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alastor-x-reader-stories · 3 months ago

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"Bite Me" - Alastor x Reader - Part 4

NOTE: smidge of Vox being creepy to Alastor. Nothing explicit or detailed.

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You had just left the hotel to run some errands for yourself. You told Alastor he wouldn't want to tag along, but he insisted. You told him he'd not like where you were heading to, he didn't listen.

"...So STOP COMPLAINING!" You snapped at him.

Alastor didn't look at you, eyes straight ahead. His smile was strained, his ears pinned back, his posture straight and his arms crossed behind his back.

The two of you were walking through part of the Vees' territory.

"What, do tell, is your reasoning for bringing me here?"

"Are you stupid?" You hissed out "I just- I told you multiple times! I told you 'hey you don't want to go with me i'm heading somewhere you hate'."

"Perhaps I assumed it was an attempt to avoid me."

Your eye twitched. "Okay. Sure. Well, now you know it's not. So leave."

Alastor's eyes narrowed, though he didn't turn his eyes to you. "Oh but if I do now, that tacky picture-box might view it as a surrender...No, no, no. I'm simply going to take my time is all."

"Picture box?"

He let out a little 'hmm'. You didn't know if he thought he was confirming something for you or if he was fully aware you didn't know what he was talking about. Picture box?

"This is your destination?" Alastor said, ear twitching. You turned to look at him, hand on the door of the shop you arrived at. It was an electronics store with various gadgets and gizmos.

"Er. Yeah. I told you-"

"I'll simply wait out here for you then, yes?" He hummed, turning on heel and making himself comfortable standing right outside the door. Some meandering demons seemed to have recognized him, bursting out into terrfied screams and booking it to who-knows-where. Alastor chuckled and it seemed he found it funny.

You rolled your eyes and got to your business. Your headphones had recently broken down, being damn near impossible to use. You didn't bother having a job down here, but since you moved into the hotel you would do small chores here and there for spending money. Stealing wasn't exactly...encouraged at redemption. So. You tried to be moral about it.

Headphones of choice in hand, you fished about in your pockets for your cash even when the other people in the store started storming out while screeching in fear. Even the cashier was gone when you had placed the money on the counter and pocketed your new headphones.

You paid the right amount and trotted on out.

Expecting only Alastor, you ended up halting in your tracks when you see another demon talking to him. A TV-faced individual who's outfit seemed a blue version of Alastor's own. Oh. Picture box. This was probably who Alastor was talking about- Vox...

TV-face was too close to him.

You felt a growl rise up in your throat.

Alastor was doing a good job appearing unphased, but even if he was it didn't matter to you. The other demon was practically nose to non-existing-nose to the deer man, arms on either side of him in a blockade of sorts.

The TV was talking in a low, threatening growl. Something about 'have the nerve to not join him-'

You ducked underneath TV-man's arm, putting yourself between them and shoving the man away.

The flat-face of the fucker flashed a moment as its owner was startled, then one of the man's eyes started spiraling in color. Your mind started to feel a bit...fuzzy.

Alastor had put his hand on your shoulder, pulling you back behind him. Your gaze was stuck on TV guys, transfixed by the spinning-

Wait.

The bastard was hypnotizing you?

You growled, baring your fangs as your tail bristled.

HOW FUCKING DARE HE

Alastor's sound of surprise was small, quiet, and almost inaudible as you pushed him back, stomping up to Vox and shoved one claw onto his screen.

"Hey, you flat-faced plasma-screened fuck-a-saurus, back off before I shove something in your ports that ain't a HDMI cable!"

A quiet 'what the fuck are they saying' behind you was completely ignored. Blue electricity sparked off of Vox as he grabbed your wrist, leering down at you with that hypnotizing eye.

You pulled back, not managing to get super far as the TV-guy's grip on your wrist tightened.

"You got some nerve, you stupid bitch." He laughed, looking back to Alastor "I can't help if your associate here is brave or incredibly stupid."

"A bit of both, in my opinion." Alastor hummed "I do recommend you return them to me. They're a resident at the hotel, you know."

"You're still involved in that dumb thing?"

"It's entertaining. Now, then-"

You stopped supporting your own weight abruptly. Vox, supposedly not expecting that, stumbled as the center of gravity shifted. You took the opportunity to twist his wrist to release your arm and slid underneath him. You scrambled up onto his back and snapped your jaw open wide, preparing to bite down-

-only for your teeth to meet nothing air.

You blinked, disoriented.

Alastor was suddenly holding you. He's done it before, sure. Carrying you around like a suitcase or by the back of your shirt. But here he was, holding you bridal style.

"Wonderful catching up to you, old pal." Alastor said, grinning widely. "Now if you excuse me, I have other matters to attend to."

Vox's screen was sparking, his eyes darting between Alastor's and your own. His hypnotism started up in his eye a moment. You flipped him off with both hands, glaring intently.

He started screeching something, but Alastor's cackle drowned it out as he shadowed the two of you away.

"You shouldn't bite scum like him, my dear." Alastor said, placing you on your feet. He tapped one claw lightly against your nose "You may catch something awful. On another note..." he crossed his arms behind his back, giving you a flat look "whatever were you thinking getting between two overlords like that? Did you think i couldn't handle myself?" His tone lowered at that last question, his gaze darkening as red and black switched places.

"Um. I wasn't thinking." You replied honestly. Shrugging down into yourself, you took a half-step back. "I...Well. Um. I just. Did. He was giving me some intense incel vibes and I got mad so." You finished lamely with a half-hearted shrug "yeah."

Alastor scanned you a moment in silence. You started fidgeting with your claws and wondered if he'd let you write out a last will before killing you.

"I see." he said. "Well then, were there any other errands you needed to run?"

"Um. Nope." You said, ducking your head. Alastor tsked, pinching your chin between his thumb and index finger and forced you to look up at him.

"No need to avoid my gaze, my dear. Simply let me handle my own affairs from now on, yes?"

You blinked. "...I mean. No promises, but i'll attempt."

Alastor hummed "Yes, I supposed that's the most you can do."

~~~~~~

Later that day, Alastor asked Nifty what 'incel vibes' were. The little maid answer without a care in the world, going about her cleaning as usual without giving it another thought.

Alastor stood alone in that hallway, staring at nothing in particular. You got protective over him? It was laughable! He was the Radio Demon! You were...you.

Why was his heart beating so fast again?

==================

Maybe the whole biting thing isn't quite what Alastor is fixating on Reader about....

Bit more detail on the strip poker thing: The gang decides to do a strip poker night, but Reader doesn't know how to play poker. Angel comes up with the idea that any clothing taken off anyone else will be put on Reader instead.

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader

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synamartia · 3 months ago

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“ Need A Hand … ? „

“ Let's make your thoughts a reality … „

synopsis ┊ ◜ For the weeks following your one-night stand, Alastor was beside himself with a desire still fairly new to him - his mind constantly occupied with thoughts of you and your shared evening. Night after night, he would watch you from the shadows, a familiar ache in the pits of his belly winding tighter and tighter as you tried to recreate the very same event in your mind's eye with your silicone toy. Eventually, having had enough of your failed attempts at self-gratification, Alastor takes pity on your tortured soul and decides to offer his assistance . . . ◞ wc ┊ ◜ 4,130 ◞ warnings ┊ ◜ Alastor x Reader ✧ Afab!Reader ✧ Non-sex repulsed Alastor ✧ No pronouns or Y/N used ✧ Explicit / 18+ Only / MDNI ✧ Sexual situations ✧ Slight Stalker!Alastor ✧ Shower masturbation (Reader) ✧ Mutual masturbation ✧ Vaginal fingering ✧ Tentacles ✧ Hand job ◞ notes ┊ ◜ Can't believe we're already two weeks down! Time sure does fly when you're having fun, huh? Go check out last week's work linked down below on the Coven's Kinktober 2024 masterlist, and don't forget to give some likes, a few reblogs, and a follow to my darling wives~! Heaven and hell knows they deserve it! And to all my Haunted fans: this was a scene I had planned out for Haunted, but decided to cut it after writing 4+ chapters of pure smut. I wanna try to focus on the plot real soon! But don't worry, there will be more sexy times in that series! So for now, enjoy this little snippet~! ◞ links ┊ ◜ syn's masterlist ✧ coven kinktober 2024 ◞

It was only supposed to be a one-night stand; a friend helping out another friend; a one-off occurrence contingent entirely upon your careless mistakes and Alastor's prowess as a deal-making sinner. Weeks had gone by, and you hadn't uttered a single word to one another about it, dancing around the subject almost as if you were afraid to speak of it. As if talking about it outside the safe confines of Alastor's bedroom would make the heated memories disappear and any unspoken thoughts or desires evaporate into thin air, along with the few scraps that remained of your now tattered business relationship and friendship.

But you still found your mind wandering back to that night, struggling to hide the way your cheeks would flush a bright red at the memories flooding your brain; how your voice would crack with both nervousness and excitement when speaking to him about an issue with the hotel or a resident; or how you would rub your thighs together for the smallest bit of friction when he would enter the room and flash you that wide grin of his, the knowledge of your endeavors dancing behind carmine irises.

And in the late hours of the night, after everyone in the hotel had long since gone to bed, you would desperately try to recreate your experience in your mind's eye as your fingers drew fast circles on your clit, your silicone toy plunging deeper and deeper into your needy cunt - Alastor's voice at the forefront of your mind, coaxing you closer and closer, just as he did back then. But you failed every single time; your imagination was simply not enough to get you there, your fingers and toy nothing but a cheap imitation.

It had become a nightly ritual of sorts; when it wasn't done properly, Alastor felt more restless than usual - unable to read more than a single paragraph of his favorite book or properly hunt the deer scampering through his bayou pocket dimension without it. At the end of the day, after all of Charlie's redemption exercises and your basic duties as an employee, you would immediately slink off to your room under the false pretense of exhaustion from a long day's work.

Although you were none the wiser, Alastor was never far behind, slipping into the shadows as you stripped yourself of the hotel's uniform the second you heard the lock on your door click into place. A rush of pride would wash over the Radio Demon when he noticed that you were wearing the new undergarments he'd gifted you, to replace the ones he'd made a mess of so many nights ago - followed by a sense of possession when he eyed the faint bruises and scratch marks on your thighs and breasts that had yet to fully heal.

Once completely nude, your discarded clothing laying in a heap at the foot of your bed, you would saunter off to the connected bathroom, turning the knobs of your shower until steam filled the small space, obscuring your view of anything more than five feet away. He'd listen quietly as you washed off the day's dirt and grime, the hot water relaxing your tense muscles and lulling you into a false sense of security and solitude, the now all too familiar scent of your shampoo wafting through the air and clouding his senses. And he would wait patiently for that tell-tale sigh; the same one you made when he touched you, signaling that his new favorite broadcast was about to start.

The steam was thick, making it so that your silhouette was all Alastor could see as you removed the detachable shower head from its hook, tracing the steel object down your front until you felt it against your heated core. Excitement coursed through his veins as he imagined the expressions you were making, hands gripping tight his microphone as his own muscles flexed beneath his now much too restricting clothes. Eventually, you would begin to moan quietly as the pleasure began to build, raising your leg high enough to rest your foot on the grab bar, using your free hand to spread your folds apart and turning the head until the warm water sprayed directly on your clit.

And when he caught a faint whisper of his name as it fell from your lips, he would sink his teeth into the inside of his cheek to keep himself silent. It was a grand symphony, the sounds you made, and the last thing Alastor wanted to do was interrupt such a beautiful performance before its crescendo and climactic end. He waited with bated breath as your moans rose in volume, your hips moving involuntarily as you chased that elusive high, but like so many nights before, it wasn't enough. Your body felt tense once more as you teetered on the edge of release, unable to push yourself off that cliff despite your intense desire for the freefall into ecstasy.

Soon, the pleasure died down, your orgasm eluding you once again and you eventually gave up on the shower head, a frustrated groan slipping from your throat as you moved to shut off the water. Alastor dissolved into the shadows just before you stepped out of the tub, reaching for a towel folded neatly on a nearby shelf and wrapping it around your body. Careful not to enter your line of vision, he manifested nearby and admired your skin, beads of water rolling down your body to be absorbed by the plush fabric wrapped around your torso and upper thighs, or the bath rug beneath your feet.

For a split second, Alastor had gotten distracted by a faint bite mark behind your left ear made by him during your escapades, and barely avoided being caught in the mirror when you wiped away the thick layer of steam and condensation blocking your view.

Blissfully unaware of your company, you went about your usual nighttime routine, starting with your dental hygiene, then your skin care, then your hair. By the time you finished gently raking your brush through your damp tangles, your skin had dried almost completely despite the humidity of the steamy bathroom, and you discarded your used towel in the hamper near the door as you reentered the main room of your suite. Your frustration was clear by your stiff movements as you made your way to your wardrobe for a fresh set of undergarments and pajamas.

He almost felt bad enough to end your nightly routine in that moment, to help you reach your end that you had been chasing after so desperately night after night. But the promise of an even greater, more illustrious second act in an already superlative performance helped him to steel his resolve and remain hidden from your eyes. And just as he had watched you do so many times before, you closed the doors after picking out something to sleep in and turned on the balls of your feet, walking over to the side of your bed and tossing the clothes on top of the duvet.

Alastor had memorized this scene, eyeing your naked form as you grazed one hand over your abdomen, letting it drift up to your left breast and cradling its weight, slender fingers pinching the sensitive bud between your thumb and forefinger. With a light tug followed by an experimental twist, you sighed as you squeezed the squishy mound, your other hand coming up to mirror its twin. Another sigh, followed by your eyes closing shut and your head lolling back, and then another frustrated groan after a few seconds of teasing your own nipples.

"I should just go to bed..." you would whisper to yourself, your hands dropping back down as you reached for your panties and slid them up your legs. He eyed the way the lace bit into your flesh where the elastic wasn't as stretchy, baring his teeth as he fought back the urge to reveal himself and tear the offensive fabric from your body. Then you reached for the oversized tshirt, pulling it over your head and slipping your arms through, pulling it down until it covered the panties hugging you close.

Alastor wasn't sure why you bothered with clothes - you would end up removing them later on during your efforts. But who was he to question the mind and the methods of an artist as talented as you?

You stood there for a few minutes, looking between your bed and the table beside it, contemplating if you should even make an attempt tonight. You were almost positive that you would fail, just as you had the night before, and the one before that. Maybe if you tried a visual aid, that might help?

With another groan, you didn't waste any more time thinking about it and turned to the night table by your bedside, reaching into the bottom drawer for the obscene toy that had worked wonders for your tense muscles and stressed mind before he ruined your vivid imagination. Tossing it onto the bed, you slid your panties back off before climbing onto the soft mattress, crawling to the center and lying flat on your back. Spreading your legs open, Alastor inhaled sharply when he saw the glistening sheen of your slicked hole, his fingertips overlapping the shaft of his microphone and digging into his palm.

You sighed again, placing one hand on your clothed breast and giving a gentle squeeze, trailing it downwards until you touched bare skin. Grabbing hold of your toy, silicone heavy in your hand, you lowered it to your aching cunt and rubbed the tip between your folds.

Alastor's brows furrowed together in confusion when he realized you had skipped a step, not teasing yourself with your fingers like you had so many nights before. You seemed to be in a bit of a hurry, which was odd but not entirely out of place for your behavior throughout the day. You skipped breakfast that morning, rushed through your work, barely ate any food during the communal dinner Charlie forced everyone to attend, and you had excused yourself much earlier than usual - now you were skipping steps in your nightly endeavors? Something was wrong. Perhaps he had waited too long to initiate a second encounter, and you were beginning to lose interest? Or perhaps you had fallen ill.

"Alastor..." you whispered, rubbing the length of your silicone toy against your clit for a moment or two, then lowered it until it was lined up with your entrance. Part of you wanted to give up before you even tried, knowing full well how this would end from past experience. Closing your eyes, you pushed the toy inside, wincing at the painful sting caused by the stretch, silently cursing yourself for not preparing before this step. But you thought, maybe switching it up might help in the long run, even if it was painful at first.

Alastor watched you from the shadowy corner of your dimly lit room, shamelessly palming himself through his slacks as you took your time in sliding the toy deeper into your aching heat. Part of him wanted to wait longer, to see how long it would take you to come to him, to ask for his assistance. But several weeks had already gone by, and he was beginning to lose what little sleep he was able to get just watching you try and fail over and over again. As much as he wanted to hold out, his impatience was getting the better of him.

"Need a hand?"

"H-huh-?!" you yelped, eyes shooting open and head snapping to your left at the sound of Alastor's static filtered voice. At first you thought you had imagined it, expecting there to be nothing there when you turned your head. "Oh my god!" you screeched when your eyes locked with Alastor's, your entire face turning a brighter shade of red than his hair. He was laying there on his side, head propped up on his elbow and eyes teasing, reveling in your scared reaction.

"Not even close, dear."

In a panic, you pulled the toy from your core and threw it to the side in an attempt to hide it, your legs slamming shut as you moved to sit up. But Alastor stopped you with a single hand to your chest, pressing you back down into the bed as he cradled his own with his free hand. "A-Alastor, what the hell are you-?!" you started, but he only pressed a single clawed digit to your lips, the corners of his mouth pulling up even further than usual. He waited until you were completely silent, then trailed his finger down your chin to your neck until he reached the collar of your t-shirt, tugging on the hem as his eyes traveled further south.

Humming to himself, Alastor looked back up at your face and raised a single brow at the confusion he saw in your eyes. Were you actually confused, or were you just pretending to be shy and embarrassed to get a rise out of him? "Let's not beat around the bush, darling. I know what you've been doing every night since our last encounter," Alastor told you, causing your face to flush an even brighter red, looking away from him as you fidgeted beneath his gaze. "I don't... how?" you asked, only to have him raise a brow at the question, as if he were asking you, 'really'?

Grinning wider, Alastor let his gaze travel back down along with his hand, slipping between your thighs effortlessly and grazing two fingers over your slick entrance. He didn't miss the gasp of surprise tumbling from your lips followed by that same delectable little sigh he'd come to enjoy so much - the same one that had him crossing his legs during Charlie's redemption exercises or pressing himself into the side of the island countertop to hide his growing arousal when you would taste test his dishes.

Dipping his fingers inside your quivering hole, Alastor gave a few shallow pumps before retracting his hand altogether, raising it up just enough for you to see your own slick glistening on his fingers. "Would you like me to help you?" he asked you as calmly as he could possibly manage, enunciating each word as he patiently waited for the consent he just knew you would give.

Releasing a shaky sigh, you didn't hesitate in making your decision, a rush of exhilaration you hadn't felt since the last time you were together coursing through your veins. "Yes," you whispered, staring at his face as something carnal took over, wanting nothing more than to feel his hands on you again, to have his lips pressed against yours, to feel the burning stretch of his cock inside your needy cunt as he pounded into you with reckless abandon.

"Very well, dear. But first," Alastor responded, letting his hand slide between your legs again. "My price."

Of course. You knew Alastor was going to want something in return, which was why you didn't go to him after your first week of struggling to reach orgasm - there was no telling what he would ask of you, and seeing as his motives for even being at the hotel in the first place were still very much so a mystery to everyone, you were being overly cautious. And then there was the whole deal-making sinner Overlord thing. But something else that was plaguing your mind: why did he have to say it like he was taking pointers from your resident porn star? "Okay, Angel. What do you want?" you asked, unable to resist teasing him a bit by emphasizing the name.

"Ha! Funny," Alastor said, and suddenly his hand was gone from between your legs and your cheeks were being squished together between his clawed digits as he gripped your chin tight. "I want you to tell me all the naughty little things you thought about each night while you were fucking yourself with that toy," he spat the last word, almost as if he were offended that you chose a piece of plastic over him. And for a while, he was - which is one of many reasons why he waited so long to initiate a second encounter. He wanted you to suffer the burning ache of a lost orgasm every time you decided to use that thing instead of coming to him and asking for his assistance.

Alastor wanted you to be completely dependent on him for your pleasure, and until you learned to swallow that silly little pride of yours, he had planned to let you suffer every single night - plagued by the blissful memories he'd given you, unable to recreate them no matter how hard you tried.

But oh, best laid plans and all that, right?

"S-seriously?" you squeaked, your face somehow becoming an even deeper crimson as Alastor stared into your eyes, face unchanging as he rubbed his index finger against your bottom lip. "Deadly," he responded, pupils changing to radio dials for a split second, pushing his finger past your lips and against your tongue to let you taste yourself. A black tendril out of your line-of-sight slithered between your legs, prodding at your wet entrance unexpectedly. "Ah! Huh-?!" you gasped, looking down between your legs at the sudden contact.

It was only a second, but it was enough to have him gripping your chin once more and forcing you to look back at his face. "You know better than to look away, my dear," he chided your simple mistake, pushing a second finger into your mouth and pressing both of them flat against your tongue. When the tendril pushed past the first ring of muscle into your dripping cunt, you whimpered around his fingers, sucking gently at your fluids that still coated them.

Fuck, he's barely touched you and you're already so much closer to an orgasm than you had ever gotten by yourself.

Reaching up to grab hold of his wrist, you pulled his fingers from your mouth so that you could speak. "Alastor..." you started, a soft moan interrupting your speech as the tentacle pushed deeper into your core, a squelching sound filling your ears as it pumped slowly, your juices coating its black surface.

"Tell me, did you think about me?" Alastor asked, urging you on as he moved to wrap his hand around your neck, squeezing gently when you nodded your head. "Yes," you admitted, your walls clenching around the tentacle when it began to pick up speed. He hummed at your response, his hand moving further south to the bottom hem of your shirt and sneaking under it. "Did you think about me touching you like... this?" he asked, his fingers pinching the hardened nub of your breast, making you inhale sharply at the pain followed by the pleasure of him kneading the soft mound.

"Yes," you answered, your moans progressively becoming louder as the tendril began to move with more force, now pumping in and out of you at a steady pace. "Y-yes, Alastor... I thought about you," you breathed, digging your fingers into the duvet you were laying on. "About the way your voice sounded when you would praise me," you continued, inching your mouth closer to his as he released your sensitive bud, pulling it from beneath your shirt entirely, much to your dismay.

"Is that all?" Alastor asked you, to which you shook your head no, taking a moment as you searched for the confidence to continue with this debauchery.

"I thought about... how your lips felt on mine, and your tongue on my skin," you whispered, hearing the sound of his belt buckle being undone, but you dare not look away as the pleasure began to build higher and higher with each pump of his black tendril.

"And...?" he urged you on, his own face inching closer to yours as he pushed his trousers and briefs down far enough to free his leaking cock from their confines.

"And I thought- ... fuck-! Hahhh..." you moaned, fighting the urge to look down as you felt his hand take hold of yours. You were so, so close! The last thing you wanted to do was irritate him in any way, potentially risking him edging you even further than you had edged yourself night after night. "... I thought about the way you fucked me with your hand, and your tongue," you moaned when you felt a second tendril bump against your clit, rubbing up and down on the sensitive little bud.

"Keep going," Alastor told you, guiding your hand to his hard length and wrapping your slender digits around it, urging you to pump him - slowly, at first. But as your pleasure built higher and higher, your moans becoming more frequent and louder in volume, he gradually gained speed, wanting to match the pace of the tendrils as they pushed in and out of your squelching cunt. The sounds you made were divine, so much more beautiful than the ones you made with that thing now laying on the floor, completely forgotten by you.

Faster and faster, they moved, and soon it became difficult for you to form a coherent thought, focused solely on the way the tentacle stretched you open wide and the other applied the most delicious amount of pressure to your throbbing clit. "I thought... I thought," you tried to speak, jaw falling slack as you were right on the cusp of release, your walls quivering and thighs shaking as the knot wound tighter and tighter in the pits of your belly. "... I-I thought... about your cock in me," you gasped, your hips rising from the bed just barely and grinding down against the tentacles involuntarily, desperate for that blissful release.

"Don't stop..." Alastor whispered as he lowered his head, his lips mere centimeters from yours as he began to buck into your hand, his own orgasm not far off as he forced you to tighten your grip on his aching cock. Taking a little initiative, you angled your wrist and pressed your thumb to his leaking slit, smearing his precum and using it as lube to pump his cock faster. With the way that he gasped and how his hips jerked forward, you knew he was close to his own release.

"I thought about how you..." you swallowed hard, it was becoming difficult to keep your thoughts straight, to follow his no-looking-away rule, to keep jerking your hand up and down his hardened length as your muscles contracted almost painfully the closer you got to your end. "I thought- ... oh fuck, I'm gonna cum, Alastor-!" you gasped, eyes barely open as you reached with your other hand to lace your fingers in his hair, nails raking over the backs of his ears.

"Say it! Say it, and I'll let you cum," Alastor promised, his breath hitching in his throat as his cock twitched painfully in your hand, a third tentacle joining the first inside your wet walls and pounding into you roughly now, coaxing you closer and closer. Your eyes began to water as you felt the first tether snap, signaling your end as you opened your mouth to do as he obliged.

"I thought about the way you filled me up, and how you made me yours," you said, arching your back as you inhaled deeply, pulling his head further down until your foreheads were pressed together. "A-and about how you made me cum on your cock, over and over aga- ahhn, fuuuck!" you cried when, finally, the coil snapped, and your release crashed over you, your walls clamping down on the tentacles and your vision going white.

"Marvelous..." Alastor praised you as his hips bucked wildly into your hand, his own wrapped around yours and forcing you to maintain your tight grip through your orgasm, chasing his own as you rode yours out. It wasn't long before he was spilling his seed all over your hand and duvet, some of it landing on your bare hip as his own stuttered through each spurt.

"Fuck, fuck..." you mumbled, trying to regain your senses as you tried to come down from your high. You couldn't make sense of the world around you yet, barely taking notice of the tentacles retracting from your pulsing heat and his body from your own. When your vision finally cleared, you looked around for Alastor, soon finding him sitting on his knees between your legs. One clawed hand was stroking his half hard cock until it stood at full attention again, the other pressing against your overly sensitive mound, drawing lazy circles into your clit and sending jolts of pain and pleasure through your whole body.

"Let's make your thoughts a reality, my dear..."

story ┊ ◜ synamartia ◞ header ┊ ◜ synamartia ◞ dividers ┊ ◜ kodaswrld ✧ strangergraphics ◞ summoning ┊ ◜ @hazelfoureyes ✧ @minkdelovely ✧ @sugoi-writes ✧ @fraugwinska ✧ @macabr3-barbi3 ◞

Please do not copy or repost as your own! Thank you!

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macabr3-barbi3 · 6 months ago

Note

if it interests you, I’d love to see what you do with alastor/dog sinner reader. I think it could be a very interesting dynamic- anyway good work! :)

HI ANON SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG LOL

I ended up combining this with another request from Ao3: "please please please I'd love a rough/teasing/edging (with a lil hate to love twist) oneshot i bet it would be another amazing read owo" from liddlefangirl

Tags: edging, rough, hatesex(?), teasing, Alastor Does Not Like Dogs™️

AS ALWAYS an extra large and mushy thank you to @fraugwinska for being a lovely hype-woman and my Alastor dialogue mentor 🥰

Things were bound to come to a head between you and Alastor eventually- the nature of your Sinner form had guaranteed that when it manifested you with features similar to a dog, the floppy ears of a Beagle drooping off the sides of your head and a sensitive nose to match.

Charlie had apparently seen no issue with allowing a dog- a hunting dog of all things- in the confined spaces of the Hotel with the deer demon, and his discontent with the situation struck fiercely and often, out of Charlie’s sight, usually in the form of a wayward tentacle tripping you down the stairs or some kind of Eldritch magic moving doors and hallways around so you ended up hopelessly lost and unable to find your room.

Alastor himself avoided you like the plague, only interacting with you when absolutely necessary and with his cane held in front of him like a barrier, like he thought you would attack him unprovoked- even though it was him doing the antagonizing, constantly fucking with you, and the one time you had asked him about it?

“You are quite welcome to leave at any time if the nature of the Hotel is not to your liking!”

The bastard. And even though it wasn’t like you, even though you were at the Hotel for redemption and everything and things like petty revenge should have been beneath you while you tried to improve yourself, you couldn’t resist pushing back a little.

You knew he had some sort of trauma with dogs from his death, so you weren’t trying to actually terrorize the man. You just didn’t let his bullshit get to you anymore- if he tripped you down the stairs you stopped sending a death glare over your shoulder at him, just standing up, dusting yourself off, and suppressing your limp until you were out of sight; when you found yourself in a twisting corridor that you knew hadn’t been there before, you simply picked the closest door and entered it like that was where you had meant to go the entire time. When he took the doors away entirely and just dropped you into an endless hallway with no entrance or exit, you plopped yourself down on the floor and took a book from your pocket to read until the lights went back to normal and the doors returned, indicating his departure.

You even played up some of the more canine aspects of your personality just for his benefit; you scratched at your ears whenever he entered a room; you sometimes barked or howled instead of applauding during some of Charlie’s meetings; you teased Husk incessantly, sometimes playfully ‘chasing’ him around the bar before Alastor left the area, always sure to apologize afterwards and make sure the avian cat knew that you didn’t mean any real harm, that you were just fucking with Alastor a bit.

But as with any war, sometimes there’s a line that shouldn’t be crossed from either side.

You’re walking carefully through the kitchen with a couple buckets of water for Niffty when you spot the shadow snaking out of the corner, and you’re not quick enough to sidestep it this time. You land hard on the floor, covered in hot soapy water, and when you see Alastor watching you from the doorway with that fucking smirk on his face and lowered lashes something in you snaps- the harsh bark of anger that rumbles from your throat is entirely genuine, as is the fear that seems to flash in his eyes before his smile grows cruel and he snaps his fingers.

There’s a muzzle around your face, the straps of it far too tight and digging into your skin before you can even get a chance to try and tear it off, and the yip of pain that escapes you hurts your sensitive ears combined with the laugh track that comes out of Alastor’s microphone.

“Ahh, isn’t that a sight? Muzzled at last, as every wretched mutt should be.” Apparently the sight of the muzzle makes him brave- he steps closer, reveling in being above you. “You know, in my time the strays weren’t even allowed indoors- how kind of Charlie to open the doors of the Hotel to you and the infestation of fleas that you’ve no doubt brought with you.”

In lieu of a verbal response, you take advantage of his proximity and swipe at his ankles with your foot- his shadows don’t have time to react and catch him before he’s on the ground beside you, caught in an awkward crouch as he tries to flee before he’s fully landed. You snarl at him, sharp teeth bared behind the wire of the muzzle, still able to be seen and heard even if you can’t use them on him as you pounce, tackling him flat to the wet floor.

Whether it's the shock of the move or something else, you’ll never understand why he doesn’t call on his shadows to assist. Instead, he lunges back, flipping your positions around, water splashing and scattering as the two of you essentially wrestle on the floor, harsh words and snapping teeth as you both try to bow the other into submission. He manages to get the upper hand, pinning you to the floor by your wrists, both your breathing heavy, sweat lining your brow, growling low in your throat while you try to wriggle out from under him. “Take the muzzle off,” you say.

“So you can bite me? I think not.”

“Take. The fucking muzzle. Off.” You stay locked in a dead stare, and when he doesn’t make any move to get off of you or reach for the straps of the contraption on your head you try once again to twist loose, managing to get your feet up under you to try and buck him off with your hips like some kind of wild horse. It accomplishes two things, neither of them what you wanted to happen.

First, you become aware of a dampness to your panties that is not just a result of your tumble across the wet floor; the fight-or-flight instinct combined with the adrenaline of the impromptu fight on the floor, ending with you pinned under a strong, powerful (sexy, even if he’s an ass) demon, means that your body has completely misconstrued what was happening here.

The second is that Alastor becomes aware of that the same moment that you do.

His eyes light up with malicious interest. “How interesting,” he murmurs, taking in the light tremble of your body, the likely dilation of your pupils and how hard you’re breathing. “Not just a feral mutt but a bitch in heat as well it would seem!”

Shame warms you from the inside out, burning in tandem with the arousal making itself known with the flush of your skin. “Fuck you,” you hiss through your teeth, but it’s weak, needy rather than demanding like you intend it to be. “Just- get off me, let me up-”

You continue to try to get out from under Alastor, attempting to buck your hips again to dislodge him. Quick as a whip there’s a tentacle wrapped around your wrist when he lets it go to dig his fingers into the skin of your hips, keeping you bowed nearly in a bridge. Your legs tremble from the strain of the position, and when Alastor presses his own hips down to meet yours you can’t help the cut off moan that escapes you at the feeling of his heavy erection pressing against your core.

“Get off? Are you quite sure?” He grinds against you, making you whimper when the drag of his cock through his slacks rubs under your skirt, against where you’re wet and sensitive. “You know, the one good thing about dogs is that they can be trained; by either rewarding them with a treat, or by whipping them into submission… perhaps there’s a mutually beneficial arrangement that can be made for us, depending on your preference on the matter."

“I’m not making a fucking deal with you,” you mutter, turning away from him, and a new tentacle slips around the other side of you to grab at your wrist so Alastor can release that one as well, using his now free hand to twist your face to meet his eyes over the cage of the muzzle.

“Who said anything about a deal? It’s a proposal- we can continue as we have been until you inevitably aggravate me to the point that I rip you apart, Charlie’s opinions on the matter be damned.” He lets go of your face to trail his hand down your throat, squeezing softly before continuing a path down your body to rest on your other hip, dragging your body up against his and properly slotting one of his thighs between your legs. “Or you can be a good dog and let me be the master with a firm hand that you seem to so desperately need to straighten your... flaws out, and make you at least bearable to have around my Hotel.”

When you hesitate, he taps the bars around your mouth. “I’ll even take the muzzle off at the end,” he says, “permitted that you prove to me that you can behave .”

And it shouldn’t be hot, the way that he says that; like you’re some unruly fleabag that needs to be fucked to act properly, like you were the one causing problems instead of just reacting to the ones he was creating. But the pressure of his leg against your sensitive clit, even through both of your layers of clothing, is sinfully delicious, and you can’t help but wonder what exactly Alastor as a ‘master’ would entail.

You force your muscles to relax, going slack against the Radio Demon, and he smiles wide and dangerous as he lowers your back down to the puddle of cooling water beneath you, still clinging to the faint lemony scent of the cleaner that Niffty uses. “Good girl,” he says quietly, and the praise floods your brain like a drug. “Obedience is a treasured trait in a pet, don’t you think? Even in one that’s a brazen tart- the slightest hint that I’ll touch you and you acquiesce so easily, how lovely.”

He releases his grip on your hip to reach up and rub your ear between his fingers; the action makes you whimper in your throat, the soft skin there thin and sensitive as he pays attention to it, slowly stroking while the thumb of his other hand rubs arcs across your stomach where your shirt had ridden up in the tumble across the floor. His touch sends shivers through your body, a perceptible tremor that he sees and delights in in his wild grin is anything to go by. “Go on,” he encourages, his fingers not ceasing their movements. “Tell me you’ll be obedient. Tell me you’ll be good for me.”

You grit your teeth behind the muzzle and nod as well as you can with his hand on your ear. Saying it out loud felt like a step too far, would feel like losing something to him.

Both hands tighten their grip, the prick of claws against your skin forcing a gasp from your lips. “Even young puppies can follow a basic command,” he mocks, and the hand on your hip shifts to dip below your waistband, his fingers quickly finding the slick heat of your cunt and rubbing teasingly along your entrance. “Come on now, don’t you want a treat? Speak.”

“Fuck you- yes, I’ll be fucking good,” you mutter, and he tuts in disapproval, pressing hard against your clit before starting to retreat. “Wait, no-”

“I won’t repeat myself again,” he says lowly, hand poised to exit your panties, possibly to leave you soaked and wanting on the kitchen floor as he disappears into the shadows.

You glare at him, even as the words bubble from your throat in desperation, wanting his dexterous fingers on your pussy again. “Yes, I’ll be good for you.”

His grin sharpens. “Lovely. And I am a man of my word…” His fingers return to your folds with a fierce vengeance, his thumb swiping hard against your clit as one of his thin, strong fingers dips inside, followed swiftly by another as they press against the sweet bundle of nerves inside you and stroke the soft skin there with unerring accuracy and pressure. The action makes your body tense, a rush of heat through your entire being as he rockets you towards a swift and sloppy orgasm with little more than a couple fingers and his hand rubbing the skin of your ears.

His gaze is fire as he looks down at you, the weight of his erection still straining his pants where it rests against your thigh as he crouches above you. “Who could have guessed it would be so easy to get you to listen to me? Why, had I known you were such a desperate harlot I may have taken your metaphorical leash in hand a bit sooner if that was all it took!”

You can’t respond as the pleasure builds in your body, shaking and whining in your throat as your orgasm builds, fingers inside you never ceasing in their movements as your walls clench around them. You won’t give him the satisfaction of crying out, biting your lip behind the muzzle to suppress the sound as well as you can; you’re helpless to the force of your release as it grows, cresting, and-

Alastor pulls away, his fingers pulling out of your fluttering hole, the slick of your arousal trailing out along with it before he brings his hand to his mouth. You can see the hint of his tongue darting between the digits as he cleans them, oblivious- or uncaring- of your incredulous stare at your ruined orgasm, so close you could fucking taste it before he ripped you back from the edge.

“What the fuck, Alastor?”

“I can’t have you making a mess already,” he says, your pussy clenching around nothing as he sucks on his fingers as if in thought. “Wouldn’t that be a shame?”

“‘A shame’ is not letting me fucking finish,” you snarl at him, his grip on your ear preventing you from being able to turn away, tentacles still keeping you restrained so that you can’t finish the job your goddamn self. “Get off me, I’ll fucking do it-”

“I have no need for a naughty pet, you know,” he murmurs quietly, and the tone of his voice makes you freeze in your half-hearted struggles to get free. “Perhaps if you can learn to ask for what you want instead of simply expecting me to give it to you we might get somewhere! What do you say, my dear?”

You start to nod by default before remembering his earlier command- speak. If you wanted to cum it would be best to do as he asks. “Yes,” you say, and he tears your panties from your body and positions his fingers. “Please,” you add on a moan when he delves back into your wet heat, repositioning so that he can grind his erection against the soft skin of your thigh again.

“Let’s see if you can do this correctly this time,” he muses. “Be sure to use your words, darling- tell me when you’re about to finish.”

And he’s back to the task at hand, pistoning his fingers in and out of your drenched cunt with unerring precision, stroking that spot inside of you that made your breath come quicker and your body start to tense again. Too soon you can feel the orgasm creeping back up on you, tears budding in your eyes as the pleasure and the pressure becomes too much, too fast. You’re tempted- so tempted- to ignore his demand, to just race towards completion and damn the consequences if you could cum before he realized it was happening and stopped again. Then you think about the way he had called you “good girl” earlier and despite how much you hate him and this situation, you want that again.

You crave the praise, the rush of endorphins and pleasure that it sent racing through your head. It’s the thought of this that has you choking out, “c-close,” when the edge gets a little too near; instead of pulling off entirely, Alastor merely slows, brings down the intensity of his actions enough that you can breathe, the wave of ecstasy fading before it can crash.

“So you are a quick learner,” he says, something like pride in his voice, and he finally releases his grip on your ear; the disappointed whimper that escapes you at this doesn’t go unnoticed as he trails his hand down your body, cupping your breast while his fingers continue to pump slowly, too lazily to bring that buzz back to your limbs. “There might be hope for you yet. Shall we go again?”

And again.

You lose track of how many times he does this- bringing you right to the brink, waiting for you to vocalize how close you are before he stops, repositions, and starts over. You’ve nearly cum on his fingers, tongue, and a tentacle that slithered up between your bodies, your words failing you the longer he denies you- he eases up on your shadowy restraints enough that you can reach up to grab at his clothing or hands once your voice seems to stop working, nothing coming out but a litany of moans and whines with no words attached to them. He reads your sounds like the words of a book, knowing exactly when to stop to leave you the most frustrated. His eyes rarely leave your face unless its to look down at whatever appendage he’s fucking you with, his cock still constrained within his slacks, hot and hard where he ruts against you when he can.

This time, when he lets you come back from the edge, his fingers drop to pull at his belt, the metal clink of the fastening loud in the kitchen as he pulls himself free, prick flushed a deep red and the slick sheen of precum beading at the tip, stroking down the shaft with a hiss. His smile is strained, a faint tremor to his expression and limbs from holding out on his own pleasure for so long. “Is this what you want?” He asks, low and dangerous, rubbing the head of his cock against your folds, the evidence of how many times you’ve almost cum dripping from your core to the drying floor.

You nod, barely able to speak, to do much more than cling to him for dear life and jerk your head up and down in the affirmative.

He cocks his head to one side, an eyebrow arched even as he presses forward with his hips, the tip of him a blazing heat where he rests against you. “You can do better than that,” he says, “or has all our training been for nothing? Beg.”

“Please,” you whisper, your voice a broken, raspy thing in your throat, and he purrs in satisfaction, bucking his hips as he uses a hand to bring a leg up around his hip.

“Please what, dear?” Alastor takes his hand off his cock now, an experimental thrust against you sinking the tip of him inside you, the stretch of it burning in the most delicious way even with how long he had been preparing you. Even he stops to take a moment, a low hiss escaping his lips at how tight you are around him. “Go on- no more edging, this is the last time, and you’ve done so well thus far. Such a well behaved mutt, aren’t you? Tell me what you want.”

And even with the barbed insult in there, the pleasure of his words zips through your body like a bolt of lightning, the floodgates of your voice open and overrun. “Please, please, Alastor,” you whine, and with every word he presses harder into you, spearing you on his length with every cry from your mouth. “God, please, fuck me- please, I- let me cum, I need it, please-”

Alastor finally bottoms out inside you, the heavy weight of his balls slapping against your ass as he grips your hips with an almost possessive ferocity. “Good girl,” he growls, leaning forward to lick and suck at the delicate skin of your throat. It should be frightening, his sharp teeth so close to your jugular, but all you can think about is how fucking perfectly he’s stretching you, the harsh bolts of pleasure that spark through your body and make your head fuzzy as he pulls back only far enough to slam back in, hitting that spot inside that he had been teasing with his fingers and tongue for however long it had been now. “We might make a proper pet of you yet, darling- fuck, you feel too perfect.”

It’s the first time he’s vocalized his own pleasure the entire time, the first bit of praise meant for how your body makes him feel and not just how well you can follow orders. It swims through your brain like the buzz of whiskey, another wave of arousal crashing through you and reflecting in the gush of wetness where you’re connected with Alastor. The feeling of it makes him curse again, eyes glowing black and red as he pulls back and watches you, your mouth open and panting behind the wire cage of the muzzle. You can feel the faint ache of the marks he’s left on your skin, where his teeth had nipped and drawn traces of blood that pool in the soapy water below you. His body snaps sharply each time he thrusts into you, chasing his own orgasm through your body as you cling to him, unintelligible sounds that only seem to spur him on as they fall from your lips.

Another orgasm builds, one that Alastor has promised to actually give to you, and the ‘training’ has been effective enough thus far that your mouth is open before you can consciously think about it. “Close, c-close, please, Alastor- gonna cum, please let me, I’ll be good, fuck-”

“Do it,” he demands, a hand releasing your hip to brush over your swollen clit, sensitive and sore but fuck it still feels good, gives an edge to the need that has you clenching hard around Alastor’s length. “You’ve earned it, so well behaved for me- for me alone, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, yes- please please please, fuck, I-”

The ability to speak leaves you with a well timed and well angled thrust as Alastor fucks into you, fingers rubbing at the sensitive nerves at the apex of your thighs at the same moment; the world beyond the fluttering of your cunt around Alastor’s cock shatters and dissolves into nothingness. You just barely register his own harsh grunts and a couple pulses of white-hot heat inside you before he pulls out, the rest of his cum dripping onto the bare skin of your pussy and combining with the mess you’ve made from your own release.

Slowly the feeling returns to your limbs, everything in your lower body still faintly clenching and twitching with the aftershocks of your orgasm, having been kept at the edge for what felt like hours before you were permitted to take the final leap. When you finally open your eyes, Alastor is still knelt between your thighs- he uses a couple of fingers to scoop the mess of his cum from your skin and push it back inside, the feeling of it making you shiver. Once he’s satisfied, he rubs his thumbs in small circles against the skin of your inner thighs, and it takes a moment to realize what he’s doing.

“Are you fucking- that’s not lotion, asshole,” you say weakly, head falling back against the floor, and he merely chuckles and continues to smear the remnants of his release against your flesh.

He stops, tucking his soft cock back into his pants and doing his buttons back up. “I thought ‘marking one’s territory’ was a dog behavior- one would think you would be flattered! Though I suppose you can always wash it off- you do shower, yes?”

You kick weakly at him, not too irritated when he steps away. You fix your skirt, pulling it down over the evidence of your afternoon. “Fuck off, yes I shower,” you mutter, trying to rise to standing and glaring at your shaky legs when they won’t comply. “Trust me, first chance I get I’m going to- hey!”

Alastor pulls you to standing with his hands under your arms, the motion sending you careening into his chest. He stares down at you for a moment, his hand reaching up to cup the back of your neck, fingers carding softly through your hair. Your pulse stutters and increases as he leans in- was he going to kiss you?- and your eyes clench shut, waiting…

There’s a clink of metal, the straps of the muzzle loosening at last and letting the cage fall from your face, landing neatly in the grasp of a nearby shadow. “I did promise to take the muzzle off if you could behave,” he murmurs. “And you’ve shown me you can- well done.” He steps away then, the muzzle vanishing with a snap and the wrinkles in his clothing straightening out. “I should be off! I put off quite a bit of work for our… training,” he says with a smirk, and you feel the blush light up your face. “Do come see me if you think you can handle more- there’s always more treats to be had for a good pet.” He drops a hand to the top of your head, pats a couple times like one might to a real dog, and fades into shadows just as Niffty appears in the doorway of the kitchen.

She wrinkles her nose. “Phew, it smells like wet dog in here! Did you spill my water? You better not let Alastor find out, I don’t think he likes you very much!“

“Don’t worry, Niff- I need to have a word with him soon anyway,” you mutter. “Let me help you clean this up…”

She fetches the mops, leaving you alone in the kitchen to wonder exactly how open Alastor’s offer to come see him for another ‘session’ was. Judging from the laughter you can almost hear echoing from the shadows at your furious blush when Niffty returns and notices a spot on the floor where Alastor's cum had dripped out of you onto the tiles, you'd say the next time couldn't come fast enough.

#hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor #x reader #alastor the radio demon #hazbin alastor #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #ily frau <3 #hazbin hotel x reader #my stuff <3 #requests <3

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stairain · 2 years ago

Text

Vegas Redemption.

You spot Spencer at a hotel lounge alone, you see has a ring on his finger, but that doesn't stop you.

Warnings: Dom + Rough Spencer, sort of switch reader, brat reader, light drinking, cheating, his wife is cheating on him too so don't worry, cunnilingus, hair pulling, mentions of Spencer getting reader pregnant.

WC: 7K

A “business trip” is what you had told your friends, when you packed your bags for the weekend and all too eagerly got on a plane to Vegas. After all, being coined the “city of sin” and going just for business seemed foolish.

Adorned in elegance and dripping in determination, you made your way from your hotel room to the bottom floor with a fiery look of pursuit in your sultry eyes.

You're walking through the cozy and sultry atmosphere of the hotel lounge, the bar immediately catching your eye. It wasn't because of the wide range of drinks they had on display, nor was it the colorful light fixtures they had installed above said drinks. It was because a beautiful stranger was sitting alone at the bar, keeping to himself as he sipped on his drink.

You waltz over to him, subtly going to sit a few seats away from him, you couldn't pounce just yet.

He sits at the bar, drinking quietly. The only sign that he's noticed your presence is a slight turn of his head to the side, his eyes fixed on his glass in front of him. He keeps his back straight and his hands on the counter. When you sit close to him, his eyes look up at you and he smiles briefly before taking another sip of his drink. His expression returns to complete indifference when his eyes return to his glass, and he takes another slow, deliberate sip. The drink is probably an expensive scotch.

As he raises the glass to meet his lips, you squint and look at his finger. A ring. The man was married.

But that did nothing to deter you, in fact, it only made you want him more. You would make him yours, he wouldn't belong to whatever woman sported the other ring, not after tonight.

After you order a drink of your own, you slowly get up from your seat, and migrate to the one directly next to him. A playful smile is plastered on your face.

You can see him look at you briefly as you move closer, and the corner of his mouth lifts very slightly - the barest hint of a smile - before he returns his attention to his drink. He doesn't say anything, but you notice that he sets the glass down more gently than he needed to, in a way that shows he doesn't mind having you close.

You tilt your head to the side a bit as he doesn't immediately look at you, but still flashes the tiniest smile. "What brings you here? Business trip, vacation.. an escape, maybe?"

Your tone is teasing, insinuating that he was here to get away from whatever wife he has at home, whatever wife he would inevitably be taken away from anyways.

He looks up at you when you speak, the faintest smile on his face, and he runs his thumb along the edge of his glass in the most casual way, as though he's doing it purely out of idle habit. His eyes scan you for a moment, his gaze stopping over your face and body for just a moment too long before returning to the glass. He seems completely relaxed. His tone is calm and almost lazy when he speaks, and he almost seems amused by you.

"An escape."

Bingo. That was the exact answer you were hoping for. You lean forward a bit and choose your next words carefully.

"From what.. or who..? If you don't mind me asking, Sir."

The only response you get at first is a faint quirk of his lips, followed by a slow sip of the scotch in his glass. When he's finished, he sets the glass down and looks at you with a mild amusement in his eyes.

“What's it worth to you, darling?" His voice is low and soft with a hint of a sarcasm, his hazel eyes studying you calmly, with just the slightest flare of interest lurking just beneath the surface of that studied calm.

The bartender hands you your own glass, and you raise it to your own lips, licking over them in a teasing manner before taking a small sip.

"Everything, depending on your answer."

He lets out a low chuckle after you speak, and you can see a trace of genuine amusement in his eyes now. His eyebrows raise in a playful way, as though he's impressed, but his tone remains calm when he speaks.

"Is that so? Very well then."

He turns in the barstool to face you, leaning in casually and running his right palm over the back of his neck for just a moment before he stops.

"My wife is cheating on me."

You can't help the wicked smirk that creeps on your features at hearing that. Your eyes flash from his ring, back up to his mysterious eyes. Taking another sip from your drink, your other hand reaches out to touch the ring on his finger. You don't say anything.

His smile only grows with your smirk, and you can see the playfulness in his gaze deepen slightly as your hand reaches out and touches his ring. His dark eyes never leave you, and you can see that playfulness in the faint quirk at the corner of his mouth and the twinkle in his eye, as though you both know that he's not planning on staying married for much longer.

"And you want a chance to replace her, don't you?"

His tone is neutral, but there is an undercurrent of amusement in his voice. Something in his expression dares you to say it aloud.

Quickly looking up at him and stopping your movements, your smile only grows. Your touch retracts from him, and you lean back into your own seat.

"What are my odds, sir?" You say with a cocky tone, lifting your glass to your mouth.

He laughs, as though he appreciates your boldness. You can see the amusement in his eyes grow, and it's clear that your confidence is having a definite effect on him. His voice is tempting when he responds, and the corner of his mouth tilts up in a teasing smile.

"Very high, as long as you play your cards right, sweetheart."

"If you're the one dealing the cards, it seems I've already won.."

The tone in your voice has significantly lowered, but the confidence and cockiness never left, if anything, it only grew. This man would be yours, and by the end of the night, you'd hope to pawn that ring of his and buy him a one way ticket to your place.

He smiles at you as he takes another sip of his drink, holding his position for a moment before he leans a little closer and speaks in a soft tone.

"Now darling, it wouldn't be any fun if I just gave the prize away so easily, would it? Do you know how to play your part, or do you need me to help teach you?" His voice is quiet with a hint of an invitation in it, his smile playful and teasing as his eyes scan you from top to bottom.

"Tell me what to do, and I'm yours." Your chin lowers as you stare at him right in his own piercing eyes, as if trying to challenge him.

His tone is low, and you can hear the amusement still in it when he speaks. He meets your gaze, his eyes glassy with desire, and he pauses for a moment before the corner of his mouth curls up into a wicked smile. He leans even slightly closer as he speaks, and his voice is a purr.

"Make me want you, darling.”

"Already done, Sir." You arrogantly lean back in your seat and take a sip of your drink, looking unamused.

He laughs at the cockiness in your voice, his smile growing. In the corner of your eye you notice a couple of other people have turned to stare at both of you, and you can tell at least one of them is intrigued by the scene unfolding between you two. Your confidence seems to be having that effect on people.

"So you've already caught my attention, then? That's half the battle. Your next move will have to be enough to make me want to keep you."

"Tell me the part you want me to play then, sir. I don't mind a challenge."

He lets out the ghost of a chuckle.

"Tell you what..." He reaches into his suit coat and pulls out a business card, leaning forward as he sets it on the bar between you. His expression is relaxed, his eyes studying you calmly, and his tone is serious as he speaks.

"How about I invite you to my hotel room? That way I can show you exactly how badly I want you."

You swallow at his words, and pick up the card, trading it for the glass in your hand.

Dr. Spencer Reid.

You look back up to him and nod.

"Lead the way, Doctor.”

He smiles at you, his gaze roaming over your face and body again before he nods towards the door. "My room is on the top floor." He stands up from the bar, waiting just long enough for you to get up as well before he begins to walk towards the door and makes his way to the elevator, his movements deliberate and confident.

"I expected no less from a man like you, Sir." You follow behind him like a dog, trying to keep up.

"Then I expect no less from a girl like you." His shoots back and he reaches out as you follow him towards the elevator to give you a wink. His eyes dart up and down you in that subtle way he had, and his eyes linger on your legs for even just a moment too long before he pulls the hotel room key out of his suit pocket and swipes it through the elevator, waiting for the doors to open before he steps inside, holding the door open as he turns to look at you expectantly.

You walk into the elevator silently, and stare up at him longingly as he walks in and presses the top floor, then stands right next to you. The stretch of his arm, his tall back, it was already driving you mad. There's desire running all throughout your body, and you don't know if you could wait the entire ride up to keep your hands off of him. He no doubt would be able to feel the utter desperation radiating off of you.

His eyes never leave you as he presses the button for the top floor, and you can tell that he enjoys the effect he has on you. You can see that it only adds to his allure for you, and the closer you get as the elevator rises, the harder it would be for him to resist if you were to start kissing him right now.

And so he doesn't resist. It's not a second longer until his hands are cradling your head, and your hands are grabbing at his wrists as he pulls you in a fiery, passionate kiss, right in the middle of the elevator. You're taken aback, but that doesn't stop you from trying to kiss him back with the same possessive passion he's pouring into you.

He leans against the elevator wall and pulls you in close with a passion that takes you off guard, the sudden heat of his kiss and the feeling of his hands in your hair taking you by surprise and sending electric shocks through your body. The elevator dings to alert you that you've arrived at his floor, and it takes a moment more before he pulls away from you. His gaze is intense as he looks at you, a low moan rumbling in his throat as he looks at you hungrily.

He licks over his lips once, and swallows.

"You taste like heaven."

It takes you a few seconds to catch your breath and compose yourself after the dizzying kiss, and you breathlessly laugh.

"Just you wait, sir.."

He chuckles, and you can see that the kiss has left him visibly flustered as well. He takes your hand and leads you out of the elevator and to his room. He unlocks it with his key card, but before he opens the door he turns to look at you with a sly smile and raises an eyebrow.

"And just what do you mean by that, darling?"

"It wouldn't be any fun if I just gave the prize away so easily, would it, Sir?" You repeat his previous words back to him, and shoot him a wink. He lets out another low chuckle.

"Well played, dear." He opens the door and steps back to let you go first, and he closes it behind you once you've entered.

You walk in, not before flashing him a playful smirk. As you step in the room, you're immediately met with such a luxurious atmosphere, it almost makes your jaw drop.

The room is luxurious, with plush carpeting and elegant furniture. He gestures to a comfortable-looking chair across from a small coffee table, and as he's letting you take in the room he leans against the wall and crosses one long leg over the other.

"Make yourself comfortable, darling, I'll mix you a drink." His tone is still teasing as he looks at you, and he gives you a quick wink as he turns to the built-in bar to grab the decanter of scotch and two thick glasses.

You nod and try not to let your awe take over your entire mind, you were here for a reason. As you sit down, you turn your body to watch him, and you lick your lips at the sight of him in that suit of his, fixing a drink for the both of you.

Spencer smiles when he sees that you're watching, his tone teasing as he speaks.

"Enjoying the view, are you?" He turns back to the decanter as he pours the whiskey into the two glasses, and he looks at you over his shoulder with a look in his eye that suggests you might enjoy him even more once he takes off the suit jacket and tie.

“Too much, Sir." You bite your lip.

“I can fix that, if you’d like…” He turns around completely to face you. He’s holding the two glasses in his hands now, and he flashes you a knowing look before leaning forward and setting them on the coffee table.

He starts to unbutton his suit jacket, but he doesn’t move to take it off yet. His attention is focused on you, as though he’s waiting for a response before he proceeds.

Your eyes snap to his skillful fingers as they push off the buttons of his suit, and you find yourself looking at him with pleading eyes as you give him a gentle nod.

He smiles at you, his eyes meeting yours for just a moment before he finishes with the buttons so the suit jacket comes off cleanly and easily. He drapes the jacket over the arm of the other chair, and he flashes you another small, taunting smile before he starts to undo the buttons of his dress shirt.

“Would you like me to take this off as well, or save it for later?” His tone is teasing as he speaks, and you can tell that he’s enjoying this exchange as much as you are.

"Keep it on, sir." You softly command before leaning over and picking up the glass from the table. Your eyes travel up and down his body as you take a sip.

He smiles when you command him, and you can tell he likes the control. He reaches out to grab the other glass, still watching you with soft eyes. His voice is content when he speaks.

"Well then, darling..." He leans forward just enough to place a kiss on the back of your hand, and he looks at you with an expectant smile, his tone tempting as he speaks. "What would you like to do, now that we're alone?"

You subconsciously rub your thighs together, and lightly moan the slight friction it provides to your aching clit. You sigh and smile up at him. "What happened to a challenge, sir? Seems like you're giving it up quite easily for me.."

"We both know you're the prize. So.." He gives you another one of his playful winks, taking a sip of his scotch as the two of you look each other over with a faint smile. His eyes flash down to your legs and he tilts his head to the side, looking over your body again with fervent interest as his expression falls into a dark smirk.

"I think the challenge will be seeing who gives in first."

You set your glass down on the table at his words, then suddenly you're grabbing at his tie and pulling him closer to you, making him stumble a bit.

"Let's see how long you last then, Doctor."

He lets out a soft laugh as you pull him closer to you and he reaches up to place his hands on your hips. His eyes take you in again, and the smirk on his face only grows with every glance. In this moment he's focused entirely on you, and the desire he has for you is palpable, filling the room and growing with each lingering look he gives you.

"Let's see how long you last, darling."

A smirk is all the warning he receives before you're capturing him in a passionate kiss. Your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of his lips on yours again, and you feel his hands reach out to cradle your face.

He leans into the kiss, his hands holding you close to him and his grip slowly tightening throughout the kiss. The passion in his eyes matches your passion, and the feeling of his tongue against yours is intoxicating. For the moment, there is nothing else in the world that matters except the two of you, and as he pulls you closer he lets out a soft moan against your mouth that sends a shiver down your spine in the best way possible.

You feel the cold metal of his ring pressing into your skin, and your expression quickly turns into a scowl at the feeling. It was mocking you, he was yours now. Without pulling away from the kiss, you use one hand and grab his, and pull the band off of the digit, before throwing it off.

He lets out a soft laugh as you take off the ring and throw it, his kiss never falters and he wraps his arms around you as he continues to hold you close.

"Oh, sweetheart..." His tone is playful, and you can see the smile in his eyes grows even more as he holds you close. His lips are still close to yours as he speaks in a low voice, and you can feel the rumble in his tone.

"You're mine now, sir. Forget her." You yank on his tie once more and pull him back in for another intense kiss.

He lets out another soft laugh as you pull him back in for another kiss, one of his hands sliding down to smooth over your ass as the other gently cups your face. He's still very clearly enjoying this, and as he lets out a small groan against your mouth he pulls away just long enough to whisper his next words in your ear while his hands slowly tighten their hold on you.

"What is it that makes you want me so badly, darling?"

Your hands move to the back of his neck as his lips start skimming along your skin, pressing gentle kisses against your neck, and licking over your collarbone. Your eyes flutter shut as you respond.

"Saw you sitting alone.. Thought you were so handsome.." Your mouth drops open in a moan when he nips at the flesh of your throat. "Then, saw the ring... Just made me want you so much more, just knew I could treat you so much better than she does."

He lets out a soft laugh, and you can feel his lips grazing your neck. The feeling is like a live wire, sending shivers down your spine in the best way possible. You moan again, and the sound is enough to send a thrill throughout his entire body.

"Is that so?" As his lips brush your skin you can feel the heat in his breath, and he kisses you again, pulling you even closer now. "Is that all it took for you to be ready to take me home?"

"Worked.. didn't it?" You cockily mutter out, your words accompanied by a moan.

"Oh it definitely worked, darling..." He lets out a soft chuckle, his eyes watching yours flirtatiously, and he makes no attempt to hide the desire he has for you. "So tell me, sweetheart, what is it I get out of this arrangement?"

As he speaks, he moves both of you so he's sitting on the couch, leaning back against the cushion as you're planted in his lap.

"You leave your wife.. come back home with me, and I'll be yours forever..." You reach down to play with the buttons of his dress shirt, slowly pushing them out of their loops.

His eyes watch you as you play with his buttons, and a smug smile spreads across his face.

"You drive a hard bargain, darling..." He laughs once more, taking in the sight of you as the buttons come undone. He has no intention of stopping you as he speaks. "And what will happen if I say no?"

You give him a small faux pout at his words, you know he's not serious, he's already too deep in this that he can't possibly be serious.

"You really want to leave this hotel room tomorrow, go home to your cheating wife, and think about me for the rest of your life? Wishing it were me in your bed at night, the one you wake up to.."

You lean down to his ear as you seductively whisper your next words.

"The one you get to touch, kiss, and taste..?"

He lets out a soft moan as you lean in and whisper in his ear, causing a shiver to run through him as he pulls you even closer to him.

"You're good at this, you know..." His voice is deep and seductive, a playful grin on his face. "I think I'd rather stay with you, darling."

“You’d be stupid not to, Sir..” You lick over his ear, sending tremors through his body at the feeling.

Spencer lets out another soft moan, his body shuddering from the feeling of your tongue on his ear. He leans back and watches you, a mischievous look in his eye as he's trying to see just how far you'll go.

"And what if I was stupid..?" His tone is still unserious, as if testing you, but he's starting to take charge of the situation now, pulling you closer with his arms and pressing you onto his lap as he leans in and gives you his own passionate kiss.

“You wouldn’t be in this hotel room with me on your lap right now if you were stupid, Sir.” Your hands go to lift the bottom of your dress, teasing him. “You know you made the right decision taking me..”

His eyes flash down to the bottom of your dress as you start to tease him, and his eyes flash back up to yours. He whispers his response in your ear, his voice starting to take on some of that familiar authority and intensity as you continue to tease him.

"Then why don't you help me make sure I never have reason to regret my decision, darling?"

Nodding, you take his large hand in yours and run it under the satiny fabric of your dress, allowing him to caress the soft skin of your hips and waist. As his hands touch your body, you go to finish unbuttoning the rest of his shirt.

He lets out a soft moan as his hand touches your hips, moving his hand up and down your body. Your skin feels so silky under his touch, he could touch you forever as long as you let him.

You can see his eyes looking over you, and he's making good use of every ounce of his self-control to keep from taking you here and now.

"You're not making this easy for me, you know... But I suppose I'll let you continue." His voice is soft but there's still the ever-present hint of playfulness, and the hint of authority that he's starting to let bleed into the conversation.

“You want it off, Sir?” You let one of the straps of your dress fall from your shoulder, looking up at him with hopeful eyes.

The man bites his lip, letting out a low groan as you start to let your dress fall, and you can see the desire in his eyes is only growing.

"It's killing me, darling..." His tone is heavy with desire, and his expression is full of want. His eyes are glued to you, and you can tell that all he wants in the world at this moment is to have you, right now, right here.

“Take it off of me then, Sir. Earn your prize.” Your voice is low, teasing, and almost cocky. You’ve already taken him from his wife, and now all you wanted was for him to take control over you.

His eyes watch you with intensity as you speak, and he raises one eyebrow in amusement. "Make me work for it, is that it? Well, I don't mind a bit of a challenge..." He bites his lip once more, and he lets out another low moan as he moves his hand to move your dress the rest of the way off your body.

His hands are moving slowly but purposefully, as if taking his time to admire every little piece of skin he revealed. He lets out a low shiver and a soft moan as he takes in the sight of you in your body, his hands trembling at the sight of you. You can almost feel the electricity fill the air between you as you let him admire every inch of you.

His hands are moving slowly but purposefully, as if taking his time to admire every little piece of skin he revealed. You bite your lip at the primal look in his eyes, and lift your arms when the dress reaches your chest. His eyes land on your bra, and the way it looks like it was made for you, filling the cups deliciously and fitting you absolutely perfectly.

"Why don't we make this a little easier for you, sweetheart."

Spencer practically rips the rest of your dress off your body then leans forward to you into a kiss again, pushing you down onto his lap against the firm bulge in his dress pants. He takes in the smell and sensation of you with that look of desire in his eyes that says everything.

You let out a small huff when his eager hands practically rip the dress off of your body, but you lean further into the kiss as you moan into his mouth at the feeling of him under you.

He lets out a soft laugh at your noise of frustration, but the laugh dies in his throat as you moan into his mouth. He holds you there for a moment, his mouth moving eagerly and messily with yours, before he pulls away and pulls you closer by your waist to hold you to him. His heartbeat is pounding out of his chest as he presses your burning hot skin against him.

You can feel the heat in his eyes as he looks you over, his breath growing heavier as he gives you a look of pure, unbridled desire, his mind starting to fill with filthy arousal and lust.

"Now.. I think I'd like to see what's under that bra first.."

He whispers, his tone still full of desire as he looks you over, as though he's trying to memorize every inch of you.

You don't move, just give him a look of bratty defiance.

"If you want it off, you'll have to take it off yourself."

Spencer laughs at your defiance, clearly enjoying your brattiness, and you can feel his chest rumble as he breathes in and out. His eyes start to travel down your body again, and he bites his lip in want.

"So be it, darling."

There’s an edge of authority to his tone that says you may be in trouble if you continue to refuse.

You’re willing to challenge that.

You raise your brow at him and your tone is entirely too sassy towards a man who you know can ruin you and your body in an instant.

"Then get on with it."

You cross your arms over your chest.

He lets out a low chuckle and a sigh at your response, but he doesn't back down. He leans in and speaks in a soft voice, his eyes shining a bit with a light-hearted threat.

"Don't test me, sweetheart.”

His words are playful and his tone is full of desire but you know he's absolutely prepared to follow through on whatever threats he makes. Despite the threat you can see an amused smile on his face as he's watching to see what you do now.

He sighs but you can tell he's enjoying your defiance, his expression going to a smirk as he looks you up and down, watching you with a hungry eye as he drinks you in.

"I suppose this is what I get for letting a brat like you be my mistress..."

He lets out a soft laugh and gives you another taunting flash of his smile, his tone is suggestive once more and his fingers reach around your small frame to find the clasp of your bra. He’s starting to undo the hooks as his other hand begins to move down your body in anticipation for what will come.

“I’m not your mistress.. You don’t belong to her anymore, you’re mine.”

"Oh, is that so, darling?" His voice is full of amusement, and you can see the glint in his eye that says he's more than happy to play along with your bratty game.

"So what does my sweet little girl want from me, then?" His voice is low, looking at you with a mixture of amusement and lust.

“What she wants is for you to hurry up and undress her." He pulls your bra off of you, and throws it over the arm of the couch, his eyes traveling from the bottom of your breasts back up to your eyes as a grin spreads across his face and he leans even closer to you.

"And what's she going to do if I take my sweet, sweet time?" His words are hushed and accompanied by a playful smirk as he raises his eyebrows at you and you can feel the burning desire in his touch as he moves his hand lower and lower.

"Then she would ask very nicely for you to hurry up." You let out a soft laugh and try to not let his touch down your stomach and waist distract you.

He lets out a soft chuckle, his eyes shining with amusement as he moves his hands around your body. He's clearly enjoying the show, and he's in no hurry to take your clothes off, instead taking his sweet time getting there.

"And even if she asks very nicely, what will I get in return? You have to bargain for these things, sweetheart, you know..”

His touch is gentle but insistent, as his hands move closer and closer to the waistline of your underwear.

"I'll give you whatever you want, Sir." Your body trembled with shivers at how light his touch was on you, almost like he wasn't even touching you as he inched closer and closer to your panties.

He lets out a soft chuckle at the answer, his hands continuing to move as they reach the waistline of your panties.

"We'll see about that, darling..."

His voice is playful, but a little part of you feels the threat in his voice, too. He clearly wants you very badly, and it's not entirely out of the realm of possibility that he's not completely joking.

Unexpectedly, Spencer reaches into a cabinet sat next to the couch, and rifles through it for a moment before pulling out scissors. Your eyes widen in confusion and disbelief, and the expression only intensifies when he slots the blades of the scissors between your hip and your panties, and snips. You'd almost swear his eyes are shining a little brighter as he drinks in the sight, being so impatient to take you that he’s cutting your underwear off your body.

“S-Sir..”

You try to reason with him, but it’s far too late. He’s in his own little world as he continues to cut and snip at the delicate lace of your panties, not bothered by your words nor your noises of protest.

There’s nothing you can do but sit there, trembling in his lap as the look of determination and sadism shadows his face. The freezing metal of the blades against your skin do nothing to help your shaking, and it makes the very skin it presses against raise in goosebumps.

Once he’s cut through the lace on both sides of your hips, he sets the scissors down on the table and pulls off the remnants of your underwear with ease. He’s got a sinister glint in his eyes and in his smile as he gathers them in his hand before setting them on the table next to the blades.

“You know, she would’ve never let me do that.. But you..” Spencer laughs wickedly, it almost frightens you. “You.. You’d do anything to make me want you, wouldn’t you?”

You find the bratty attitude you were sporting earlier fizzle into a blazing desire of obedience. Like you weren’t in control of your own body, you nodded. Your lack of speech made him laugh again.

Suddenly, you’re wrapping your legs around his waist as he’s lifting you from the couch and into his arms. You cling to him like you’ve got no other choice, and can’t help but feel exposed in front of the large glass window.

Spencer walks over to the large bed pushed against the wall and throws you down on it, and as you land, your legs are spread, as if on command. He bites his lip at the sight of you spread for him, cunt leaking arousal onto his bed sheets, sticky slick coating your beautiful thighs.

You swallow and watch as he pushes the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his forearms, and runs a hand through his hair before kneeling down in front of you on the bed. He grabs under your thighs and hooks them around the tops of them, flashing that same teasing smile he’s been sporting all night.

You let out a small yelp of surprise when he’s pulling you closer to the edge of the bed, so your pussy was pulsing right in his face, just the way he needed it to be.

“This what you meant when you said ‘Just you wait?’, darling?”

His breath ghosts over your wet cunt, and it makes you let out a small sigh of pleasure. You don’t respond, you know he’s not looking for an answer, he’s just looking for a way to stroke his ego, knowing he’s got you right where you were so reluctant to get to.

“What happened to that smart mouth of yours?”

“Come fuck it and find out.”

Spencer huffs in amusement.

“There you are..”

Is all the warning you get before he’s diving in and burying his scruffy face between your thighs. Your legs threaten to close at the feeling, but he’s already a step ahead of you, holding them down in his strong grip as his tongue licks a long stripe up your cunt, collecting your essence.

A loud moan is pushed out of your throat at the feeling, and your hand instinctively reaches out and down to grab at his messy hair. He only groans at the feeling though..

You’d have to explore that later.

But for now, you couldn’t focus on anything else except the way the thick, wet, muscle of his tongue was swirling around your sensitive clit, sucking and kissing at the nub. He was teasing you, you both knew if he kept this up, you’d be cumming on his face and around his tongue in no time, and you didn’t want that.

You couldn’t embarrass yourself in front of him like that, especially when you know how much shit he’d give you for being able to make you finish that fast.

And still, your head spins with each calculated and tortuous movement his tongue makes over your pussy. He moves down to slide his long tongue into you, finally. You whimper at the feeling and clench around him.

Spencer eats at you like a starved man, and you’ve been pushed to believe that maybe he is. With the way he’s tongue fucking you.. making you gush on his lips and drip down his chin? You can tell he’s needed this for a while.

You lift your head from the bed to look at him, and you can see he’s already staring daggers into you. He shoots you a wink and it almost makes you roll your eyes at his cockiness.

“Why- oh fuck.. Why don’t you fuck me, sir? I know you want to..” You pant out and grip his hair harder, twisting it in your fist. It makes him moan into your cunt, and the vibration makes you gasp.

He pulls back for a moment, and speaks quickly, like he’s been preparing his answer for a while now.

“Because.. If I fuck you now I won’t be pulling out, can’t get you pregnant til’ I leave my wife, darling.”

And you thought you had been the one to be moving fast. Your legs jolt and your pussy clenches at the thought of him fucking his cum into you, pushing it deeper and deeper into your womb until you’re full.

The thought of him fucking a baby into you has you whimpering in a panicked frenzy, you were far too close.

“Fuck fuck fuck, sir.. I’m- I’m right there..”

You moan and are pulling at his hair now, it was no doubt painful, but he couldn’t let you know how much he liked it just yet. At your words, he nods from between your legs and his eyes flutter shut.

The movements of his tongue in your and his lips on your folds increase in speed, intensity, and passion. He’s swallowing every spurt of arousal you have to offer him, and fucks you with his tongue quicker than you can even process.

You reach a hand down to play with your clit, but just as quickly as he was fucking you, he just as quickly pulls away with a scornful expression pulling at his eyebrows.

“W-Why’d you stop…? Please sir..”

Spencer moves your hand from your clit and plants it back into his hair, making you grip at the root tightly as he lowers himself back onto you, and murmurs in a controlling voice.

“Hands off, your body belongs to me, sweetheart.”

And with that, he’s attaching his lips around your aching clit, and begins to suck at it like it’s his job. It makes you throw your head back in a silent moan, the pleasure robbing you of your ability to speak or make noises, and even think.

Your mind goes entirely blank at the feeling of him pulling the sensitive nub between his lips and using that stupid mouth of his to bring you to the edge all too fast.

With a pornographic moan, you’re drenching his mouth and chin in your release, your thighs spasming in a desperate attempt to balance out the surge of pure unfiltered arousal that was forced out of you.

Spencer’s greedily swallowing every gush your cunt pumps into his awaiting mouth, and he just can’t seem to get enough. He’s moaning uncontrollably against your pussy as he drinks in everything you’ll give him, and if you weren’t absolutely losing your mind at your orgasm and spilling moans of your own, you’d be enjoying his noises a lot more.

But now, it seems like your body and your release are the only things on both of your minds. You’re shaking, clenching your thighs around his head as your fist pulls so irresistibly at his brown locks.

You’re the one to push him away, and you can’t help but laugh at the sound of absolute dissatisfaction he produces at being denied any more of your release. And you’d be more than content to let him at it, if you weren’t gasping for air and hopelessly shuddering at the after effects of no doubt the most powerful orgasm you’ve ever experienced.

He’s suddenly laying by your side and pulling you into a desperate kiss, and you can feel the stickiness of his chin against yours as he eats away at your lips. It makes you pull back to chuckle and attempt to catch your breath again, and after a few beats of silence you look around at where half of your garments are torn and destroyed, and you look at him with a pout.

"You ripped my dress.. And my underwear.."

Spencer laughs and rests his head back against the sheets, and you can see his chest rising and falling, he was quite breathless himself.

"I'll buy you an entire new wardrobe, sweetheart, anything you want.."

#spencer reid #spencer x reader #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid smut #dom spencer reid #spencer reid x reader smut #dom spencer reid x reader #dom!spencer #dom!spencer reid

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flowerygrdn · 2 years ago

Text

WHAT THE FU- || k. parker

pairing: kai x vampire!reader

warnings: swearing, kissing, fluff, obsessive!kai (sort of)

summary: y/n is on her way to the sheriff's funeral when she gets an alarming call from alaric...

a/n: hello, so i used the deleted kai and jo scene for this because, let's face it, that scene deserved kai's redemption.

---

I could hear my heels clicking on the pavement as I walked towards my car. My head was currently tilted downward towards my purse as i was trying to dig out my keys. This is why I need to clean out my shit more often. Aha! I finally found them. After about five minutes of digging.

Suddenly, my phone starts ringing. Now I have to dig that out of my purse. Damn this bag. Once I retrieved my phone from my bag, I saw the screen lit up with Alraic's name across it.

"I know, I'm running late. Can you tell Caro-" I start, but was immediately cut off by Alaric.

"y/n, I need you to get over to Jo's place right now." His voice is urgent and I immediately stop right in my tracks.

"Why? Alaric, I need to be at the funeral right now."

"y/n, just get over here! You'll see why I called you when you do." I didn't know what to do with that. I didn't want to disappoint Caroline by not being there, but Alaric sounds like he's desperate.

"Okay, but I swear to God if it's something stupid, like you got your hand stuck in the sink, I'm gonna be so pissed." I say as I open my car door.

"y/n!"

"Stop your whining, I'm on my way." I hang up and change the gear to drive. Alaric better have a good excuse.

---

I get to Jo's apartment and open the door. I have no clue why it was unlocked. Do they not care about serial killers? My heels click with every stride I take towards the living room and soon enough I'm at the doorway.

"Alright, what was so impor-" I stop in my tracks when I see a devilish smirk from across the room. Along with the stupid expression, I get a little wave. My eyes shoot over to Jo, who's now standing there, giving me a look of pity.

"What the fu-"

"y/n, save it for a better time." Alaric says, putting his hand up to hush me.

A better time? The best time to swear would be right about now. When Kai Parker is standing there, smirking at me.

"This is why you called me here?! Jo can I please kill your fiancé?!" My eyes begin to darken and veins flash under my eyes. My vamp side comes out when I get pissed. Jo immediately comes over to calm me down.

"Okay, calm down. y/n, no one is killing anybody. We just called you over because we knew that if you were here, my asshole of a twin wouldn't try anything." Jo turns her head over her shoulder and sends Kai a glare.

"She's right." Kai shrugs, still not whipping that stupid grin off his face.

"You! I do not want to hear another word out of your mouth!" I demand. His hands go up in defense.

"Yes, ma'am. " he mutters under his breath.

"Why me though?!" I shout some more.

"Because he's obsessed with you." Alaric responds, rubbing his temples. Kai winks at me. I roll my eyes and try to walk out, but Jo pulls me back.

"y/n, please. He claims he's sick, so can you please come with me to my office so we can check him?" Jo's voice makes me calm down a little bit. I've always kind of seen her and Alaric as close friends, family even. So, if me being here ensures their safety, then so fucking be it.

---

Me, Jo, and Kai walk into her office and Jo leads us to one of the rooms.

"Motus!" Jo says as soon as the door closes. I see Kai fly across the room and hit the wall. She then does that one spell that makes your head feel like it's going to explode. It nice to be on the opposite end of that for once.

"Talked to Dad. Guess who's not sick? Him, Liv, and I'm feeling pretty good right now. Which leads me to believe I'm not gonna die anytime soon. So, what's your game?! Tell me!" She shouts.

"I don't have a game!" Kai shouts back. "God!" He shouts again before doing the same spell to her. I fall down next to Jo, grabbing her arm and trying to think of a way to help her. He stops when I make eye contact with him. I'm pretty sure my vampire face flashed because, he looked a little scared.

"As much as my suffering might bring you two pleasure, this is not the way to handle the situation." He stands up and starts towards us. I help Jo to her feet and dust off my dress.

"Is this all just a ploy for you to get more magic?" Jo's tone is an accusing one, and Kai's face twists into a serious one. A face I've never seen before.

"It's a ploy for us all to stay alive, actually. I'm sorry if that seems selfish!"

"I don't believe you! Because you are a liar. And you are the worst kind of liar because your lies sound so much like the truth, it's impossible for me to tell the difference. " That's something me and Jo agree on. No matter what faces I've seen before, Kai has never shown an honest one.

"You're right, I am a liar, alright? I'm the black sheep. You know, the defective twin that nobody wanted." His voice cracks and this gains my attention. Something about me is that, even without compulsion, I can tell when someone is being sincere. And for once, Kai is.

"It must feel real nice for you to stand her, judging me. Surrounded by all the things you got out of life while I spent eighteen years in isolation as the family reject." His eyes flash over to me before returning to Jo. I never thought I'd be saying this right now, but I kind of feel remorse for Kai.

"Let me tell you, every inch of me wants to kill you for that. Every part!" I slowly start to step in front of Jo, but she pulls me behind her instead.

"But I can't. Because the only way that I can survive is if you help me. And I'd like to live, frankly. Because I didn't get to do a whole lot of that before everyone decided that I wasn't worth it."

There it is again. The feeling of remorse for the man in front of me. His words made me realize that he wasn't born a monster. His coven made him that way. All because he was different. Malachai Parker is evil, but maybe there's a part of him that isn't. A part that can consume the evil and make a whole new person.

"I'll give it to you." Jo replied.

"But under one condition. You take it and get out of my life. I never want you anywhere near me again." She spits out.

"Fine."

"I'm not finished. If you break our promise, I'll kill you." My head snaps towards her.

"I'll take myself and our entire coven down with you. Because I don't want to live another minute, afraid of my own brother." I'd never have thought Jo would do that, but given everything Kai did, she has every right. But something inside me hopes, prays even, she never has to do that.

"You got it?"

"Got it." Kai looks over at me again. My eyes have softened, and I'm now starting to see a whole different person when I look at him. He brushes past us and walks out of the door.

---

After Jo gave Kai her magic, He was out the door in a heartbeat. Not before whispering one last thing in her ear. I quickly say my goodbyes and run after him.

"Kai, wait!" He turns around while standing in the middle of the parking lot. His hands are in his pockets, and his lips part at the sight of me lightly jogging. When I stop a few feet away from him, my words suddenly exit my mind. I have no clue what to say.

"You know, I always thought that the only thing that would make me happy was being coven leader." Kai starts. My eyebrows scrunch. I don't know where he intends to go with this.

"The day I met you in the prison world, I started feeling things. After I merged with Luke, I started feeling even more things. And then it dawned on me." He started taking steps towards me. My feet stay planted in the pavement below me and my stomach twist into knots. I don't know what I'm feeling but, I don't want it to stop.

"Sure, being gemini coven leader is amazing. The power, the title, it's all I've ever wanted. But, then I met you. You are what I've always wanted. Well, maybe not always, but from the day that I met you, you were all I wanted, no, needed." He stops in front of me. My breath gets caught in my throat.

"It's always been you, y/n. And I know you hate me. I know I'm just another monster that you and the gang had to face, but to me, you are my world." What is happening right now? Why are his words having this effect on me? Why do I want him closer? What the actual hell?

"When you're happy, I'm happy. When something hurts you, I want to hunt it down and destroy it. So, hate me. Help your friends plot my death. But just know..." His hand comes up to cup my cheek. I flinch, but don't take his hand away. For some weird reason, I like the way his skin feels against mine.

"I'll love you even if I'm in hell." Holy shit.

Kai Parker loves me? How? Why? What the fuck?! Wait...no there's no way...do I love him too? All I've ever felt for him was disgust, but maybe that was just a cover-up. Because what I'm feeling right now didn't just happen within the span of a few hours. I guess it's always been there, I just didn't see it before.

He leans down and kisses my forehead then turns around. He begins to walk away, but I don't want him to. I can't let him.

"Kai!" He stops and turns around again.

I don't think. My body is moving before my mind can process it. My legs are taking long strides, and soon, my arms are thrown around his shoulders, and I'm pulling his head down to mine. Our lips meet in the middle, and his hands quickly find my waist.

Passion. Sparks flying everywhere. That's what I feel when I'm kissing Kai Parker. His hands are moving up and down my back and mine are racking through his hair. We only pull away when we're about to run out of oxygen. We keep our heads rested on each other's and try to steady our breaths.

"I love you, Kai." I feel his arms tighten around my waist. He let's out a breath that sounded like he had been holding in.

"I love you to hell and back, y/n." He says before capturing my lips in another passionate kiss.

---

#kai parker #kai parker x reader #kai parker fluff #kai parker angst #kai parker smut #kai parker fanfiction #kai parker fanfic #the vampire diaries #the vampire diaries imagine #tvd #tvdu #for you #emma's bullshit ♡

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redvexillum · 6 days ago

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Third Kiss: Fiery

A/N: What better way to kick off the new year by writing not only Niffty for the first time but also a male reader!

SUMMARY: On New Year's Eve, you decide it’s time to leave the shy, cowering version of yourself behind and take a bold leap—straight toward Niffty, the fiery, unpredictable whirlwind who doesn’t even know you exist.

You were a young man who moved through life like a shadow cast by your own fears. Your back perpetually curved inward, as though bracing against an unseen weight, your timid nature written into the very way you walked. The slightest sound could send a jolt through you—your own footsteps in the dimly lit hallway of the hotel made your heart race. Cowardice wasn’t just a part of you; it felt like the essence of who you were.

When you first heard of Hazbin Hotel—a place promising redemption for sinners—you felt a spark of something unfamiliar: hope. The thought of becoming brave enough to stand tall, of shedding the fear that clung to your every movement, was enough to draw you in. Perhaps redemption could mean no longer shrinking beneath the gaze of Hell’s more fearsome denizens.

Charlie, the princess of Hell herself, greeted you warmly, her radiance unyielding even in this grim place. Her optimism was infectious, and for a fleeting moment, you felt the tension in your shoulders ease. Angel Dust, the infamous spider demon, was harder to be around. His self-assured smirk and larger-than-life personality only seemed to magnify your inadequacies. You found yourself folding inward even further.

But it wasn’t Angel Dust who truly unsettled you. That honour belonged to Niffty.

She was barely a third of your height, a whirlwind of energy wrapped in flaming red hair, with a single, large, mesmerizing eye. Her gaze shimmered like a sunrise—beautiful, warm, and utterly dangerous. As part of the hotel’s sanitation crew—though the "crew" consisted solely of her—she moved with a speed and precision that left you breathless. You’d often see her dart past you, a sharp needle in hand, plunging it clean through the bodies of Hell’s scuttling roaches. Every time, you’d flinch and yelp, your heart pounding in your chest.

At first, you told yourself it was fear—pure and simple. But the way your pulse quickened when she was near, the strange flutter in your stomach when she flashed a sharp-toothed smile, left you questioning yourself. Fascination danced uneasily with terror. You weren’t her “type,” of course—she seemed drawn to a bolder, darker sort of soul, and you were anything but that.

Yet, over time, you found yourself smiling in her presence. Her fearless energy, her unabashed confidence...it was absolutely...

Breathtaking.

She lived in a way you couldn’t fathom: unrestrained, unapologetic. You admired her. Perhaps more than you were willing to admit.

Weeks turned to months, and the hotel—chaotic and brimming with Hell’s quirks—began to feel like home. Warmth was rare in this place, but here, amidst these odd souls, you found a spark of it. You stayed quiet, but the quiet no longer felt isolating.

Eight months, two weeks, and three days after you first arrived, you finally gathered the courage to speak to her.

“H-Hi,” you stammered, your hands wringing together as if they might squeeze the anxiety out of you. Heat flushed your cheeks, and your voice was barely louder than a whisper.

She turned toward you, her large eye blinking once, then twice. Her head tilted, curiosity flickering across her face. Then, squinting slightly, she asked in a voice so light, so innocent, it was almost cruel:

“Who are you?”

The words struck like a blow. Embarrassment and shame surged through you, your face burning as though flames had torched your skin. You stammered, trying to form a reply, but the tears pooling in your eyes threatened to spill.

Before you could muster a word, she turned away abruptly, her attention snapping to something else. A wicked grin spread across her face as she screamed, “KILL!”

Like a storm unleashed, Niffty darted across the room, her needle flashing like a lightning strike as it slammed into the floor again and again. Her focus was singular, wild, a whirlwind of energy bent on eradicating the tiny pest skittering away from her. She didn’t spare a glance back at you, didn’t even seem to register your presence. You stood frozen, watching her wild energy with awe and a twinge of melancholy, her fiery determination cutting through the air like her weapon.

Perhaps it was that day—watching her so alive, so utterly untethered—that something inside you shifted. People say that heartbreak reshapes a person, that the shattered pieces of a broken heart never fit together quite the same. The cracks are sharp, some fragments too small to recover, leaving behind something jagged, something changed. A heart reforged isn’t whole, but it is resilient.

In the wake of that moment, you began to reflect. You were tired of fading into the background, of being invisible to the one person who had unknowingly captured your admiration. Slowly, painstakingly, you began to change. Each day, you forced yourself to stand just a little straighter, to meet the eyes of those who spoke to you. It wasn’t easy—especially when the Radio Demon appeared, his presence undoing your progress with a single, menacing grin. But you persevered, even in the face of your fears.

Your efforts didn’t go unnoticed.

One day, as Charlie hung decorations to celebrate the New Year, she paused mid-task and looked at you thoughtfully. Her crimson eyes sparkled with curiosity.

“You seem different,” she remarked, tilting her head.

“Oh?” you replied, your voice steady, though the faintest flicker of pride warmed your chest. You held her gaze, no longer shrinking beneath it.

She tapped a finger against her lips in thought before her face lit up with realization. “You have a… a more lively presence. Yeah, that’s it!” She nodded, satisfied.

You didn’t fully understand what she meant, but you chose to take it as a compliment.

That night, as the hotel filled with laughter and music, and as fireworks lined the horizon in preparation for the New Year, you stood among the throng of celebrating souls. Couples huddled close, their faces glowing with joy, and for a moment, you felt a pang of longing.

The old you would have shrunk back, too paralyzed by self-doubt to entertain the thought. But tonight was different. Tonight, you felt something stronger—courage, bolstered by months of effort and change.

The countdown began, and you found yourself moving toward her: Niffty, the vibrant soul who had captivated you from the start.

“Hi!” she chirped, her bright, toothy grin lighting up her face as she acknowledged you.

“Hey,” you said, your own smile coming easily this time.

The crowd roared as the countdown hit Ten.

Nine.

You noticed her large, expressive eye darting around, searching.

“Looking for someone?” you asked, keeping your voice light, casual, though your heart pounded in your chest.

Eight.

“A bad boy to kiss for the New Year,” she replied with a dreamy sigh, her lashes fluttering. Her eye glimmered like the first rays of sunlight breaking over an endless horizon, and you felt your breath hitch.

“I know a bad boy,” you said, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. Confidence, or maybe it was just the alcohol buzzing through your veins, emboldened you in a way that felt foreign and thrilling. You could almost hear the shy boy you used to be whispering caution, buried somewhere in the fragments of your heart, but tonight you ignored him.

Seven.

“Oh?” Niffty’s eye sparkled with curiosity, her flaming red hair catching the glow of the nearby lights. “Where?”

Six.

Chortling, you tilted your head, leaning in ever so slightly. “You’re looking at him.”

Five.

She blinked up at you, her expression unreadable at first, and then her lips curled into an amused smile.

Four.

“Really?” she asked, her voice dripping with faux innocence. It was almost comical how sweet she sounded, considering she’d spent most of the evening lunging at cockroaches with her dangerously sharp weapon.

Three.

“Wanna find out?” You raised a brow, your smirk widening as you met her gaze head-on.

Two.

The countdown roared in the background, and the crowd surged with anticipation. For a split second, you wondered if this was a terrible idea. But then, screw it, you thought.

One.

As the first fireworks exploded overhead, painting the night sky with bursts of colour, you bent down, capturing her lips in a kiss. Her single, wide eye froze, reflecting the kaleidoscope of red and yellow above. The world around you erupted into cheers, laughter, and the sounds of celebratory kisses, but all you could hear was the pounding of your own heart.

When you pulled back, a soft laugh escaped your lips. Her expression was priceless—shock, awe, and something else you couldn’t quite place.

“My name,” you murmured, leaning closer to whisper it into her ear, your voice low and teasing. “Don’t forget it.” You straightened, cocking your head to the side, a crooked grin plastered on your face.

For a moment, she simply stared at you, her cheeks glowing as pink as her dress. And then, suddenly, she pressed her small hands against her face, a dreamy look overtaking her features.

“You’re just like my fanfiction crush,” she said, her voice high-pitched and breathless, as if you’d stepped right out of her wildest imaginings.

You blinked. Fanfiction?

Before you could process what she’d said, Niffty lunged at you, grabbing the front of your shirt with surprising strength. She yanked you down to her level and kissed you again—this time with unrestrained enthusiasm. Her lips were warm and insistent, her tiny frame vibrating with energy as fireworks continued to explode above.

Her kisses were as wild and unpredictable as she was, and you found yourself laughing into them, your heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst.

When she finally pulled back, her big eye shimmered with excitement. “You’re perfect!” she declared, her voice a mix of awe and glee.

You, dazed and slightly out of breath, could only grin. “Well, that’s one way to start the New Year.”

And as she dragged you toward the crowd, chattering about how you were her official bad boy now, you realized something: your heart wasn’t broken after all. It had simply been waiting for someone as explosive as her to set it on fire.

❀˖° Like my story? Toss a coffee to the gremlin—probably safe, but no promises! ❀˖° Join Voxtek Server and Follow Me for live updates!

#DRP New Years Kiss 2025 #niffty hazbin hotel #niffty x reader #Niffty x you #Niffty x y/n #niffty #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel x oc #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin hotel niffty

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seaskate · 6 months ago

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"Not all men are created equal"

That is one of the first things were hear Izuku say. Its bitter and realistic for his place in society, it's the sort of voice that inspires the villian deku fics that were really popular a few years ago. We lost this cold view of the world when he got a quirk, as if the canon him forgot his roots as he was no longer the 'quirkless loser'. The only time we see anything like it is in small flashes when he's feeling low.

And I'm glad that he became more confident and brighter, but one of the things that I like about the more angsty mha fics (hero, villain, vigilante, doesn't matter) is that fic deku doesnt forget, he remembers what it feels like to be treated even worse than those with villian quirks, or mutant type quirks, and that's his reason for change. So that no one else ever has to feel so powerless.

A symbol of hope rather than a symbol of peace.

Because peace is all well and good whole it last, but it wont last. Peace is a temporary thing and is usually broken by whatever problems the tentative peace itself created.

Izuku knowing this in fics, remembering it, acknowledging it even after being gifted a quirk, gives it a more realistic sort of feel. The same sort of 'oh' that readers get when they look at the villains in mha who are trying to destory the society the chewed them up and spit them out and everyone else watched. Izuku was there, he has more in common with the villains in that regard than sonenof his classmates, but outside of the Bakugo redemption arc that's kinda a forgotten thing.

Idk, it just feels as if he could have been a more complex character in that regard in the beginning. But a part if what makes the vigilante deku arc so appealing that people have returned to the fandom for it, is that he becomes a bit more pessimistic and realistic about the world around him once more, it just took a war to get him back to the start.

#mha izuku #Mha heroes #mha villains #mha vigilantes #bnha deku #deku #mha deku #katsuki bakugou #mha #midoriya izuku #my hero academia #bnha #quirkless midoriya izuku #quirkless izuku

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ilikepjo24 · 1 year ago

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OMG FINALLY someone talks about Octavian If u don't mind me inputting this, but it's mentioned in The Hidden Oracle by Apollo that Octavian was duped by Gaea,, plus there's super strong parallels between Nero/Nero's Adopted Demigod Children and Octavian (that nobody addresses) and if that aligns with the absolute W takes you've been chugging out I think I won't tear my hair out over him tonight

Octavian was, in my opinion, the funniest dude character in Heroes of Olympus. He sounded like a demonic toddler mixed with your middle school weird nerd 🤣 This fandom should definitely take advantage of that comedic potential. Plus, he has no backstory, which gives us endless creative freedom. Why wouldn't I talk about him?

And if you scroll a bit on my blog you'll see that picking up stray aggressive, mean characters and defending them like my life depends on it is sort of my thing, so it was only a matter of time until Octavian caught my eye.

Unfortunately, I have not read the Trials of Apollo yet. I got the first book of that series during the winter holidays, and I haven't started it yet 😅 but I've seen a couple of spoilers, so I'd really want Octavian to have survived Heroes of Olympus and be in the Trials of Apollo. One of the reasons being that I didn't want him to die at all, but other than that, Apollo getting kicked out of Olympus and living amongst mortals and needing their help? Octavian would eat that up, I'm telling you.

He'd follow Apollo on his journeys and that would give him sooo much time for character development. Plus, being essentially "kicked out" of Camp Jupiter to be send to a quest with a god you user to be obsessed with but then sort of manipulated you could be written as a punishment due to Octavia's actions and could help trigger a redemption arc.

And all the prophets having issues with their powers because Apollo is not amongst the gods anymore? As an augur, that would affect Octavian as well. He may have had flashes of the future or all that other overwhelming suffering stuff we see other prophets have, and Lester would help him with that, while they also help other prophets.

Octavian surviving the Heroes of Olympus and being in the Trials of Apollo would be ground for character development, bonding dynamics, a backstory, a redemption arc, a healing arc, maybe a power up? 👀👀 There were SO many opportunities and it's a waste that Riordan threw that away.

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mushrubes · 1 year ago

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Another?

Masterlist | Red dead redemption masterlist |

Requested : no

Based on character ai { Hosea Matthews by @/addynot }

Pairing : father! Hosea Matthews x child! reader, John Marston x matthews! reader

Pronouns : you/yours

Type : platonic / familial + fluff

Word count : 1.4k

Warnings : Swear words, familial, best friends in love, slightly ooc <3

Have a great day !! <3

——————————–

You stood still as Hosea cleaned the blood from your nose. He looked genuinely angry this time. You had a habit of getting into fights at school, but after this last one — your father seemed to be at his wit’s end. “I can’t believe you. I’ve tried so hard to get you an education and you go off and get into trouble.” He mumbled to himself, his hands gentle as he cleaned off your bruised face. He was extremely disappointed in you. "Pa, I'm sorry! It was deserved!" You defended, rolling your eyes. “I doubt that,” he argued. “You’ve told me before that every time you get into these things it’s ‘deserved’.” Hosea sighed. “Tell me. What happened this time?” he questioned. "O'driscolls. Two of them. Cornered me and they punched John after calling you and Uncle Dutch murderers so threw a punch at them and then the three of us started fighting." You explained.

Hosea rolls his eyes. “You know, you really shouldn’t go around throwing punches every time someone insults the gang.” He sighs again. “If I’m being honest… I’m almost scared to ask what happened to the O’Driscolls. How’s John?” he asked, the disappointment and concern evident. "They were threatening to get their guns out, and me punching them is too far? yeah, bullshit." You mumbled under your breath. "I think John's okay. I got him to go to Miss Grimshaw when we got back - he'll most likely have a black eye tomorrow." You sighed. “You don’t have to curse, kid. I understand the situation but what you failed to remember is that you’re only 16. You can’t go around throwing punches just because someone insults you.” Hosea sighs. “And as much as I don’t really like the O’Driscolls, I don’t think you should’ve punched them. That’s a good way to get yourself killed.” he shook his head.

Hosea sighs — a look of sadness and disappointment flashes through his face. “I know, love… I know. But, that doesn’t change anything; It’s still very dangerous to try and start fights with them. One day, you might end up picking the wrong fight…” He lets out another deep sigh. “You’re a smart kid. I just don’t want you to… do something stupid.” his voice softened, eyes full of love and concern for you, only wanting the best. "Whatever." you rolled your eyes, scoffing at him. “I’m serious, love. I don’t need to lose you the same way I lost your mother. I’m all you got right now, and it’s tough parenting a child in the gang. If anything happens to you, I’ll never forgive myself.” Hosea paused, thinking. “Can I trust that you won’t get into another fight? Just while you’re at school?” he pleaded, wanting some sort of confirmation. "Yeah, sure." You huffed, getting up.

Hosea breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, sweetheart. Just… please try to stay out of trouble. You’re the only child I’ll ever have, and I don’t want you to go the same way your mother did.” He looks at you, his face softening. “Just… just give me a hug, would you?” Your face softened and you gave in, hugging him tightly. You didn't even notice your tears staining his shirt. Hosea hugs you back tightly, holding his emotions back as tears begin to fall down his cheeks. “You’re… you’re the closest thing I’ll ever get to seeing your mother again.” He whispers quietly. “Don’t do that to me again, okay?” He holds you close, not wanting to let go. “I love you darling.” he caressed your head gently. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Pa. I love you too." You whispered, wiping your tears. “I know, sweetheart. Just… just don’t do something like that again, okay?” Hosea holds you close for what feels like forever, not wanting to let go. Eventually — and reluctantly — he does. “Now go on, get washed up and get to bed. It’s late.” he said.

"Okay. Goodnight, Pa. I love you." you responded, kissing his cheek gently. “Love you too, sweetheart. Goodnight.” With that, Hosea shuts the door behind you — leaving you alone to get cleaned up and head to bed. You made your way to the bathroom, brushing your teeth and getting changed. You get changed into something comfortable, ready to go to bed. As you start brushing your teeth, you begin to remember everything that happened earlier as well as the promise you made to Hosea — not to get into any more fights. This was probably one of the last times he was ever going to be easy on you, you thought to yourself. He genuinely didn’t want you to get hurt. You smiled softly when you walked back into your shared bedroom, seeing John sitting on his bed "Hey loser." you called lovingly, making him look up in your direction. “Shut up, runt.” John replied back lovingly with a smile on his face.

“How did your talk with father go?” John had a cut on his eye, it was swollen and red — but it wasn’t too bad. He looked completely exhausted. "Usual lecturing. How's your face doing?" you asked, gently cupping his cheek, frowning at the cut. “Same as always, numb to the pain,” John chuckled, leaning in to give you a kiss on your cheek. This was always your relationship with John. You teased and bickered a lot, but you both cared for each other deeply. He sighs. “I just… can’t believe you punched those bastards. What if they did get their guns out?” he pondered, concern evident in his voice and on his face. "Was worth it. They punched you and insulted my dad and Dutch." You shrugged, not even hesitating, meaning every single word. “Still not worth it.” John argued — but you could tell he wasn’t being serious, he was just worried about you. “Hosea was worried you were gonna get yourself killed. He was on the verge of tears talking to you.” John pauses for a second to think.

“Just… try not to do this again… okay, love?” he asked. "They're lucky I didn't kill them for hurting you." You commented, sitting next to him on his bed. “I know… but they weren’t worth the effort,” John chuckled weakly. “Now, come here.” He motioned for you to cuddle up with him on his bed. “I’m too tired to keep arguing.” he chuckled. You smiled softly, cuddling up to him, head on his chest. John’s body was warm. It always felt safe and cosy whenever you cuddled up to him like this — his large frame was comfortable to rest against. He wraps his arm around you, holding you close as he kisses your forehead. He was so big and handsome, and it made you feel safe in his arms. "Hey John?" you called quietly, turning the light out so it was dark. “Yeah, love?” He looked down at you. You could see his eyelids were slightly heavy — he was half asleep. “What’s up?” He asked softly. "Y'know I'd do anything for you, right?" you whispered, nuzzling into him.

John smiles at you, feeling slightly amused by your words. “I have no doubt,” he chuckled. “What’s your point?” He pulled you closer to him, feeling completely comfortable with you by his side. "I love you. I know we're teenagers but…" You trailed off, a lovesick smile on your face. John looks at you, his dark eyes filled with love for you. “I love you too, darlin',” he whispers back — his soft voice echoing softly through the room. “I know we’re just teenagers… but I can’t imagine living the rest of my life without you in it.” He pulls you even closer to him, his hand brushing through your hair. “We’re gonna get through this… okay? I promise.” he assured, pressing kisses to your forehead and cheeks. "me and you forever?" you questioned, intertwining your hands. “Me and you forever, my love. No matter what that means or where that takes us.” His words were sweet, he meant every one of them. John had done so much for you, he was so much more than your best friend — he was the person who you trusted and loved more than anyone in this world. He was, truly, your soulmate.

Maybe everything was going to be okay after all.

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nitholites · 1 month ago

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Chloé Bourgeois/Cassandra Cain (possible/Stephanie Brown), anyone?

basically, i got to thinking. it's been years since i've watched anything mlb, and i can't claim to be super knowledgeable about dc, but.

Cass deserves more love. so here we are

Important notes: i'm takin chloé away from canon post 'miracle queen' but pre 'throw all possible character development out the window'. i'm also letting her have her dang character redemption arc because goddamn it she was 13 at the start of the show. she isn't evil; she's young, sheltered, and struggling with a lot of parental issues. i don't know shit about anything past, like... the season of chat blanc, and nor do i care to know! canon's a washed out blueprint, but in the end it's just a piece of paper i'm gonna doodle all over anyway so may as well make it my own

as for Cass (and any other dc character imma poke at); i'm doin my best, but i'm very new to dc and its timelines are messes anyway. so im basically taking the webtoon batman: wayne family adventures as canon (for characterizations and interpersonal relationships) and giving it the mlb treatment because It's My Story And I Can Do What I Want, Mom

Have a problem with all that? Write your own fic! Then you can decide what interpretations of these characters you use! (And i get to consume more for this idea-)

For example! A great prompt (in my head) would be to take post-canon chloé (her working with hawkmoth and all), have her move to gotham for school/to get away from paris/whatever, and let her try to have her redemption arc there of all places. (Or that's just where she went because she's in a downward spiral and thinks along the lines of 'well, if im already evil might as well go to the crime capital of the world, right?) Or! Have cass be in paris! Pre or post joining the batfam; you could have hawkmoth be kickin years after canon starts

We're talkin about chloé goin to gotham today tho. What specifically she's doing is up for the writer to decide- if she's goin the fashion route, if she's starting from scratch, if she's planning on just visiting, whatever. Point is: she's in gotham long enough to have a story

Now, chloé isn't actually evil- no matter what her mental image of herself is. And in this story, she's actively trying to do better; to be a better person. She's still snarky and blunt and has high standards, ofc, but she's trying and she is doing better day by day. She falls back on old habits and defense mechanisms sometimes (especially when facing gotham's rogues, which probably happens fairly often considering who she is and the amount of money in her bank accounts) and she definitely isn't a saint or endlessly kind/patient(/good) like marinette is, but don't actions speak louder than words anyway?

For some people, they do!

Enter: one cassandra cain. Who knows real evil when she sees it. Who can see the struggle and improvement of another person so clearly they may as well have shout it from the rooftops. Who can see the emotions as clearly as she can see gargoyles in gotham, and who had her own sort of redemption arc/gear-shift into being on the other side of the hero/villain debacle

Few people in the world can so clearly see or know another person, and cass is very good at what she does.

So what cass sees isn't a selfish, spoiled, bully. No; she sees the guilt that gnaws away at chloe and shuts her mouth when she's about to really snap at someone (until they push more and she can't stop the words but she can take the full brunt of their anger). Cass can see the hesitation that comes when chloe has the opportunity to do something small but kind (like hold open a door or help someone pick up something) and the brief (but strong) flash of why can't i do better why do i hesitate why is this so hard that comes when chloe just isn't fast enough to go through with it before the chance is over

Cass can see chloe's intent and the constant battle she wages with herself between doing the right thing and falling back into the easy, (comforting, even if it's only for a moment and the pang of regret she has after, she can only shove onto the mountain of her fuck-ups) familiar, knee-jerk actions and reactions and thoughts. And yknow what?

Cass was like that once, too. Because she still brandishes a knife first when she's truly startled. Because her mind still whispers when she's got an opponent down, telling her exactly how easy it'd be to make sure they never get back up. Because change is a process, and cass has seen both ups and downs in both herself, her family, and even some of the rogues and criminals she sees on a semi-regular basis. And it's so much harder when you have to do it alone. And a vigilante's job is to help people, first and foremost. And cass hasn't been able to do that in all the ways she wants to yet

Cass usually doesn't interact with civilians when she doesn't have to. She doesn't speak often and sign isn't as widely taught as it should be. But cass can see chloe's strong-willed, determined nature. And yknow what?

It reminds her a lot of steph. Chloé's a 'they asked for no pickles' friend without someone to stand in front of. Cass doesn't mind pickles, but she'd be more than happy to let someone else stand up for her from time to time. It's a win-win in her book; chloe gets a clearer path to 'goodness', and cass gets practice at helping people! (It doesn't matter that it's outside the mask. It's helping, and she can do it no matter what name she's using)

Chloé can't help but see a younger, meeker marinette in cass at first. Though she's lost in how to be good in most ways, all she has to do to be better here is to treat this shy girl the opposite of how she treated marinette. Not easy- not really- but at least she knows she's on the right track every day this cass doesn't cry or get that same broken expression marinette sometimes got when they were kids

(... she's entirely unprepared for Cass to break a molester's wrist a couple of months later. Maybe cass doesn't need chloe, but cass seems happy to let chloe stay, so she will)

(God help everyone else when chloe and steph finally meet.)

#mlb x dc #cassandra cain #chloe bourgeois #stephanie brown #maribat #at this point if you don't want to see this xover and you haven't banned the tags i'm using it's just ur problem #crossover #dc crossover #miraculous ladybug #cass/chloe #chloe/cass

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shithowdy · 11 months ago

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I miss old skool Death Knight rp so much. I know there are classic servers and people who are still dedicated but I’m so checked out of WoW now. I came back to tumblr recently and all my old WoW mutuals seem to have had the exact same experience since 2018~2019 of just completely checking out of the game. Most of us seem to have quit even before the big Blizzard scandals.

But idk, I just get so nostalgic for Acherus. I don’t think I’ll ever get over Death Knights 💀 I didn’t play on US servers but I always wished (I could have joined you all!)

It really was a flash-in-the-pan type of RP that can never truly be revisited, and I miss it terribly sometimes. With the scourge plotline basically concluded not once but twice-over for good measure, the whole premise of the class loses its identity and casts them adrift and without purpose-- something for which they were always sort of destined, but with Shadowlands even things like the crises of faith and redemption and what happens when they finally let go and properly join the dead are negated. The uncertainty and fear of it all is what made them so interesting!

When I left the game, it felt like 90% of the RP happening was very "domestic"-- family dynamics, shipping, people having bake sales, exploration/travel, picnics, parties. It can be occasionally fun to see how a living weapon tries to fit into that sort of dynamic, but I personally found it quickly tiresome and unfulfilling as the moral quandaries of existing at all fell to the wayside. It's very hard to continue to RP someone grappling with their identity when all the other RPers are basically going "oh yeah i just drink a potion to stop the endless hunger so i can run my fashion business :)", and rather than mire in my lore snobbery I just... left.

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nevertheblood · 23 days ago

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66 + dazango !!! 👀 teehee

hello. so, uh. this got so far away from me that I think it is not a drabble anymore or even anything close to it.

the problem is that this song is so damn perfect for dazango-- I actually SCREECHED when I opened my spotify to check it.

and then as usual for me I went on a 'let's emotionally torture ango sakaguchi' runaway train and... here we are.

I may post this to ao3 once it's been proofread lol THANK YOU FOR SENDING THIS I HAD A LOT OF FUN WRITING IT!

probably OOC since it's unbeta'd and i wrote it in two days but ANYWAYS HERE--

dazango x never say die by chvrches ~~

Wasn't it gonna be fun and wasn't it gonna be new?

Wasn't it gonna be different and wasn't it gonna be true?

Didn't you say that? Didn't you say that?

Weren't you gonna be sorry and weren't you gonna be pure?

Weren't we gonna be honest and weren't we gonna be more?

Didn't you say that? Didn't you say that?

All you want is to play at playing God

But I'm falling in and falling out

Never, never, never ever

Never ever, ever say die

“You lied to me.”

It’s not a question. Ango doesn’t ask how he found out – Dazai always knows, somehow or other.

Ango also knows better by now than to make excuses.

“Yes,” he says. “Or rather – obfuscated the truth.”

“They are the same thing,” Dazai says, “When you make your business out of deceit.”

Ango sees his point, but really… it was an inconsequential thing. Sort of.

He’d told Dazai he’d be out of town for a meeting – that much was true. He’d neglected to mention that it was overseas, with one of the Port Mafia’s subsidiaries in Hong Kong.

What does it matter? Dazai is years out of the mafia. His dealings with them, and for the most part Ango’s as well, are a thing that lives only in memory, steeping silently in regret and anger all the while.

It’s not any of Dazai’s business, what Ango does for work. Shouldn’t be anyone’s business, given the layers and layers of secrecy involved.

It was just a meeting. Surface level intelligence gathering, that was all – no deals, no tricks, no subterfuge.

Dazai’s been four years out of the mafia, it’s true, but his eyes, right now – they carry that same cold steel as back then, the bite of a bullet, the only light therein the flash of a gun’s muzzle.

He is angry.

“I know that we have… a certain arrangement,” Ango says carefully. He doesn’t really know what to call it, the thing that exists so nebulously between he and Dazai. The two of them meet somewhere at a crossroads of misplaced trust and hotel bedsheets and guilty mouths and festering, rotted bitterness. “But my work is my work. It is separate from… what goes on between us.”

Dazai touches his cheek, the gentleness a startling counterpoint to the violence in his eyes, and Ango leans into it, a flower to the sun. It’s perhaps a little pathetic, the way he still takes in every scrap of affection from Dazai like a starving street dog begging for food, the way he craves it and hates himself for craving it. He doesn’t deserve it. He’s worked so hard to earn forgiveness and he still doesn’t deserve it.

“You promised me,” Dazai says softly, the thrum of his anger a quiet undertone, a subtle purr, a getaway car’s engine. “When we began this whole thing – that you would be transparent with me.”

“I am,” Ango insists, “To the best of my ability. You must know, with my work, that there are certain things that I cannot tell you. That I am honour-bound to secrecy.”

“Honour-bound?” Dazai’s low laughter causes something deep in Ango’s belly to burn, shameful, like a brand. “What honour can you say you have left?”

That’s cruel. Unnecessarily cruel, and it's not even wholly true. Ango wants to tell him so, to make him feel the same remorse – he knows it’s not possible, Dazai does not concern himself with guilt and he has never once looked for redemption – but even so, didn’t they cast this aside, when Dazai gave Ango the keys to his heart? Doesn’t Dazai love him, even a little bit?

He doesn’t have an answer to that. And he knows, of course, that he is without honour, without pride, so he stays silent.

“You promised me,” Dazai says again, and – is his voice cracking?

Ango hardly understands it at first. The emotion that has poisoned Dazai’s very veins ever since the Mimic incident – it has always been anger, cold and vicious and calm, murderous intent behind a blithe smile. Toxin in the blood, flowing downstream.

Ango has never once seen Dazai with sadness in his eyes.

“I really thought, this time – this time it would be different. You promised – ”

He is only repeating the same words, over and over, almost like a naïve child who is feeling the unfairness of heartbreak for the very first time. It doesn’t make sense. Dazai is not –

But then. Dazai had been merely eighteen, the first time. A boy, really. No matter how boldly he had worn the heavy black mantle of a mafia executive, that was all he had been, in the heart of him. A boy, who lost his best friend.

Four years down the line, he had only wanted something real to believe in. Something solid and honest and true.

And Ango had – once again – betrayed that fragile trust.

He can feel everything he's worked for, over the last four years, every time he’s put his life or his job or his self-respect on the line for Dazai, to crudely shape himself into something that might be worthy of forgiveness, of love, slipping away all too fast – sand into the bottom of an hourglass.

But it's different this time. It has to be.

He slips his hand into Dazai’s, where it had been resting at his side, and tries to curl their fingers together.

“Dazai,” Ango says, “I – it means nothing, I know. But for what it’s worth – I’m sorry.”

Dazai’s hand remains still and unmoving.

“I knew you would be angry,” Ango keeps trying, all the same. “That I had had dealings with the Port Mafia again, even indirectly. I knew that you would question me about it and that there would be certain answers I could not give, even to you. I wasn’t…” He takes a deep breath, here, the flinch before the inevitable pain of the honesty. “I wasn’t prepared for that conversation. And so I avoided it, like a coward. You are right to be angry. I do not blame you for that.”

Dazai stays silent. Ango isn't sure if there's a light of hope in his eyes or if it's the shine of unshed tears. Somehow he isn't as shocked by the idea of Dazai crying as he perhaps ought to be.

So many people think of Dazai as a cold machine, especially anyone who knew him in the mafia, but Dazai feels. Of course he does. That's Ango's whole issue. It’s only that... well. Used to being on the receiving end of nothing but Dazai's anger, his petty bitterness, Ango had allowed himself to forget that the man is capable of so much more.

“I did promise you that I would do better by you this time, when we began this,” Ango says, “And I… didn’t wholly live up to that, I don’t think. We should have had a conversation about that meeting. I should have known it would hurt you.”

Dazai shakes his head. “You find it too easy to fake it, still. Am I wrong?”

Ango sighs. Lets his shoulders drop heavily. “Maybe. Are you a saint, yourself? Do you ever drop your masks around your new agency friends? Do they know how many you’ve killed?”

Dazai is quiet for a moment. Ango wonders if he’s struck too deep of a nerve, if those tears are still stinging in Dazai’s half-lidded eyes. He does not let go of Dazai’s stubborn hand.

“I also swore to you that I would be better,” Dazai says hoarsely, “That I would let my anger lie, in the interest of building something new.”

Ango runs his thumb over Dazai’s bony knuckles. “That you did.”

Slowly, ever so slowly, Dazai’s fingers intersect with his.

Ango gives Dazai’s hand a tentative squeeze, as gentle as though his very bones were glass.

“That's exactly why I'm talking to you right now,” Dazai continues, “And not making arrangements for a bomb hoax at your apartment block.”

“Am I supposed to thank you for that?” Ango remarks dryly. To his quiet delight, that makes Dazai giggle. His eyes squeeze tightly shut when he laughs, and the tears gather in the wrinkle of skin at the corners.

“There's my Ango,” Dazai says softly, and oh, god, lovingly. It makes Ango dizzy.

It's confusing.

“What... what do you mean by that?”

“Well,” Dazai says, “Before you insisted on torturing yourself every time you looked at my face – and believe me, I know I pushed you into it, you don't need to remind me – you were quite unashamedly funny with me, in a disparaging sort of way. I'd missed that wit.”

“Disparaging?” Ango remembers what Dazai means. Oda would meet Dazai's weirdness head on, and Ango was always the foil for their antics, the one who played it straight. None of it feels real, now. If not for Dazai standing in front of him with the same shared memory, Ango could be convinced it was only something he saw in some tragic play, and not something that he lived. It hurts to remember, still, a broken bone that healed wrong and aches in the cold. “You... liked that?”

“Was it really not obvious at the time?” Dazai's expression turns genuinely thoughtful. “You and he were the breath of fresh air I needed. My reality check when I was at my most insane. I thought it was clear that I worshipped you both.”

Ango suddenly finds it very hard to swallow. “No,” he says, with some difficulty, “I only recall seeing... how you felt for him. And... my own guilt, I think. Whenever you smiled at me I only thought of how I'd have to leave you.”

Neither of them can say his name out loud, even now. They tiptoe around the borders of grief, trying to grow something new from the rot within. Flowers pushing through cold concrete in an abandoned lot.

“You have always held me at arm's length, haven't you?” Dazai says. Ango can't run away from that accusation, not when he's this close, this tangled up with him.

“I suppose I have,” Ango replies, a touch breathless.

Dazai closes what little distance is left between them and presses their foreheads together, cupping Ango's face with his free hand. Dazai has grown taller, Ango notices, and he has to look up now to see into those pretty dark eyes.

“You can let me in, you know,” Dazai tells him. “For fuck's sake, I gave you my heart, didn't I? Literally. I trust you. I hate that I do, I hate that I still need you, but you have to let yourself need me too or this all falls apart.”

“I do need you,” Ango cries out, squeezing Dazai's hand tighter this time. “I need you too much, that's the problem. I'm...” God, he feels flayed raw by all this. It's too much honesty for two men who make their living in lies. “I'm too afraid of losing you, after everything I've done.”

“Then stop pushing me away,” Dazai says. “Just because – what, you think you aren’t deserving of my affection? Because you’re afraid of the intimacy of letting me see the real you? Forget all that, just forget it.” He drops Ango’s hand and grabs his face with both hands. Deliriously, Ango notes the way Dazai’s smallest finger reaches all the way around to the back of his neck. Had his hands always been so big? “Listen. I know I can be… difficult. I know I can be an asshole. But just – let me have you, you fucker. And let me keep you.”

Let me keep you. Those words set something wild loose in Ango’s heart, something that flails and scratches and stings.

You could have this, it wails, rattling the bars of his ribcage. He wants you to stay.

“Dazai,” Ango says, softly. He tilts his head, leaning into Dazai’s touch. He can’t always tell when the man is being sincere – Oda had a knack for it that Ango never quite grasped – but he drops his pretences often enough around Ango now that he thinks he’s starting to see through them. “Don’t be cruel. Are you teasing me?”

“No,” Dazai answers, looking straight into Ango’s eyes, and the truth in it is so clear that it burns; like lake ice in your palm, a shot of vodka in your throat.

Ango feels it prickle in his skin, his hair, his tongue. He reaches up to curl his hand around Dazai’s wrist, feels the rough gauze of bandages under his fingertips.

Dazai’s lips part to take a breath – and Ango kisses him.

Sharing kisses is not new to them, of course. They began their quiet affair shortly before Dazai’s stint in prison, and continued it without pause after he got out. They have exchanged many kisses, spent many nights in each other’s embrace, but this – this is softer.

Pure, somehow, if that were something either of them were allowed to be.

Dazai pulls Ango closer, arms enfolding him, and Ango falls deeper into it, his hands circling around Dazai’s slim waist, his pretty waist –

It’s a lot. Ango starts to pull away first, still a little unsure, offering Dazai the space to back out.

Dazai, though, drags him back in, hands tangling in his hair, an unequivocal I want you. It’d be kind of an asshole move in any other scenario, but much like most things Dazai does nowadays, it’s an asshole move for the greater good, which means it’s allowed to fly.

Ango spreads his hands flat against Dazai’s chest, as though he means to push him away but knows he won’t. This embrace is all-encompassing, safe in its completeness, Dazai’s tongue tracing the edges of Ango’s teeth; his older, stronger hands cradling Ango’s head.

Dazai’s chest is broader, now, too, than Ango ever remembers it being back then – not that he’d held Dazai like this, in those days. He’d kept him at arm’s length, just like Dazai had said.

Not now. Not this time. Trial and error and trial and error and trial and fucking error it may take, but god damn it, Ango wants to make this work. For the sake of whatever shared legacy the two of them have left, and whatever shared future they might be able to build with the sheer force of this kiss.

Dazai is kissing him so hungrily, so fervently, and in the harsh press of his lips and hands Ango feels a sort of mirror image, the same stubborn need that burns in his own heart.

As soon as I want something it is lost to me? Not this time. Not again.

When they finally draw apart, it’s as one, in a single-minded and mutual exhale of breath.

They’re nose to nose. Dazai’s dark eyes are the colour of whiskey on a polished oak bar.

Kisses aren’t new to them – but kisses that feel like a promise? Kisses that are warm and genuine and offered up in totality alongside a bared soul?

Ango’s heartbeat hums in his throat, behind his soft, wry smile. “Does this mean you’re thinking of forgiving me?”

“Forgiving you?” Dazai almost laughs. “Forgiveness is… complicated. It’s not something I put much stock in, anyway.”

“Then what do you put stock in?”

“The now,” Dazai answers simply. “The present moment, and the people in it.”

“How can you?” Ango says, forlornly. It’s halfway between an accusation and a plea for understanding. How, when our past is such an all-swallowing shadow, the mire that we pushed through to make ourselves who we are?

“Don’t misunderstand me,” Dazai says quickly. “I do not forget. I refuse to. I remember the way things were, and the way they ended.”

Something in the sharp and stubborn way he says it… maybe Dazai, too, is beginning to lose the edges of the memories to time. How, exactly, did Oda’s hair fall in his face again? Ango recalls that his voice sounded different after an hour in a smoky bar, but was it deeper? Scratchier? The details are indistinct, a photograph half-developed, like trying to find the shape of the horizon with the sun in your eyes.

I do not forget. Even now, Dazai is lying, in a way. But it’s a small lie, one Ango will allow him to keep; to hold close in the secretive dark.

“Still,” Dazai says. He takes a breath in, and seems to centre himself again. He doesn’t bother with the happy-go-lucky fake smile, the one that barely even hides the outline of his pain, a thin veneer of paint over scratches in the walls. He knows that Ango knows that he hurts. “You know, I always think it’s bullshit when someone says oh, but it’s what they would have wanted. About someone who’s dead. You don’t know that, and you can’t very well ask ‘em. But, I do… very firmly believe… that us, well, trying – trying to make something newer and cleaner and better, and rebuilding it as many times as it takes because hell knows we’re fucked up people but we want to make it as good as we can get it, and it’s not because we feel like we need atonement but because we just… want to. I think…” He has to quietly pause to take a breath, and Ango understands. Sincerity is a weed, a sick and tangled thing that grows too fast. It makes you choke on the truth.

“I think he’d like that,” Dazai says eventually. “Do you… disagree?”

“You really don’t think he’d still resent me?”

“I do not,” Dazai says, and backs up his point with a kiss to Ango’s forehead. “He was not the same as me. He was better with... forgiveness, and things of that ilk; although not perfect - nobody is. But like I say. I don’t know, not for sure. That’s just something you gotta carry with you.”

Ango huffs a weary sigh, and leans forward, using Dazai’s shoulder to rest his head. “I know,” he says into the lapel of Dazai’s coat. The tan one – Ango knows why he chose that colour. He wonders if anyone else does, or if he alone gets to share that soft and fragile part of Dazai’s soul.

“I know you know,” Dazai replies.

“Don’t be so damn smug.”

“I’m not.” He rolls his eyes. “It wasn’t like that. I meant to say that… you know. I get it.”

“You don’t do guilt,” Ango accuses him.

“Not really.” Dazai’s smile is pained. Not for the first time, Ango wonders if sometimes he wishes he felt more than he does. If he has ever wanted to atone for his crimes, for his brutality. “But I understand it. And I understand… the circumstances of it.”

Ango is still leaning on Dazai’s shoulder, and Dazai has to twist his head sideways to awkwardly press a kiss to Ango’s cheek. It ends up halfway on his ear, but that’s okay. They’re trying.

“You carry your pain,” Dazai says, “And I’ll carry mine. And that way we’re in it together – sort of.”

“Is this your version of empathy?”

Dazai shrugs. The motion half-dislodges Ango’s glasses. “Take it or leave it.”

Ango straightens up, looks Dazai in the eye. “I’ll take it,” he says, “For better or for worse.”

“For better, I hope,” Dazai says in a whisper so soft Ango can’t even be certain he meant to say it out loud.

“Yeah,” Ango says, “I’d like to think we tend towards the better, now.”

Dazai kisses him again, and the softest wingbeats of a fledgling hope start to flutter in his lungs.

Better this time, they said. We’ll do better this time.

#what the fuck happened here actually #ask game #writing game #bsd #dazango #what do u tag a dazango #bsd dazai #bsd ango #spotify wrapped drabbles #<<< bro ik this is not a drabble but i gotta tag consistently or the whole thing falls apart #bsd fic

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