry.”

You sighed, relaxing slightly, and he seemed to lower his own shoulders as well.

“You seem tired,” he noticed. “It was a long walk.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I used to be able to walk a long way, but I lost my stamina— I wasn’t really going very far when I was there, you know…”

“I’m sure,” Emmett agreed. “You hungry? We could eat something.”

“Um, maybe…” you mumbled nervously. You felt nervous to ask for anything of him— like he might ask you for something in return. It wouldn’t be absurd of him to expect some kind of repayment for saving you; but if he expected that, then he wouldn’t be much of a savior after all.

“I saw granola bars in one of the bags we took,” he said. “Sometimes I still get nervous, opening something crinkly like that— but nothing can hear us in here, I promise. You’re safe.”

You hesitated before nodding; safe. That sounded nice. Now you just had to convince yourself it was true.

You’d noticed him looking at you a lot this evening, while you were both preparing dinner; you tried not to react to it. He kept glancing at you, just for a moment, like he thought you wouldn’t notice. You just kept focusing on the work at hand— peeling an orange— and tried not to think about why he kept looking at you. Maybe he had something to say, but that would be odd since he usually didn’t. Maybe you were doing this wrong somehow, or he was jealous that you were going to eat that fruit as an appetizer before the real meal.

Or maybe he just found you appeeling!

You snorted a little involuntarily, amused by your own joke, and he looked at you again. “You alright?” he asked.

“Yeah, sorry,” you mumbled, fighting a smile as you shook your head. “It’s nothing.”

And the silence continued. Even for a time when most everyone was quiet by necessity, Emmett was quiet. He had this special place, somewhere safe enough to talk, but he didn’t often utilize that privilege; or at least, he hadn’t since you got here a few days ago, but there wouldn’t have been anyone to talk to before then. You figured he just didn’t have a lot to say— and it’s not like you were some kind of conversation queen either. You didn’t ask about him or his life before this, even though you were actually pretty curious: you just watched him, and if he noticed, he didn’t react to it. This was the first time he seemed to be returning some of that attention.

“You can talk about it, if you want,” he suggested suddenly, making you furrow your brow a bit.

“About what?” you asked, not taking your eyes off your orange in progress, but you knew already what he meant.

“About how you came to be where I found you,” he said. “Don’t have to— I wouldn’t wanna talk about it, if I was you— but if you do… I just want you to know you can tell me.”

You shrugged, keeping yourself from looking up at him. “Why do you wanna know?”

“I don’t,” he insisted. “But sometimes I can tell you’re thinking about it.”

Swallowing thickly, you looked away; here you were, wearing the clothes he’d given you, living in his ‘home’, surviving off of him. On paper, it was the same as it had been before— that’s why you were thinking about it. But it was night and day: Paul gave you rags to wear, if that, and Emmett had you in his own clothes— comfy plaids and knitted sweaters that smelled shockingly good for any apocalypse survivor; Emmett had a few creature comforts here, art and decent food and pillows… Paul’s bunker was exactly as flat and rigid and cold as the word ‘bunker’ indicates; and surviving with Emmett felt the most like real living since you were with your old group— though you knew them infinitely better.

“But we don’t have to—” he began again, shaking his head like he regretted the whole idea.

“Who are those pictures of?” you asked, interrupting him.

“Pictures…” he mumbled.

“The ones you hid,” you said, “or tried to hide. Drawings, paintings—”

“You shouldn’t have been looking there,” he said firmly, looking down.

“I know,” you breathed, “but you were gone— I was bored—”

“Gone getting you food,” he reminded you, pointing with his knife— don’t worry, he was just peeling a potato with it— to the orange in your hand.

“Us,” you corrected, “we’re both eating. And I’m sorry… you don’t have to tell me, either. We can just have another quiet dinner.”

He paused before sighing a bit, looking at you and then back to his half-peeled vegetable. “My sons,” he said quietly. “Those are my sons. Were my sons…”

“I know,” you whispered, and he looked at you quizzically. “I could tell, I mean— you have that look in your eyes, I knew you’d lost someone.”

He shrugged. “Everyone lost someone. Some lost everyone.”

You almost found the energy to smile, but it came out more like pressing your lips together. “Yeah,” you agreed. “They kinda look like you, in the pictures. You’re talented.”

“Oh, I didn’t draw them,” he scoffed, “no way— I couldn’t draw a circle. It was my wife.”

Why did you get a little pit in your stomach when he said that. “You’re married?”

“Uh huh,” he nodded, “but she— um, she passed. Not too long ago. Well… I guess a few months is a while ago. But it still feels new.”

You nervously looked down at the orange in your hands, peeling off the last strip of skin and picking off a few white chunks of pith here and there. Not sure what to say, you simply pulled a segment off of the rest and reached over with it, offering it to him. “Here,” you said, and he looked at the piece of fruit in your hand before looking at you.

“No, s’fine,” he shook his head, “I’ll eat when dinner’s ready.”

“Come on,” you insisted, shaking it a little as if that would make it more enticing. “You’re working up an appetite peeling the spuds. Just have a few.”

Finally, he relented. “Thanks,” he said, taking it and putting it in his mouth. He chewed for a moment, working on the potato still, but he talked a bit around it just before he swallowed. “You don’t have kids, do you?”

You shook your head, laughing. “No, do I seem old enough for that?”

“No,” he agreed, “but you know— stuff happens.”

“I wanted them someday,” you admitted, “but no. I actually, uh… I was pretty nervous about getting pregnant in the bunker…”

He swallowed, for more than just the orange. Looking at you, you found his stare somehow both intimidating and comforting.

“I shouldn’t complain too much,” you shook your head, “he wasn’t that bad. He was more interested in showing me off to others than actually doing too much when we were alone.”

“You shouldn’t complain too much about being a sex slave to a smuggler?” he repeated incredulously, like he was offended on your behalf by what you had said.

“I was just a trophy,” you shrugged, “I was the most expensive thing he owned. It was all business with him: he wanted you— you know, anybody who bought from him— to know he was capable of that. Of owning somebody. And, um… that only happened twice. Once the first night, and then, um… well—”

“You don’t have to say,” he offered you softly. “It’s okay if you just never wanna think about him again. I certainly sleep better at night knowing I turned his head inside out.”

You smiled a little, even though the image of that still haunted you. “No, it’s fine. I think it’s easier to just treat it like anything else. Like, one time I broke my arm, one time my pet cat died, one time this gang captured me and sold me to a trader in exchange for pills and pickles— just something that happened that I hated and now… now it’s over.”

Now I’m safe. You could talk about it because you finally believed that Emmett wouldn’t put you through it again. When you looked at him, he smiled at you a little; you popped a piece of the orange into your mouth.

“S’good,” you mumbled as you chewed, giving him another piece and feeling the tips of his fingers just barely brush yours as he accepted it.

A few days later, he did the same thing: interrupted your silent meal with a sudden interjection. “Y’ever shot a gun before?” he asked, and you awkwardly shook your head. He sighed. “Alright, well, you should learn. Case something happens.”

“Guns don’t work on those things,” you noticed.

“They work on people,” he replied. “And you’ve had a lot more trouble with them.”

You shrugged, certainly in no place to deny that. “Guns are loud,” you reminded him.

“A little noise is worth it,” Emmett promised, “if it’s you or them. And if you’re not packing, then it’ll be you. You need to learn.”

Not if I have you with me, you almost blurted out. Thankfully, you stopped yourself and nodded in agreement instead.

“I’ll teach you up there,” he gestured towards the world above with a quick tilt of his head, “unloaded. Obviously.”

Going up to the surface was a strange feeling. You hadn’t felt this safe anywhere since this global nightmare began, honestly, and you were almost spoiled by it now— here, with Emmett, you were sure that nothing would come to harm you. But up there? You knew, logically, that it was usually alright as long as you kept quiet, but you were pretty fucking quiet when the slavers found you.

Even being down here alone gave you the smallest tinge of anxiety— that someone might find you and steal you while Emmett was out foraging— and you never navigated the forest alone. You had the feeling that Emmett was teaching you to use a gun so that you could do just that, but it didn’t sound worth it to be away from him.

But, you had to admit, you sort of enjoyed the lessons.

He stood behind you, wrapping you up in his arms as he corrected your stance. Out here, he had to speak under his breath beside your ear, and it made chills run up your spine. “Align the sights,” he told you, tapping the small metal divot on top of the pistol.

You nodded, shutting one eye tight and trying to aim better; adjusting your head to get the right stance just pushed you up against his shoulder more, and you tried not to lean back into him.

“Pull the trigger when you’re ready,” he instructed; he was barely making any sound at all, more shaping a breath around his words than really speaking.

Even knowing it wouldn’t go off, you started to shrink away as you pulled the trigger; it was heavier than you expected, forcing you to strain to turn the revolver.

“Don’t flinch,” he warned. “Stay steady.”

You still did, a little bit, but you calmed yourself with a breath and tried not to pre-emptively react: when you finally pulled the trigger all the way, the revolver turned with a click, but that was it.

“Good,” he said simply.

“How can you know?” you asked. “Without shooting anything—”

“You’re not using a bullet for practice,” he reminded you with a frown.

“I know, I know— I just mean, how can you know I would’ve hit what I was aiming at?”

“As long as these line up,” he replied as he touched the sights again, “and you don’t flinch, you will.”

You nodded, hoping that was enough, but then he took the revolver and took his shotgun off of his back. “I— I can’t shoot that thing—”

“Yes you can,” he promised, shaking his head dismissively. “The rifle— you can’t shoot that. That requires a steady hand.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were shaking as you took the shotgun from him, so you couldn’t exactly deny it. And, furthermore, the whole point of the sniper rifle was to get things that were far away… you were only planning to use these things if something got too close.

A lot of things had gotten more natural with Emmett— you talked sometimes, you ate together, he even let you come with him on trips out sometimes. But one thing that never really changed was how weird it was to sleep beside him; what did change was why it was weird.

From the beginning, you couldn’t sleep unless you knew where he was. Even if you couldn’t fully trust him then, you still had that anxiety of being abandoned in the night like you had before you were captured; for better or for worse, Emmett was obviously tough enough to protect you and was the only thing between you and certain death or enslavement out there in the world.

As a result, he’d been sleeping beside you, just to get you to stop waking up in cold sweats as often. And now that you trusted him and knew him a little better, you expected it to be easier to sleep with him there… if anything, you were getting less sleep than ever.

You were struggling to understand why— or maybe you were just struggling to accept it— but having him right beside you all night kept you up, kept your heart beating fast, kept you listening to the sound of his breathing instead of just focusing on your own.

At least tonight, you could blame it on the cold. You both had on several layers, but it was pretty much impossible to keep a space like this warm— underground, uninsulated— and it was only getting colder since the sun set.

"Chilly," you announced as you pulled the blankets up higher, and Emmett hummed in agreement. That was the extent of your bravery, you couldn't bring yourself to ask him outright if he'd move a little closer so you could share some heat.

You waited a few minutes, wondering if he was already asleep, and then reached towards him in the dark; but when your hand brushed against him, he shrugged it away. Turning his back to you, he seemed to huddle up a little bit more as if shrinking away from you, and you sighed.

“You don’t have to be so far,” you whispered, and he sighed.

“Yes, I do,” he insisted, stern yet soft-spoken.

“Please, Emmett, it’s cold…”

“I know, sweetheart, I just… I wanna do right by ya, that’s all,” he sighed.

“There’s nothing wrong with holding me to warm up,” you sighed. “I mean, it’s not like you’re… thinking about anything else.”

“Of course,” he choked, “okay, fine, if you’re cold… c’mere, then.”

You wiggled your way closer as he rolled onto his back, sighing when you felt how warm he was even through his clothes. Pressing your head to his chest, you heard his breath catch as you lifted your leg to drape over his, trying to get him as close as possible.

He seemed to hesitate first, but then he relaxed slightly and rested his arms around your back.

It had been a long time since someone held you like this. You sunk into his arms, loving how it felt to be pressed into him, and you let out a little hum of satisfaction as your shivers went away and his warmth began to absorb.

He seemed tense beneath you at times, and you feared that doing this would keep him from sleeping; but, frankly, you were desperate enough for your own sleep that you weren’t planning on worrying too much about his… you quite literally didn’t plan on losing any sleep over it.

It was impossible to say how long you'd been asleep— you weren't even fully awake yet— but when you started to stir, you felt him shifting under you. But you were taken from half-consciousness into pure lucidity when you felt a harder, hotter shape against your inner thigh; didn't take a detective to figure out he had an erection. You shouldn't have reacted, you realized it a second too late, but you had to gasp when you felt it— mostly because it seemed quite thick even though his pajama trousers—

“I’m sorry,” he breathed right away.

"It's okay," you assured, but he kept going.

“I can’t help it— I don’t mean anything by it, I just… I’m only a man.”

“It’s okay,” you repeated softly, though your face had never felt so hot. “I understand, it’s normal—“

He started to pull away, and you whined as you grabbed at his shoulders.

“Wait, you don’t have to go,” you gasped, “I won’t be able to sleep…”

“Well, it’s never gonna go away with you pressed up to me!” he grunted. “C’mon, sweetheart, gimme a chance here…”

“I really don’t mind it, Emmett—“

"I do," he snapped. "You're young— younger than you realize."

"I'm grown," you promised, but he peeled you off of him and turned away.

"Go to sleep," he demanded.

"But—"

"Just go back to sleep!" he ordered.

Though you weren't sure how you were supposed to sleep with your heart racing and your mind playing the moment you felt his cock against your leg on loop, you decided you would try just because his stern voice sort of scared you into obeying.

It did work, eventually— you can only lay down in the dark for so long before sleep is unavoidable— but you still awoke sometime later, and heard him breathing differently beside you. There was no light to see what he was doing, but you could hear his arm moving against the blanket under him— and when you heard him sigh, you imagined that he might be jerking off. Maybe his erection wouldn't go away until he did that, and you bit your lip as you tried to picture it: stroking himself, breathing deeply, being careful not to make too much noise or even move too much. But in your head, he was too desperate, struggling to hold himself back from bucking up into his palm, his cock flexing as his orgasm threatened to spill over at any moment.

The thought made you want to touch yourself, too— you were getting wet already and your hips shifted in hopes of finding something to rub against— but you were far too afraid to get caught or startle Emmett into stopping.

You heard a tense sigh and all that motion behind you stopped; you bit your lip as you wondered if he just came. And if he did, what had he been thinking of? He seemed so offended by the idea of being attracted to you— he didn't even acknowledge it, like it was wrong to even suggest— but you hoped somehow that he had been imagining you. If only he could've told you, if only he had pulled you closer in the dark and asked you to take care of his problem for him… maybe you should've been ashamed for thinking it, but you would've spread your legs for him right away if he'd told you he wanted you. Even if it was just taking care of his needs, not real love— even if it was only a practical thing. You couldn't do much for him, but you could certainly help in that regard.

But, at the same time, you knew that if Emmett ever did use you in such a way, you'd fall in love with him. Even if it meant nothing to him, you wouldn't be able to stop yourself; you couldn't admit to yourself how close you were to that edge already, but you couldn't deny how quickly you would fall over it if he ended up fucking you.

Or maybe it wouldn't be like that— fucking, that is; it's a rather crass way to put it. Maybe it wouldn't be that way, maybe it would be gentle and sweet and passionate. He certainly was kind to you, and unexpectedly patient… you wondered if that would translate into him being delicate with you, soft touches and slow kisses— really making love, you know.

Or, maybe he'd been alone so long that he wouldn't be able to help himself; maybe he'd just have to moan in your ear while he took you roughly, holding tight to your hips so you couldn't do anything but take him just the way he wanted. Maybe he'd leave bruises and marks on your skin, reminders of his work, and bite down on you to keep himself from being too loud.

Your back was arching into nothing, just hoping that he would turn around and pull you close, press his chest into your back, and whisper in your ear as he started to tug your pants down. Sorry, sweetheart, I just need you too bad…

It was a miracle you ever fell back asleep with that thought in your mind. But you did, somehow— a frustratingly dreamless sleep— and when you woke up in the morning, he was gone again.

Since that night, you’d felt this tension between you— but you had no clue if he felt it, too. He was nice, in his own way, but definitely on the aloof side; and he seemed to avoid you a little more after all that happened anyway. It sort of made you wonder if he resented you, if he was angry with you somehow for what happened— maybe you’d been too pushy, you were never trying to force him into anything of course— but then again, you figured he wouldn’t be working so hard to take care of you both if that were the case.

Even if you couldn’t hunt or even cook very well, you tried to be helpful in various ways; this little underground hideout was certainly tidier and cozier than it had ever been before, and you tried to take pride in that instead of thinking of yourself as useless to him. And all his clothes were mended, you made sure of that; he seemed to appreciate it, at least.

Now that you thought of it, you were sort of becoming a homemaker now— you felt a bit conflicted at the realization. There’s nothing wrong with it, right? Just being here, helping how you can? But you wanted to be more useful, if you could— you just didn’t know how.

(Well, you had ideas… but you weren’t about to suggest that, after how awkward it all was last time.)

Maybe just your company was enough for him, otherwise he probably wouldn’t still keep you around… but then again, for someone who apparently wanted your company, he wasn’t so talkative. It would make more sense if you two were up all night, telling each other everything about your lives and your dreams and anything you could possibly remember to talk about— but it wasn’t like that at all. He still avoided personal questions even after nearly a month together, and he had a tendency to just hum and nod or shake his head when you asked him something.

But, the good news was, you’d gotten a little more comfortable leaving the underground hideout without him. You never went far, obviously, but you went far enough to stretch your legs and get some fresh air and, today, stumble upon a little clearing with a pond. It was relatively small, but deep, and best of all it had a river that fed into it, over a cliff; to put it more plainly, it had a waterfall. It was small— you figured it probably didn’t pour at all unless there had been good rainfall recently— but it still meant you had a little more freedom here than usual. Ambient noise, as you understood it, deterred the creatures because they couldn’t stop it and couldn’t hear other sounds over it. You weren’t about to belt out Whitney Houston or anything, but you could make some sound— and the sound you made right away when you saw it was getting your clothes off as fast as you could and diving right in.

The water was a little cold— okay, very fucking cold— but it was worth it: being able to clean yourself more thoroughly than normal was quite a treat, and one you planned on relishing.

You found yourself laughing— you sort of couldn’t stop, actually. Partially because you were cold and shivering like crazy, partially because you were giddy… mostly just because you could. You kept your clothes and revolver in a neat pile by the cliff wall, trying not to stray too far from it in case someone came by; but, at the same time, you were also trying to just forget about everything that scared you for a moment and be free.

You soaked your hair and ran your hands over your face, letting the water renew your skin— you couldn’t deny this cold plunge was invigorating, if not especially relaxing like a hot bath would’ve been. But hot baths were obviously rare in these times, and you closed your eyes as you tried to remember the last one you took. You leaned back in the water, floating partially against the flow of the waterfall behind you, and remembered simpler times: long baths, fresh meals,

Not everything was perfect then. Your life was easier, yes, but you’d still longed for someone to share it with. Someone to trust. You opened your eyes and looked up at the sky, a pale grey-ish blue that covered the sun but was still somehow too bright and made you squint; you sighed, moving your arms enough to feel the water swirl between your fingers.

For some reason, you thought of Emmett just then; you wanted to tell him about this place as soon as he got back home, you could bring him here and he could swim too— he probably wouldn’t skinny dip with you, right? Definitely seemed out of his comfort zone, he wouldn’t even sleep next to you at night anymore… but you still giggled at the thought, wondering if you’d get a chance to see the rest of his tattoo that you’d noticed peeking out from his sleeve sometimes. Then you could ask him about it, move closer, trace the lines with your finger; you could watch the goosebumps prickle on his skin from the cold water, and shiver even more when you met his gaze—

You shook your head like it might knock the thought out of your brain. He’d made it clear he didn’t have that sort of interest in you. It broke your heart a little, but you had no choice but to accept it. Still, you had this nagging feeling that it wasn’t you— he implied before it was your age, or some kind of chivalry thing; and then there was all that grief, something anybody left had to have by now.

You, too, had lost loved ones that day, and in the days since— that was unavoidable— but what you had nearly lost most of all was yourself. And then he found you, and you’d found something you’d been looking for for so long… much longer than all this.

Your heart skipped a beat when you heard something moving, just past the trees; you whipped around in the water, looking everywhere for the source of the noise, and you saw a figure slip back behind a trunk. You’d never felt so sick with terror all at once, and in a second, you leaned over and snatched your revolver off the top of your pile of clothes.

Pointing it at the tree, you wondered if you should be barking out orders right now— come out with your hands up or something— but that wouldn’t be helpful if there was a creature nearby… or if there was more than one person in these woods. You swallowed, knowing a revolver wasn’t going to cut it if there was a whole group closing in on you now.

Slowly moving through the water, you walked up the bank of the pond, and when you heard another shifting movement from behind the tree, you shuddered and shut one of your eyes. Align the sights. Stay steady.

Suddenly, the figure stepped out, and you didn’t even stop to think: you pulled the trigger and fired, eyes shutting tight as the kickback flung your arms up and the sound echoed through the forest.

You hesitated to open your eyes, but just before you did, you heard a groan— in a voice all too familiar. When you looked, there was a man on the ground, and your heart stopped again when you saw his face.

“Fuck! Emmett!” you yelped, running the rest of the way out of the water and not caring at all that you were naked and dripping— you ran up to him and straddled him as he rolled on the ground, clutching his arm. “Oh my god! I’m so sorry— oh my god! Please, please tell me you’re okay—”

He didn’t say anything, in fact his face was still screwed into a tight wince as you tried to see where he was holding— his arm, just below the shoulder, you could see where the sleeve of his jacket was torn and blood had begun to stain the fabric.

“Emmett, Jesus, I swear to god— I didn’t know it was you, I—” you began to promise, before you wondered if you should ask what the hell he was doing there. Why didn’t you tell me it was you? Why didn’t you say something? But you decided, as you watched him bite his lip to keep from being any louder, that now was not the time to interrogate him; shooting him had clearly irritated him enough already. “That— that was fucking loud,” you realized, lowering your voice. “We need to go back before—”

He just nodded, and you got up off of him to help him up and grab your clothes— a naked woman and a bleeding man running through the woods. Maybe that’s just a normal day in the post-apocalypse.

He hissed when you applied the disinfectant to the cut, looking away rather than letting you see how this affected him— that, or the other side of the room suddenly got incredibly interesting. But you knew as well as anyone, living in this room for over a month, that it was not very interesting.

“God, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you mumbled, wincing yourself just having to put him through this. “Can I keep going, or—?”

He nodded, still looking the other direction, and you gave him a sympathetic frown as you started to dab at the cut.

It wasn’t too deep, thank heavens— it probably didn’t even need stitches, just some alcohol and gauze— but you still felt more guilty than you had for anything you’d ever done in your life. “Thank god I missed,” you chuckled softly, wondering if it was still too soon for humor— and he didn’t laugh, so maybe it was.

“Yeah— you flinched,” he noticed, sounding correctional, and your jaw almost dropped.

“Fucking— are you serious, Emmett?” you snapped. “You’re mad at me for not killing you?!”

“You didn’t know it was me,” he replied.

You sighed, thankful he was looking away so he wouldn’t catch your eyeroll. “Of course,” you breathed. “Of course I didn’t know it was you— I would’ve never…”

He looked at you again. “I know,” he promised quietly.

You chewed your lip and nodded.

Taking the bloodied rag away, you looked at the wound— it was a lot better already, and it looked clean, and you still couldn’t imagine forgiving yourself for doing it to him. You took out a bandage and started to wrap it up around the gash.

“Your ink’s still intact,” you noticed, smiling as you got your look at the tattoo— although you obviously didn’t mean to go through all this just to see it. You didn’t trace the lines but you did run your fingers over the whole piece: a mountainscape, with tall trees and a cloudy sky. “It’s pretty.”

He snorted a little. “I was just a kid when I got that— tryin’ to be tough. Definitely wasn’t going for ‘pretty’.”

“Well, then you shouldn’t have gotten this lovely view,” you smiled back. “Is this a real place?”

“Yeah, Montana— grew up there,” he said. “Always thought I’d go back, then I had my kids— and then, you know—”

“Right,” you nodded, finishing up your gauze-ing of the damage. You were gonna let him put his shirt back on, not that you really wanted him to, but he didn’t yet. “Must have been nice, growing up under mountains like these.”

He shrugged. “It was— sometimes. It was quiet, I’ll tell you that. All I wanted was to escape, back then. Then all I wanted was to go back.”

You smiled a little. “Yeah, I know that feeling— I mean, I think everyone feels like that. I always wanted to move to the city— New York, you know,” you said with a whimsical affect on your words, “it’s like a mythical place to anybody from anywhere else.”

He chuckled slightly, rubbing the back of his neck (with his uninjured arm) and nodding in agreement. “Yeah, I get that. But then how’d you end up in the suburbs? Or— don’t tell me you came all the way from the city—”

“No, no, not that far,” you promised, “but I was a little closer to it before everything happened. I, uh… I actually ended up in the suburbs because of a boy.”

He nodded, wearing a sort of knowing look, and you felt a little embarrassed. “Ah,” he said simply.

“And then, um, you know— he left. As they tend to.”

“Boys?”

“Everyone.”

He swallowed; you regretted saying it, sort of, but you were still talking— like you couldn’t stop yourself. Your hands were shaking— you were looking down at them in your lap, you knew they were— and you just felt like you couldn’t keep your mouth shut any longer.

“You know, this is the first time that I really…” you sighed and shook your head, looking for the words. “This is the most I’ve ever trusted somebody. I guess because I have to— but you—”

“S’alright,” he interrupted, “you don’t have to say all that.”

“You won’t even let me thank you?” you laughed, but your frustration was obvious; when you looked up at him, his eyes were filled with something that finally made your hands stop shaking. Flooded with a sudden wave of courage (and wanting to act on it before it inevitably subsided), you leaned forward and kissed him; you shut your eyes tight— you would’ve lost your nerve otherwise— and you held his cheek in one hand, the tips of your fingers brushing against his hair while your palm pressed against his somewhat unruly beard.

For one moment, it was perfect, but then he reached up and took your hand, guiding you away slowly. You pulled back, more dejected than ever, and he gave you a soft frown as he shook his head.

Falling back into your chair, you slumped dejectedly; you didn’t want to cry, it would just seem pathetic now, but your eyes were watering anyways. “I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“No— it’s alright,” he promised, “I’m not… offended, or something.”

“What am I to you?” you asked, point blank. “I mean— I know I’m not— fuck, I’m stupid. I know I’m not…”

Despite starting again, you couldn’t find the words the second time, either.

“I just mean… do you see me as, like, a charity case? A daughter figure or something?”

He shook his head. “No,” he said, “but I— you’re not my property. That’s not why I took you from that son of a bitch. You can leave whenever you want, you know.”

“But do you want me to stay?” you asked, feeling tears run down your cheeks suddenly even though you had specifically requested that they not do that.

Your real question was trapped in the middle of that sentence: do you want me?

He looked away again, and your hurt started to shift into anger— because that’s all anger really is, anyway: hurt, dressing up as something else. “You treat me like a child! Sometimes you won’t even look at me, like you’re embarrassed of me! I’m not your property but I’m not your equal, either— so what am I to you? Do you even see me as a woman at all?!”

That accusation seemed to get his attention, and he almost looked angry, too. “I am well aware that you’re a woman,” he said sternly.

“Is that why you were watching me at the pond?”

You’d never seen him with that deer in the headlights look— technically, you still didn’t, because he turned his head away quickly.

“That’s what you were doing, wasn’t it?” you pressed. “How long were you there before I heard you? Come on, Emmett— look at me. Or will you only do that when I’m naked?”

He snapped, standing up quickly and grabbing you by your— his— shirt to pull you with him. “Do you know what you’re fucking doing to me?” he growled at you.

“Same thing I did to you that night it got too cold?” you returned with a sneer, and he shoved you away with a shudder, turning to face the wall and crossing his arms.

There was a silence, though it wasn’t nearly as long as the ones you’d gotten used to with him, and he dropped his shoulders as he sighed. “I’ve done what I can for you,” he said quietly— and your stomach twisted in knots. He’s going to ask me to leave, you assumed instantly. “I’ve tried to… to leave you alone—”

“That’s what you think I want?” you realized, almost laughing it was so absurd. “Begging you not to leave, to stay where I can see you all night, trying to get you to talk to me— because I want to be alone?”

“After what happened to you— after how it must have been with him—” he started, turning around and looking at you sadly— “I’d wanna be fucking left alone. I’ll say that.”

“Well, I guess I’m just not strong enough for that,” you decided with an unhappy sort of smile. “I guess I still need someone. I need you. And clearly that’s just my fucking problem, so I’m sorry for making it yours.”

But he stepped closer to you, reaching out to hold your shoulders, and you met his gaze again. You shivered, just like you thought you would. “Say it again,” he requested flatly. It wasn’t very specific, but you knew exactly what he meant.

“I need you,” you said again, softer, and he shut his eyes with a sigh.

Your eyes shut, too, when he leaned down and pressed his forehead against yours; you breathed together for a second, your hands moving up to his bare chest as you bit your lip.

“I need you,” you repeated, even quieter— a whisper now— and another tear striped your face. “Emmett, I need you—”

“Fuck,” he said softly, and you smiled. “Fuck, I need you, too.”

You smiled even wider then; he could probably hear your heartbeat, you would’ve sworn it was beating out of your chest. Opening your eyes when you felt him pull back, you waited patiently— like you had been since this all began.

“I just— I don’t want you thinking that you have to—” he started to explain.

“I don’t have to,” you nodded, “but I want to. Is that wrong?”

He didn’t answer, but he kissed you; he held your jaw gently, tilting your head back, and he kissed you in just the way you’d dreamed of.

It was simple enough at first, sweet and sort of slow— he pulled you closer, wrapping you in a hug while you held onto his shoulders— but then it got… heavier. Hungrier. Hotter.

You were gasping as you opened your mouth wider, all but begging him to dive deeper; and for his part, he kept grabbing your waist and hips, pulling you into him like he couldn’t get you close enough, and you thought your knees were going to buckle.

The two of you stumbled back, together, towards the sort-of bed that you sort-of shared; he laid you back on it, and you heard yourself whimper a little as you let him slot himself between your legs.

His weight was oddly comforting on top of you, pressing you back into the nest of blankets as you arched your back against him.

You both pulled back from the kiss as you looked down, needing to see somewhat what you were doing as you started to open his belt. He looked down too, watching you do it for a second, before laughing a bit and leaning in to kiss your neck. “Fuck,” you sighed, “come on, you’re gonna distract me—”

“What’s the hurry?” he purred, grabbing your hands and pinning them back instead— and that made you moan out loud. “We’ve got all the time we want, darlin’...”

“Fuck, but I—” you whined, though you struggled to pull a sentence together when he dragged his tongue over your pulse like that. “God, I just— please—”

“Shh,” he soothed, “m’gonna take care of you. Gonna take care of you, sweet girl, I promise…”

And he’d taken care of you every way he knew how before, so you trusted him. Still, you weren’t exceptionally patient.

You gasped when you felt him press his hips to yours through all these goddamn clothes; he was hard, really fucking hard, and it made your head spin. How were you supposed to wait for him to be all slow and romantic and stuff when you felt that? “Pretty girl,” he cooed at you quietly, “look at me for a second.”

You looked up at him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, and he smiled back at you as he pet your forehead for a moment.

“There you are,” he breathed, and your heart swelled.

He undressed you carefully, like you were the one with an injury, and you bit your lip to fight the urge to beg him to hurry the fuck up. He kissed all over your neck and chest, even as far down as your belly while he was pulling your panties down your thighs— and of course he looked up at you as he did it, like he knew it would absolutely wreck you. “God, Emmett, please,” you whined, sighing with relief when he sat up and finished opening his belt. He kept looking at you while he did it, something darker and heavier in his stare as he pushed his jeans down; you couldn’t help but look down at it, and you breathed in sharply as you bit your lip.

Of course it was fucking big— you’d figured it was from what you felt before— with a thick, leaking head and a curve that you could just tell was going to fit perfectly inside you. Your hips rocked a little into nothing at the sight, and you moaned when he kissed you again— more desperate than ever, both of you.

You whined loudly, much louder than you meant to, when he pushed inside you all at once. It wasn’t too fast or too rough or anything— but it was plenty to be filled by in one go, and your nails dug into his back.

“Fuck,” he grunted, shutting his eyes tightly for a moment. “So fuckin’ wet.”

You whimpered, feeling your walls tighten up hearing him say that. It was no wonder, with the way he’d been toying with you— and not just tonight. “Oh my god,” you gasped out, instinctively wrapping your legs around his hips like you didn’t want him to move at all. Obviously, though, you couldn’t stop him from pulling back and thrusting in again, nor did you want to; your back arched, hard, and your moan echoed around the room. “F-fuck,” you choked, “it’s so— you’re so— god.”

“Shh,” he soothed, in a sweet way, and his hands found your hips to pull them up higher to his; he moved you just how he wanted, you were putty in his fingers, and he groaned as he thrusted into you at the new angle.

It was deep. It was really, really fucking deep; and you thought you were at your limit, but you still somehow wanted more. Toes curling, you let your back arch between your hips held to his and your shoulders laying back on the blankets— your arms went limp and yet your fingers were searching for something to hold onto as he moved a bit faster.

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he groaned, a spare hand leaving your hips and groping roughly at one of your tits. You just gasped and pushed your chest up into his touch, pulsing inside when he pinched a hard nipple. “Feels good?”

“Yes!” you shouted. “Yes, fuck yes— don’t stop, please, please—”

Panting, he snarled a little, but he sure as hell didn’t stop. He was right about you being wet, you could even hear it when he thrusted faster; and that just turned you on even more, the whole thing was a vicious cycle really.

For the most part, you kept your eyes shut because it was just what felt natural— but when you did open your eyes, you caught glimpses of him staring down at you, his eyes moving from your face to your bouncing tits to where he was inside you, where his hands held onto your hips and pet them soothingly in contrast to his rough thrusts.

Then, he watched his hand move to the middle, just above where his cock filled you, and his thumb started to rub your clit.

You had no excuse for being so sensitive, but you cried out and tried to grab his wrist from how intense it was. “Emmett!” you nearly screamed. “O-oh god, oh god—”

“Jus’ wanna feel you come, sweetheart,” he explained, his voice darker than usual. “Can you come for me?”

“Y-yeah,” you agreed with a nod, already feeling delirious from all this. “Yeah, fuck, I can come— you’re gonna make me come, fuck…”

You went from yelling to whispering by the end of your sentence, though you weren’t sure why, and he kept a steady pace with his hips and his hand until your whole body started to shake.

“I— I’m close,” you choked out.

“I know,” he said. Smug little shit— too bad you were too busy coming to complain about that attitude.

Shuddering all over, you opened your eyes and looked at him one more time— he was looking right back at you, jaw tight and nostrils flaring, so that only made it worse— before you arched back harder than you thought possible and gave into it. Your hands kept searching for something to hold, like you might actually fall somehow if you didn’t get an iron-tight grip on his thigh or arm or something. You found his bent knee but his hands found yours a second later— and he interlaced his fingers with yours, laying on top of you again and pressing deep into you even while you were still in the middle of your ecstasy.

You weren’t even sure what you were saying anymore, you could tell your mouth was moving and that was about it. It probably wasn’t even words; but this pleasure, you were totally submerged in it. He kept kissing you and praising you, fucking you deeper into the feeling and into the thoroughly-disturbed blankets under you. “Good girl,” he whispered against your neck, “good fucking girl— god, I can feel it— so good for me—”

When a hint of your awareness of reality returned, your mind and body coming down from the high and settling into something a little easier and familiar, your arms reached up and held him close. "Fuck, Emmett," you whimpered, tears welling in your eyes as you were flooded with an emotion you couldn't name. "Emmett, I love you. I'm in love with you."

He breathed heavy and held you tighter, burying his face in your neck as you started to really cry.

"I love you," you said again, grabbing at him harder as he began to kiss your neck— your jaw, your cheek— and his hand wiped your tears away.

"Shh, I know," he promised quietly. "It's okay, beautiful, I know."

He wasn't ready to say it yet— but you felt it. You could feel it just in the way he held you.

He pulled back enough that you could see his face, propping himself up above you. Sweat made his hair cling to his forehead, and you smiled at the sight— he looked damn good like this, finally giving in. You hadn’t realized he was going easy on you, until he pushed in a little harder and a little deeper.

You whined, reaching up to grab onto his arm, and he hissed when you accidentally grabbed onto the gauze-wrapped wound. “Fuck, sorry, sorry,” you breathed, moving your hand down, and he laughed a little.

“S’okay,” he assured, leaning down and kissing your cheek sweetly. “It’s okay, sweetheart…”

You eventually ended up holding onto the back of his neck, running your fingers with his hair even if it was damp from sweat— you were sweating, too, and you’d never thought it could be this sensual to get this way. All this heat and movement in such a small space, all these blankets and insulation, somehow it made you both even needier. You didn’t care if it was putting that pond bath to waste, you just wanted more: you made it clear, with the way you needily hugged him closer.

You didn’t even realize you were about to come again until he pointed it out. “Fuck, another one for me?” he realized with a proud groan. “Gonna give me another one, sweet girl? Fuck, that’s it— so good for me—”

It was so sudden, not like the last one that built up and spilled over slowly— this one was hard and fast and left you completely spent and almost too fucked out to notice how much faster he was moving. But it was impossible not to notice him picking up the pace, getting a little louder himself, grabbing your hands again and squeezing them tightly.

The way he moaned in your ear was just too perfect; you whimpered and tightened your legs around him, gasping each time he reached the deepest parts of you.

"Baby," he grunted, "say you’re mine.”

“Yours, Emmett,” you promised with a whimper. "I'm yours, I fucking swear— all yours."

You'd never had a chance to know how good it could be to belong to someone— it didn't have to be bad, it didn't have to be like it was before.

He didn’t slow down until every drop was inside you; he gasped in heavy breaths, he held on tightly to your waist, but he didn’t stop until you were completely filled and he was exhausted in every way.

You both took a long time to catch your breath, and in the meantime, he kissed you again. You figured you weren’t a very good kisser in this state, you were completely numb in the mind and body (in the most amazing way) and you could barely find the energy to even lift your hands— but he didn’t seem to mind, because he kissed you for a long, long time.

Eventually, you were both (mostly) in reality again, and he pulled up to hover above you. You touched his arm softly, and he looked at your hand before looking at your face again.

“Sorry,” he blurted out suddenly as he looked down at where your bodies were joined, like he was just realizing what he’d done. “I didn’t mean to— I shouldn’t have finished inside, I just—”

“It’s okay,” you laughed, “I would’ve been kind of pissed if you pulled out.”

“But we should— I mean, we need to be careful,” he panted. “Next time we have to—”

“Next time,” you breathed happily, pulling him down into another kiss— less tired, more… smiley. You’d probably seen him smile more in the last ten minutes than the rest of your time together combined.

“What, you thought that was a one-night stand?” he laughed, biting your lip playfully before he broke away from the kiss. “Or do you just wanna fuck around and pretend not to want each other like a couple of morons before we do it again?”

“I mean, maybe that’s why this time was so great,” you shrugged, “all the anticipation.”

“Nah,” he breathed, leaning in and kissing your neck again— tender and patient, making you sigh and shut your eyes. “It’s so great ‘cause it’s how this is supposed to be. ‘Cause we need each other.”

You shivered, just as much from his words as his delicate kisses along your pulse, and you almost melted right back into those blankets again— but instead, you startled him by sitting up quickly. “Alright, I think I’m ready for that next time now,” you purred, rolling him onto his back and straddling him with a mischievous grin.

“Jesus, woman,” he groaned, hands settling on your waist, “you’re gonna kill me, I think.”

“Well, I missed the first time,” you giggled as you touched the edge of his bandage. “And we have some time to make up for. God, I wanted you so bad, Emmett.”

He sighed, his chest sinking, and he let his head fall back as he gave in. “This is how I always hoped I’d go out anyways,” he decided.

#cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #a quiet place emmett x reader #emmett quiet place smut #sorry he has no last name yall lmao #emmett quiet place x reader

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thebearer · 1 year

Text

i'll make you so sure about it |carmen berzatto x reader|

prompt: a run in with "claire-bear" leaves you bristled with jealousy. carmen assures you there's no need to be.

contains: minors dni 18+. mean-ish reader (she's jealous), dom/sub dynamics, dom!carmen, kinda brat tamer!carmen too, language, mentions to past relationships, fingering (fem rec), p in v sex, aftercare.

“What else is on the list?” Carmen pushed the cart through the aisles of the grocery store, tossing the figs into the basket.

“Black garlic.” You marked through the scratchy handwriting that belonged to Carmen, pen tapping on the small notepad. “Never heard of black garlic.”

“Really?” Carmen hummed in amusement, a tiny smile that was soft but warm- just for you. “You’ve had it before.”

“Have I?” You lifted a brow. “You’ve been sneaking things in my food, hm?”

“Tryna expand your palette, babe.” Carmen scoffed, pulling you in by your waist into him.

You laughed, looking down at your list, squirming when his fingers ghosted over your sides. “Oh, shoot, I forgot we need detergent.” You hiss, looking at the bottle of Tide in the cart beside you. “I’m gonna go grab that, and you get the rest on the list?”

Carmen nodded, taking the pad and pen out of your hand. “I got it. I’ll be over here, alright?” He nods towards the produce.

You head in the opposite direction, spilling off in the frozen aisles to head back towards the cleaning section, snatching the detergent off the shelf. You’d have to run by the little apothecary shop down on Main to get more of the scent boosters you liked- that Carmen liked. He liked how your sheets always smelled when you first started dating, soft and clean and sweet somehow? Fuck, he wasn’t even sure how, but when you moved in with him, that smell lingered into his clothes, his sheet. He’d catch whiffs during the day at work, a calming breeze that grounded him, kept his mind rushing back to you.

You scanned the produce section, finding the familiar head of curls tucked under a Bears hat. You had bought him that hat, a little playful joke since some customers were always asking if the restaurant was named after the team. It infuriated Carmen, annoyed him to no end, but the hat? He rolled his eyes, muttering something about you being “real funny” in a sarcastic tone, but he wore it anyway. It was a nice hat, what can he say?

Carmen was on the end, a grip on his basket that had you a little suspect, until you saw the other basket, parked next to his, a girl leaning towards Carmen. Your heart dropped, a spike of jealousy, hot and blinding shooting through your spine.

“...You know I meant to stop by the restaurant last week, but I was so busy with rounds. You were closed by the time I got off.” The girl bragged, loud enough so the ones around her would be impressed. You wanted to scoff, did she not know this was Chicago?

“Oh, that’s too bad.” You could hear the edge in Carmen’s voice, and not the usual one that accompanied with unprompted social interaction. This was one harder, a strain that had you suspicious at the defensiveness.

“Hey, Carmy,” You muttered, stepping beside him. He jumped when you did, eyes wide and scared like he’d been caught. “I got the detergent.” You placed it in the basket, trying to avoid the eyes of the girl in front of you.

“Oh, uh, that’s great. Thank you.” Carmen’s hand found your waist easily, but you didn’t miss the way his hand rubbed on his jeans first, wiping the sweat off.

“Hi,” The girl said, a tight lipped, forced smile that you knew all too well. “I’m Claire.”

You gave it back, a snarl and cutting eyes, letting your name slide through your clenched teeth- a threat. “Yeah, uh, Claire and I…we, uh, used to go to school together.” Carmen stuttered.

“Really? That’s it, Bear?” Claire laughed. Your spine straightened, the primal urge to ram your cart into hers so it sent the handle flying into her stomach because she used your nickname- maybe she’d break a rib.

Your eyes cut to Carmen’s, lips rolling into a pursed pucker. Carmen flushed, red cheeks that spread to his ears, down to his neck. “Well, I mean, Claire’s real close with my family too.” Carmen offered, looking down at you, his heart dropping when he did. Fuck, you were pissed.

“Richie and Mikey used to call me Claire Bear all the time.” She laughed, a forced, mean girl-esque laugh. “Used to tease Carmy for always drawing me.”

“Oh?” You quipped, turning to Carmen with narrowed eyes. “Well, that’s funny. You must’ve been really close to get the Bear nickname too.” You hummed, an edge to your voice that had Carmen’s stomach dropping. He felt like he was going to be sick, under your gaze, hard eyes that questioned and challenged him.

“Oh, yeah, we were always really close, weren’t we, Carmen?” Claire batted her eyes at him, and for a moment, you had to grip the basket. Stop yourself from slamming her head into the fridge.

Carmen looked like he might pass out, palms rubbing against his jeans, eyes bouncing from you to her. “Y’know we should catch up sometime, Carmy. I’d love to see Sugar and Richie.”

“Yeah, I-I’m not sure what they’re-”

“-You know what.” You snipped, teeth ground tight. “I think I’ll finish shopping, and you two can catch up, alright?” You snatch the list out of Carmen’s hand. “It was so nice to meet you, Claire.”

Carmen can feel your anger even after you stomp away, whizzing into the next aisle, slinging the basket with so much fury the detergent slides and he cringes as he thinks about the plums that probably got crushed.

“Uh-oh,” Claire snickers. “Looks like I got you in trouble.”

“Yeah- I mean, no, she’s just… We have plans later, so I gotta go. Tell your family I said hello.” Carmen nods, barely hearing her reply before he’s chasing you down the aisles.

“Baby, hey, c’mon-”

“Don’t.” You hissed, shoving Carmen’s hand off you. “Go back and talk to Claire Bear.” You snarled, voice rising in pitch to mock the name.

“Don’t do this.” Carmen’s stomach turned, twisting with that familiar twinge of anxiety. His eyes were already darting towards the far end of the store, feeling like he needed to get a bottle of Pepto… maybe two.

“Do what?” You snapped, huffing at him. “Honestly, Carmen, how would you feel if I ran into one of my old exes and they were talkin’ to me like that, huh?”

“She’s not an ex-”

“-Oh? She isn’t?” You deadpanned, glaring at Carmen. He faltered, eyes darting from your gaze just for a moment. “You’re such a fucking liar, Carmen, I’m not stupid.” You huffed, shoving the cart.

“Hey,” Carmen snapped, heavy hand landing on the cart’s handle to stop it. “Cut it out, alright?”

That only made you bristle even more, bouts of fury that spiked through your body. You wanted to scream, cause a scene and storm out, leaving him mortified and standing there with everyone staring at him. A few years ago, you would have.

Instead, you slammed the rest of the list into the seat of the cart. “Give me the keys.” You huffed.

“What? You can’t-”

“-I’m going to sit in the fucking car, Carmen. Give me the fucking keys.” You growl, louder this time, turning the head of a passerby.

Carmen flushed, furiously, shaking hands fishing his keys out of his pocket, dropping them in your hand. “D-Do you need anything else not on the list?” He asked softly, a hope that you might soften at his tone.

You didn’t reply, turning on your heel instead, stomping out of the sliding doors. Carmen felt his stomach turn, lurching in his throat, heart hammering so hard sweat was forming at his hairline under the hat. He definitely needed that Pepto now.

“She’s just a friend! A childhood friend, that-that I don’t even talk to!” Carmen huffed, his voice rising. You had been on him, furious and accusing from the moment he got in the car, all the way home, carrying the groceries up the steps of the apartment.

“That you fucked!” Your voice shrilled loud enough Carmen flinched, knowing the neighbors would hear. “You fucked her!”

“I-I… like one time!” Carmen stuttered, throwing his hands out in exasperation. He set the detergent with a heavy thud on the counter, glaring at it. It was the detergent’s fucking fault this happend, Carmen thought. He should have just gone with you or gotten the detergent instead- fuck, why did he have to run into Claire out of all people.

“I knew it!” You smacked your hand against the cabinet. “I fuckin’ knew it! God, you are such a liar, Carmen!”

“How did I lie? How? Hey, get back here, I’m talkin’ to you!” Carmen had reached his breaking point, beyond irritated and frustrated.

“Fuck you, Carmen. Just a friend, my fuckin’ ass.” You growled, pushing the door to your bedroom open so quickly it hit the wall, the door stopper buzzing angrily.

“Can you- Can you just listen to me, please?” Carmen took a grounding breath, pinching the bridge of his nose with clammy, uncomfortable hands.

“Listen to you what? Listen to you tell me how you’ve known Claire Bear your whole life? And how the two of you have sooo much history together?” You sneer, teeth baring in a sort of growl that made Carmen’s heart spike with anger…maybe fear… maybe both?

“We don’t have… Baby, I-I really don’t fuckin’ know what you want from me here, alright? I don’t like Claire.” Carmen huffed.

“Anymore.” You muttered, bitterly.

“Yeah, anymore. I don’t- wait.” Carmen held up his hand, realization washing over him. “Wait a fuckin’ second. Are you- Are you jealous right now?”

“Shut up, Carmen-”

“-Oh my God! Holy shit! You’re jealous?” His tone was far too light, nearly mocking, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Why the fuck are you jealous?”

“Oh, fuck you, Carmen! Like you wouldn’t be jealous if my ex was all over me like that in front of you!” You countered bitterly, satisfied at the way his jaw flexed at the thought.

“Yeah, but your ex doesn’t have you, I do.” Carmen said, an edge in his voice that had ice shooting down your spine, a tingle spreading between your legs. He took a step forward, so close to you, his eyes were piercing into you, cutting right through your soul. “And Claire or-or anyone else doesn't have me, alright? You fuckin’ got me.”

You tried to stay strong, keep your facade up for a little longer, not let him know how your knees were buckling under his stare. “Still, Carm,” Your voice was softer now, on the edge of a whine. “‘S not fair you let her talk to you like that in front of me.”

“What did you want me to do?” Carmen scoffed, his hand finding your hip. “She only talked like that because she knew I was with you. Wanted to get under your skin, and you fuckin’ let her.”

“I did not-”

“Oh?” Carmen’s tone lilted, leaving you blushing furiously under his challenging gaze. “That’s why you threw a whole goddam fit? Fuckin’ leavin’ the store? Bitchin’ me out the whole way home?”

You pouted, huffing at the meanness in his tone. Carmen’s hand caught your jaw, pulling your gaze back to him. “You acted bad, and for what? I don’t want her. I don’t want anyone but you, you know that.” Your cheeks burned with heat, hoping he couldn’t see how flustered he was making you, scolding you like this. Oh, you were fucking throbbing.

“Even when you’re mean to me like that. You know I only want you. Don’t insult me like that, thinkin’ I’d ever want someone else, you got me?” Carmen snapped.

“Yes, Carmen.” You muttered, eyes rolling to the floor.

“Who?” Carmen growled, jerking your chin back to him.

You blushed, thighs rubbing together. You knew what he wanted, what was coming. “Yes, Daddy.” You muttered, pitch rising in your tone to that light airy voice you used when you played, reserved just for him.

Carmen hummed satisfied, letting his hand slide down your jaw, fingers curling and tilting your chin upwards towards him. “Why would you think I wanted anyone else, hm?” Carmen rasped, lips brushing over yours but not giving into you yet- teasing you. His free hand slid down your waist, slowly, pinky toying with the edge of your leggings. “You know you’re it for me. Don’t you?”

“Yes, Daddy.” You hummed, his hand sneaking under the stretchy elastic of your pants, sliding closer and closer to where you needed him most.

Carmen’s lips slid over your soft skin, finally pressing to the corner of your mouth. His fingers cupping your mound, sliding over your clothed slit teasingly. “Think I need to remind you, hm? D’you forget? That’s it?” Carmen rasped, pointer finger pressing against the cotton of your panties, circling over your clit.

You gasped, clawing at his shoulders, his lips trailing down your jaw, free hand moving to hold you by the back of your neck, keeping you still while you squirmed against his touch. “Think I need to remind you, baby.” Carmen growled, the vibrations from his voice muffled on your skin, sending shockwaves to your core. “That what I need t’do, huh?”

“Yes.” You whined, nasally and desperate, abdomen already clenching at the way he was working your clit. “Please.” You begged.

“Please, what? Huh? Who’re you talkin’ to?” Carmen hummed, teeth grazing over the sensitive spot on your neck that had you lurching, knees buckling at the combined sensations.

“Please, Daddy.” You panted, eyes rolling back when he licked over your neck, fingers pressing harder, rubbing tighter circles around your clit.

You could feel how hard Carmen was, bulge rubbing against your hip, trying to satisfy his own throbbing. Your nails sunk into his skin, sure you’d leave marks, but you were sure he wouldn’t care. “You want me to take care of you? Want me to show you?” Carmen asked, so sweetly it made you gush, clenching around nothing, desperate for him to fill you up.

“Yes, please, Daddy. Please.” You shuddered, a strangled breathy moan falling past your lips. “I need it so bad, please.”

Carmen’s pace picked up furiously, a groan leaving his lips when he sucked at your sensitive skin there, hand tightening around the back of your neck to keep you in place. You could feel your legs shake, Carmen’s pace steadying and keeping tight circles around your clit, sending you reeling and jerking with every graze of his tongue, clinging to him while you fell apart- too easily. He did this to you too easily, knew you too well so he could.

Carmen’s hand pulled out of your pants, your panties soaked with your own slick, some coating his fingers where you leaked through the fabric. Carmen let them pass in front of you, eyes locked to yours when he slipped them in his mouth, your breath hitching when he cleaned your release off his fingers.

“Out of your fuckin’ mind if you think I want anyone else.” Carmen’s eyes darkened, holding your gaze in a menacing way. “Nobody tastes fuckin’ better than you, are you crazy? Thinkin’ I’d want someone else.” Carmen scoffed, leaving you shuddering, still reeling from your own high.

“Take those clothes off and get on the bed. I’ll show you who you belong to. Who I belong to.” Carmen’s head jerked towards the bed.

You scrambled towards it, shoving off your legging and peeling off clothes, tossing them into the corner of the room. You were slick, still pulsing from moments before, lying back on the edge of the bed with parted legs. The sick click of your own wetness filling the room when you spread yourself- oh, Carmen was sure he was going to pass out, looking at you spread and wet and waiting for him. All for him. If it wasn’t for the near painful throbbing of his cock, he would have devoured you, made you cum over and over and over on his tongue until his mouth was drenched with you, your scent filling his nose. Another time, he decided, pumping himself a few times.

“You know, you really piss me off sayin’ shit like that.” Carmen huffed, pushing his hair back with his hand, inked fingers running through those blonde curls that were your weakness.

You look at him, feeling the fat head of his cock rubbing through your folds, teasing you already. “Actin’ like I’d ever want somebody else. Gettin’ jealous and for what, huh? Just actin’ out.” Carmen leaned down, folding his body so it was over yours, his face inches from your own. “You know you’re the only one for me. Only one I’d ever want.”

He didn’t give you a chance to reply, pushing in deeply in one swift movement, filling you entirely with his length. You gasped, clawing at his shoulder blades until he was flush against you, your breath stammering, eyes rolling back at the stretch.

Carmen waited, feeling you relax around him until he moved, a hard snap of his hips, unforgiving and painfully slow, rolling into you. You whined, a high pitched gasp, Carmen’s lips pressing to your wrist gently. He let his hips roll, getting into a steady, hard pace that left you drooling, eyes rolling back at each calculated jab to the sweet spot inside of you. The way you were clenching, Carmen knew he wasn’t going to last long.

“Thinkin’ I’d want somebody else,” Carmen scoffed between gritted teeth, swallowing back the groan in the back of his throat at the way your pussy was strangling him right now. “I told you a million- shit- a million times before, baby. You’re it for me. You got that?”

“Y-Yes, Carmy.” You shuddered, eyes already glossing over, mind numbing and reeling all at once. Your legs were shaking, burning already with another build up of pleasure. Carmen’s hips snapped, leaving you crying out, your own moans bouncing off the walls.

Carmen chose not to correct you, muscles tightening in his legs and abs, trying to keep himself from spilling too soon. He knew you were close, could see it in your eyes, the rounding of your mouth. Leaning down, Carmen buried himself back into your neck, pushed into your skin. His own soft whines muffled against you, leaving you soaring with adoration, swimming in pleasure.

“I don’t want anyone else but you.” Carmen admitted, hidden in the slick skin of your neck, a much softer admission than anything before. It was sincere, leaving you burning with heat, shaking as the tight coil in your tummy unraveled.

Carmen felt you gush over him, wetting the hair at the base of his pelvis, before he pushed himself back up, pounding hard and deep inside of you to finish himself off. Hot breath hitting your neck, tiny whines and groans of pleasure buzzing in your ear before he finished, spilling inside of you with long, slow strokes.

Carmen collapsed on top of you, his own mind racing and cloudy, chest heaving against yours. You sighed, welcoming the weight of him on top of you. It was heavy, a little crushing, but safe in a way. It was him, smothering you in the best way.

He rolled off, a few huffs before he was beside you, feeling his release run out of you. You didn’t even care, you had the detergent- you’d clean the sheets.

“You know I don’t like her.” Carmen muttered, still staring at the ceiling. You turned to look at him, silent but questioning. “Claire, or-or anyone, right?” Carmen’s eyes were rounded, filled with a familiar guilt that told you his mind was racing again.

“I only like- I only love you.” Carmen corrected, lips pressing together, jaw flexing with emotion. “I-I don’t know why she did that, but… Like, you’re it for me. You know that? I don’t care about any of that other shit with Claire or-or anyone, because I just want you.”

It was raw, a little hushed like he was scared to admit it, to say it too loud and scare you off- scare himself. But you did know it. Even through your blind, jealous rage, you knew it. You knew Carmen only cared for you, only loved you. And you felt the same way about him.

“I know.” You nodded, reaching out to grab his hand, curling your fingers around the calloused fingers, bringing them to your lips. You kissed the inked ‘O’ on his middle finger, letting your nose nuzzle the skin.

“I’m sorry I got jealous.” You muttered, leaning into his hand, hoping it would hide your flushed, embarrassed cheeks. “I just… I don’t know. I didn’t like how she was trying it with you. Trying to come at what’s mine.”

Carmen grinned, the possessiveness in your voice, it made his heart skip. Knowing there was someone out there so fiercely protective of him- wanting to keep him and love him that way. It was something he never imagined having. He was glad he had it with you.

“I know.” Carmen nodded, biting back his own grin. “You got me, though. ‘M not goin’ anywhere.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Carmen nodded, sliding closer to you on the duvet, letting his leg fall over your hip.

You settled under the weight, still cradling his hand to your cheek. “Good.” You hummed. “‘M not goin’ anywhere either, Bear.”

“You better not.” Carmen grinned, playfully but he meant it.

You laughed, a breathy light huff, lips pressing a kiss into his thumb. “Well, except to clean the sheets.” You muttered, feeling the wetness pooling around you. “Probably need to do that.”

“Yeah,” Carmen sighed, looking between the two of you. “I need to put the rest of the groceries away, too. Kinda got… distracted, ya know.”

You blushed. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be.” Carmen muttered, sincerity in his tone. “You-You don’t have to be sorry for that.”

You didn’t argue, simply melting into his touch, leaning forward so his lips were on yours, body pressing your into the mattress, pinned by his kiss. You could feel the burn between your legs, the raised skin on his shoulders where you’d clawed at him- marks that he was yours, reminders that you were his.

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monimccoythings · 6 months

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Alastor x Daughter!Reader: Runaway I (Platonic)

So, what would it happen if Y/N after a lot of time at the hotel, decides to run off and explore the human world? Just like it happened in Helluva Boss I think. This is lighter than the others, but I really wanted to write this one. This could be interpreted as some AU of the Au or even set in the same series after a lot of time has passed.

I know the Grimoire doesn't really look like that and is in the ownership of someone else, but I was thinking that since Lucifer is the King of Hell, he should have at least a copy.

Reminder: Alastor is in hell for a reason.

Tw: Controlling behavior, possessive behavior, Alastor being a very controlling dad.

tags: @anonymousewrites, @nonetheartist, @littledolly2345, @sunnyx07, @ouroborostheunholy, @mo-0-o, @sydneyyyya @lbcreations-blog, @kiraisastay

Things have gotten much better for you since you first arrived. It had finally gotten inside your thick skull that this experience was for real. As crazed as Charlie's dream seemed to be, you couldn't help but believe in her and her goals, given her optimism and enthusiasm. You could say this place was safer than anywhere else you had been crashing for the last ninety years.

But the safety of a place didn't always come hand in hand with feeling safe. And there was only one person to blame for that: Alastor.

If he had been overprotective as a human, as a demon he was much worse. He didn't give a fuck about subtlety anymore. He knew the kind of people that were out there; in fact, he was one of them! Time had proved over and over again you wouldn't make it out there without his protection! He just wanted what was best for you and he also casually happened to know what it was! He was that smart, hahahaha!

As a minor, there was little you could do in Hell, you couldn't drink, you couldn't smoke, you couldn't have sex. So that just nuked three of the most popular hobbies there. Not that you cared much, but it just really left you with a feeling that you didn't belong among the guests and staff friend group due to your youth. The emotional age gap was quite something. And there were times where you felt like the tag-along-kid more than a part of the team.

It was really embarrassing to pull yourself up to one of Husk's stools, ask for the strongest he had, and get served some pineapple juice. He may get a few laughs out of your antics, but you just wanted to fit in.

Sometimes you played with Nifty, since she seemed to be the closest to you in age. Unfortunately, Nifty didn't seem to know any game that didn't involve cleaning or roach mutilation. (how was she even able to find a murderous point of view to Parchis???)

Charlie and Vaggie were too busy managing the hotel and attracting new customers, but you got a feeling they still wouldn't manage to fill that void you seemed to have.

Angel was like the big brother you wished you had had back when you were alive. He loved to gossip with you and Cherri; even when you didn't understand half of what they were saying, it felt nice having some kind of normal teenage stuff around. He also liked to nudge you towards some potential boyfriends, saying that you were in 'in the age' *wink* *wink*. Your dad did not appreciate that.

Alastor wouldn't consider himself a boyfriend blocking dad, Heaven's, no! Just a humble boyfriend murdering dad. So whatever idea of dating or just hanging out with other people your age was out of the question. As soon as you started talking to someone that was in the same age range as you, his shadowy form started to appear behind you and his eyes changed into dials, that was enough for anyone to start running in the opposite direction (he had scared away so many pontential guests it was unreal)

You couldn't even own a phone. Your dad insisted that 'his hotel, his rules'. Any technology that surpassed the 50s was out of the question. (they still didn't have a working phone). If he caught you with one in your hands, specially a VOXTECH phone, even if it was not yours, the battery suddenly started to heat to unbearable levels and you just had to drop it before it exploded in green flames.

Where was the fun loving dad you grew up with? The one that at least had the decency to be a bit more discreet? 'Dead at the prospect of raising a teenage girl!' He liked to say with a laugh.

You talked to Rosie about it, hoping she would talk some sense into him, and he had the nerve to act all innocent and oblivious! Like you were the one being unreasonable!

Somehow, this safe haven had started to become like a prison. You found yourself feeling suffocated and alienated from the others. When you were out there on your own you had lived in fear and trauma, which you hated with all what remained of your heart; but now that you were in a relatively safe place, you felt isolated and trapped. There was no common ground. You needed to breath, to live (or unlive), to enjoy life! You were not a little girl anymore! (҉Y҉e҉s҉ ҉y҉o҉u҉ ҉w҉e҉r҉e҉!҉)҉

So, one day, while helping Nifty clean and hiding from the Radio Demon That Sees It All, you casually stumbled into something very interesting at Lucifer's workshop. It looked like an ancient book, unlike those at the library which you had read and reread over and over again (One could read one too many times Mr. Waddles Goes to Church before it started to get old).

Something in that book drew you towards it, you knew you shouldn't look. It was probably full of ancient demonic knowledge, but maybe a teensy weensy peek wouldn't hurt, right?

Your face lighted up when you opened the book, (and not only because the light was coming from it). There were no words to describe what you found inside. You could see everything inside of it, it was like it was filled with everyone's dreams and hopes, you wondered how something as beautiful as that had ended up in Hell.

Without thinking, you touched the pages which felt warm to the touch. In response to your delicate caress, the pages started shining even brighter. You were so mesmerized by it that you didn't notice how the room was starting to fill with small orbs of light that started moving around you at impossible speeds, like a tornado.

Crafting materials, toy ducks and gizmos were sent around the room due to the force of the movement. But you didn't pay them any attention. There was something truly magical about the orbs' dance. It was enrapturing.

The door shot wide open, revealing Lucifer, Charlie and Vaggie with an horrified look in their faces. They were shouting something at you, but you could barely hear them, too lost in the orbs and their hypnotic dance. So distracted that you didn't feel the chilling presence that joined them until he spoke.

"Y/N, my dear? ." You felt a shiver run down your spine and your heart filled with the fear of a child who knows they have been caught doing something they shouldn't. You could perfectly hear his radio filtered voice, clear as a day, quiet as the calm before the storm. "Step away from that book, cherie. You could get hurt, and we don't want that, do we? ." He spoke with the kind of condescending tone one would use with a little kid.

A new sudden emotion emerged within you, something you had never felt before and never had any need for it. Anger. Who was he to stop you? Why did he always treat you like you were one of his puppets? Like you were another toy he could dress up and command as he pleased? Why couldn't he let you live?.

Feeling braver, probably due to the book's influence, you looked at his red eyes defiantly, once again touching the pages. Despite his permanent smile, you could tell he was getting angrier by the second.

"Y҉/҉N҉" His body was morphing, growing, eyes already changing to those red radio dials that gave you the chills. "I҉ ҉F҉O҉R҉B҉I҉D҉ ҉Y҉O҉U҉-҉"

"No!" You found yourself surprised at your own voice."I lost my life for you, I got sent here because I tried to protect you, I wasted my life because of you!" That last part came a bit more demonic sounding than intended. "Now. I WANT TO LIVE."

And with that, you were enveloped in a bright light and dissapeared.

For a couple of seconds, nobody dared to make a move. After what felt like hours, reality seemed to kick in and everyone sprung into action; Lucifer desperately searching through the pages of a suddenly very uncooperative book, just in case you had been sucked in, Vaggie was already establishing a perimeter around the hotel and search parties, and Charlie, poor sweet Charlie was franctically looking through every single room on that floor.

The only one who hadn't moved yet was Alastor. Already shrunk back to normal size, he seemed completely relaxed and chill in what could be considered an extremely catastrophic situation to any parent.

"Ah, must be those teenage hormones kicking in." His voice sounded as cheery and joyful as always. Almost like he didn't care. Lucifer shot him a venomous look, silently urging him to show a little care for his MISSING DAUGHTER. But Alastor had already retreated back into the shadows and returned to his radio tower.

If only they knew.

The truth was that Alastor cared. Way too much. He sunk his claws into the table while he fought against the deeply buried instinct in him to let himself loose and destroy everything in his path. The chains in his neck, glowed menacingly, a bitter reminder that he wasn't at full power.

He had lost you. Again.

He had you there, close enough to reach and you had vanished before he was able to do something. You had run away.

The mere thought made his hands shake with anger, antlers already growing twice their normal size. How could you? After everything he did for your sake, for your safety, y҉o҉u҉ ҉d҉i҉s҉o҉b҉e҉y҉ ҉h҉i҉m҉??? His smile looked more like a grimace and his eyes were pools of red hot rage. Oh, you were so grounded when he got you back.

Now you were out there, who knows where. All on your own. Defenseless, at the mercy of his many enemies without anyone, HIM, to protect you.

He sent his shadows into the city, he would leave no stone unturned no crackden untouched until he found you. He didn't care who he had to kill, maul or destroy. You would be coming back with him. Only HE could keep you safe, whetever you wanted it or not.

His desperation only grew when his shadows came back empty handed, the crazed look in his eyes combined with the slasher smile only made him look like the deranged psychopath he actually was.

You weren't in the Pride ring. He was even starting to doubt you were in Hell at all. What was the last thing you had said?

His non beating heart gave a painful twist when your parting words echoed in his mind. The bitterness and resentment in your voice hurt his tainted soul in ways no other person could have. His claws dug even deeper in the wood.

No.

All he wanted was to keep you safe back at the hotel, to ensure no one in this hellish landscape ever laid a finger in your delicate skin. He was just being a good father. You may not understand it, and probably never would. That's irrelevant.

He had found you again after nearly ninety years since that fatidic night when he lost it all, he was not going to allow anybody to take you away from him.

A theory started forming in his twisted mind. You had said that you wanted to live. Alastor was no fool, he knew what the Grimoire could do, in fact he had been dying to take a peek himself. Whatever you had wished, would have probably come true. His grin turned sour.

You had gone where he couldn't follow.

The mortal plane.

Who knew the kind of horrors you were facing up there? The kind of fools that would dare to disrespect the child of one of Hell's most powerful overlords?

He couldn't go there, at least not physically. If he could synchronize his radio frequency with the ones on Earth, he may be able to locate you before some fuckwad up there decided to have their way with you.

"We're on air"

#hazbin hotel #alastor #x reader #reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #tw: controlling behavior #tw: possessive behavior

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the-raindeer-king · 2 months

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CoD Department Store idea au because I got bored at work and was trying to figure out where everyone would work lol

Laswell is obviously the store manager. She's strick but means well. And she's not afraid to get her hands dirty and help out around the store. Ends up being the best store manager you'll ever have.

Price is the assistant manager. Also isn't afraid to help pick up the slack. Looks scary (and he is sometimes) but he also cares about his associates. And he actively encourages you to take extra time on your break, after kicking out a customer for getting aggressive with you.

Gaz is customer service. He's witty and charming, and can calm down even the most irrate Karen's. He bitches to Price every time they have to bend over backwards for a customer. Takes extra time on his breaks though...

Soap works the housewares department! Whether it's loading a couch into a customer's car, or getting a coffee pot off the top shelf, he's your man! Just as charming as Gaz, but tends to have a short fuse and will snap at rude customers.

Ghost works in the back, unloading the trucks. It's far away from the view of the public, and it keeps him busy. He's been sent out to help customers with carry-outs, but he's awkward and a little unsettling. Definitely walks way too quiet for a man his size and has scared several associates and customers because of it!

Rudy and Alejandro work the deli/bakery department. They're sort of isolated from the rest of the store, and rely solely on their own team to get stuff done. But they'll also sneak you cookies and muffins, claiming to have made too much.

Alex gets hired in apparel. I'm thinking shoes and accessories specifically. Lowkey hates it and transfers to garden as soon as he can. Loves watering the plants every morning.

Farah works in the garden center. Has worked there for at least 3 years, and can practically run the whole department with her eyes closed. Sneaks out nubs of succulents to grow her own.

Gary worked in housewares with Soap. But transferred to overnight due to a personal scheduling conflict. Soap and Gaz like to joke that he's died, much to Gary's annoyance.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #john price #kate laswell #alejandro vargas #rudolfo parra #farah karim #alex keller #gary roach sanderson #my writing #i had too much time on my hands at work lol #can u tell i work at a department store myself? i know too much lmao #the store is called specgru. kortac is their rival store.

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muzanswaifu · 2 years

Text

Vexing Love

Sanemi x Florist!Fem!Reader

18+

For @captaineelliee

Request: "SO BASICALLY READER IS A FLORIST — LOVES EVERYTHING FLOWERS. LOVES NATURE. SHE VEGAN. AND THEN DADDY SANEMI OVER HERE IS *EHEM EHEM* ALLERGIC TO POLLEN 😍 YES POLLEN. HE’S INTO HER OBVIOUSLY BUT HOW CAN HE GET NEAR HER WHEN SHES ALWAYS SURROUNDED WITH FLOWERS AND POLLEN GETS ONTO HER CLOTHES LIKE EVERYTIME"

This request was soooooo cute to work on 😭 I went through about 100000 plot ideas just to get to this one bc I literally could not choose lmaoooo, hope you enjoy the one i chose! 😉

Sfw Warnings: Fluff, enemies to lovers, tsundere (both sides), crushes, Sanemi has allergies, allergies are curable in this universe idk science, science doesn't exist, awkwardness, yn is mean cuz she desperately needs ****, yn then gatekeep girlboss gaslights her way into some ****

Nsfw Warnings: Suggestive comments, pining, Smut, oral sex, blow jobs, hand jobs, cunnilingus, dry humping, vaginal sex, creampies, cockwarming, praise kink, degradation kink, body worship

10.7k Words

Breathe.

Just breathe for now. Breath until it's time to turn the corner. Breath until you can't even hold it anymore. Breathe.

Almost there, he'd just have to hold it in his lungs for a moment, nothing more. And even then, what was a whiff or two? Nothing he couldn't handle. He was just popping in for a quick visit.

He wrapped around the building slowly, taking his time with deep, precious breathes and savoring the cool air. Spring was always so pleasant even if the lingering scent of florals and pollen stung his lungs like acid. The moment he caught a whiff of the sweet perfume, he swallowed, clutching his breathe in his throat like air under water. He was good at hiding his weaknesses. He'd had plenty of practice.

When his mauve eyes finally met hers, he rose to life.

It was like something clicked in his brain every time he saw her, as if just being near her got his gears turning. Being with her was like chewing taffy. It was kind of hard to eat and always stuck to your teeth, super annoying, but somehow you always grabbed for that second piece, deeming the rich, savory flavor worth all the trouble. She smiled when she saw him.

"Well hey you," she leered, a single brow raised as she fluffed up the daisies that laid on the front table at the entrance of her shop. "You finally gonna buy something or are you just here to nag? I'm gonna start charging you by the minute y'know." The sly sparkle in her eye made his gut twist, sweat beginning to collect in his already clammy palms. He shoved them into his pocket before she could see.

"Nah, just here to see if this place is still fuckin' dead like it always is. No surprises there."

She scoffed, turning her head away in distaste, her hair wagging to the side so gently he wanted to fucking touch it, to run his hands through it and mess it all up. He didn't care if it smelled like flowers either. He'd enjoy either way.

"You're such an asshole! Maybe if you'd stop scaring away all my customers, I'd get more business," she hissed at him. He laughed at the insult, forcing himself to move along with it, despite the thoughts that ate at him slowly.

She thinks you're ugly

He shook his head of the stupid assumption, instead lingering to stare at today's attire. She wore purple today, a soft shade of lavender that went quite nicely with the hair piece she dawned. The homemade fabric clung tightly to her figure, the grains tastefully swirling around her body in the uniform pattern. The sleeves of this yukata seemed to be floral themed as well as the ends tattered along into delicate petal shapes. He liked this one more than her others. It was -

"Flashy."

She turned to him with a confused look, eye twitching. "What did you just say?"

"You look flashy," he repeated curtly, casting his eyes away. Compliments were hard to make, so she should appreciate that he put in the effort honestly.

"Flashy?"

"Yeah."

"So I look too flashy to you?" she inquired, crossing her arms and cocking her hip with a glare. This wasn't going how he thought it would. Shouldn't she be thanking him or something?

"Uh no," he shrugged, "just the right amount."

She turned away from him, bundles of flowers in her arms that were wilted and grey, ready to be thrown out, comically mirroring her patience. He could see the clench to her jaw and strain to her temple.

"You're so... - so clueless!" She stomped off angrily into the shop.

Sanemi was taken aback by her vexed response, hesitantly going in after her. He hadn't even noticed how scratchy his throat and nose had gotten with his distraction. How was she angry? He'd heard Tengen give his wives that line over a million times, and they practically dropped their panties on the spot. Did he say it wrong or something?

"What did I do?" he called after her.

"Let me guess, you're gonna say I smell weird again too?" she remarked, recalling the instance he'd first met her all that time ago when he'd said the damning words, so unused to the smell of roses as he'd avoided them without a second thought. But he hadn't had a reason risk the exposure then.

He felt bad, truly. He didn't want her to think he was insulting her. He didn't want the relationship his parents had, his father constantly demeaning his mother to keep her confidence low enough that she always saw him as better than. Sanemi wanted to make her feel good about herself! She deserved praise from time to time.

"It was a compliment!"

"In what world?" she asked dramatically. He could see how her posture was cringed now, as if to hide herself from him. But the stance was short-lived as she turned back around, finished with dumping her spoiled product.

"You're lucky I don't care what you think," she announced, fixing her hair, "Because I know I look good."

He pinched the bridge of nose and sighed. No, she was lucky she was fun to be around sometimes, or he wouldn't even give her the time of day.

He intended to continue their bickering until he'd felt his throat close, the spacing narrow and whistling with every breathe. He shut his mouth quickly, turning the way he came and walking away, trying to seem as unbothered as possible. (Y/n) noticed his fleeing when he was already halfway around the corner.

"Sanemi? Sanemi, where are you going?!" She continued to call after him, but he went on, his face shifting to red.

He inserted the syringe into himself containing his "medicine" when he reached the safety of the foliage, calming himself and controlling his breathing until his felt his lungs open up again.

Shinazugawa held his own in a normal natural environment, and when his allergies did manage to act up on occasion, he'd always had some light treatments on hand. But being surrounded by pure allergens was something he couldn't handle in excess, his tolerance getting worse and worse with each visit.

When he'd first met her, his endurance was acceptable. He'd managed to survive when the crazy woman had dragged him into her shop for the first time on his routine town visit, pressuring him to buy something. And when he'd denied her, throwing his little insult of her smell, he assumed that would be his cause of death rather than his allergy. From then on, every time he'd pass by, she always berated him, hurling offense after offense at him. He hadn't responded the first few times, but eventually it got to him. The short arguments grew into long visits of banter. He was retired, so it wasn't like he had anywhere to be anyway. And her company was nice sometimes. She wasn't always annoying. She occasionally gave a warm side comment about his glowing complexion that day or lended an ear when he wanted to rant about how stupid his "friends" were. While she always gave him shit about his "animal-based diet" and a lecture about becoming vegetarian, he'd also admired her passion about those things, how fired up she'd get when she'd see someone eating a piece of meat with no remorse. It was... kinda cute.

And he had become addicted far before he'd realized it, his day ruined whenever he hadn't seen her in a while or saw something that reminded him of her. And he knew his feelings had to be true when he went to fucking Uzui for help. His assistance was as useless as it was embarrassing, essentially telling him to dick her down as soon as possible. His wives had given him some genuine advice on his way out, but damn was that guy a pain to deal with.

But even with his recognition of his own heart, it wasn't like his weakness took the hint. He could hardly handle ten minutes being around her now, his lungs becoming so swelled that it nearly killed him each time. He wanted to live to see his life with her, if it were possible. And he decided to finally do something about it.

"I suppose there is something I can do," voiced Kanao, the girl sorting through her collection of herbs and remedies. Thankfully the Butterfly Estate had been fairly calm today, allowing him the audience he needed.

"While you may still have the occasional reaction, I have a thirty-day schedule of injections that get your immune system used to the allergen while simultaneously reinforcing it," she explained gently. She reminded him of the Kochos a lot these days. "But there are some drawbacks. The beginning may be a bit much to bear through, but over time the effects should calm. You must take it every morning at relatively the same time, and please give your body time to recuperate. You need stay away from any histamines for at least a week, as well. This includes any dander, molds, or pollen."

He gulped anxiously.

"That's just advice thought, right?"

She blinked confused, looking him in the eye.

"No."

On the walk home, he readied his excuses for when he saw the florist next. She'd no doubt grill him for answers when he'd have to ghost her for the next few days. He was busy? No, no she wouldn't accept that. She'd believe it, but she'd be angry at him for not giving her any attention for so long. He was sick? Maybe, but she would definitely look down on him for being so weak as to need recuperation time. But it wouldn't even matter how mad she'd be at him for his absence. He'd finally be able to prolong his time with her. Take her out on dates. Cuddle together. Do... other stuff together. It would take time to build up the relationship, but he had no doubt that she returned his feelings. He saw the way she looked at him, the way she'd purse her lips and flush when her eyes fell to his fit chest, the way she'd bat her lashes at him when she'd catch him studying her as well. She'd even told him that she only liked big, stupid guys. He definitely wasn't stupid, but he got the idea.

It would only be a matter of time now before it was all possible. Almost there.

She brewed over his disappearance, questioning why Shinazugawa had been gone all of five days now. Surely, she hadn't hurt his feelings that much the last time she'd seen him. But maybe it was a possibility as her mother had always complained of how rude she was. But Sanemi was used to it by now, right? Okay, perhaps she was a bit mean, but he was just so stupid sometimes! Flashy? That was considered a compliment to him? It was his fault for not knowing better.

But, none-the-less, she pouted, joylessly selling to a few customers before deciding to close up shop early today. She should go give him a visit. Just to make sure he's alive, of course. Not because she missed him or anything...

This was torture. He remembered that Kanao had said it was gonna get bad but not this bad. Even he was struggling, and he'd been tortured by demons for fuck's sake. He hacked all day, his skin rashed up, he had to take several trips to the bath to steam his swollen throat open enough so he could breathe. It made sense why he couldn't get more exposure to aggitants. It probably would've killed him.

But he kept going, reminding himself of why this was all worth it. How amazing it would be to sniff her hair and kiss her lips. How soft she would feel in his hands and against his calloused, rough flesh. He wanted to know how her neck tasted, how her perfume smelled when it wasn't suffocating him. He'd spend all of eternity just studying her and everything that made her so... so... vexing.

A knock at his door tore him from his fantasies. Who the hell could that be? He left the bathroom, staggering toward the door and fixing his falling robe simultaneously. Was it Kanao? But she was always so busy, why the hell would she come out here?

Sanemi weakly opened the door, eyes going wide.

"Surprise!"

He stumbled back, throwing a hand over his nose and mouth. Just the slight breeze that came, wafting her scent to him was enough to make him choke. Oh, fuck that hurt.

"I thought you were dead or something, so I came to check on you! I know, I'm so nice," (Y/n) purred, obviously pleased with herself. "I brought flowers just in case you'd need a quick burial - Lilies! Always gotta be prepared, y'know?" She shoved them toward him carelessly, distracted with his horrid appearance.

"What the hell happened to you?" she questioned, her eyes scrunching in disgust. He looked like he actually had died.

"G-get out..." he croaked, feebly pushing her away. His vision began to get blurry with his poorly received oxygen.

"You need help 'Nems. Let me-"

"No!" he shouted abruptly, the woman flinching back in shock. She'd never actually heard him... yell at her before.

"G-get the f-fuck outta here!" He pushed at her again, causing her to trip back and fall onto the graveled path. Tears stung her eyes as her bottom bruised. He turned back to the door, tossing the bundle of lilies away onto the dirt and slugging back into the house, coughing violently as he went.

Another wave of daze passed through her body as he slammed the door closed, the loud sound sending a jolt up her spine. Her mouth still hung open.

It seemed like years before she slowly rose up, body still trembling. Her walk home was silent. But not literal silence, the journey would've been silent regardless since it would've been only herself as company - this was mindless, empty, meaningless, lifeless silence. Not a single thought managed to pass through her skull, her movements relying solely on muscle-memory. Her mouth still hung open.

Only when she had reached her own doorstep did the waterworks start. Tears never stopped flowing as she sadly waddled to her bed and fell to it, harshly sobbing into her pillow.

He had never yelled at her like that before. Ever. Not even when she'd thrown dirt down the back of his shirt or doused him with pot water. By the time she'd woken up from crying herself to sleep, her eyes were puffy and red, her mouth dry and bitter. She'd barely managed to carry herself into work, her face downcast and miserable, very few customers coming to visit. But she couldn't care less.

His symptoms thankfully calmed down in the following days, his lungs opening up and skin clearing. He forced himself to relax through it, stopping his brain from replaying what had happened until he would be able to properly cringe at his own actions. And when he had gotten better and able-bodied, God was it awful. Was he harsh with her? Yes. Was it necessary? ...Yes? How else would he have gotten her to go away? Had he been any more gentle, she would've fought her way into the house, and he would've keeled over dead. Being an asshole was manditory sometimes.

But, he knew every dirty dead should be met with a good one when it came to women, so here he was, on his was to say he was sorry or whatever. It'd been a week like Kanao had said, so he could tolerate being around her for a second.

"Your boyfriend is coming," squealed the old woman from the shop next to hers, the lady's lips curled like a cat's.

"Huh?" (Y/n) snapped from her expressionless state of plucking the petals off sunflowers.

"That tall man with the scars you're always hanging around - I saw him in town buying candies when I'd gotten my groceries. I think he's coming this way!"

Oh fuck!

She bolted into her shop, finding a mirror to do some quick makeup and fix her hair. Thank goodness she'd made herself dress nice today. She wasn't about to dump him looking like a slob.

The girl came out just in time to catch a glimpse of him turning the corner, her appearance put together and pretty.

"Hey," she heard next to her. Her eyes flickering to him slowly then turning back. She resumed weaving together bouquets at her bench.

Sanemi scoffed at her obvious silent treatment. It didn't help that she looked so fucking hot today, her dress a dark shade of green with red accents that matched her lipstick. Fuck, here he was getting turned on when he needed to apologize.

"Uh, sorry about the other day. I was, uhm.... sick." He held the box of sweets out to her, a cute pink bow tied at the top. When she didn't take it, he set it down on the table adjacent to her.

(Y/n) pressed her wobbling lips together, still refusing to look at him before getting up and going to the table. She swiftly pushed it into the store and pulled closed the doors, locking them and gathering her things. She couldn't do this. Tears were already threatening her waterline before he'd even started talking. She couldn't tell him off with her mascara was running. How pathetic would that have been?

He followed after her, muddled by her strange behavior, or lack thereof. "Where are you going?" the man demanded.

It was easy to think of something hurtful to respond.

"I have a date." She walked slowly, giving him ample time to catch up.

His teeth nearly broke with tension. He was next to her instantaneously, far closer than she wanted him to be. She turned away so he wouldn't witness her glazed eyes.

"A date?"

"Yep."

"A fuckin' date?"

She didn't answer any further, only continuing to stroll about and praying that he wouldn't follow her all the way. Of course, she wasn't going on any date. But he didn't need to know that. And she didn't want him finding out either.

And her wish came true, Sanemi pausing in his step as she trailed on. She heard what he'd mumbled under his breath as he turned back the way he came.

"Fuck this."

(Y/n) wished she'd felt better after that, but her depression only grew. Going to work every morning felt hopeless now that she knew there was no chance Sanemi would come to visit. As much as she hated to admit it, she missed their bickering and arguments, missed how his nose would scrunch up when he was agitated, missed how he'd lean up against her booth to get closer to her. She missed how he'd smell when he'd stop by after his workout, and how his skin would glisten with sweat during a hot day. But most of all, she missed seeing him smile, that stupid little smirk he'd give her when she'd say something especially mean before he'd give that attitude right back at her.

She should've just accepted his stupid apology, even though her feelings were still hurt by his blatant disrespect of her. Even if he had been sick, she would've helped him in a heartbeat. It would've been like the romance novels she'd read of nurses falling in love with their patient during treatments. She wasn't a very good cook, but she could've whipped him up something good to eat. She could've helped him so much, but he didn't let her. As if he didn't trust her. As if she wasn't important enough.

But maybe it was for the best that things worked out this way. Maybe things weren't meant to go well for them. If they couldn't handle a small little thing like this, how would they have made it through worse?

"I think he'd like these."

(Y/n) jerked up from her spell, aiming to find the owner of that soft, feminine voice.

"Those are nice! Oh - how about these ones too!"

She found two young visitors, a serene dark-haired girl with rosy eyes and a tender-looking boy with red hair. They seemed to be a couple, implied by their embraced hands.

As negative as her mood was, the woman still needed money and, therefore, customers. She slouched over to them.

"Shopping for a special occasion?" she asked with about as much gusto as she could muster, which was little. The boy smiled brightly regardless of her lack of vigor.

"Just looking for something nice for a friend! He actually lives around here, maybe you know him?" He chirped. The girl next to him scoffed quietly.

"I wouldn't bet on that."

(Y/n) furrowed at her. "You sure? If he lives around here, I've probably seen him around."

The boy turned to his female companion, giving her an encouraged look. His innocence was honestly tear-jerking. "Yeah, maybe's she's seen him around." He turned back to the woman. "He's kinda tall and really... scary looking."

She chuckled, nearly thinking he was talking about Sanemi. But there was no possibility in her head that him and this genuine, pure-hearted young boy had ever crossed paths. "With white hair?" she joked, shaking her head.

"Yeah! You've met him?"

She broke from her giggling, gawking at him with wide eyes.

"S-Sanemi?"

"So, you have met him!"

She quickly crossed over her arms, tucking her head to the side with a boiling anger. "Unfortunately," she quipped, not really in the mood to discuss it further. The last thing she needed was a damn conversation about him.

"Really?" the girl inquired, a brow raised, "that's surprising - given his allergy."

She laughed. "Allergy? What could he possibly be allergic to? Joy? Laughter? Happiness?" She wouldn't be surprised by any of it quite honestly.

The brunette blinked at her, waving her hand about the room.

"Oh, you know. Dander, molds, pollens," she listed. "Flowers."

Her mouth went dry. No. No, that couldn't be right. She wouldn't known if he was.

"F-flowers?" she repeated, hoping for some kind of misunderstanding.

"Yes. I hope he hasn't been around here for some while though. I gave him very crucial instructions to not go near any allergens for a bit."

...What...

"Wha- I don't-" she was at a loss for words. "That's... impossible! Why didn't he tell me?!"

The boy stepped toward her. "Well, you seem to know him well. He gets kinda embarrassed about that stuff," he said, obviously aiming to comfort her in her distress.

No wonder his visits were always so short and spontaneous. Oh god, she'd even shoved some of these in his face sometimes so he could get a whiff. Her mind reeled with all those times he'd turn to cough or sneeze. All those times he'd grow red in the face and excuse himself. All those times he'd go still, as if he were holding his breathe. But she'd always thought he had anger issues or something and was using coping mechanisms. Not that he was literally dying!

The two strangers looked at each other in confusion as she had her meltdown, waves of guilt and regret setting upon her. She hadn't even noticed until they were at the counter to check out that they were intending to leave. She'd helped them, of course, afterwards stopping them as they met the trail, changed into her emergency clothing she'd kept in the shop for when she'd come unprepared. And another... hidden.... gift for later on, if things went smoothly.

They made very decent conversation as she accompanied them on their journey, telling tales of their own adventures in their former dangerous work. The stories truly scared her, as she'd had the luxury of never running into that sort of threat in her life. But the stories were also just as devastating. She'd realized then just how little she'd actually known about Sanemi. She hadn't known he was a demon hunter. She hadn't known he'd put his life at such risk. She hadn't even know about his family, nor his brother Genya he'd lost at the end. More guilt began to eat at her. How could she have been so self-absorbed as to never question his past? She could blame his own severe privacy, but she knew it was her own fault as well. Perhaps her actions really were disrespectful. With all he'd gone through, the least she could've done was be nice to him for once. She... should apologize.

When he opened his door, the shock on his face was evident, but it quickly dissolved into bitterness.

"What're you doing here?" he hissed.

Her wavering smile thinned. Oh god this was going to suck.

Dinner was just as tense, the man certainly not appreciating the humorous gift he'd received by the young couple. The bouquet had met the trash bin before they'd even sat down. It only seemed to worsen after they'd begun to eat. Deafening silence and slow chewing filled the room, every attempt at small talk (mostly contributed by the boy she learned was named Tanjiro) was promptly met with a sharp, silencing glare by Shinazugawa. But (Y/n) did appreciate the boy's efforts, as it would momentarily remove his eyes from their lock onto her. Even when she wasn't looking, she could feel the weight of his scowl, the negativity that radiated off of him in nauseating waves. It was honestly not surprising that he was so livid. He'd gone though all trouble to cure himself just to be left high and dry. It was going to take a bit of work to talk her way out of this one...

"Uhm, it was nice to see you again, Sanemi... Good luck with your, uh, illness?"

Kanao pinched his side, and he yelped.

"Yes, it's been fun," she added. "Well, I think it's best we get going. I'm sure you two would like some time to talk." She practically dragged him out of the door, Kamado muttering a few more encouraging goodbyes before cutting out as she slid the door shut behind them, finally leaving the estate.

(Y/n) kept herself composed through it, giving a fake smile and waving as they scurried. She was desperate to finally get a chance to actually talk, albeit being a tad bit nervous with his mood. But he was always a smidge angry, so she already expected some level of pettiness.

What she hadn't expected was for him to ignore her entirely. As she turned around in the absence of Tanjiro and Kanao, she was met with utter abandonment, Shinazugawa swiftly cleaning up the table. She crossed her arms, tapping her foot and waiting oh-so-patiently for this little bit to be over with. Yes, she remembered when she did the same to him when he had tried to apologize to her all that time ago.

"Giving me a taste of my own medicine, huh?" she finally pestered, getting annoyed with his blindness. He gave nothing but a huff, continuing to gather plates and eventually heading into the kitchen. The woman followed after him, an urgency to her step.

"Sanemi, don't you dare try to worm your way out of this one!" She found him setting the dishes into a bin, clearly more interested in washing them than talking to her.

"Why didn't you tell me about your allergies? Or anything else for that matter?! I didn't know about your job or family - I didn't even know you'd ever had either!"

His dish-scrubbing got faster, harder, likely scratching up the delicate ceramic. But his mouth remained sewn shut in a thin line just waiting to crack.

She calmed, her shoulders falling a bit.

"Was I not important enough to tell?"

And he finally snapped.

"What the fuck do you care?!" He violently threw down the dish he was holding into the tub, the material shattering. (Y/n) jumped slightly, not anticipating him to behave so wildly. It gave her a flash of their previous scuffle when he'd hurt her so deeply. His reply only saddened her.

"I'm sorry," she sighed in a cracked voice, eyes glazing over. "I-I'm sorry I wasted your time, I'll leave."

The sniffles and weak patter of her feet as she away tore at his heart strings.

Of course, he was still mad at her, but he didn't her to fucking cry about it. He didn't really... like hearing her cry - no, scratch that, he fucking hated it. Hell, he'd known his distaste for it the day she was whining to him that some jerk had yelled at her for bumping into him and making him to drop all his food, her eyes all wet and red with fat tears. He'd, of course, found the worthless asshole and torn him a new one, but he never quite gotten over how horrid her sadness had made him feel, the pit in his stomach. She'd told him multiple times that she didn't like getting screamed at. He recalled finding it cute at the time, how such an angry, foul-mouthed women could dish but not receive, lest she fall apart. And the realization only begged the question - how had she reacted to him lashing out at her all that time ago? He didn't even want to think about it.

"Wait," he finally spoke, halting her pitiful waddling. He came out to the front room to find her, her body still facing the door and shoulders shaking despite her silence. He had to physically stop himself from comforting her physically. Finally, she looked back at him, eyes teary and wet, her eye makeup smudged.

His hands dragged down his face, a heavy sigh falling upon his lips with long frustration. "Listen... I didn't say anything 'cuz..." He droned off a bit, stubborn in his admission. "Cuz it was... it was just stupid."

"It's not stupid!" She voiced, wiping her eyes and turning to him. "But it's my fault too. I should've asked instead of nagging all the time, huh?" She chuckled softly. It eased him to hear her laugh, but he could still see new tears falling down her cheeks.

"No, no, I guess I should have said something. But that shit's not important to me, I'm not a fucking baby."

"Talking about your feelings doesn't make you a baby. I want you to be sensitive with me!"

He scoffed at her, jerking his head away. No way she liked when he got all soft. She was just saying that to spare his feelings, he thought. She frowned at him.

"Why'd you keep coming to visit when you knew you were allergic."

His face flushed a little, his neck getting hot. "Just... wanted to see you, I guess..." he mumbled with a shrug of his shoulders.

She felt her heart melt and cooed, "Oh my gosh-"

"Ugh, shut up," he groaned, still burning with embarrassment. She practically purred with her curled smile, skating over to him with open arms and wrapping them around him for a tight hug. He cringed back uncomfortably at first but eventually gave into it, realizing she wasn't going to back down anytime soon. Anything to make her stop fucking crying. (Y/n) could feel his body heat rise. "You're so sweet~ I'm sorry I lied last time when you came over. I didn't have a date."

He paused and looked down at her with a dark stare. "What."

(Y/n) back away slowly, giving an apologetic smile. "Yeah, I'm sorry. I just wanted to make you mad because you were so mean to me."

Sanemi grimaced at her, his anger rising. "What- you-" he stopped himself, "Y'know what? Fine, I guess that's fair," he sighed. "Sorry I was 'mean' to you."

She grinned at him brightly. "So... are you all better now? No allergies or anything?" Sanemi shrugged again at her. "I guess," he muttered, "I just have to take it easy for a while."

The woman pouted. "Aw, I guess that means no kissing then."

"Wha- I didn't say that!"

She laughed, taking much joy at his despair. But he didn't fret for long as she strode back to him, rising to her tip-toes to give him a modest peck on the lips. It wasn't their first kiss, strangely enough. There were plenty of times when she'd lost a bet with his set reward being some lip-locking. She'd be lying if she said she hadn't enjoyed those rare instances, sometimes purposely losing so he'd make the first move with her only appearing to be upset. But it wasn't just kissing that she was aiming for.

As she'd hoped, he pulled her closer from her teasing exchange for a deeper embrace, pressing his mouth against hers nearly desperately. The passing of tongues was instantaneous as their mouths opened to breathe. As usual, he tasted of sweetness, a honeyed melt that coated her tongue being overtaken by his. He always wanted the lead after all. And right on cue, he began roaming his hands about her form.

That's as far as he'd gone in the past, only brief, respectful groping here and there, around her waist, behind her thigh. Getting him to venture further hopefully wouldn't be too difficult.

But her shitty luck said otherwise after several celibate minutes of necking, so she decided to take the lead for a change. Clearly letting him take control wasn't getting them very far, given that it'd taken him nearly a year to even open up. (Y/n) trailed down his lips, kissing and nibbling along his jaw, giggling at his sudden tensing. Dear god, he practically whined when she got to his throat, sucking at his adam's apple that bobbed as he swallowed. But her command didn't last long as he gave an annoyed growl, wrapping two thick hands under her thigh and jolting her up so they could wrap around his waist. She almost didn't register his teeth attacking her neck when her back was suddenly pressed against the cold wood of the wall she swore was several yards away only a second ago.

"S'nemi..." she whined weakly, high off her mind. The moment felt unreal, her having spent so long fantasizing about this very thing. Too long, in fact. He held her with such ease, regardless of his hand injury, his mouth having a mind of its own as it roamed about her sensitive flesh, leaving dark markings in their obsessive wake.

"Wanna-," He panted, absolutely breathless, "wanna fuck you."

(Y/n) froze, flustered by his sudden confession but somewhat understood as a hard presence poked at her from below, signaling the beginnings of an impressive erection.

"C-can't you ask a little b-better than that?" Despite her trying confidence, her desperate body couldn't help but gyrate against him, hungry for more warmth and friction. He snarled against her pulse.

"Please - shit - please lemme fuck you."

Her back was pressed further into the now heated wooden wall, cornered by his large form. His own hips seemed to speed against hers, gentle but thorough, grinding up into her core deliciously and drawing out a slurred moan. Her breath stuttered as his hand crept up to her nape, fingers wrapping around her neck in a hot caress, his lips leaning up to graze her ear.

"I'll make you feel so damn good-" his teeth rand along the shell of her earlobe, his sultry breath sending a shiver down her spine, "wanna take my time with you, get you so riled up you can't even think straight," he whispered.

Oh god, just the thought of letting him have her left her legs shaking around his waist. The man might've been lacking in the romance department but goddamn, she bet he was an absolute fuck-machine with all those years of training and hard-work. He could probably ruin her if he wanted to. But she wanted that power too. She wanted him just as desperate for her touch and attention, just as cold without her body, just as useless without her direction.

(Y/n) locked eyes with his confused stare as she slowly crept out of his hold, her legs carefully lowering to the floor, hands dragging down his front. His mouth practically dropped open as the realization began to settle onto him of what she was doing. Sanemi only continued to ramble on as she descended, his vigor and confidence increasing tenfold while she dropped to her knees. His hands mindlessly wrapped into her hair. Her perfect fucking hair.

"Gonna fucking ruin you, have you screaming for me to break you. Ain't nobody even gonna look at you when I'm done," he rumbled darkly.

She blinked up at him in annoyance before rolling her eyes.

"You talk to much," she chirped before drawing her hands to his hips.

His breathe hitched as her paws finally met his bulge, her mouth watering at the thick shape while she steadily kneaded it like a kitten. Shinazugawa could do nothing but gape at her eagerness, throwing his head back and letting out a long groan. She seemed satisfied enough with the reaction and finally pulled open his robe.

She gasped as his cock sprung out, bare and swollen, no covering whatsoever. Although shocked at his strange lack of any undergarment, she couldn't help but marvel at his length, so long and thick. Her hands seemed so small compared to it, so tiny as they worked together to wrap around the hefty root. (Y/n) really shouldn't have been so astounded by his size, as he'd boasted many times of his generous package. But she'd always thought he was lying then, ashamed of himself like all the other men who bragged of the same thing. But, apparently, he was truly honest. Hell, it was even bigger that he'd described!

She bravely leaned in, closing her lips to the very tip where a droplet of pre had begun to arise. She sweetly kissed it, her tongue gently slipping out to lick up the opaque drop. A string of mixture followed her retreating mouth, stretching between the two and snapping into nothingness.

"Oh fuck," Sanemi sighed, looking down at her with an expression she could only describe as helplessness.

With one more flick of her gaze, she descended onto his cock, carefully taking as much as she could between her lips until the length had grazed her uvula. She pushed down the urge to gag, breathing deeply through her nose before pulling off, sucking her cheeks in and slurping hard on her way to oxygen. Drool gushed down her chin when she pulled back, her lips and tongue fluttering along the underside of his cock, tracing a throbbing vein that pulsed for attention.

His hands moved from her hair to her face, caressing her cheeks tenderly while she kissed and licked and sucked, absolutely worshipping him. Maybe she'd felt bad for upsetting him, maybe she'd wanted to reward his commitment to her, maybe she'd just wanted to suck his dick. Hell, he didn't much give a shit, not when she was doing so fucking good, giving him all the admiration he could've hoped for. Whatever she lacked for in experience, she made up for in unadulterated passion, laving her kitten tongue up his girth with sloppy wet kisses and sucking tightly at the thick head.

"Oh fuck - keep going, just like that sweetheart. Fuck."

It wasn't long before Sanemi felt the comings of release with how pent up he was, having not even pleased himself after their last fight, his balls swollen and just begging to empty. Sure, he could've stuck things out a bit longer, taken her out on a couple of actual dates, worked his way up all the stupid goddamn bases, but with how things were going, he couldn't think of any good reasons why he shouldn't knock her up after this.

Enjoyment course through her veins as she worked, every thread of of stress, tension, and worry draining from her body with each swaying motion. Her lips had a mind of their own it seemed as they wrapped around him like a suckle, milking him mindlessly and wavering only to get air through her lungs. She could feel his cock twitching in her mouth sporadically, his pulse quickening as he panted deeply above her. (Y/n) went even deeper, her gag reflex begging for reprieve but she silenced it, throating his cock as far as she could without giving out. Her legs pressed together as arousal pooled from her empty center.

His eyes rolled back, and he bucked without thinking, lodging himself as deeply as possible, causing her to choke out startled until a hotness smoothed down the back of her throat. Her wide eyes calmed with the warm balm, cum pumping rope after rope into her stomach. She relaxed into it quickly, kneading his tensed thighs and bobbing her head softly to help him ride it out the waves of euphoria.

His muscles finally eased as he finished, now letting out soft groans as she warmed him with her mouth. He took a moment to admire her, how disheveled her pretty hair was, how ruined her makeup looked, how amazing she felt. He took a mental photograph of it all before pulling out, parting from her lips with a deliciously wet noise. A thread of come dripped his slit, but her tongue was quick to lick it up before it fell.

"Shit~," he sighed and brushed back her sweat-glazed hair from her face. "That was perfect." It wasn't an exaggeration at all, she was everything he'd hoped for and more. He rolled his hips against her face as she licked her lips and breathed, rubbing his cock all over her cheeks, face, everything. Just the sight of her nuzzled against him had his cock ticking to life again.

The girl must've noticed his renewed excitement as she repositioned herself to mouth at him again before sinking down, her lips wrapping around him and continuing with flawless precision. He whimpered out and pulled her off tenderly.

"No, no baby, it's ok." She was more dangerous than he'd thought, clearly.

Honestly, she was kind of hoping to continue sucking him like this. Based on his reactions, she must've been good at it, and God was this the perfect stress reliever. But another reason might've been her nerves. She wasn't quite sure she was ready for him to see her fully naked yet.

(Y/n) wiped her sodden mouth and shakily stood up, her sore knees wobbling.

"O-okay," she gave, "Uhm, lay down I guess. Uh, I'll get on top."

"What? No."

She looked at him a puzzled, fearful gaze, growing scared as he came closer while pulling the rest of his clothes off.

"I haven't even made you come yet. And even when we do fuck, there's no way I'm letting you top," he mumbled, stern and clearly not in the mood to argue.

She became even more anxious as he picked at her delicate clothing, firmly tugging at her woven dress and pulling the ties apart. "W-wait!" she squealed and backed away, her back aching when she'd hit the table.

Sanemi groaned. "Ugh, what now? Wait..." he took a long drawl of her features, her shaken hands that hugged her dress closed, her downcast glazed eyes, her discomforted posture and positioning. "Are you nervous?" He gave a surprised chuckle as her face reddened.

"Don't be a jerk!" she whined, tears beginning to dot her eyes with frustration and worry.

"Hey, hey," he crooned softly, more gently than she'd ever heard him speak. She'd be caught dead before she admitted that it comforted her, though. "It's fine, what are you scared about? I told you I'd take care of you, didn't I?" Sanemi came closer to her, eventually gathering her safely into his arms. He rubbed warm circles on the small of her back as he spoke, heating up the supple flesh. His face nuzzled into her neck, his breath making her shiver.

"Y-you've never seen me naked before," she finally grumbled, her voice shaky, "What if you think I'm ugly?" She could feel him relax into her, his throat letting out a deep groan that had her knees buckling. "Oh sweetheart-"

Really? That was all she was worried about? He truly didn't take her for the self-conscious type, with how confident she acted. The same womant that had purposely let him win bets just so he would kiss and feel her up was scared for him to see her naked? She was such a mystery sometimes. He pulled her further into him, eliciting a high squeal and hoisting her up over his shoulder. He easily carried her over to the nearest bedroom, ignoring her constant feared questions of the destination and intentions. Reaching the room, he threw open the door and laid her upon the futon as if she were made of glass.

"The only thing you need to be worrying about is how many times you're gonna come tonight." He smirked and glanced over at her tensed, little form. "You do look kinda weak now that I think about it... definitely don't get off more than once a day - hell, do you even get off more than once a week?"

(Y/n) looked away mortified, more so at his accuracy rather than his accusation. Her lips thinned and squeaked out, "I'm busy, asshole..."

Shinazugawa hummed with the validation. "Yep, thought so." He carelessly began tearing away at her clothes again, laughing at her little yelps and cries to not damage her precious outfit. Her yukata was easily removed, the... undergarments not so much. Sanemi nearly drooled at the sight, her lush figure wrapped in a smooth, velvety green that mimicked that of a quiet wood. He could make out every small detail in the stitch work, every swirl of organic thread that hid her delicates from his hungry eye. It was fucking lingerie.

"Awwww, you wear this for me?" He purred, deep and ravenous.

She quickly buried her face in her paws, squirming on the bed and groaning. "Shut uuuuup!" When she'd thrown it on earlier at the shop, she hadn't actually thought she'd get to the point of showing off, so certain that they'd have a short and wholesome reunion, maybe a kiss or two. As embarrassed as she was that it had gotten this far, her curiosity was larger, begging for her to see this through. It wouldn't hurt to try... right?

His lips felt like molten lava on her body, a glorious trail of fire that dragged from her face to her neck to her chest. A rush of apprehension yet relief filled her as a single hand unclipped the back of her bralette, the fabric easily falling from her gathered flesh onto the bedding. She was grateful he didn't make a big scene of seeing her naked breasts like she knew some men did, his mouth, instead, doing all the talking, pressing gentle kisses atop her bosom. Her skin flushed with the attention, each whisper of affection adding fuel to fire that was running rampant in the pit of her belly, growing with each second. The woman couldn't help but whine when his tongue finally met her nipple, suckling the nub into his boiling mouth. Her fingers tugged at his snowy locks, grasping them harder and harder each time he switched from left to right, his large hand squeezing the lone tit with every shift. The intimacy of the act alone had her desperate, slick drenching her panties and sliding down her thighs.

"Nemi, p-please-" she mewled, eyes screwed shut with the tension and need.

She heard the man growl as he descended further down her body, drawing small patterns with his tongue with every inch of her flesh and sucking bruising marks.

Her tits were nice, obviously, but he wasn't so kind as to hide the fact that he was more excited to get a taste of another part of her. He took specially care at her lower belly, nibbling on the chubby pouch that kept something so sacred inside. Sanemi nearly trembled with temptation as her sweet musk could be smelt from here, his fingers dancing along the sticky part of her inner thighs to spread them. He licked his lips as he finally, finally, drew downward, placing himself in front of her clothed center. The wet fabric was evident, her neglected cunt absolutely seething for any form of attention. His body moved before he could stop himself, his face nuzzling into the soaked covering and taking deep, gulping breathes, his strong arms keeping her too spread to stop him.

"-Smell so fucking good... bet you taste like candy," he moaned.

(Y/n) writhed in his hold. completely against... whatever the fuck he was doing. "Sanemi, stop it! Y-you're so weird! Stop... smelling it..."

He tutted at the weak insult, responding with a clip of his teeth at the lacy top of the panties. He effortlessly tore them from her nethers, burning the flesh and drawing out a gasp. "Shhhhh," he whispered, "Wanna suck you."

Sanemi was quickly overtaken by how perfect she looked, her cunt lips all swollen and glistening with slick, her little clit poking out and twitching ever-so-slightly for some love. She could feel his brawny arms clench around her thighs, feel his hot breath fan across her wet lips, feel how eager he was to devour her. And once again, she was rendered too speechless to stop him.

His tongue was the first to meet her, licking a wide stripe up her glossy slit. He shuttered at the syrupy taste of her. It was close to torture as he made out with her pussy, his mouth embracing her with open-mouth kisses and closing in around her pulsing nub, giving it a slow suck. She was already so amped up for release, so teased for it, yet the feeling only rose, drawing further and further toward the edge but never quite falling from it. She tore at his mane, pushing him deeper into her kitten, praying for the intensity to break. And he was there for the journey, in his own world of euphoria. He would live here if he could, forever breathing in the saccharine scent and nursing on her ripened nub. He let himself get lost in it for a while - he deserved a treat for all his troubles after all - but eventually he composed himself, setting a flawless rhythm of tongue-flicking to get her off.

And only then was the flip switched, her pleasure climbing and climbing until she met the brink, the thread pulled tight.

"C'mon, baby," he growled, "come on my tongue."

(Y/n) sobbed when she came, her clit throbbing between his lips as he gave it a strong suck, relishing the gush of honey that filled his mouth. He continued with his meal, licking up every messy drop she gave and kissing her fluttering hole. Her sensitivity made all of it agony, every kiss and lick driving her closer and closer to insanity. She tried to wiggle away, but her efforts were futile with his unbreakable grip of her, his motions only becoming quicker and stronger, breaking her containment.

"Please, Nemi, please... i-it hurts," (Y/n) begged. He snickered at her submission, finally drawing back and wiping his glazed maw with the back of his hand. He leisurely kissed back up her body, savoring each and every sigh of pleasure she gave him. His hands pawed at her hips and breasts, massaging the blushing plushness that filled out his hands like dough. Her thighs wrapped around his hips as his lips met her throat, sucking even more hickeys and bruises over the previous ones, he didn't want them fading for quite some time.

She could feel his cock already pressing at her, laying across her hip hard as stone and leaking pre-cum over her sweated skin. Despite her tire, the girl could feel the growings of want again, an emptiness eating at her from the inside out. "Mmmm-," she sighed, "Jus' put it in." Her laughed into her jawline, pausing his meddling. Even in her exhaustion, she rolled her eyes, reaching between their bodies for his piece. He was immediately taken aback by her action, but gave no stop to it, letting her grab for him. He liked this side of her, the side that just took what she needed from him. If he wanted a selfless woman, he wouldn't be in this position in the first place.

Her fist wrapped around the base, slid down the length of it until she found the tip, then pushed it to her opening. She had to lift her hips a bit to meet it halfway since he was being a dick, but she knew what she was doing. Kinda. Sorta.

Just when she gathered the tip inside her, already sweating at the stretch, he thrust his hips, jabbing a thick chunk into her. She yelped out in pain, tears dotting her vision. Her mused at her ruined appearance, the clench her body gave as he penetrated her. She was really having a hard time taking him, a pride blooming in his chest that he was just that fucking gifted. But that wasn't to say he wasn't having difficulty as well.

"Goddamnit, you're tight - might not even fit, nn, all the way," he mumbled.

"N-no," she pleaded, "It'll fit."

(Y/n) wrapped her legs tighter around him, pulling him in hard, swallowing him into her heat. He nearly toppled over right then and there, so overwhelmed and astonished with her demonstration of carnal strength. Yet he could still hear her labored breaths, the wetness of her tears falling to her hairline in her efforts. It was angering almost, how careless she was to do such a thing. He would have never forced her to hurt herself just to please him, nor should she fear abandonment for failing to give him what he wanted. He'd have to straighten that out later.

Her cunt heaved around him, the collected slick at least providing some relieve to the pain she must have beared. Oh god did it hurt. He was so huge, it felt as if she'd been torn open from the inside. But she didn't care how much it burned, she wanted this part to be over with, she wanted to feel good already. Every lingering second of not being filled had the emptiness inside her growing, like a pit of darkness. And while she was sure some blood was shed, at least her guts finally had something to suck on.

"Y-you... you c-can move now, I think...," she rasped, her head still foggy from the fullness. He hummed at the request yet seemed to ignore her as he bent down to her chest, take a hard nipple into his mouth. (Y/n) bit her lip and whined at the added stimulation.

"S'nemi, move-" she spoke again, stern but shaky. She felt him smile against her breast.

"I dunno, kinda like it right here. I might just have you warm my cock all night," he purred, still sucking at her teat. She blushed at the confession, giving his face a little push away from her chest.

"What?" he laughed, "You're good at it."

She denied him any reply, turning away in sheepishness. She was sure it was just sex-talk, but it was nice knowing that he felt good being warmed by her. Her cunt fluttered softly around him, oozing more slick onto his member and beginning to stick to his thatch of pubic hair. A soft moan spilled from her with his responding roll of his hips, pressing the tip of himself further into her cervix. She hadn't expected it to feel so heavenly already, especially when she'd been in such pain only a moment before. His parts hit deep, filling her to the point of nearly bursting. She swore she could feel him in her chest.

"N-nemi - oh my god...," she mewled.

"I know, sweetheart, I know. Just let me take care of you."

She didn't even have to ask twice as he began grinding into her, churning her insides like butter while her cream spewed out to gloss his cock. Her arms weakly wrapped around him, desperate for something to hold onto. It already felt like too much, the thickness, the length. She was gonna split in half, she could feel it. But he went slow, thankfully, letting her get accustomed to the overbearing fit. Her pussy couldn't stop clutching around him, high off the sensation of his length twitching inside her and scratching the itch that she could never quite reach. Drool threatened the corner of her lips, his rhythm of humping so deep and smooth. She could already feel herself go dumb.

"That's a pretty face you're makin'," Sanemi hummed, "And I haven't even started yet." She furrowed. What did he mean?

Her eyes rolled back as he delivered a powerful blow, drawing his hips back several long inches before snapping them back and pummeling into her cunt. Oh god. He continued the harsh thrusting, holding her little body to his chest and pumping viciously into her weeping pussy. She felt everything, from the hot veins that lined his length to the way he filled her out completely, every sensation gathered into a clump of overstimulation, tearing at her nerves one by one. Yet it was too little at the same time. As crazy as it was, it still felt as if he was going easy on her, her hungry cunny still raging to be ruined.

The moans and pleas fell out her mouth before she could stop them, stupidity literally being fucked into her. (Y/n) couldn't even hope to keep up and simply held onto his back as fiercely as she could, eventually biting down on his shoulder for an outlet.

She wasn't the only victim of it though. Sanemi, too, could feel himself being driven to the brink of insanity. He'd thought her mouth felt good, but dear god was her cunt another story. Her tiny pussy had a mind of its own, sucking him in so hard he felt his head get dizzy. Fuck, she was dangerous. He wasn't sure he'd be able to stay off of her after this. Just the thought of her constantly hanging off his dick had him going feral, viciously snapping his hips into hers without a second thought. And don't even get him started on the babies they would make. If it were up to him, she'd eternally have a baby in her belly, the consequence of being a dumping ground for every precious drop of his cum. He licked his lips at the thought.

Shit, she was close. She just needed a little more, just a bit.

"Harder, Nemi, right there!" she squealed as he jammed into her sweet spot, reaching an arm down from his back to press between her folds, quickly flicking at her bead. So close.... so close... almost-

It felt cruel to leave her hole so quickly, crumbling the chase of her orgasm that he knew was only a hair's breadth away. She sobbed when he yanked out of her gaping entrance, her hips jerking toward him at the sudden absence that had her feeling so horribly empty. But her grief was short lived as he spun her around with a growl, shoving her top half into the bed with a hand to the center of her shoulder blades. The other paw curved her hips up, raising her ass high in the air. He filled her back up in an instant, her thighs trembling at the sudden reunion. But she quickly eased, her bones going soft and brain turning to mush as he resumed the primal fucking. Sounds of sloshing wetness furnished her ears along with her own breathy moans, each thrust providing a reminder of just how soaked she was. And she only got wetter, like an endless fountain of hydration.

Sanemi groaned at the sight of her tiny, little pussy taking him at this angle, her poor kitty straining and stretching to take in every inch of his shaft. The girl was like a ragdoll in his hands now, doing nothing but drool into the sheets and let him ravage her as he wished. He nearly laughed at how silent she was now, the only obvious answer being that he had finally dicked her down to submission.

Her climax began to claw at her again, the hills of it coming one after another until she stood at the tip-top of it, creeping toward the edge.

"Jus' like that... jus' like that...," she mumbled into the saliva-drenched bedding, throwing her ass back into him for more friction. The impact of his heavy balls smacking across her clit only drew her higher, rapturous shocks shooting up her body with each wet slap.

He felt himself getting close as well, his cock jumping inside of her excitedly. She was just too tight; it was like she was sucking the cum out of him straight from the source.

"Fuuuuuuck, where - hah - where you want my cum?" he groaned, needing an answer fast. As much as he wanted to, he knew she probably didn't want to take any risks. He knew she wasn't on anything, and even if she was, she probably wouldn't like the mess afterward.

But he was wrong. She tried to think for a moment, she did. But all she could focus on was how good she felt and the way her body fit so well under his. Her eyes scrunched, attempting a thought.

Where you want my cum?

Cum. You. Where. Want.

Want. Cum. You.

You. Want. Cum

Cum.

Her cunt tightened.

"'nside..."

His ears strained to listen to what she said, the timeline closing as his balls drew tight. "Huh???" he urged again. He leaned down to her, nearing his ear toward her babbling lips. (Y/n) turned to free her voice, panting.

"I-I-Inside," she repeated. His heart stopped.

"C-cum... i-inside... me."

He groaned loud, silencing himself by biting into the pillow next to her head. Her disgustingly hot words threw him over embarrassingly quick, his hips stilling as deep as he could manage whilst his weight gave, suffocating her beneath him. His seed spilled hotly into her pulsing cunt, thick spurts of white filling her starved womb while his balls throbbed.

She, at first, loathed his lack of movement, angered that he had yet again left her hanging from release. Until she felt the warmth. The pleasure was instantaneous, her insides purring at the searing hot milk that flooded her. She could feel how thick it was too, how copious the amount as her uterus labored to make room for such a feast. Yet she still clenched around him vigorously, wanting to drain every drop into herself and receive every ounce of ecstasy it rewarded her. And before she realized it, she was coming, clamping down hard and gushing juices around him with a shrill cry.

The man allowed himself a few moments to gather his bearings, praying that post-nut clarity give him some idea of what to do. But all he felt was exhaustion. Sanemi forced himself to roll over, taking her with him so they lie on their sides. He was surprised she was still breathing after being squashed.

"D-dont even think about falling asleep," he huffed after feeling her breathing begin to even with unconsciousness. "We're not done yet." Why the hell did he always have to open his fucking mouth? He was done for and he knew it.

She whined sleepily and slowly manuevered herself to turn around, losing his flaccid cock in the process but he promptly reinserted himself. "But I'm tiiiiiiiiiired."

"Don't care."

He felt content that she didn't argue, clearly having gained some respect for his manhood as she simply snuggled into him, pressing her face into his warm chest. They remained silent for a few moments, regaining their breath and calming their heartbeats. However, his softened cock still remained cooped up inside her.

"If I let you keep it in me all night, will you let me sleep?" she offered. He sighed at her insistence but gave in.

"I'll think about it."

She smiled softly, nuzzling under his chin with affection.

He couldn't stop himself from drifting off, comfortable in the safety of her engulfing heat. "'M g'nna f'ck you s'hard t'morro...," he managed to mutter as his lids shut. Despite being half asleep, she giggled and kissed his neck.

They'd deal with everything later, get all this relationship and contraceptive shit under control. Right now, he was just glad to have her with him, cuddling into him so adorably with her stupid little smile. He tilted down, pressing his nose into her messy locks.

Flowers.

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theamberfist · 5 months

Text

Leave it All on the Dance Floor! Part 2 | Alastor x Overlord! Reader

Platonic! Alastor + Best Friend! Reader who's also an overlord.

Description: After having his coat ripped, Alastor enlists the help of his best friend and tailor.

(Notes: CW Alastor, mentions of cannibalism) (Part 2/5 of Leave it All on the Dance Floor!)

Words: 2508

Part 1

"That new fabric order you wanted just got in, boss!" Joan chirped as she entered your work room; a clipboard in hand. Hearing that made you smile and you looked up from where you'd been drawing out concepts for some new clothes.

"Wonderful!" You exclaimed, "I know you know where to store it for now. I'll get to work on adding that to the new line later." Joan nodded as she crossed the item off her well-organized list. "And how are the newbies doing down there?" You asked, referring to the recently-hired demons currently being trained to work the boutique while you focused on designing.

You'd hoped they wouldn't end up causing much trouble when you took them in; needing the extra employees, but Joan's expression immediately made you lower your hopes.

"They're...Working on it." She replied finally, "But don't worry; I've been dealing with all the customer complaints the way you told me to. We'll get those sinners up to par soon enough, and then you'll be back to having the most well-run boutique in hell!"

At that, you sighed. You were just glad to have Joan to deal with them so you wouldn't have to; after all, you'd been very busy lately.

"Are you still designing the new line?" the feline asked with a hint of concern in her voice. You'd been working on it for the last week almost nonstop, and you knew she was probably a little worried about you. Still, she knew better than to comment about it openly.

"Yes," you replied, setting the drawings on your desk now, "But I should have some solid concepts soon." Joan was still frowning but you ignored her worry as you leaned back in your chair and stretched. You'd been at this all day so you had to admit; it might be a good time to take a short break.

"I'm sure these new designs will be even more lovely than your last ones," you assistant finally spoke as she took another step forward, "But...Uh, there's one other item that could use your attention right now." At that, you raised an eyebrow.

"Oh? What is it?" You asked. Based on her nervous expression, you weren't sure you wanted to hear the answer.

She drew in a breath before glancing back down at her clipboard. "We have a client here who requires repairs on some of their clothes."

"I thought I said I wasn't going to be taking any clients this week?" You replied now, crossing your arms, "Can't one of the apprentices handle it?"

"The client has insisted only your expertise will do," Joan told you, "And frankly, I don't think it's quite my place to refuse." She had a look of fear on her face at that that piqued your interest even more. Who could this client be to have scared even your own assistant so badly? You had a few ideas, and if they turned out to be true, then you almost wanted to smile in delight.

"Alright," you pretended to sigh now, knowing what was up, "Send them in and I'll handle it." Joan nodded quickly before heading over to the door of your workshop, which she opened to reveal a very familiar sinner standing on the other side with a huge smile on his face.

"Why, thank you, my dear!" Alastor told Joan as he took a step into the room. She nodded quickly before leaving and closing the door behind her. Meanwhile, you grinned and stood from your desk.

"Al, what brings you back here already?" You asked, though you couldn't have been more glad to see your best friend back in the Swing Sector visiting you, "Miss me already?" The Radio Demon's smile widened at that and he came over to pull you into a hug.

"Lovely to see you too, my friend!" He exclaimed as you chuckled. "I'm afraid I've come to request your assistance mending some of my clothing, if it's not too much trouble!" You let go of your friend now, raising an eyebrow at his words.

"Of course it's no trouble, but...Surely it's not these clothes you need repaired, right...?" You asked, a dark shadow beginning to form across your face, "After all, I just made this suit for you a couple of weeks ago." Your tone was calm but extremely threatening and despite being the Radio Demon himself, Alastor had to fight the urge to step back. When it came to the clothes you created, you could always be a little...murderous. He almost didn't want to continue with the look in your eye, but nevertheless, he did so.

"Unfortunately, it is," he replied carefully and with a solemn nod of his head. When he saw your expression darken even further though, he quickly continued. "But I assure you, dear, I did everything in my power to avoid letting any harm come to these clothes! This is the result of an...Unfortunate turn of events."

"Who did it?" You asked in a tone so unlike you that it would have made anyone living in your sector shake with fear.

"Alas, I do not remember his name; the forgettable sort." Alastor replied, glad to have shifted the blame off of himself now, "But I assure you, I plan to make him pay for his transgressions." His own expression became scarier now as his eyes began to shift into radio dials and glow red; even more so than normal.

"Give Joan a description of this demon on the way out," you ordered, "I'd also like to have a go at anyone who thinks they can damage my designs and get away with it." Alastor nodded at that, even if only to calm your rising anger.

"Now," you said, taking a deep breath in order to pull yourself from your murderous rage, "Show me the damage." You turned back to grab a tape measure and some sewing pins as Alastor held up the end of his coat, which had been clearly been ripped. Of course, it always gave that appearance, but in this case, the tears weren't how you'd designed them, and therefore, gave a rattier appearance.

You felt your anger nearly flare up again at the sight but calmed yourself as you nodded and then got to work measuring and pinning wherever necessary.

"Good thing I always keep your fabric on-hand," you spoke while holding one of the sewing pins between your teeth, "Otherwise, you'd have had to wait a few weeks for it to get in, and we certainly couldn't have you walking around like this for so long." The Radio Demon nodded, assuming the pose you always had him hold as he let you work.

You'd been his personal tailer ever since the two of you became friends shortly after your own arrival in hell. Before them, he'd had some random sinner off the street make all of his clothes, and as you'd told him the night you ran into each other at that party, it had showed. Luckily, he now had a best friend who was always willing to ensure he was well-dressed; making him a top priority whenever he came in.

For a few minutes, you pinned the fabric in silence as he took in the sights of your workroom. It hadn't changed much in the years since he'd last visited; a realization that was somehow heartwarming.

It was as messy as ever; with various designs lining the walls, fabric strewn about, and several trunks of other sewing supplies pushed up against the tall windows. Your desk was even worse with pins and needles all over it that had been entangled in string, and Alastor knew if he were to ever bring someone like Nifty here, she would have had a field day.

Also resting on your desk, though, were several framed photos. There was one picturing you and Rosie, probably taken sometime after the Radio Demon's disappearance, along with several photos of your various owned souls that had been taken at the parties you hosted. Alastor's smile widened, though, when he noticed several old photos of you and him rested among the rest. Even after all this time, they were well-taken-care-of and free from dust or dirt. The sight was very sweet.

"Did I overhear that you were working on a new line?" He finally asked, breaking the silence as you threaded some red string through a needle like it was nothing.

"Of course," you told him with a grin before kneeling to hand-sew the new fabric of his coat to the ripped area. "I have to stay up to date, don't I? And plus, runway season is coming up."

"Well, then I hope to be in attendance at many of your upcoming fashion shows." Alastor told you and you nodded as you started stitching.

"You'll be the first one invited, of course," you said with a playful eye roll, "Who better than my best friend to witness as I crush Velvette; fashionably?" This made the other overlord's smile widen even more.

"I have no doubt in your creative mind," he replied, "In fact, I daresay her own designs are nowhere near your level, so where's the competition in the first place?" He gave a loud laugh at that and you shook your head with a smile.

"Thanks, Alastor," You said as took out another sewing pin; not needing it anymore, "But it turns out there might actually be some competition this season. The Overlord Gala is being held a month earlier due to the next extermination being moved up- will you be attending, by the way?" You glance dup at your deer-like friend, who immediately nodded.

"But of course! I wouldn't miss such an entertaining event for the world," he replied, placing a hand where his heart should have been, "And I suppose I'll have to be requesting your services for my clothing then, as well." You nodded, turning back to your work.

"Well, anyway," you continued, "The gala is supposed to be competitive as far as fashion this year, and I intend to have the best designs by a landslide. But that all starts with the line I'll be releasing shortly beforehand, so it has to be perfect."

"Of course," Alastor nodded knowingly, "Do let me know if there is anything I can do to assist! Any endeavor that involves putting those arrogant V's in their place is worth supporting. Though, I hardly think you'll require my help schooling Velvette on the runway." You chuckled at that, finally finishing sewing Alastor's coat and tying it off.

"Thanks, Al." You told him now as you stood and brushed yourself off, "I always appreciate your support. And...Your coat is done!" You stepped away now, letting him inspect your work as you began putting away the rest of your materials. The Radio Demon took a second to look it over before his smile widened (somehow), seeming satisfied.

"Perfect as usual, my dear!" He told you as he gave a brief spin for emphasis. "Thank you kindly!"

"Anytime." You replied once you'd put everything away, "Oh, and by the way, are you planning to attend that meeting next week? The one Carmilla sent information about?" A part of you was a little nervous he hadn't been invited for a second, considering the other overlord had never been particularly fond of Alastor, but then his eyes shone with recognition.

"Yes, indeed!" He told you as the two of you started heading out of your workshop now, "Am I correct to assume you'll be there as well?" You nodded and his smile brightened, "Splendid! Then I shall see you at the meeting!"

"Sounds good," you replied, "But before then, make sure you let Rosie know you're back! If you show up to the meeting with no warning she might bite you." You shivered, remembering the last time Alastor had done something to make the kind cannibal overlord angry. You hadn't had bandages on-hand at the time and had had to use whatever fabric you could find just to wrap his wound.

"Of course, of course!" Alastor waved a hand dismissively, which told you he most likely would not be telling Rosie in advance. He always had liked to keep everyone guessing, hadn't he? "Now, I would love to stay longer, but I must be on my way, darling!" He headed over to the counter of your boutique, where one of your newer recruits immediately shrunk away in fear. "And I'd better let you get back to work if you're to show everyone up at the gala!"

You grinned and made your way over to the register, but instead of punching in any amount, you simply leaned your elbows onto it with a smile. "Al, you know I wouldn't make you pay for a simple repair like this," you told him, "if anything, the one paying will be whichever demon ripped your coat in the first place." You were still smiling but your voice got significantly more sinister and your eyes darkened as you spoke the last sentence. The rest of the shop's employees cowered but Alastor just laughed.

"A true gentleman pays his friend for their services, dear." He reminded you but as he spoke, his gaze shifted to the street outside, where a TV in the store across the street happened to be running Vox's broadcast. His smile didn't drop but you could instantly see the shift in his eyes from joy to annoyance at the sight.

And you could understand why. It seemed Vox had caught wind of the fact that the Radio Demon was back, because he was going on and on about Alastor's return and what it meant for the future of hell. You supposed that obsession of his still hadn't died out.

"On second thought, it seems I'll have to be on my way." Alastor practically spat before turning back to you with a joyful expression again, "But do let me know when you're next free, and I'll be sure to treat you to lunch as thanks for your kindness this fine day." You gave him a look so he added, "with vegetarian options, of course." Your grin widened.

Even though you were best friends with both Rosie and Alastor, two of hell's most well-known cannibal demons, you had no interest in partaking in said acts yourself and he could respect that.

"Alright." You said finally as Alastor adjusted his bow tie once more and then turned towards the door. "Nice to see you again!"

"Bye now, dear!" He called back, "Oh, and if you've got the time, consider tuning in to my next broadcast! It's sure to be quite...Entertaining." With that, he was out the door and you shook your head, still smiling. He was no doubt going to clap back at Vox by going on-air for the first time in years, and of course, you weren't about to miss that for anything.

"Joan!" You called, heading back up the stairs to your workshop now, "Would you bring the radio up? I have a feeling this afternoon's work is going to get much more entertaining!"

……….

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #platonic relationships #platonic x reader #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor best friend reader #alastor #alastor x best friend reader #alastor x friend reader #platonic alastor x reader #platonic hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin x reader #gender neutral reader #reader insert #fanfic

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josephquinnswhore · 1 year

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Hi! I'm not sure if you're taking requests but i wanted to ask if you could write one with Pedro where they're dating but reader is not famous, she is actually a young artist that runs a small business on Instagram. And everyone is shocked that he's with her, but he is so proud of being her boyfriend and is VERY supportive of her both in private and in public. That's, thank you 😊💕

the actor and the artist - pedro pascal x artist! female reader

Summary: you’re hosting your first ever art show and the paparazzi make you wonder if you’re good enough.

Word Count: 1.4K

Content Warning: age gap relationship, insecure reader.

Note: I fking love this request @rosaliedepp *kisses your forehead* I hope you love it. 🫶🏼💜

You remember where you first started, selling your artwork on Etsy, your prices were so cheap they undermined the hours of hard work, pain, sweat and tears that went into them, still you only managed to sell 3 works in about 12 months, you were stumped. Feeling like you should just give up, like it was a lost cause and your art wasn’t really as good as you originally thought it was. Until it happened.

You thought it was a scam at first, these scammers were getting crafty these days and the Pedro Pascal, messaging you on Etsy wanting a custom piece? Come on, didn’t seem likely and you weren’t stupid. You remember asking him to DM you on Instagram, his offical page, giving the email your username on Insta and within minutes receiving a direct message from the Pedro Pascal’s offical Instagram page that at the time, had 2.4 million followers, the white tick surrounded by the blue circle was confirmation it was really him and not some bot, or scammer.

He had been generous in his compliments on your works, even suggested making a business Instagram account to gain more traction, within the hour of messaging he had placed an order and left a very generous tip, he had even followed you and kept in contact regularly upon the arrival of his artwork, you figured it was because he didn’t trust you after he had sent that much money.

It was the opposite of what you thought that kept him talking with you, he thought you were sweet, talented and had real potential and knew he could help you where you needed it; not lacking in talent but recognition. If people actually saw your artwork, people would buy them. And they did, once they saw that Pedro had uploaded an image of your artwork in his house, that he followed you, your page blew up overnight, and you had Pedro to thank for it.

Which leads you to the present, two years later and 12 months of you two officially being a couple, even though things were fairly ‘new’ for the two of you, people had suspected things had been going on for longer. People of course had said their two cents online and you opted to ignore it.

Here you were in the cold evening of New York City, in a gallery room that was cleared just for your artwork, which would be showcased then auctioned, you had heard some big names were invited, ones in which you were terrified to see, let alone meet.

“You doing okay sweetheart?” Pedro’s voice scared you, pulling you back to reality as the room was half filled with people, something you’d failed to notice in your dissociative state. You offer him a smile as he hands you a glass filled with champagne.

“A bit nervous, hoping this will help.” You take a sip, your red lipstick that matches your ruby red silk, spaghetti strap dress, smears on the rim of the glass, you clutch your purse as a last resort for stress relief, feeling the tension build as more people arrive.

“I’m shitting myself, what if they don’t sell, what if they don’t like it? What if they don’t like me?” Your rambling makes Pedro chuckle, he steps towards you, his matching burgundy suit presses against your dress clad skin. His free hand caresses your hand and your hair tickles his fingers as you lean into him.

“They’ll be stupid not to love you, or your artwork. You’ve got this sweetheart.” You look at the genuine look on his face and can’t help but fall in love all over again, this man was truly a blessing in your life.

“You’re right, I’m powerful and wonderful and a fucking great artist. To us baby.” You clink your glasses together before throwing your head back, swallowing the liquid for courage before walking to the stage that had a microphone and your most iconic artwork on the wall behind you.

You’re standing in front of dozens of well known celebrities, but the champagne gives you the courage to smile at them as they watch you with wondering eyes. “Thank you all so much for joint us this evening. It’s truly an honour to host this event and to have you all here. Just a reminder that 35% of all purchases goes to the highest sellers choice of charity.”

The group cheer as you welcome them, pleased by your selflessness to give away money to donate to charity, Pedro is standing by himself off to the left of the stage and you give him a sweet smile.

“I wouldn’t be here without my biggest supporter, he’s changed my life for the better. This is the biggest moment of my life and thank you all for joining me along on this journey. The auction begins in 15 minutes so please don’t go anywhere. Stay and enjoy as long as you like, have a wonderful evening everyone.”

The applause goes straight to your head, people clapping and cheering for you as you walk off the stage, meeting Pedro at his side and giving him a kiss on the cheek, he doesn’t mind that you leave a lip shaped lipstick stain on his skin.

The auction is intense, your latest piece was the biggest success, it was sold for $360,000. That to you, was insane, you had earned that much money on one artwork. The years of hardworking was finally coming to pay off, not to mention one charity of a buyers choice was going to have received a very hefty donation.

“I can’t fucking believe it, that was insane. Thank you so much for coming with me, I couldn’t have done it without you.” You muse as you’re locking up the store, Pedro blushes at your compliment. “You did this all yourself sweetheart, money can’t buy talent.”

You shiver as the cold air hits your bare shoulders, the skin forming goosebumps immediately, your teeth are chatting at the freezing temperatures, curing yourself for not bringing a jacket. Pedro takes off his suit jacket, leaving him in his long sleeve-white button up dress shirt as he wraps the jacket around you, the smell and warmth of him bring you back to reality. The warmth holds you in its grasp.

“You didn’t have to do that, thank you.” You look up at him, thankful for the kind gesture. “Of course I did sweetheart, let’s get you home.” The perfect moment between you was spoiled as you see and hear paparazzi come swarming and shouting in your direction, probably after seeing the event posted online.

“Hey Pedro Pascal! What’s it like dating someone not talented on your level? Is it because you want a normal life?” The man snaps pictures of you and Pedro together, holding hands and Pedro shielding you from the cameras as the flash is blinding you.

“She is more talented than me. She’s an incredible artist, not that I have to justify it. Please leave us alone we’re very tired.” Pedro takes your hand and you try to walk away to get to his car which was parked right outside of the gallery, was it a good idea, no. Was it convenient, yes.

“What’s it like dating someone significantly younger, do you think she’s dating you for the money?” Pedro opens your door and puts your seatbelt on for you, before shutting the door and turning to the men following him.

“She’s the most genuine person I’ve ever met, not that it’s any of your business. Goodnight.”

He turns and makes his way to the car, starting it and driving off away from the flashes that blinded his eyes only moments ago. He notices you’re quiet, too quiet.

“Are you okay?” He seemed to be asking that a lot lately.

“I don’t know. They’re just mean, I love you Pedro, I do. I just don’t know how you deal with that- it’s so invasive and just horrible the things they’re saying about me, about us.”

His hand rubs your bare knee as he drives, his eyes not leaving the road until he comes to a red light mere streets from your shared apartment, “don’t listen to a word they say. They’re just looking for a reaction. If you’re happy then we’re good. I know I’m the happiest I’ve ever been with you.”

“You always know the right things to say Pedro.”

“I gotta keep my girl happy, don’t I?” You can’t help but smile at the comment, he truly was a blessing.

#pedro pascal #pedropascal #pedro pascal rpf #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x fem reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x artist reader #pedro pascal age gap fic #daddy Pedro pascal

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heeversee · 1 year

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THE POLL GODD I NEVER THOUGHT SO MANY PEOPLE WOULD VOTE.

Am I being too dramatic? Bish who cares.

So basically "MAFIA HEESEUNG" won the votes. So here it is besties.

Your wish is my command.

Heeversee Present ✨

A Mafia Heesung au

Chapter 01

You were one of the kind who was used as a personal coffee maker in your office. Even tho you were like every other employee.

So you decide to leave your office and search for another.

Since you didn't get any job after a long 3 months of being job less. You had to do something to feed your poor soul. you were all alone without any family or friends.

You luckily got a job in a nearby High-class cafe and bakery. Well baking was your talent and who didn't want a job in a High-class cafe? so you decide to take up the job.

There were various types of people who would come. grumpy rich office workers, rich giggling High schoolers, big body builders and rich but bubbly and kind grannies, business men's and women's.

In short this cafe was only for rich ass people.

Today you happen to arrive late, which didn't actually cause any problem because your manager was a very kind woman, she knew that you never skipped work for fun and were punctual.

Heeseung, the mafia boss, walks into this high class cafe.

His dark aura quickly hushing the place is bustling with people.

The smell of fresh coffee lingers in the air.

He sees an empty table and makes his way to it, hoping to get a cup of coffee.

He sits down and sets his suit jacket on the chair next to him as he pulls out his phone, ready to work.

That's when he notices you at the counter, your back turned to him. Heeseung sees you and is surprised, because at first glance, you looked so incredibly innocent and pure.

He smirks wickedly enough to make almost all the customers run out of the cafe for their life. The only ones there were his own men.

He watches as you put on your coffee shop attire; apron and your uniform shirt. As your uniform shirt goes over your head.

He peeks to see your face. Your hair is tied up neatly in a ponytail and your face is clean with no makeup. However, your dark, sparkling eyes are the first thing Heeseung notices; they draw his attention in like a magnet.

He can't look away. Your beauty is something he's never seen before, it truly is a once in a lifetime sight.

You turn around with the apron on, ready to start work. But once you look up at the man who is absolutely handsome yet had cold, blank expression has been staring at you,

You drop what you were holding. It falls onto the ground with a loud bang but Heeseung doesn't notice; he's stuck staring into these eyes. He doesn't understand why he feels this way. This isn't something he would normally do, but there was just something about this girl... something that just drew him in.

They stare at each other for moments in silence. Heeseung feels this weird sensation that he's never felt before. What is this? Happiness? Love? Fear? He just... doesn't know. He can see you trembling.

You were scared. He walks over to you and kneels down. Something compelled him to do it. Heesung reaches out to you, gently picking up the items you had dropped. He's surprised to see that you dropped your uniform badge.

"y/n" your name rolling off his tongue like butter. You like the sound of it. You were forced to snap into reality when you saw the cafe half empty, the rest of the men dressed in black suits staring at you and watching the unknown man in front of you in fear.

"I'm so sorry sir" you were the first to get up and smooth down your shirt.

"w-what may I get you?" You stutter making it more embarrassing for yourself.

"A black coffee with 20% sugar" he says as he held his card in front of you.

Your shivering hands slightly graze his knuckles as you take the card.

You saw the name on his black card "Lee Heeseung".

When you were busy preparing the order for heesung, he sat manspreading watching you work through his eyes filled with lust and an unknown feeling.

Recalling the touch of your fingers even tho it was for a second, and the moment feels like an eternity.

He could feel your heat, he could feel your emotions as you just looking into his eyes, terrified.

But oddly, Heeseung wants to keep you to himself, keep you all to himself. It's like he knows, he knows that this girl is gonna be the one. Heeseung is gonna make you his.

Chapter 02 soon. Now I can't add smut when they just met can't I?

Edited.

I can't believe all this time I wrote heeseung's spelling wrong and you all didn't tell me 😭

#enhypen #enha #kpop #enhypen smut #heeseung fanfic #lee heeseung fanfic #engene #enhypen heeseung #heeseung

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sonicasura · 8 months

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Here's another crack idea that popped into my head. Persona 5's Ren Amamiya/Joker being the biological son of Pizza Tower's Peppino Spaghetti.

Is it dumb? Yes. Is it absurdly stupid and insane? Yes. Do I regret this? FUCK NO. Let Joker be half crazy Italian with an even more nutty father who WILL pile drive god if he has to. Also his last name for this shall be Spaghetti, Amamiya being his middle, cause I ain't half assing things.

(Putting a link to Part 2 here and make sure people check the reblogs for this as I added an extra page!)

Peppino is the anxious father that does his best to raise his kid despite the various issues he has to face. Whether it be finding a decent school, make sure there's some money for a little rare treat, or keep Ren's awful mother from breaking shared custody rules. Do not trifle with this man.

Any rat/mouse/raccoon in the restaurant? Those are Ren's pets who eat the insects and scare off the bad customers. (Kid does lemonade stands to buy pet friendly soap alongside basic necessities.) Peppino doesn't question it since they make his son happy and take care of the pests.

Ren absolutely helped around the pizzeria whenever he could. First time Peppino cries is when his kid made his first pizza. The second being a 12 year old Ren getting him a well made chef's hat for a birthday present. (You can say our boy already has Rank 3 proficiency.)

All the Pizza Tower weirdness can be considered normal for Joker as he doesn't exactly come from the Personaverse. (I wholeheartedly believe in Ren being a sheer cryptid, even more after seeing this comic.) His mother just dumped him there during her turn and left Ren in that neighborhood where he comes across Shido. Yes, Peppino absolutely lost it when his precious little Spaghetti didn't come home that night.

He looked everywhere for Ren and the events of Pizza Tower only put a big fat Stop Sign to that for quite awhile. Meanwhile the younger Spaghetti didn't have a fun time adjusting until Persona 5 truly kicked off. He wasn't thrown in a rigged court trial.

Ren just knocked Shido's lights out then fucking outran the cops like his Pops would on a 3rd lap game wise. He finds Leblanc and camps out there for two months. Well until Sojiro barely manages to drag Ren inside as his sanity(heart) couldn't handle this strange homeless teen facing the harsh elements. The kid running like an insane Usain Bolt when startled didn't help too.

Ren is absolutely homesick thus his Persona get to hear it the most. (I'm aware of the sheer irony with a French Persona having an half Italian wielder.) Arséne is very curious to meet Ren's father at some point and cackled upon hearing his charge's antics.

The other Thieves have no clue about how bizarre their leader's origins is. Funnily enough, Haru wholeheartedly believes in Ren's stories despite even Morgana considering it a crazy tall tale. (She got rewarded with a video of an 8 year old Ren having a breakdancing contest against his dad while sentient pizza toppings cheered them on.) The guy doesn't blame his other friends and is instead waiting for the chance to blow their minds like the gremlin he is.

Well Ren can thank Royal's Third Semester cause guess who shows up for the true boss fight?! A wild Peppino at Mach 4 speed about to pile drive his kid's former councilor. Haru is the only person not gawking when Ren's dad drags the unconscious man out before FINALLY being able to hug his kid.

Joker gets an extra gift than just him and his friends being able to keep their Persona. He can now visit everyone with a simple press of his phone. Sojiro and Peppino absolutely butt heads in a mostly friendly father flavored rivalry. (Ren doesn't notice at first as he's too busy showing One Shot Kill Medjed to Gustavo.)

Peppino absolutely fainted when his son drops an entire suitcase with enough money to not only pay off the debt but to even refurbish the diner and still have cash leftover. Maximum money perks can make Mementos a good place to grind. Ren always converted a chunk of his spoils to the appropriate currency so he can help his dad.

Peppino's Pizzeria is a secondary hangout for the Phantom Thieves and absolutely gets subjected to Persona shenanigans. Game Night is for everyone despite the fact Carmen/Milady/Arséne tend to cheat at cards. Peppino takes it as an excuse to do it too.

The older Spaghetti does his best to support his son and his friends. Whether it be making pizza that grant great stat buffs, help in battle if Ren can find a Golden Pizza Cutter whenever traversing a dungeon or offer some simple advice. Peppino will continue to drop kick anyone who gets in the way of that.

And this anxiety driven beat shall play at maximum volume.

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nine-of-words · 7 months

Text

Something Borrowed (Part Ten)

M Gargoyle x M Reader

PREVIOUS || STORY TAG || NEXT

Wordcount: 5127

Content Warnings: Discussion of a Breakup

The horrors have been numerous and persistent for me lately, so this part took its sweet time getting written. Not much else to say about this chapter, other than I’m very excited to write the next one!!

It seems that things are determined to go sideways today.

“Sorry to drop all of this on ya so early, but I knew you’d be awake.” Your sister’s voice comes through the speaker of your device.

You are indeed awake. You haven’t been sleeping well lately, despite it feeling like what you do the most these days- no idea why that would be- so you were already up and slowly trudging through your morning routine. But now you’re distracted with the call, going through making yourself a desperately needed cup of coffee mostly by feel in your dimly lit apartment kitchen.

“It’s okay- So, how exactly did this happen?”

“She took a wee tumble down the stairs. Got up in the middle of the night to get water, fell ass over kettle.”

“Oh, spirits. But you said it wasn’t serious, right?”

“Eh. Fractured her wrist, or so the doctor says. Right, Ma?” You hear a bit of noise in the background that sounds remarkably like your mother being quietly muttering in a displeased manner. “She’ll be right as rain soon enough. But she’s going to be in the cast for a tick.”

“Do I need to book a flight?”

“Hmm. You know we love to see ya- but nah. It's really not all that dire. Think she's tired of all the fuss by now, really.” She explains, before immediately switching into compulsory older sibling teasing. “Plus won't your new fella miss you? Unless you want to bring him along to meet what he's got to look forward to joining up with.”

“Haha… Yeah, you’re right. I suppose you’ll just have to wait…” You haven’t told them he’s not exactly your fella at the moment. What would you even say?

After a bit more conversation, Emer puts your mother on, and you speak to her for a short while. It assuages your worry a little, but not nearly enough to take the edge off. Though she's adamant you don't let her little mishap scare you into making sudden travel plans, you can't help but let it add to your ratings worries.

Maybe… you should go home?

You hang up your voci and look down at the brewed coffee that’s just started to drip through the filter. In your absent minded state, you’ve managed to put the exact mug you’ve been avoiding into the machine.

But there it is, the pink and white curves of ceramic reminding you of everything you're trying to push out of your mind.

You let out a long, frustrated sigh, pausing to stare vacantly at the mug.

Maybe putting an ocean between you and here will help you forget what you could have right now instead, if you weren't cursed.

You have all day to sit on it, you suppose, and can make a decision later. But you do have a business to run in the meantime, so you return to the process of adding your usual milk and sugar.

It doesn’t help the bitter taste at all today.

Things don’t really go much better for you the longer the day progresses.

“This is too sweet,” The older woman across the counter says, brandishing the mostly eaten cupcake in its paper lining. “I want a refund.”

“Well, it's a cupcake, m’am. It is mostly sugar…” You don’t even have the energy to muster your usual level of pleasantness. You barely keep from grimacing as you ring up the refund, just to get this person out of your hair.

Your customers are usually not this problematic, but you’re beginning to think that no one is having a good day today. You can deal with grumpy or picky people, but usually they’re not quite so many of them in a concentrated blast. Every little interaction is finding its way under your skin, and that’s not even taking into account how hard it is to concentrate and get any meaningful progress done.

Though, this is a task you’ve been pointedly avoiding that you’ll have to start sooner or later, today.

You’ve got to finish putting together Devin and Trevor’s cake- if you want it to be solid enough to put flowers in before delivery tomorrow night, which is rapidly approaching the longer you dawdle.

As in, nearly can be measured in hours instead of days soon.

It was different when it was just… anonymous cake layers you were cutting out and leveling. That could’ve been for anyone’s cake! But the more personality that goes into it, the more the subtle, nagging grief makes it difficult to work on.

You sigh and glob a stabilizing dollop of the vanilla buttercream- Trevor's choice- onto the base with your offset spatula.

It’s not as if you’re jealous that your ex is getting married at this point. You’re far past the stage of wanting him back by now. It just… all seems so unfair. Hopeless. He was able to wound you so deeply when he left- and just when you thought you had healed and moved on, carved out some new happiness for yourself- that got taken away, too.

Why should he get to be happy when you’re on the short end of the stick again?

You center a cake layer, then slather some more buttercream, spreading it out to make a glue for the next layer to adhere onto.

You’ll just have to think about it as Devin’s cake. It’s for your friend. That’s how you’ll get through this. You’ll do a good job, for your friend. Even if she’s marrying your ex, she should still get the best cake you can make for her, like you’d do for any other client.

Another layer of cake. A layer of elven berry compote that you made fresh yesterday- also Trevor’s choice, naturally. Another layer of cake. Then, repeat it all again.

As much as you try to rationalize that to yourself as you work through applying the crumb coat, you can’t help but realize you’ve been white-knuckling the spatula handle by time you’ve finished applying the buttercream.

Eventually, you have all of the crumb coated tiers ready on cake boards, to be given another coat and assembled after they’ve firmed up for a bit.

You mercifully shut the disassembled cake in the cooler, relieved that you don’t have to look at it for another few hours. Though, you have to hand it to yourself, even when your life is falling apart, you can make a bang-up gorgeous cake.

The demands of your business don’t stop just because you’re having a bad day and have other things to do, unfortunately. You’re not sure what portal to Hell has opened nearby, but it seems like all of the most awful customers have all decided to come to your shop today to take out their anger on you.

“No, we don’t do tiered pies here. I don’t even know if you’d be able to do that without making a mes- Well, okay. Have a nice day-” You say, though the person on the other end of the line has already hung up on you.

You turn to face the customer waiting at the counter, but before you can even greet them, they interrupt you with a snapping of their fingers.

“Where’s our waiter? I put our order into the kiosk twenty minutes ago and no one has even been by to so much as pour our water!”

“Oh, well, you can eat-in here, that’s what the seating is for, but we’re not a full service-”

“Ugh, fine! Just get me my order already, then.” The customer barks and you have to bite your tongue to restrain yourself from snapping back.

By time you reach another lull in activity and get back to work on Devin’s cake, your jaw and shoulders are fully tensed.

Since it’s slow, you take out the gumpaste. You have another tray of roses to sculpt so they can dry on time to place them tomorrow, so you might as well knock it out sooner than later.

Maybe none of this would be getting to you so much, but the full weight of the wedding being tomorrow is bearing down on you. The one saving grace is that Kirby will be there to distract you- at least you won’t be alone. You’ll deliver the cake, you’ll get through the ceremony, you’ll stay for a brief yet socially acceptable amount of time at the reception, and then you’ll go home and this whole excruciating ordeal will be over.

You just have to finish this cake and get through tonight first.

Only a few more hours until close.

You can do this.

You make it another hour, rolling thinned pieces of sugary paste into delicate petals, before the bell door rings, and the person you see walk through the door gives you pause.

It’s not Carlyle, as you’ve been hoping it was every single time you hear the shop bell jingle since the last time you saw him. But it certainly looks like him, in everything but personal styling, and of course, the shape of the quartzose horns protruding from his brow.

Today it seems he’s left his body glitter at home, however. He’s dressed in relatively casual clothing; a hoodie (midriff still intact), untied slim joggers, immaculately clean sneakers. The difference is so staggering you might not have even recognized him as the same person, compared to his last visit, if he didn’t have Carlyle’s face; which you can now see clearly underneath his loose brown curls, this time not covered by the shadow of his hood.

“Hey.”

He gives you a tilt of his chin in acknowledgement and smiles an uncannily similar, fanged smile to the one you’ve grown accustomed to seeing. It’s a stab of pain, how sorely you miss it right now, and seeing it again, but just different enough to not be it.

“Uh. Hi, Marcus?” You say in a stilted manner, not really sure how to proceed. “You are… looking less gilded today than last time.”

“Hahahah, yeah. I didn’t have work last night, dude. No hangover!”

“Hah. Right…”

“But good to see you again, man! …I was wonderin-”

“Listen, if you’re here to deliver a message or something, I really can’t do this right now.” You cut him off, begging more than anything at this point to not have another thing go wrong or a twist of the knife today. You scrub at your face with your forearm to keep your hands sanitary, the deep pit of frustration starting to bubble out of you unintentionally. “And he knows to not-”

“Hey, no man, listen! It’s nothing like that.” He pats his curls down, the same way that his brother occasionally does with his dreadlocks when he’s smoothing out a misunderstanding. “He’d be PISSED if I knew he was here, hahah. He told me never to come here on my own after last time!”

“Well, maybe you should follow his instruction on that matter.” You say dryly and continue to roll the soft substance in silent judgement. “He usually knows what he’s talking about.”

Marcus seems to take this as a bad sign, his face twisting into a look of exasperation.

“Fine! Gimme a dozen cupcakes then. Fuck, make it any flavor, dude, I don’t even care.” He starts rifling through his pants pockets, finally pulling out his wallet, and then a card that he puts on the counter. It’s got his name printed on it, rather than Carlyle’s, so you suppose he’s gotten it replaced since the last time. “You’ve gotta talk to me if I’m a customer ‘n shit, right?”

“You know I do have the right to refuse service to you…?”

“Yeah man, but I don’t think you’re gonna! You’re too nice, from what I’ve heard.” Marcus says with the sort of shit-eating grin on his face that absolutely makes you want to refuse service to him, but with a vengeance.

“Well if you’re not here on your brother’s behalf…” You sigh in your own matching exasperated look and set down your gumpaste project to start boxing a dozen cupcakes. “Why are you here, then?”

“I’m gonna be totally honest with you, dude. He didn’t send me, but it is about him. I’m like, super worried about him.”

“Oh…” You can’t help yourself, you have to ask. “Is he alright…?”

“Hell no! He’s all fucked up, man! The other night, I left at 8pm and he was still in the same spot at 11am when I got back in. Same book, same fit, same stale cup of coffee. He had sat still in the same place reading whatever nerd shit he was reading for so long that he deadass went half solid.”

You can’t find the words to respond to that. The guilt gnaws at you like you gnaw at your bottom lip, but in a strange way, you feel validated that he’s still as messed up about things as you are.

“Look, whatever he did, it can’t be that bad, right? It’s Lyle!! He like, never fucks up like that.” He leans over the counter, talking with his hands in another show of familiar, yet foreign-in-this-context expression. He taps his chest with the fingertips of a spread hand for emphasis. “And I would know, ‘cuz I’M the family fuck up here. So, maybe you could like, just forgive him and junk? Make up or whatever?”

“It’s not…” You take a second to steady your breath. You’ve been trying to suppress these feelings for weeks, and now they’re getting dragged up so suddenly. “It’s not something he did. It’s… outside circumstances…”

You hesitate for a brief moment before you pick out the last of the random assortment; an orange and mixed spice flavor you found yourself trying out.

“That’s it? There’s no gettin’ around it, huh?”

“No. I'm sorry. It's complicated. I just can't.” You say with weakened conviction as you tape the box up, and then hoping to persuade yourself once again, add; “It’s better this way.”

“Right-” Marcus straightens up and rocks back and forth on his feet, his sneakers squeaking slightly against the tile with the motion. “Sorry if pushing was out of line, dude.”

“Don't worry about it- honestly, I'm sort of glad you showed up.” You smile, bittersweet. “It’s good that he has someone looking out for him.”

“Yeah.” Marcus smiles a conflicted smile back, then takes his cupcakes to go. “See you ‘round, dude.”

You find yourself having a silent argument with yourself as you finish the rest of the roses.

There’s the guilt, of course. Are you a bad person if you know that this separation is hurting you both, and yet you’re continuing to enforce it? Maybe you should have just let Marcus convince you to reach out?

Seeing someone with such familiar features has only made your heart ache that much more for what you’re missing.

Perhaps it’s for the best that you don’t have any customers in the shop at the moment, because they’d be able to clearly see you sneering at empty air and grumbling to yourself.

By the time you finish the last petal on the last rose of the tray, you’re no closer to having resolved your internal disagreement.

You put the roses away, and pull out your fully set, crumb-coated cake. Now just to put the final layer of frosting on, and then you’ll be done for the night.

As you set the tray down on the counter, your voci starts ringing in your pocket. You remove your gloves and answer the call, seeing that it’s Kirby. They’ve been checking in on you a lot more often lately, like you’re a sickly pet needing constant supervision. They're not entirely wrong.

You greet them as you put them on speaker. Then you wash up, and reglove as their voice comes through on the other end.

“So! How is your day going so far?”

“Oh, you know. Typical weekend customers. Ma broke her wrist.” You say flatly, smoothing out the buttercream on the top of the lowest cake tier with a spin of the stand with well-practiced motions.

“Oh no! That’s terrible! Is she okay??”

“She’s fine, but it’s still stressful that I can’t be there to help out.”

Once you’re finished getting a perfectly even, level surface on the lowest tier, you begin the process again on a slightly smaller scale on the next largest cake tier.

“Mmm. Yeah, it must be, being so far away.”

“And Carlyle’s brother came into the shop earlier.” You continue, now lathing more buttercream onto the sides.

“Whaaaat??? No!! Glitter Boy?! Oh my SPIRITS you’ve gotta tell me all the details right now!”

“There’s not a lot to say, really. Told me Carlyle’s not taking it well either, and now I feel like a villain.”

“You’re not a villain,” Kirby sighs. “Sometimes things are just. Y’know. Messy.”

You continue to make your way through doing the final coat on the cake tiers, each one going progressively faster as they diminish in size.

“Oh, and how could I forget- I’m making a cake for my ex’s wedding that social pressure is forcing me to attend. So you know. The usual.”

“Hahah- Ooh, bummer. Well, when you put it like that, it does sound like, toooootally miserable! You’re having a pretty horrible day, and I’m… definitely not about to make it worse, hahah!!”

“Oh no.” You hiss through gritted teeth. “Something’s wrong, then?”

They laugh nervously, a little giggle-whimper that you can’t possibly be irritated with.

You’re silent as you begin to fill a piping bag with buttercream, waiting for Kirby to divulge their information.

“I MAY have some bad news.”

“Oh. Lovely. Just grand! More bad news is exactly what I need at this current moment.” You say, dripping with sarcasm.

“I know!!! Believe me, I know! But I wanted to tell you as soon as I found out.” Kirby sighs. “I just got out of a meeting with my boss and they’re sending me out of town on a case. I have to get on a red eye in a few hours.”

“But… the wedding is tomorrow…”

“Yeah, that would be the problem! But I can’t exactly tell my boss to fuck off and still have a job, y’know??? Soooooo. We are in. damage. control. mode!”

“It’s okay.” You say, it not really being okay at all, but not wanting to lash out at your friend who’s only ever tried to help you in any given situation. You’re simply too stunned to even start to panic.

“Nope! It’s ABSOLUTELY not! But I’ll be there in like, an hour!! I’ll bring dinner and we can totally figure out a plan B, okay? Or I guess plan C or D by now- But bestie, I don’t care if I have to HIRE an escort to take you to that wedding, you’re not going alone! Especially not because of stupid work interference!!”

“Hah- A-Alright.” You laugh weakly and speak through a sharp intake of air, but manage to not sound like you’re about to burst into tears, even though you desperately want to. “See you soon.”

The call ends, but you continue working, despite the rapidly expanding pit of terror in your gut and the sting at the back of your eyes.

This news, surprisingly, does not help your ability to finish this cake.

You keep going, but not without roadblocks. Your eyes screw closed in frustration and pain. Your teeth grit. Your hand clenches around the bag, nearly squeezing the frosting out of the back end of it.

As a small mercy, closing time finally comes and you turn off the light, though you leave the door unlocked, given you’re expecting Kirby sometime in the next hour or so.

You need to move on to piping some of the finer details- But you can't even think about piping an even line right now, not with the way your hand is trembling.

Still, you persist, pushing the bag back taut and re-twisting the open end.

“Stop. Shaking.” You hiss out loud at yourself, your body refusing to obey even your own verbal instructions.

You just need to get this cake done. Is that so much to ask?

Kirby is coming over and you’ll find a solution for the wedding. You won’t have to go to your ex's wedding alone. It will be fine.

The tremor in your hand nearly causes you to stab through the layer you’re working on with the piping tip, so you take a moment to straighten up your posture and try to loosen your locking muscles. You take a few calming breaths, then go back in and manage to finish the last few filigree details on the tier you're working on.

Your hand is already shaking again. You ignore it. You’ll get through this. You have to.

But every time you regain focus, the thought of Carlyle as a miserable and inert statue keeps creeping back unbidden into your mind.

It’s all too much. Too much. Too much.

The lights above you flicker. A buzz of energy ripples through the room.

The pressure on your chest is unbearable now. Blood rushes in your ears.

You can’t deal with this anymore.

You can’t even think-!

POP-

In an instant, something cold and cloying splatters across the side of your face and the bridge of your nose, the front of your shirt, your clenched hands and outstretched forearms.

You bring a hand to your face in shock, blindly testing the sudden change in texture.

Your fingertips come away coated in sticky, sugary goop, and bits of shredded vanilla sponge cake.

And where the cake tiers were sitting on the counter, there’s a conspicuous absence of a cake, only the sparse large chunk of shrapnel- a bloodless crime scene, the mostly empty, frosting smeared cakeboards evoking the essence of a chalk body outline.

Well. You’ll be damned.

The cake exploded.

Hoarse, incredulous laughter escapes your throat- first in disbelief, then in bitter resignation. No other reaction really seems to suit this situation more.

Because your life is a joke. A bad joke.

Your laughs thin out, turning into choked sobs. You sink down until you’re sitting on your cold shop floor with your back against a cabinet, and bring the lower clean edge of the apron up to cry into.

Eventually, the unrestrained weeping quiets into silent tears Time has passed, as evidenced by the sky beginning to darken outside.

“Heeeeellooooo~! I’m heee-” You hear a familiar voice call out and then equally familiar hoof falls on the tile. There’s a rapid change in their tone, making a 180° turn into hushed concern. “Oh. Well fuck, that doesn’t look good-”

After a few moments, Kirby rounds the counter, an inquisitive look on their face.

You can’t even muster the embarrassment to be seen like this, too tired and emotionally drained and just simply done with it all.

You expect a look of pity or maybe some awkward fussing, but instead, Kirby simply gives you a knowing smile.

“What a mess!!” Kirby shakes their head, curls tumbling as they assess the damage. “You’re not hurt, are you, honey?”

You shake your head weakly, rubbing at your eye with your inner wrist.

“Good! Well then, let’s get this all cleaned up!” They chirp and reach out their hand, palm up.

After the moment it takes to recognize the gesture, you take their hand. Kirby’s grip is surprisingly strong for being such a petite faun, and they easily manage to help you to your feet.

“You don’t have to-”

“Well I’m NOT going to let you sit here and cry covered in frosting all night.” Kirby laughs, beginning to roll up the sleeves of their work shirt. “So. Yes I do~”

“...Thank you.” You sniffle.

“Don’t mention it!!” They laugh. “You go get cleaned up and I’ll start tackling this absolute disaster zone!”

You trudge upstairs and debate on the benefits of a full shower before deciding that it’s worth it, even if ten more cakes explode. You’re uncomfortably sticky down your neck and arms.

Maybe you can wash this day away, while you’re at it…

Before long you’re redressed and coming back downstairs- if not feeling completely refreshed, you at least now have it in you to face the (suddenly much longer) list of tasks ahead. Kirby has gotten most of the cake into a trash bag, and is wiping down the counter.

“There, you look much better! Now, come tell me what was happening when this happened, will you?”

You join them, grabbing a sanitizer rag and beginning to help wipe down the closest surface. You describe as best you can exactly what you were doing, feeling, and thinking about when the cake exploded, just as you’ve explained to them about the previous incidents that you weren’t physically present for.

“Hmm.” Kirby hums quizzically. “Well, the good news is I’ve got a potential solution for the wedding dilemma.”

“Oh?” You’d be lying if you said that the promise of a stressor being removed didn’t sound divine.

“Actually, I’ve already convinced Rosario to go with you, if you want, while I was on the way over. Did you know that she’s surprisingly easy to bribe?!” Kirby giggles. “But to be honest- I didn’t even need to bribe her!! She agreed before I offered anything in return. Apparently wedding cake and an open bar is enough reason for her to turn up, or so she said. But I think it’s because she likes you.”

“That’s… very kind of her.” She wouldn’t be the worst companion for the event- you’ve grown quite fond of her presence in your shop, prickly attitude and all.

“Yeah! She’ll easily make your ex just as uncomfortable as I was planning to, all on her own merit, hehe!! BUUUUUT, I think you know what I’m about to say-”

“Don’t…”

“You should call him!” Kirby says in the most obnoxiously sing-song sweet tone they can, and you wince hard.

“I can’t-”

“But you can~!!”

“But I don’t think I should-”

“Well, maybe you should think again, sweetie!! You absoluuuuutely should! Because if this-” Kirby motions to the partially cleaned up buttercream splatter still coating the vicinity. “Isn’t proof enough that it’s not a him problem, I don’t know what would be!!”

You drag a palm across your face, overwhelmed, and heave a sigh.

“At the end of the day it’s your choice! I can’t make you call him. But you miss him, and he misses you! I know this for a fact! And SPIRITS is he being SO insufferable about it!! And so are you!!!! And it’s just a BIT silly to keep drawing this out like this.”

“But… I don’t want him to get hurt…”

“Listen. We know there’s something attached to you- Rosario’s exorcism attempt confirmed that much. But there’s no like, actual indication that any of that is related to what’s happening with the curse. It’s just not how this kind of magic works. We’re almost certain we’re dealing with two unconnected, non-standard issues complicating each other at this point- some sort of spirit attached to you, and some sort of ley-based magical compulsion in play- but we don’t know the source of where either of those things are coming from. Yet.”

“Right.” You say, pausing your cleaning work to take in the new information.

“Though, someone has some very promising ideas about the later being some sort of messed up geas, and Rosario seems like she has a hunch on what is in the shop.”

“But… it just feels like it’s getting worse. Not that I don’t appreciate your efforts, of course…”

“I know it feels that way. But I am good at my job! And I’ve been keeping track of the numbers this whole time, y’know?? I’ve got the DATA. Do you know what I’ve noticed the most as a trend over the time I've been working your case?”

You simply shake your head to give them time to build dramatic tension before they continue.

“The cakes explode more when you’re upset!! Like, a whole, whole lot more! And quite frankly at this point, in my professional opinion, you being separated from him is making it WORSE!!”

“...You really think it’d be okay to ask him-” To go back to how it was before, to be with me again; you want to say, but end up continuing instead; “to come with me to the wedding?”

You have the feeling Kirby understands what you wanted to say, anyway, based on their pleased expression, like they’re finally getting the message through to you.

“You’re my friend!! And as your friend, I am HEREBY giving you the permission that you’re not giving yourself! I wouldn’t be suggesting this to you if I didn’t think it was safe.” Kirby squarely lays their hands on you on the shoulders, though they need to reach up slightly to do it. “If anything, having him there might keep you from getting bent out of shape at your ex and blowing up the second cake, like, at the actual wedding.”

“That would be horrible.” You rasp and find yourself genuinely smiling for the first time all day, trying to blink back the sting of more tears threatening to spill, though this time more out of a sense of appreciation than despair.

“It. Would. Be. HILARIOUS.” Kirby says with a mischievous grin, patting your shoulders with each word for emphasis. “And if it were to happen, I would hope you were recording it. Y’know, for data collection purposes, hehehe!! But it would also be, let’s say: bad for business.”

You manage to finish getting things looking clean, as if nothing bad had happened at all, Kirby has called their ride to the airport.

“Now, I have to go or I’m going to miss my flight and my boss will probably-actually-literally murder me.”

“And I have a cake to remake.” You quietly lament. “If you want, I can get on the plane and you can make the cake…”

Kirby lets out a string of giggles, picking their carry-on bag off the seat at the counter they stashed it on..

“Hahah- No thanks!! But- Call him.” Kirby repeats as they give you a squeezing hug goodbye. “Or Rosario, if you must. But don’t make yourself go alone. And keep me updated!! All of the juicy wedding gossip, please. I’m definitely going to be bored out of my mind otherwise, hehe!!”

Then they release you from their grip to head out the door with one last wave and a jingle of the shop bell.

You, on the other hand, let out a long, withering sigh and pull out another set of white cake layers from the cooler.

…It’s going to be a long night.

>> ✨ MASTERLIST >> ☕ KO-FI

#exophilia #monster lover #monster romance #monster x human #monster x reader #gargoyle x reader #gargoyle #male x male #mlm #mxm #male monster #male reader #series: something borrowed #oc: carlyle #oc: declan #nine of words

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