#guys this musical is in my bloodstream

[transmasc-freya-fellow]

me: i haven’t been listening to *that* much spies are forever-

never mind yeah i have

[gambitandrogues]

It’s so funny to me how no matter what musical is my current favorite, Dancing Through Life is always my number one musical song

[illumiiiz]

they just don’t make stuff like this anymore

[guiltyasdave]

delicate

pairing: modern!Oberyn Martell x f!reader

word count: ~3.9k

summary: You meet a mysterious man at a club. He's just as attracted to you as you are to him.

warnings/tags: explicit smut (-> 18+ only!), alcohol consumption, able-bodied reader, no use of y/n, very soft dom!Oberyn, protected p in v (who am I), dirty talk, fingering, anal play (m receiving), a hint of angst, romance because I can't help myself

a/n: written for @dancingtotuyo’s on repeat drabble challenge, based on the song delicate by taylor swift. this is honestly just feral, i have nothing to say for myself.

dividers as always by @saradika-graphics <3

find my full masterlist here and follow @guiltyasdavenotifs for fic updates!

Lights are flashing, colors dancing over the exposed skin of your arms and shoulders; the bass is pumping, making your whole body feel like it’s vibrating from within. You’re clinging to your friend, your arms intertwined as you navigate your way through the crowd of people to the bar.

You first see him as you’re gulping down your drink, welcoming the cool liquid in your parched throat. Your eyes are observing the crowd, flying over him and then flickering back to take a second glance. 

He’s gorgeous, his dark hair a mess, a beard framing his face, his skin shining under the lights. He’s wearing a shirt that flows around his body, threads of gold weaving through the fabric and reflecting the dancing lights. It’s almost entirely undone, giving you a generous look at the expanse of his toned chest, at the sun-kissed skin that you feel a sudden urge to run your fingers over. A massive gold chain with a lock hangs around his neck, an accessory that you’re convinced would look absolutely ridiculous on anyone else. But on him, it somehow only accentuates the strong cords of muscle that ripple under his skin in a way that makes you want to lick your lips. 

He moves with a confident ease, his body in tune with the stomping beats, his whole being exuding an almost cocky self-assuredness. You keep drinking him in, fascinated in a way that you can barely understand. You realize that you’ve been staring when your friend follows your line of sight and you hear her quiet gasp beside you. 

“Haven’t seen that one around before,” her voice floats into your ear over the music and you shake your head in silent agreement. You’d definitely remember if you did. 

You both watch him move with the body of a woman next to him, watch him bend down to whisper something into her ear, watch the way his lips curl into a smug grin as she grinds against him in reaction to his words. 

“Too late, I guess,” you laugh, downing the rest of your drink and tearing your eyes away. 

The two of you head back into the crowd, swaying your bodies to the beat. You try to get lost in the feeling of it, but your eyes keep searching for him, hungrily grasping at the glimpses of him that you can spot. Eventually, you watch the retreating backs of both of him and the woman head toward the exit, their bodies closely intertwined. Like you said, you try to shrug it off, too late. It’s not a big deal, there’s more than enough other guys around you. 

But you don’t go home with any of those guys, none of them able to catch your interest the way he did, and when you lie in bed in the early morning hours, your head pleasantly buzzing with the remaining alcohol in your bloodstream, you still see him behind your eyelids. 

A few weeks go by and while you hope to catch him every time that you’re out, there’s no trace of him. It isn’t until your friend’s birthday celebration, a tradition that the two of you have kept up for years, that you see him again. 

Again, you’re leaning against the bar, your eyes aimlessly drifting over the dancefloor while you’re sipping on your drink, when you spot him. He’s wearing another colorful shirt, his chest almost entirely on display, and he’s shamelessly grinding against another young man as they’re both moving to the beat. You can’t tear your eyes away, apparently staring so intently that he catches you and throws you a wink across the room. 

You feel heat rising in your cheeks and almost turn away, but he’s already on his way, moving towards you with a cat-like grace, effortlessly weaving through the crowd of moving bodies. 

“Hey,” he says, leaning into you so close that his breath fans hot against your ear, causing goosebumps to rise on your neck. “Saw something you like?” 

You grin at him over the rim of your cup, biting your lip and nodding. He mirrors your grin, an almost predatory glint in his eyes. He’s even more gorgeous up close, a light sheen of sweat on his face and his eyes a smoldering brown, his dark hair a mess with strands sticking to his forehead. You take in his toned chest, his broad shoulders and you desperately want to touch your hands to his golden skin. A foreign accent is lacing his words in the most delicious way, only adding to the pull that you feel towards him. 

“Let me buy you another drink,” he purrs and you accept, thanking him and offering him your name. You relish in the way you have to lean into him so that he can hear you, greedily soaking in his scent and his body heat that make your mouth water. 

His name is Oberyn, you learn, a name that sounds foreign on your tongue and you could swear that a quiet growl rises up his throat when you repeat it back to him. 

You’d love to spend your evening dancing with him, pressing your body against his, find out if moving with him feels as good as it looks from the outside. But it’s your friend’s birthday, and you’re gonna stick together, dance the night away with each other and no one else, the way you do every year. 

He shrugs it off when you tell him as much, an unbothered grin on his face as he promises you another time then. His hand wraps around your wrist, the warmth of it sinking into your skin as he pulls your arm out towards him, a black marker suddenly in his other hand. 

“What are you–” you begin to ask, but your voice dies at the sight of him pulling the cap off with his teeth, something that really shouldn’t affect you this much. 

He bends over your arm and it takes your hazy mind a moment to register that he’s writing numbers onto your skin. You’re getting lost in the feeling of his hand on you, even in such an innocent place, and your thoughts are already jumping to fantasies of how it would feel trailing up your arm and over your body. 

“There,” his voice floats into your ear and you almost jump. The smug look on his face leaves no doubt that he knows exactly what kind of effect he has on you. He leans in close again, so close that you can feel his breath on your skin. Your mouth feels dry. 

You look down at your arm, now adorned with digits in black ink. A phone number. 

“Give me a call,” he smirks, and leans in even closer, until his lips move against the shell of your ear and a shudder runs down your back at the sensation. “Just think of the fun things we could do.” He throws you another wink and slides away from you, back into the crowd. 

You text him the next day, worried if it’s too soon, if it makes you seem desperate. Then again, you have to admit to yourself, you are desperate. Desperate to hear his voice again, desperate to feel his hands on you again. Texting him is less awkward than you had hoped, his demeanor putting you at ease almost immediately. You catch yourself smiling at the screen, already down bad for this man. 

You’re in bed, struggling to calm down enough to sleep when your phone’s screen lights up the darkness of your bedroom from where it’s lying on your nightstand. 

He’s asking you to meet him in a dive bar, right now, if you want to. You’re reluctant at first, once again worried to appear too eager, but the almost magnetic pull that you feel towards him eventually leads you out of your apartment and to the address he sent you. 

He’s waiting for you in the back, just like he told you. Wearing dark jeans and a white t-shirt, the fabric stretching around his broad chest in a way that makes it hard not to stare, dressed much more casually than you’ve come to know from him. It doesn’t take away from his persona one bit, he’s still exuding that energy that seems to let him command every room he’s in, that makes it so hard for you to resist him. 

He buys you a drink and pulls you into a corner booth with him. Talking to him is easy, he’s an attentive listener and his quick remarks make you laugh, leaning into him when you do. You learn that he’s not from around here, that he flew in to visit friends but that he’s thinking about moving here permanently. It almost scares you, how giddy that prospect makes you, the idea of having the chance to keep seeing him. His arm finds its way around your shoulders eventually, his fingers drawing shapes over your skin. The innocent contact makes you feel like a teenager, suddenly sixteen again. 

He walks you home later, his arm still wrapped around you, pulling you into his side. It feels good, a sense of safety and intimacy that you feel yourself getting lost in. You had thought that he was hot, that he would be a fun hookup, but as the minutes tick on, you realize how much you already like him. How much you want this feeling to last. 

It feels so natural, turning around to face him when you reach your building, both of you leaning in simultaneously until your lips meet, like it’s the only possible way for this evening to end. You think that it is. 

Kissing him feels even better than you had envisioned in your mind, and you melt against him, one hand braced against his chest while the other comes up to pull at the hair in the nape of his neck, needing him closer, not ready to let him go. He’s cupping your face in both hands, his thumbs caressing your cheeks, and you feel him smile against your lips. You lick into his mouth, revel in the groan that rumbles deep in his chest. 

You don’t let go of him, holding onto his hand when you pull him up the stairs, soak in the feeling of him pressed against your body when you unlock your apartment door, let him connect his lips with yours again when he walks you backwards down your hallway.

Everything about him feels so right, so safe and yet like the most exciting experience you’ve ever had. You breathe him in, ecstatic with the sensation of his broad form against you, with the way you feel his muscles move under your fingers where you’re grabbing at his shoulders.

He lets you lead him into your bedroom, his hands still all over you. You push him down to sit on the edge of your bed and he follows your lead, sinking down on the mattress with an easy grin on his face, regarding you with hooded eyes. He wraps his hands around your waist as you’re standing in front of him and he pulls you closer. His fingers find their way below the hem of your skirt, dancing over the supple skin of your thighs, slowly inching up higher. 

You whine, already squirming under his touch, and his grin widens. 

“So soft,” he coos up at you, tightening his grip on your thighs and moving you to straddle him, your legs already spread wide to accommodate the thickness of his thighs beneath you. One hand comes up to cradle your face again, his thumb nudging at your lips and you flick your tongue against the digit, making him chuckle. 

“And so pretty,” he continues, leaning in to connect your lips once more. You want to melt into him, let him consume every fiber of your being. 

Your hands tug at his t-shirt, pulling it up, desperate to satisfy the need to be closer to him, to feel his bare skin against yours. He helps you, lifting the fabric over his head. You’ve seen most of his chest before, but not like this, not revealed just for you, in the dim light of your bedroom, yours to look at, yours to touch. He somehow seems even broader without clothes on and you’re almost transfixed by the thick cords of muscle of his arms and shoulders that are on display for you now. 

He chuckles again, placing another kiss at the corner of your lips. 

“You alright, princess?” 

“Yeah,” you murmur, feeling breathless, overwhelmed with how much you want him. 

His hands splay over your thighs, fingertips dipping beneath your skirt again, slowly, teasingly skating higher. 

“Take this off for me.” It’s phrased like an order, but it’s still so soft, not leaving a doubt in your mind that you could say no if you wanted to. But you don’t. You want him to see you, want to feel his eyes on you, want to have this hungry look that’s trained on your face burning all over your body. 

He groans when you obey, a deep, rumbling sound that goes straight to your core and you know that he feels your thighs clenching on top of his. His mouth is on your bare skin within seconds, kissing and sucking, his tongue moving against you like he’s going to devour you. 

You arch against him with a whine when he circles your nipple, first with his fingers and then with his tongue before sucking the sensitive bud between his lips. It’s all encompassing, the wetness of his mouth, the strong grip of his hands, the heat of his chest seeping into your skin where you’re pressing yourself against him. 

“Please, Oberyn,” you whimper, not even sure what you’re asking for, just knowing that you need more. His responding moan sends vibrations from his mouth straight through you, before his fingers dig into your waist and he flips you over, until your back is resting on your sheets and he’s hovering over you, your thighs still spread wide around him. 

The image alone is enough to send another wave of arousal through you, the way he looks just as wrecked as you feel. His large hands spread your thighs wider as he leans back, his eyes trained on your panties, where you know the fabric must be soaked already. 

“So pretty,” he mumbles again, more to himself than to you. His eyes fly back up to meet yours, almost black, his pupils blown wide. “Can I take these off?” He dips a finger under the lace covering your hip, pulling it away and letting it snap against your skin. 

“Please.” You don’t care how desperate you sound, not when he looks up at you with the most sinful smirk on his face. His hands grasp the fabric and you lift your hips to help him pull it down, but his smirk widens as he tears the lace in half, ripping the shreds off of your body. 

“Fuck,” you whine, not a single thought wasted on the fact that those were some of your favorite panties, every part of you focused on how badly you want his hands all over you. 

His eyes stay focused on your expression, eagerly drinking in your every reaction as his fingers dip between your legs, so close to where you so desperately need him. He groans when he feels the wetness seeping from your folds, swirling his digits through it before reaching your clit. He’s ghosting over the sensitive nub with barely any pressure, but it’s enough to elicit a moan from you, your hips canting up to follow his touch. You’re distantly aware of the pleas that are falling from your lips, giving way to a loud whine when he finally sinks two thick fingers into your heat. 

He thrusts into you, curling them just right, and his name tumbles out of your mouth again, laced with pure need. You watch in fascination when he sucks his slick-coated fingers into his mouth, eyes still trained on your face, a rumble forming in his chest at the taste. 

“Tastes so sweet, princess.”

Your thighs fall open wider, shamelessly offering yourself to him, to his eyes, his hands. You reach out, grabbing at his waist, the need to feel all of him nearly overwhelming. His fingers intertwine with yours, pulling your hands away from his body. He lifts them up to his mouth and presses soft kisses against your knuckles, a whisper of patience on his lips before he lets go of you and rises up to rid himself of his jeans. 

Your eyes widen at the sight of him, a needy sigh escaping you when you think about feeling him inside you, about the way he’s gonna stretch your walls. You sit up, eagerly reaching for him again. Your fingers wrap around his cock, mesmerized by his girth, and he hisses when you move your hand over his length. 

You hear the crinkle of plastic and then his hand is on yours, gently tugging it away, much too soon for your liking. You watch as he puts the condom on with practiced ease, the sight of his own hands on his cock enough to send another wave of arousal through you. 

He’s back on you before you know it, sliding in between your spread legs, his large hands splayed over your upper thighs, pushing them further apart. His eyes are trained on your weeping pussy, a hungry darkness in them. You whine when he rubs his cock through your wetness before tapping against your clit.

“You want this?” he asks, his voice husky. 

“Please, Oberyn.” Your desperate plea breaks off into a filthy moan when he sheathes himself inside of you, breaching your tight walls with the most delicious sting, and you feel your eyes rolling back into your head. 

Pleasure grows inside of you as he starts to move, slamming into your pussy in a forceful rhythm. You feel so full of him, the sensation almost overwhelming as he hits the perfect spot over and over. The wave inside of you crests so suddenly that you barely realize what’s happening, the need that you’ve felt brewing all evening finally reaching its peak. 

You gasp his name, nails pressing into his shoulders as he fucks you through it, until you’re a trembling mess beneath him. He slows, moving in and out of you with shallow thrusts, his lips on yours once more. 

You stay like that for a moment, arms wrapped around him, holding him close while you bask in the bliss that you’ve just experienced. But his continuous movements have the hunger for more growing inside of you once more. You meet his thrusts with your hips, needy to feel him deeper again. He props himself up, and it’s sinful how good he looks, his face glowing, a sheen of sweat on his skin. 

You suck one of your fingers into your mouth, eyes wide and holding his gaze, feigning innocence. He watches you, a curious glint in his eyes, as you trail your hands from his shoulders down his back until you reach his ass and pull him further into you, fingernails digging into his flesh. 

You let your saliva-covered finger reach further, gently massaging the puckered ring of muscle and he gasps, thrusting into you with so much force that it jostles your whole body and you cry out, the sensation of him so deep inside you a heady mix of pleasure and pain. 

“Fuck,” he grits between his teeth as you keep up your ministrations, delighted to have this effect on him. “Fuck, princess, just like that…” 

You bite your lip, grinning up at him. “Do the girls back home touch you like I do?” 

He breathes out a laugh and shakes his head, his movements never faltering as he gathers your wrists in his hands and pins them down on the mattress beside your head. 

“No. And you’re gonna make me come if you keep this up, but I’m not finished with you yet,” he purrs, leaning down and sucking bruising kisses into the soft skin of your throat, the scratch of his beard only adding to the sensation. You free one of your hands from his grip to tug at his hair, your fingers burrowing in the soft strands at his neck and scratching against his scalp. 

“You can give me one more, can’t you?” His voice in your ear makes you shiver and you nod, a breathless please on your lips. 

“Good girl.” His kiss is soft against your cheek before he pulls away, his thrusts speeding up, as he grabs your hips, holding them up, giving you no choice but to take him. “Touch yourself,” he demands, the tendons in his neck straining with exertion. 

Your fingers are on your clit within moments, rubbing against it, slick with your arousal. The coil inside you tightens again, desperate for release once more. 

“Give it to me princess, come on.” His voice sounds wrecked, and it’s the thing that makes you leap over the edge a second time, stars exploding behind your eyelids as you pulse around him, pure pleasure soaring through you. 

He comes to a stuttering halt, hips pressed flush against yours, and his groans are almost enough to make you want to come again. He falls forward, forehead pressed against yours, and you share a lazy smile. 

You think that he really is the most beautiful person that you’ve ever met.

You fell asleep curled against him, your head resting on his chest and soaking up his warmth, with his arm around your shoulder, but when you blink awake to soft morning light falling through your curtains, you are alone. You roll onto your back, staring up at the ceiling. You’ve seen him at the club, he’s probably in a different bed almost every night, you shouldn’t be surprised that he snuck out of yours in the morning. And you sure as hell shouldn’t be disappointed. 

You get up with a sigh, pulling a t-shirt over your head and padding down the hall to the kitchen. You come to an abrupt halt in the doorway, met with a sight that you hadn’t expected. He’s standing in front of your open fridge, the expanse of his back bare and turned towards you. There’s a swoop of excitement in your stomach.

You exhale loudly and he turns towards you, an easy smile on his lips. “Good morning.” His voice sounds raspier, still thick with sleep. 

“Hey,” you say, returning his smile. He closes the distance between you and cups your face, the sensation of his thumb against your cheek already a familiar one. His lips find yours and you get lost in the feeling of it, in the fantasy of this being your every morning, in pretending that he’s yours. 

When he pulls away, the words are out of your mouth before your mind is able to catch up.

“I think I really like you.” 

You want to bite your tongue immediately, to take them back. Too early, the voice in your head screams. Your eyes widen as you search for something else to say, but he doesn’t waver, still regarding you with that relaxed smile on his handsome face.

“Is– is it okay that I said that?” 

He hums, his large hand still on your cheek. 

“I think I really like you too.”

as always, if you enjoyed this, please consider putting a smile on my face by reblogging, commenting or sending in an ask <3 thank you for reading!

[juuuulez]

more lip x carmy x reader smut……. consider it not a direct prequel to this piece, but definitely in the same universe.. the start of their shenanigans perhaps.

so lip is your roommate: maybe you’ve managed to wrangle him into moving to a nicer area, someone safer than the south of chicago. it’s got tons of nice restaurants, you tell him! the nightlife is buzzing, public transport is (a little) cleaner, and it’s not even that far from home.

and he comes out of convenience, not because you two are anything special. he’s made that very clear. sure, you fuck around sometimes, and lip goes out of his way to make sure you’re always happy and satisfied and safe, but he’s very apparent about one fact:

lip gallagher does not do relationships.

not with you, not with anyone.

and yet, as he brings home a new girl every second night, you find yourself becoming increasingly annoyed. it was obnoxious, at this point.

the banging of his bed frame against the very thin walls, the clothes you’ll find scattered in the living room. when his fuck of the week comes out for coffee, half naked and clad in one of his shirts.

it pisses you off.

so, you decide it’s time for a little revenge.

it’s fair game, because in your mind, he started it. the plan is to find a guy, someone good looking, ideally, and have the loudest fuck of your life.

you find this man in a bar, somewhere dark with the music not too loud, just enough alcohol in your bloodstream to convince yourself this is a good idea.

tall, chiselled face, strong jaw… spiky hair…. and oh.

someone else catches your eye.

you think it’s lip, for a moment. that he’s predicted your plan and has come to squash it.

except it’s not lip.

his hair is long and curly, reminding you of lip’s from when he was younger, just a little more wild. it makes you yearn for the feeling of it between your fingers, a sorely missed sensation given that now lip insists on the buzz cut.

doesn’t matter, focus!

long story short, you manage to lure this mystery man off, with not more than some batted lashes and a sweet smile. you’d really been expecting more of a fight. regardless, it’s a win.

his name is carmy. so cute. you find it ironic that this guy has a clear aversion towards just using his actual name. and who does that remind you of?

the door closes with a slam, rattling the keys attached to the wall. “shh—” carmy whispers inbetween sloppy kisses, his hands settled on your waist as you tug him further down the hall. “don’t y’have roomates?” he asks.

“roommate, singular.” you mumble against his lips, fingers already working at the thin black tie he’s wearing.

it gets thrown to the floor, along with carmy’s jacket, and your heels. his hands find your thighs, pushing up the material of your dress, fingers hooking into the band of sheer stockings. his mouth finds your neck, mouthing hot and wet against the skin, your hand tugging at his curls.

it ends with your back pressed into the counter, the corner digging in uncomfortably, but that doesn’t matter. as far as a revenge fuck goes, you’re getting lost in the feeling, carmy’s eager hand coming up to cup your clothed cunt.

“fuck.” he grunts into your neck, grinding down against your hip. you wind a hand around to his belt loops, giving a firm tug that only presses his bulge flush with your form.

“jesus fucking christ, are you serious?”

lip squeezes his eyes shut the second he walks through the door, not wanting to see some fucking random rutting against you. there’s a grocery bag in his hand, the plastic crinkling as he tosses it towards the counter blindly, eyes still shut.

the intrusion causes carmy to recoil, his hands moving away from your body like he’d been burnt. a deep red flush comes to his face, made worse as your prying fingers persist, worming their way underneath his dress pants.

“i am serious,” you coo, looking over at lip. “this is my new friend carmy. say hello, carmy.”

“wha— what are you doing?” carmy can only squeak out, this strange mix of embarrassment and arousal thudding through his veins.

your free hand, the one not in his pants, finds the sides of his face, pinching his cheeks between your fingers. you use the grip to tilt his head, making carmy look across at lip.

and.. oh yeah, it’s starting to click now.

because, holy shit, carmy has one thought in his mind: is that me?

well, that thought, and also holy shit, her hand is still on my dick.

and lip’s going through a similar thought process, albeit with more anger, the familiar emotion stirring in his gut and overriding any of that initial confusion, because he knows you, and he knows this is some sick shit you’ve masterminded.

“bedroom, now.” he gets out, voice low and serious and commanding. it sends a tingle up your spine, one of excitement.

and you obey: grabbing carmy’s hand and tugging him along with you, despite the poor man’s confusion. because if you’re gonna be punished, he should too, right?

[sytoran]

𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋'𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐄 | 𝐠𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐧𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐭.𝟒

The inevitable occurs and Natasha ends things with you. Now, separated by galaxies and worlds, there’s no chance of ever being connected again, not by a long shot. Until now.

pairing: goddess!natasha x dom!human!reader

note: reader has a penis. this is the fourth chapter of the goddess!nat universe!! i am sorry this took so long, but i was taking my time to not stress myself out too much. i hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

word count: 2.7k

series m.list | main m.list | join the taglist | AO3

Previously…

The inevitable occurs and Natasha ends things with you. Now, separated by galaxies and worlds, there’s no chance of ever being connected again, not by a long shot. Until now.

Now, one month later…

Music thrums in your bloodstream, your head spinning. The flashing fluorescent lights blind your vision at sporadic intervals and you feel like you’re floating above the ground.

“Another,” you rasp to the dark-haired bartender, slamming down an empty shot glass. “Keep ‘em comin’.” Your eyes dart around the close-bodied pack in the middle of the bar, drunken whoops and cheers sounding as girls press against each other.

The whiskey burns in your throat as the DJ picks up the beat. Inside the hazy mess of purple-shrouded figures in the crowd, only one catches your eye. She’s into the music, trailing her hands over her body and swinging her hips in time to the music. The people around her can’t touch her bubble.

Before your clouded brain registers a fraction of your stupid actions, you down the next shot and walk up to her. 

You’re not completely stupid, though. You’ve made an effort to dress nice, a cream-coloured collared shirt. Natasha said you looked amazing in those. You’ve put on your new rings. The ones that you bought with Natasha’s money. You’ve been hitting the gym, lifting weights and working your muscles. To take your mind off Natasha fucking Romanoff.

It doesn’t work, though. It never works.

“Hey,” you say to the dancing woman. Her eyes are closed, eyelashes fluttering, like Natasha when she slept in your embrace. “What’s up?” 

She doesn’t seem to hear you, despite your relatively close proximity, perhaps because the music is too obnoxiously loud. Or at least, that’s what you think before the woman is beckoning you closer with a finger. Bossy. Just like Natasha.

You take another step towards her, then another step. She guides your hands to her waist, then with the drop of a beat, she spins around and presses herself flush against you, ass grinding up and down against your crotch area.

The arousal hits you, and a low growl catches in your throat. Seductive, just like Natasha, because she was the Goddess of–

You haul yourself out of that spiral before it can take you on an unwanted trip down memory lane. You needed to forget. And the gorgeous woman putting herself up for grabs in front of you seemed like a very good distraction.

You splay your right hand over her thinly-clothed stomach, hearing her little gasp at your warmth and requited boldness, while your left-hand works its way through her hair and tugs on it. Her reaction is exactly as desired, a low hum of desire like music to your ears, and the way she’s eagerly grinding on your growing bulge is certainly not something you’d complain about.

“Wanna step outside for a little bit?” You ask lowly, dipping your head down to drag your teeth lightly along her ear.

—

“Oh, fuck! Please!” 

Her moans bounce off the walls of the dingy alleyway, as you thrust into her. You let her arms wrap around the back of your neck, her grasp tightening with each of your ministrations. Sandwiched between your body and the brick wall was her writhing figure, squirming as your hands supported her up.

The two of you hadn’t even made it two blocks away from the bar, to her apartment which was not too far away – the result of unbridled, alcohol-induced lust was a dimly-shrouded alleyway with two bodies desperately seeking warmth for one night.

Even as you had your cock inside her, feeling how wet she was for you, it didn’t feel right.

The noises she made were too high-pitched, too grating on the ears. Natasha’s ones had sounded heaps better; with the smoky husk that grew more breathless as she called out your name.

Even as she had her hands wrapped around your back, it felt wrong.

Her nails were too short and she was gripping at the fabric on the back of your shirt, tugging at all the angles that made it uncomfortable. Natasha had been so much more different, digging crescent-shaped imprints into the back of your neck that hurt so good.

Nevertheless, you tried your best to make the experience enjoyable. You swear you fucking tried.

“Let me,” you whispered into her ear, taking her hands off your back and placing them above her head. “Y-yeah, please,” she whined in response, but you barely heard her. 

You stepped closer to the wall, pushing yourself farther inside her. Distracting yourself by using your free hand to grope at her breasts through the fabric, then running your palms over her hardened nipples.

Fuck, even her breasts couldn’t compare to Natasha’s. 

Tears prickled at the back of your eyes, burned like gasoline, because what the fuck had you done to deserve this? Lose the ‘love of your life’ one night, get shit-faced the next day, and end up with your cock inside some woman whose name you didn’t even know.

Even as you sloppily thrust into her, try to forget, try to forget, it can’t work. It won’t fuckin’ work. It would never work, because no one could ever be Natasha.

God, she had taken you on the biggest thrill of your goddamned life, then stopped the rollercoaster while you were suspended midair.

And there you were, hanging above the world with no safety net, and you were oh so lonely.

“Oh please, more,” the woman cries, moving her hips to chase her high, her hands on your clothes again. What the fuck? “Daddy!” she shrieks, once, at a certain deeper thrust, and you pull out faster than you ever have before.

The vision of you and Natasha on that beach in Malibu flashes before your eyes like a movie screen, and the light reflects of your empty eyes. 

“Has the Goddess of Lust never called anyone daddy?” you had asked, trying to make sense of her seemingly unorthodox shame at using that title on you.

“It’s complicated,” Natasha had replied, squirming under your inspective gaze. She had trailed her hand down to your cock again, but you had denied her of that pleasure. “We’re not done here, sweetheart.”

“Fine,” Natasha had grumbled, adorably pouty. “That’s the first time I've ever called it out, like, in the heat of the moment. I'm always the one doing the seduction and the flirting, so I call my partner that if I think they'd be into it. It's never been… spontaneous, I guess."

“Oh,” you replied then, softly, trailing her rib with a gentle finger. “I think I quite like it.”

Fuck, you didn’t ‘quite like it’ anymore. You hated it, fucking hated it, hated you ever got attached to anything like that. Malibu seems like a distant fantasy, the grains of sand on the beach falling through your fingers like those in an hourglass.

What could’ve happened if you and Natasha had more time? If she hadn’t broken it off? Would you have married her? Could you two have been truly happy?

“No, please, I was so close,” the woman from the bar whines, clinging onto you, suffocating you. You took a step back, eyes wide, feeling like you were in a state of psychedelia. 

The woman’s hair wasn’t the right shade of brown. Her green eyes looked like fool’s gold compared to Natasha’s kaleidoscopic ones. She was wrong, so wrong.

“I can’t,” you breathe, feeling your heart thudding against the cages of your chest, screaming to be let out. Your chest heaves with desperation, eyes wide and flitting. You pull up your pants, button your shirt shakily. “I can’t do this, I’m sorry.”

Everything was wrong. You weren’t okay. You just needed Natasha, you just needed her.

“What?” the woman responds, stepping away from you, looking at you like you were some lost animal. Maybe you were, trembling in the cold night air, pathetic and pitiable. At the knowledge that you weren’t joking, she lets out a half-assed scoff.

“Fuckin’ loser,” she calls out in contempt, her sharp voice echoing in the alleyway as she stalks away, and you slide down the wall with a wracking sob.

Natasha wasn't just different from any other woman you could be with — she was other-wordly, metaphorically and physically, and no one would ever be able to come close.

You sit there, crying into your hands, wondering how much of a fool you probably looked like.

Natasha had chewed you up and then spat you out, leaving you on the graffitied path of a dingy alleyway: A disfigured shape of the person you once were, just waiting to be crushed once more.

—

The Goddess of Lust sits upon her throne, a falsified smile on her breathtaking face. Her eyelids flutter in practiced motion, so innocently charming. She twirls a strand of hair between her fingers, just like she was taught.

“So, you’ll agree to this deal?” she asks, especially softly, making her voice a little more husky than it naturally was. 

The men before her all nodded desperately, prey to her thrall like lambs to the slaughter. Fuck, men across the universe had one thing in common and that was their unbridled horniness. “Of course, Goddess, as long as you, uh, give us a little bonus.” A bold one added, not even trying to hide the sexual innuendo.

Natasha wanted to rip someone apart, but all she did was sweetly plaster a smile across her delicate features and nod in faux bashfulness.

She tunes out the mindless drivel of business in the works and plans to be carried out for the betterment of her kingdom. It was worse than watching paint dry. 

Suddenly, a jolt of nausea hit her and she jerked in her throne.

“Is something the matter, Goddess Natasha?”

The Goddess of Lust swallows harshly, her stomach lurching with each passing second. “I- uh, I think I need some rest, that’s all,” she says, forcing a smile through gritted teeth.

“But we’re not done discussing the-”

Natasha scoffs, ignoring the searing pain to spit out her next words with venom. “I suggest you make your way out of my palace before I ensure you never step foot into my kingdom again.”

At that, the man who had been speaking to her turned flushed with irritation but bit back his words. He shook his head at the rest, leaving resolutely with his ego bruised.

The moment the men were out of her sight, Natasha teleported to the bathroom in her master bedroom and positively threw up in the toilet bowl, tears in her eyes. Was this the consequence of her actions? To suck up to shitty men and feel like a pile of shit?

Come to think of it, Natasha hadn’t felt this sick only until the two of you had been split apart a month ago. On some days, she would not stop throwing up, or her toes would grow numb, or she would get that sour, metallic taste in her mouth that made her want to throw up all over again.

It was downright ridiculous. The only types of people with these urges were women from Earth who were preg-

Oh no.

Natasha sinks down onto the cold marble of her bathroom floor, hand gripping at the side of the gold bathtub. She feels sick, all over.

Oh, hell fuckin’ no.

There was no way. There was just simply no way that this was happening right now. Because she had lost you. The mere thought of being tied to you in that sort of way was out of the question.

With another snap of her fingers, Natasha materializes in front of Stephen Strange’s castle. She probably looked ridiculous, tears staining her face while in a fancy dress, showing up on the doorstep of a friend she hadn’t seen in ages.

Strange was the God of Time, but it was more than well-known he had been a miracle surgeon, a lifetime ago. When the door opened, Natasha’s tears were welling up, and immediately the dark-haired man stepped aside to let her in.

“What’s the matter, Nat?” he asked softly. The Goddess sniffs, ragged breaths shaking her whole body. “I have a little medical issue.” she replies despondently.

“Why didn’t you go to Helen? You know she’s the Goddess of Health,” Strange says, stepping back slowly, then turning around and gesturing for Natasha to follow. As he begins walking up the steps, he continues. “Or Shuri, for that matter. Goddess of Geniuses. There’s no better bet than her, am I right?”

As they enter a room with medical equipment, Natasha sighs. “This is a special case. Something that I don’t want to make public, even if it is confirmed to be true.”

“Oh,” the God says thoughtfully. “I’ll do my best, in that case.” He moves to grab a device from the table, but 

“I’m sorry, Stephen. It’s just…… I don’t want all that. Can you just…… you know,” she asks, trying to force a lopsided smile onto her face, to ease the growing tension.

The God looks taken aback for a moment, before putting down the device and nodding in agreement. He closes his eyes, and gradually a golden light encases the room, warm and inviting.

Sparks fly, swirling from the walls before they encircle Natasha. Glowing brightly, swimming with power.

There are two heartbeats, one is hers and one is Strange’s, both strong and steady. But there is also a third one, with weaker and slower thuds.

Strange waves his hand and opens his eyes. The lights fade into nothingness. There is a moment after that, when Natasha locks eyes with him, that the galaxy hangs on its axis and everything becomes nothing.

“Natasha… you’re pregnant.”

—

Stumbling into your apartment with your head spinning, you unbutton your shirt and shrug it off, tossing it somewhere into the darkness of your home.

You had far too many drinks than what was considered acceptable, and it was 3.47 am. At least, that’s what the numbers on your phone told you. Maybe it was 7.43 am. Ah, you wouldn’t fuckin’ know. You couldn’t read the numbers with your dizzied vision.

Rubbing at your nose and then sniffing loudly, you almost trip over the leg of a strewn chair as you reach for the light switch. Right, the chair you had thrown across the living room when you had a breakdown that morning. Well, yesterday morning.

You cough out, hands gripping the wall for support, and your throat is too fucking raw and your eyes well up for the umpteenth time. “I’m pathetic,” you whisper to no one in particular. Your shaking hands finally find the light switch and you flick it on.

“At least you’re self-aware. Because you look like shit.”

You leap backwards at the sound before you, cursing as you knock into the chair again and fall over. 

The lights flickering on reveal a man dressed in a dark green robe, a horn-shaped gold ornament on his head. He looks at you with a sadistic smirk playing on his lips, eating a slice of — was that your fucking leftover pizza?

“Who- who are you,” you breathe out, absolutely convinced you were just hallucinating. This felt oddly reminiscent of the time Carol had scared you in your office, except this man made your stomach churn in the worst ways possible.

He dusted off his clothes of the pizza crumbs, stepping up to you slowly, and you hate how your heart pounds in absolute fear. The man leans down to meet you at eye level, his black curls falling as his lips curve upwards. 

“I am Loki, and I am burdened with glorious purpose. Some call me the fallen angel, or the devil’s incarnate, but I have and always will be a god,” he says, and the way he carried himself with such calculated ease and unnerving confidence had you frozen in place. 

“Y/N L/N, today I grace you with my presence to strike a deal.” He continues, straightening up again to start pacing the room.

“And what makes you think you can do anything for me?” you ask, in disbelief, almost laughing at the absurdity of the whole situation. Your grin fades away at the seriousness behind Loki’s deceiving eyes. 

He stops and turns around, locking eyes with you. Your heart rises. No.

“I can make you a God.”

taglist: @natashamaximoff69 @ohsugar-honey-iced-tea @fayhar @bibliophilicbi @screechcat @rowanyaboats @nahnahnahwhat @the-night-owl-blr @nemowevoli @wannabe-fic-reader @natsxwife @wandsmxmff @enanna-h @jemilyswhor3 @manyfandomsfanvergent @jlsammy23 @spongebobs-tie1 @kiyozoe6778 @lovebelt05 @girllcver @godsfavouritelesbiann @natashaswife4125 @ezay @forthelesbians @wlwfanfictionss @forthelesbians @cowxpoke @supaheroine @saqua14 @olsensnpm @33_mrvl @gay4ols3n @knellyc30 @eatkobi @stitch26gp @cqllarbqne @lovelyy-moonlight @diannaswhore @wandaromanoff69 @shuriri4life @inluvwithfictionalwomen @Cooldogs02

@jedi-athen-orion @alyciaddict @blackqueensforeva @lovelyy-moonlight @gingerninja1993 @yourfavdummy @iliketigolbitties @scarlttolsn @blackbirdv98 @mxxnligxt @riomiyawakisstuff @alex4424 @0DeadandCold0 @mr.romanoff @mandy-asimp @idontwannabehereatm @daenerys713 @xxsekhmet @marvel_simp @maowlxslay @lizbugwanda @peggycarter3 @flositaa @dooblekhay @aliherrerasz @theo-021 @hopelesslyfalleninlove @secretbackrooms @natasha10273 @justyourwritter69 @theo-221b @wandaromanoff69 @eatkobi @lovelyy-moonlight @morganismspam23 @unexpected-character @rdfgfv @natsxwife @romanoffkink @wandascandy @cd-4848 @mmmmokdok @bisexualbritish @marvelonmymind @jareguiromanoff @benizaa @reereeineedtopee @p1ut0smoon @marvelwomen-simp @traveler-at-heart @slashermeslashers @yourlovergorl

did anyone notice loki was first mentioned in chapter 2?? i was foreshadowing or at least i tried to LMAO

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[whimsicalpolitical]

An encounter // Matty Healy x Reader

in which you just got broken up with but a man lets you forget everything for a night

content warning: smut, 18+ mdni, fingering, p in v, oral (m and f receiving), praise, drunk sex?, grinding

The pulsating beat of the club's music reverberates through your chest as you sway unsteadily on the dance floor, your movements fueled by a mix of alcohol and heartbreak.

Your girls had dragged you out, insisting that a night out was the perfect remedy for a broken heart. And now, under the flashing lights, you are beginning to think they might be right.

Lost in the music you throw your head back, letting the rhythm take over. The world blurry around you, a kaleidoscope of faces and colors. You feel free, if only for a moment, free from the memory of his words, the sting of the breakup still fresh in your mind.

“Here, have another shot,” your friend yelled, handing you a shot glass. You gladly take it.

You bring the shot to your lips and tilt it back, the tequila sliding down your throat. It doesn’t even burn anymore; you are so far gone that the alcohol is just another warm rush in your bloodstream, blending seamlessly with the intoxication already coursing through you.

“Get it girl,” your friend says, her hands on your hips, guiding you, and you throw your head back, letting the laughter spill out, carefree and wild. For the first time in what felt like forever, you aren’t thinking about him or the way he had left. You are just here, in the moment, with your best friends, reveling in the liberation that comes with letting go.

You keep dancing, bodies moving together.

Suddenly one of your other friends lean in close, her voice barely cutting through the din, “hey,” she says, nudging you with her elbow. “There’s a guy over there totally eye-fucking you.”

You stop mid-laugh, your breath catching as you follow her gaze. Across the dance floor, leaning against the bar with a drink in hand, was a guy. His eyes are locked on you, dark and intense, a smirk playing on his lips. The air seems to crackle between you, and the heat of his gaze sends a shiver down my spine.

Next to him are two other guys, one with a blonde buzz cut and the other one with a bun.

“She finally noticed you after you staring like a perv for half an hour,” George nudges him but Matty gives him a glare.

“She’s fucking gorgeous, there’s no way I’m gonna let her go.”

“Go for it then.”

Matty empties the glass in his hands before he hands it to George, “don’t count on seeing me tonight.”

“Good luck man,” they call after him but he’s already on his way through the crowd.

You feel your cheeks flush, a mix of embarrassment and thrill. The alcohol gives you the courage you might not otherwise have. “Oh my god, should I talk to him?”

“Absolutely,” your friend says, giving you a little shove, “have you seen him? He’s fucking hot.”

You agree with her, his tousled curls, which fall effortlessly across his forehead are damp with sweat from the heat of the dance floor. His dark locks are wild and unruly, adding to his magnetic allure.

Around his neck, a silver necklace catches the light with every movement, the chain glinting and drawing attention to the hollow of his throat. The pendant rests just above his chest, a small but striking detail that adds to his effortlessly cool demeanor.

You watch as he licks his lips, the glistening trail left by his tongue making your breath hitch. The way his mouth moves, so sensual and deliberate, makes you ache with a sudden, urgent need.

You imagine the cool metal of his necklace brushing against your body, leaving a delicate imprint as he presses closer. The thought of his fingers grazing your collarbone, the chain caught between you, sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

Your friends smirk to each other when he reaches you, not waiting for you to speak.

“Having a good night?” He asks searching for your eyes which are currently directed at the floor.

“Could be better,” you say, hinting at something more and you know he gets it because when you look up there’s a glimmer in his eyes and a smirk on his face.

“Want me to buy you another drink?” You shake your head at him.

“Want to know your name first before you buy me a drink,” you explain.

He nods and holds out his hand for you to take it which you do. “I’m Matty.”

The way he says his name sounds more like Ma-e, doesn’t matter because it sounds hot coming from his mouth. His hand is warm but not sweaty and you can’t help but imagine how it would feel in other places.

“Matty,” you say, wanting to know how his name sounds coming from your own lips. He smiles and nods his head once more before asking for your name.

“Gorgeous name,” he compliments and you can practically feel the blush creeping up your neck. It’s a good thing the club is filled with neon pink light.

“How does that drink sound now?” You definitely shouldn’t drink any more but when you’re already this drunk you don’t care if someone offers you more.

Should you be doing this? Having fun with a man when you just got your heart broken? Probably not but you’re just going to fuck that, fuck him.

“Perfect,” you say, “sounds perfect.”

He takes your hand in his and leads you towards the bar. When you turn around one last time your friends are smiling and winking at you, which makes you roll your eyes at them.

His touch is electrifying, his hand still holding yours. You can feel the anticipation building inside you, mixing with the alcohol in your veins, making your head spin the best way possible.

You lean against the bar when Matty turns to the bartender to order two drinks, his voice is smooth and low. You take a moment to look at him again, his dark curls fall into his eyes, the mischievous curve of his lips, the intensity of his gaze when he looks back at you.

The drinks arrive and hands you yours, clicking his glass against yours. “Hopefully to a better night,” he says, his eyes never leaving yours.

You echo his phrase, taking a sip. The drink is strong and it burns slightly as it goes down but you welcome the sensation. Its stronger then anything else you drank tonight which is why the drink grounds you.

Before you can speak up your friend shakes you, “gonna- gonna go home with a guy now,” she slurs, “oh hi!” She says when she sees Matty, “oh wow, he’s not him, good for you girl, fuck him.”

She’s off leaving you completely embarrassed with a Matty that grins at you. “He sounds like a dickhead.”

“You don’t know him,” you have no idea why you try to offend him.

“Don’t have to,“ he pours the drink down his throat waiting for you to do the same but you’re just sipping lightly.

“Hm,” you hum, “he is a dickhead, I don’t want to talk about him tonight though.”

“Wasn’t planing on doing so,” he steps closer, his arm disappearing behind you to set down his glass. Your breath hitches when he stands in between your legs, “would prefer talking about you anyway.”

You try to take a sip of the drink but some guy bumps against you and the liquid is flowing down your mouth.

“Watch where you’re fucking going,” he says, pushing him through the crowd, “wanker.”

Matty takes the drink from your hands and sets it down next to his to make you focus on him. His thumb brushes against your chin, wiping your wet mouth before taking his thumb into his mouth.

Your voices catches in your throat, trying to wipe your neck with your arm, distracting you from the fact how close he is. You can smell the mix of his cologne, cigarettes and alcohol on him and it’s intoxicating.

“Think you missed a spot,” you whisper, pointing your finger to your mouth. You’re feeling bold but you’re loving it, you’re going with the flow and how can you resist when a hot guy is in front of you.

“Is that right?” His eyes flick down to your lips, licking his own before inching closer. “Let me.” He whispers before crashing his lips to yours.

His hands abandon your face, finding their way to wrap around your waist, bringing you to your toes and flushed against his chest. Your own react on instinct and weave around his neck, and your fingers find refuge in his black curls.

The tip of his tongue grazes your bottom lip, as he asks for access. The contact alone ignites you, and you can’t help the soft moan that lodges in the back of your throat, a flutter traveling below your stomach. Matty’s hands squeeze your hips in response to the sound and he slips his tongue into your mouth.

He’s a good kisser, it’s not too wet and his body on yours is driving you insane. You want more, you don’t want this kiss to ever end but at the same time you want him to kiss you in different places.

As fast as the kiss started it’s over, Matty’s pulling away, hands still on your hips. “My place is 10 minutes from here, we can keep doing this there.”

“Let’s go,” you say, dragging him towards the exit impatiently. He chuckles to himself, acting like he’s not as desperate as you.

“Slow down there, love,” the cool air hits your face and you shiver, the warmth of the club slowly washing off of you. “Need a fag first.”

You stop and sit down on a big stone, too dizzy to stand. You’re fucking wasted and all you want to do is jump Matty’s bones right here.

He looks at you, your pupils dilated, hair kind of disheveled and your cheeks flushed. Could be the alcohol but you know he’s the reason.

“Want one?” He asks but you shake your head, you’re not a smoker. You simply think it tastes disgusting but you don’t mind when other people smoke.

“C’mon, I can smoke it on our way.”

He takes out a cigarette and lights it with a practiced ease that makes your breath hitch. The way he cups the flame, his fingers steady, the quick flick of the lighter, and the first drag he takes—it’s all effortlessly hot. You watch as he exhales the smoke, his lips forming a perfect 'O' as he blows it into the night air.

"God, you look so good doing that," you murmur, unable to tear your eyes away from him.

He smirks, the cigarette dangling from his lips. "Do I now?"

You can't wait any longer. The desire is a fierce, living thing inside you. "No, wait," you say suddenly, standing up and closing the distance between you in a heartbeat. Before he can react, you grab the cigarette from his fingers and toss it aside, your lips crashing into his.

He makes a sound of surprise, but it quickly turns into a groan as he kisses you back, his hands sliding up to tangle in your hair. The kiss is hungry, desperate, and you can taste the faint bitterness of tobacco on his tongue, mixing with the lingering sweetness of the alcohol.

His hands are everywhere, roaming over your back, down to your hips, pulling you closer until there's no space left between you. You can feel the heat of his body, the hard press of him against you, and it makes your head spin with want.

He whispers your name against your lips, his voice rough with desire. "Let's get out of here."

"Yes," you breathe, barely able to think straight. "Yes, let's go."

With a final, searing kiss, he grabs your hand, and you both hurry down the street, the promise of what’s to come fueling every step. The night air is cool against your flushed skin, but the fire burning between you keeps you warm. You can barely keep up with your own need, the anticipation building with every moment.

When you finally reach his place, he fumbles with the keys, your hands all over each other, stealing kisses even as he tries to unlock the door. As soon as it swings open, you're inside, the door slamming shut behind you.

"Matty," you whisper, and he's on you again, lips crashing into yours, hands pulling you closer. This time, there's nothing to stop you, nothing but the heat and the wild, electric desire between you.

The both of you stumble into the living room, not letting go of each other, too invested in the kiss. You end up on his lap.

“You’re so fucking hot,” you grind against his lap, whispering against his ear.

“You’re flattering me too much,” he groans, “you’re the gorgeous one here.”

You need the friction his lap is merely giving you, steadying yourself with your hands on his shoulders, grinding down.

He pulls you down for another devastating kiss. You moan into his mouth and grind your hips down. You start rocking back and forth, rubbing your clit deliciously across his hard cock. He pulls his mouth away and hisses lowly in pleasure.

His hands rub up your back, then down to your hips, pulling you down to grind harder against him. He licks and bites at the swell of your breasts on display from your low cut sweater. You tug on his hair, pushing him closer to your tits, grinding down again.

“Fucks sake,” he grunts, “condoms in the bedroom,” he says, without having any intention of lifting you off of his lap. His mouth is on your neck, sucking and kissing down to your collarbone.

You again love your hips down to his and this time his head falls back, pulling you off of him. You whine at the loss of friction.

“Sorry, love, any further and this night would’ve been over,” he stands up, lifting you up, your legs wrapping around his body. “And we don’t want that, right?”

“Mhm,” you hum, trailing kisses down his neck, sucking at one spot until there’s a hickey. You moan at the piece of art you left there.

“Like that?” He asks, “leaving a mark on me.”

You know you finally reached the bedroom when your back hits soft cotton. Matty stays at the edge of the bed pulling your pants down.

He throws them across the room and starts trailing kisses up your legs, he hums against your skin when he’s at your inner thigh, in front of your cunt, dripping cunt.

He can smell you and he can see it, the wet patch on your panties. He’s teasing you with kisses over the cotton and your hands go in his hair, trying to tug him closer.

“Don’t worry, m’ gonna make you feel good,” he tugs your panties down and sticks them into his pocket with a smirk. “Keeping those, need to remember you somehow.”

You giggle which is replaced my a whine when he bites your inner thigh. “I’ve been wanting to do this since I saw you.”

He gazes at your glistening sex, transfixed by you.

“You look fucking sexy,” he dips his tongue into the apex of your heat, familiarizing himself with your taste before licking a languid stripe up to your throbbing clit.

He comes up for a quick second, “and you taste as sweet as you look.”

You writhe under him, beg with wordless whines and whimpers for more. He understands your sounds, understands their tells, he soothes you with a gentle shh against your cunt. 

“Matty,” you moan, “please,” his fingernails dig into the meat of your inner thighs mindlessly. You watch his lip twitch and his eyes roll to the ceiling.

You anchor yourself with fingers of one hand twisted in the dark, sweaty curls at the crown of his head. Two digits on the other pinch at one of your hardened nipples, just as Matty begins to swipe his tongue back and forth over your clit.

“F-fuck,” you sigh, draping your trembling legs over his shoulders. 

You look down at Matty’s lower half, which is rutting into the bed, but only one time before stopping, not letting himself cum.

He licks your cunt like he fears you’re going to melt, lathes over your clit again and again with the wide flat of his tongue. The wet squelch of him slurping at you, eager to catch every last drop of your arousal, bounces off the walls obscenely.

You find yourself completely overcome with ecstasy, close to falling apart on Matty’s tongue in a matter of minutes.

As soon as he curls two fingers into your cunt, you’re gone, cumming so hard your vision pulls and your thighs shake.

His name rolls off your tongue effortlessly, naturally. Like it’s made for you to recite.

He lets you come down, soothes you with gentle hands stroking along your thighs, soft lips pressed to your sensitive mound.  You cover your face with your hands and you try to close your legs but Matty first swats you hand away and then he moves up, his body between your legs. “Don’t act modest now.”

“Fuck,” you sigh in contentment, still feeling great because of your orgasm. It was a long time since the last time you had sex and came during it, you’re very sure this is not the last time he’s going to make you finish.

“Can I suck your dick?” You whisper against his lips before moving them against his, tasting yourself on him which makes you groan.

“Have at it,” he says, rolling off of you. He gets rid of his pants on his own, throwing them on top of yours. You straddle his thigh then, gazing at his bulge which is pulsing in his boxers.

“Eyes are up here, love,” he teases, knowing exactly where your mind is.

You start to squeeze him over his boxers, watching him as he lets his head fall back in pleasure. He is rock hard and he feels incredibly hot in your hands.

You bring your hand up to your mouth spitting in it before dipping below the waistband to stroke his shaft up and down.

Your spit and his pre-cum helps you to stroke him smoothly. Your want gets too much then and you tell him to lift his hips to get rid off his boxers.

He’s still wearing his shirt and so are you, it feels weird so you pull your own shirt over your head, leaving you in just your bra on top of him.

“Get yours off,” you plead and you don’t have to ask twice because he’s throwing it over his head, his curls falling against his face. You look at his chest, his arms, his v-line, the tattoos on his skin a new factor to get you wet.

You can’t wait so you put the tip in your mouth, moving your tongue around it. He lets out a little moan. “Keep doing that, fuck.”

You look up at him, he's already looking at you. And you proceed to slowly put all of it in your mouth while maintaining eye contact. His tip touches your throat, and you have to fight a gag. You still have a full fist grabbing the rest that didn't fit your mouth. He moans again at your little show. You close your eyes and start moving your head up and down. Matty moans louder this time, thrusting up inside your mouth.

“What fucking twat would leave a girl like you hm? Proper loss there.”

You whine around his cock, his words going straight to your chore and you can’t help but grind on his thigh once.

He feels your body move and his eyes shoot down to you again, “little minx, need to grind your pussy on me, get some relieve cause sucking my cock turns you on.”

His hips lift up again, his cock going deeper then you think it could go and you let out a moan again, swirling your tongue around the head.

“Get off, christ, need to be inside you.” Your head is moved away by his hand, leaving you with a teasing put on your face.

His thumb finds your bottom lip, refusing to see you pout because you want to suck him off. “I’m real mean, can suck my cock another time yeah?”

You’d love that. God. He’s a stranger but you can’t help but imagine the next time you can do this. He’s pretty, hot, totally your type. The British accent, the tattoos, it’s the type to leave you writhing.

He’s leaning to his side, pulling out a condom out of his drawer. You snatch it from his grip and open it with your teeth, rolling it down his dick.

“Matty.”

“Yes, darling?”

You lean closer, whispering into his ear. “Fuck me.”

He finds his way on top of you again, his hands going around your body to unclasp your bra. “Haven’t had a chance to enjoy these properly.”

His tongue latches onto one of your nipples while his fingers rub against the other one, not wanting to neglect you in any way. Your back arches off the mattress, into his body.

“Your tits are amazing, you know,” he quickly switches nipples before coming up to your face again.

“If I do anything that you don’t fuck with, tell me,” you nod and wrap your legs around him to try to put his cock in you, obviously failing. “Words, love.”

“Yes, Matty, just please fuck-.”

You whimper as you feel his hard length run through your glistening folds, his hips jutting against the backs of your thighs. 

“Is that right, need me so fucking bad?”

You nod, crying out when his cock finally pressed through the tight threshold of your cunt. "Fuck, yes Matty.”

"Already forgotten about that little twat?" He asks, fully sheathing himself in you.

Your back arches off the bed and you groan. Fingernails scratching at Matty’s forearms.

He pulls back and slams into you. "Asked you a question.”

"Yes,” You cry out. His cock reaches into the very depths of you, the tip hitting in just the right place to make you scream. "I have.”

“Perfect,” His fingers adjust themselves as his grip slips and then he's pounding into you at such a brutal pace. Back and forth, in and out, he is fucking you.

Your walls clamp around him, the drag of his cock stimulates you more and you clench harder.

Skin on skin, the noises that they make are obscene.

The squelch of him entering you has your face burning, not in embarrassment but desire. His gruff growls and fucked out moans accompany those other sounds and all they do is make you even more horny.

“That’s it,” Matty fucks into you with reckless abandon, his head in the crook of your neck, biting down on your shoulder.

The way he fucks you is savage. Hips snapping at a speed you couldn't imagine, his fingers squeeze your skin so hard you are sure you will have brushes in the shape of his hands all over you.

The knot pulls tighter once more and your body begins to lock up in anticipation. Your eyes flutter before rolling to the back of your head. Your hands reach for his, interlocking your fingers, hoping he will keep you down on Earth.

As your orgasm hits once more, you wail. A long, monotone cry bursts from your lungs, whole unattractive but who cares when you feel so so so good?

"Sound so pretty- fuck- all for me,” Matty gasps. He's trying to hold off but it's all just too much. A shiver runs up his spine and his balls pull taut. He's lost his rhythm, hips now bucking unevenly and with desperation.

Before you become overstimulated, Matty also comes shortly after, only a few more pumps, and he spills himself into the condom.

His body crashes down on top of you, the both of you breathing heavily into each other.

“You feeling alright?” He asks, his brown eyes gazing into yours. The alcohol slowly starts to wind down, sickness starting to set in.

“Yeah fuck- fucking dizzy and I don’t want to push your ego but you’re a god- fuck me.” You groan and whine when he pulls out of you, slipping the condom off of him.

You pull the blanket over your body, one leg draped over it as you watch him move to the bathroom to throw the condom away and to pick up a towel.

“You don’t have to do this, I can piss off you know,” you say, desperately hoping that he wants to keep you with him.

“Don’t be daft, m’ not letting you go, if that’s alright with you.”

Of course you nod and giggle, letting him clean you up before letting him pull you flush up against his body.

“You’re a gorgeous girl,” he whispers, brushing hair off of your face, “meant every word I said.”

“Thank you,” you close your eyes, “Matty I really appreciate it.”

“Of course, love,” he kisses your cheek, “we’re both knackered, let’s just sleep.”

You agree with a soft hum and his arms closed around your waist to pull you in. You intertwine your fingers in one hand, the other on his chest, feeling his now steady heartbeat. Might become your favorite rhythm.

[cosmonauter]

pls do a remus blurb of him taking care of drunk!girlfriend!reader after a griffyindor party

thank you for your request!! this turned out way too long, i'm so sorry :( i hope you enjoy it nevertheless :))

you are searching for remus. pushing people aside and slurring apologies, as you stumble through the gryffindor common room.

your favourite song is playing and you really want to dance with your boyfriend. looking for the tall werewolf shouldn't be as hard, since he is normally one of the tallest people in the room, but with all the firewhiskey you had, everything is a more difficult task than it should be.

as you walk up to lily, planning to ask her about remus' where-abouts, you suddenly feel hands on your waist, stabilising your wonky pace.

"are you alright, my love? you seem very drun-"

"oh my god, remus! i've been searching for you! let's dance, come on! please..?", you squeel out, turning around and clinging to your boyfriend.

"you can't even stand straight without my help, sweetness, how do you want to dance?", he grins at you, and leans down to give you a kiss.

grabbing his face between your hands, you start planting kisses all over his unique features. "you know, i really love your nose. it's the perfect size to sit on."

his face turns red and you can feel the heat of it under your lips.

"oh my god, our moony is all grown up, i can't believe this!", sirius shouts over the music ,"seems like yesterday you were asking us if we think they are interested in you."

peter laughs and leans against sirius, while james throws his arm around lily's waist ,"i still can't believe you popped his cherry! walking in on you two was a incredibly strange experience", he grimaces while kissing the top of her head and whispering a greeting into her ear.

"oh stop it, you morons! i'm very happy that remus and their relationship is going so well! everybody can see how in love they are with eachother! and besides james, you were even worse."

you pull away from remus' face and grin at lily, who smiles back at you with a kind look in her green eyes.

"let's go, i thought you wanted to dance, my love", he pulls you away from lily and the boys, while flashing them a middle finger.

-

while swaying from one side to the other, you notice your legs getting tired, so you turn towards your boyfriend and whine against his chest.

"what is it, sweetheart? are you getting tired?", you feel a hand gliding through your hair, pulling you even closer to his warm body.

"can we go to your room, i really want to cuddle with you", you mumble and press your face to his chest.

"of course, my darling girl. come on, we're going to say good night to the boys, and then we can cuddle as much as you want", he grabs your hand in his bigger one and guides you through a herd of people.

remus being taller than most has a lot of positive aspects, one of them being: seeing things easily while inbetween other students.

as he is pulling you towards your friends, you notice the alcohol in your bloodstream and with it a strong sense of tiredness.

being so concentrated on not falling over, you don't even notice that you already arrived at your destination.

"hey guys, i just wanted to inform you that we are up in the dorm. sirius, if you come in and don't shut up like last time, i'm going to beat you up tomorrow.", remus threatens while holding you upright.

"why am i always the one getting blamed?! last time it was james who fell over and..."

not stopping to listen to sirius' whining, remus pulls you along as you hear wolfwhisltes from behind, indicating siruis stopping just to pull your leg a little more.

you hear remus grumbling about them, but he doesn't stop navigating you towards his dorm.

-

"which spell is it again?", you sit on the sink in his bathroom, whilst remus is trying to remember the covenient make-up removing spell, you taught him months ago, at one of your sleepovers.

you watch him being frustrated at himself and can't help but reach out to him.

he feels your hands grabbing his and relaxes almost instantly, while you murmur the spell to him.

grabbing your face in his hands, he softly repeats it and looks your face over once to make sure every last speck is gone. " i don't understand how you can look so pretty. i'm so lucky that you want me too", he whispers against your now clean skin, mapping your face with kisses, while you giggle.

"do you want to shower now, or are we going to do that tomorrow?"

yawning, you lean against his shoulder and shake your head.

"so... showering tomorrow?", with a nod as response, remus picks you up and walks you over to his bed.

locating his pyjamas, you take the shirt, handing him the pants. comfortable silence engulfes both of you while changing.

as soon as you're done, you crawl under his blanket, him mimicking your action.

"good night, remus. i love you, thank you for dancing with me.", you mumble as you burry your face in his chest.

"of course, my love, it was fun. i love you, sleep tight."

[bluejutdae]

you prolly already know who it is but im requesting a little for whenever you feel up to it lovely <3 with either felix or seungmin maybe, hard thought or blurb or whatever. just. a lil something of them being a bit jealous and getting touchy/riled up? hehe

I know I said I don’t take request and I don’t but this is no simple request, this is for my sweet moot, and I do make the rules here, so 😌

Drawing you in my dreams (Close to you - KSM) | Seungmin x you

warnings: nsfw

Best friend Seungmin who spends most of his free time with you, watching movies, going out shopping or buying you dinner. Who insists you’re not going to pay, who stomps like an annoyed puppy when you tried anyway.

Best friend Seungmin who starts to hide you wallet just before you go out, so you can’t pay even when you try to. The first time you think you’re just distracted, the second time you start to worry. On what's probably the 10th time, you catch him dropping you wallet on your couch and you don’t have it in you to confront him cause he’s so damn much endearing.

Best friend Seungmin who insists on being your plus one on a family member wedding you don’t want to go to, who casually slips his arms around your waist and drags you closer to him whenever someone comes to talk to you. Who dotes on you and who is uncharacteristically sweet anytime an older relative jabs at you for not being married yet, who compliments at you and looks at you like you hang the moon. What a fantastic actor, uh?

He’s a terrible actor, he can’t act for shit. He thinks he’s being way too much obvious and tries to reign it in but it’s impossible, it’s like a dam broke and now all he was keeping barricaded has no chance but to flow out.

Best friend Seungmin who insists on giving you a piggy ride from the car to your apartment, 'cause your feet must hurt and 'cause you must be tired and 'cause it’s fun.

He’s terrified by the thought of letting you go. He wants today to never stop, he wants his arm to be draped over you everyday of his life.

Best friend Seungmin who lets you convince him to being dragged on the dance floor, a drink too much on the bloodstream, air too stuffy and hot. Who thinks you look a bit too much sexy in your clothes and with a thin layer of sweat clinging to your neck and upper chest.

Best friend Seungmin who takes a step back to watch you dance, lost in the music, beautiful as always. You body calling to him like a siren call.

He’s lost at sea, swinging side by side in a sea of bodies, moving like the tide is dragging him, but it doesn’t matter to him. Not then you’re his siren, calling to him. And what was that about sirens and singing to men, calling them to certain death? If that’s what death looks like, he’s going down head first. Heart first.

Best friend Seungmin who freezes instantly when a pair of stranger hands places themselves on your hips, the body of another man getting close (too close) to you. Who watches as words are said into your ear, the music loud but the pumping of his blood louder in his ears. A cold shiver down his spine, hands fisted tight.

Best friend Seungmin who closes the distance between you two and puts his hands on the strangers’, grabs them and pries them away from your skin. Best friend Seungmin who stares down at him, the coldest stare you’ve ever seen him give to someone and your breath hitches.

He can accept you paying for lunch, he can get over the fact that you never seem to realize his hyungs often make fun of him for being so smitten for you, but he’s not gonna stand and let someone touch you right on front of him.

Best friend Seungmin who, as soon as the other guy leaves, softly grabs your chin between two fingers and looks into your eyes, intense and serious, with a small frown between his eyebrows. Best friend Seungmin who shakes his head and puts his forehead on yours, who would like to scream but he only manages to say “don’t do this to me”.

Best friend Seungmin who stays still when you put your arms around his neck, fingers playing with the short hair on his neck, a little damp from sweat. Who’s ready to hear you say you’re just friend and want nothing more.

Best friend Seungmin who feels fireworks in his chest when you kiss him, his rapid heartbeats like celebratory drums, strong and constant.

This is what he has wanted since he met you: your lips on his, your permission to call you ‘his’. He already does that in his mind, but he wants to do that out loud, too. To call you ‘his’ in front of friends and families. He has wanted and wanted and wanted so much, now that he’s finally kissing you he can’t really believe it.

Best friend Seungmin who kisses you like a starving man but in a second he’s pulling away, pupils blown back and spit slick lips. And again he says “don’t do this to me”. What he can’t say is: don’t kiss me if it doesn’t mean something to you, too. Don’t make me fall even deeper for you if you’re gonna rip my heart from my chest just after. Don’t make me hope even more. Don’t break my heart. Don’t wrap your fingers behind my neck, don’t drag me down onto your lips if you’re not gonna want to do that for the rest of your life.

Best friend Seungmin who grabs your hand and almost drags you out of the bar, into the cold night, not a word spoken, and pushes you into a corner alley, pushes you on the cold wall and, again, puts his forehead on yours.

“Don’t kiss me if you don’t mean it.”

Best friend Seungmin whose heart threatens to jump out of his chest when you tell him you mean it, that you want him just like he wants you, that you want more, more, more, so much more…

Best friend Seungmin who looks at you with determination and call you ‘his’, out loud this time: the first time but not the last.

Boyfriend Seungmin who holds your hand like it’s made of glass, like it’s made of diamond, delicate but strong at the same time; who calls a taxi and gives your address, who cradles your face in his free hand and looks at you like you’re the most beautiful creature in the whole universe, kisses your eyelids, your cheeks, your chin and your nose, your temple, your forehead, your lips. Soft little kisses to imprint his love into your skin.

Boyfriend Seungmin who undresses you slowly, kissing every inch of skin he’s uncovering, a starving man in front of a buffet, kisses and little bites and kitten licks all over your body; hands roaming, his heart beating fast and strong, celebrating. If he has to put his face in the crook of your neck for a moment, to hide his slightly wet eyes and take a deep breath, then that’s between him and god. But maybe breathing so close to where your scent is so strong wasn’t the best idea to collect himself.

Boyfriend Seungmin who’s so hard for you, and he shows it by grinding his hips against yours. He undresses fast and he’s on you not even a second later.

Boyfriend Seungmin who shakes his head and laughs quietly when you insist he doesn’t have to eat you out. “And deprive myself from something I’ve dreamt for years?”. Who places a kiss on your hip bone. “Something I’ve imagined countless times?” Who places a kiss on one of your knees, another kiss on the other knee, and pries your legs open, watches where you’re wet for him. “Something I’ve touched myself to just the thought of?”. Who looks at you, laid open there, for him to devour, and finally gets his mouth on you, moaning the moment his tongue touches your wet folds. Who wraps his big hand around your thighs, his strong hands leaving imprints on your skin and you revels in it, in the idea of being marked by your boyfriend, and he keeps eating you out, tongue and lips and then his fingers too, pushing and pulling and sucking and licking and it’s so perfect, so good you can only scream his name over and over again while you cum.

Boyfriend Seungmin who raises his head only when you grab his hair and push his face away from where you’re too sensitive, too raw to let him keep going, so he winks at you (he winks, and for a moment you think he’s a madman), and then he licks his lips, uses his thumb to gather more of the wetness around his mouth and pops it into his mouth and he moans at the taste of you, like he wasn’t buried in your sweet cunt just three seconds ago (you’re convinced he’s a madman).

Boyfriend Seungmin who covers you with his body and kisses you, letting you taste yourself on your tongue, and can’t help it but grab a handful of your tits and play with them, enthralled by the way they jiggle under his hand. Curious on how it’d feel under his tongue, he laps at your nipple and latches into it, using his teeth carefully, just to hear your breath hitch and all the other sweet noises you make.

Boyfriend Seungmin who pushes inside you and for a moment -an infinite moment- time stops, the world stops spinning on its axis and start spinning the other way.

This is the reason wars are fought, this is the reason wars are won. This moment here, finally being able to be one with the one you love, with the other half of your soul, this moment right here is the best thing he’s ever felt. But that’s too much to say, so he just mutters a quiet

“You feel so good, taking me so well. Like you were made for me”.

Boyfriend Seungmin who fucks you like his life depends on it, focused on making you feel good, on feeling good himself, on enjoying this moment. Who repeats ‘mine, mine, all mine, just mine, only mine’ over and over again and again and again because in this moment, too much is not enough. You’re his and he’s yours, and he tells you that, shows you that. Bites down to leave the imprint of his teeth and sucks on the skin, drawing blood and then soothing the pain with his tongue, kitten licks and soft kisses almost like an apology.

Boyfriend Seungmin who holds you close to him, your head under his chin, his hands cradling the back of your head and his lips on your temple, leaving kisses and words of love.

Boyfriend Seungmin who whispers how much he loves you, how perfect you are, how happy you make him, how he’s never letting you go, how he’s gonna marry you, have a family with you because he knows, he might be young and maybe he doesn’t know everything about the world, about love maybe even, but he knows this: you’re the love of his life, and he has no intention of ever letting you go.

(Husband Seungmin, years later, who holds your hand and watches, happy, the ring on your finger shining under the sun, the material, public symbol of your love. He loves to look at it, but he loves the private symbols even more: the home you share, your bed filled with laughter and happy memories, the kitchen table where you have breakfast together most mornings, where you laugh and share food, the wall filled with photos of you and him, always together, always happy, always in love… )

[thewinchestah]

Strawberry Fields (sonhei com campos de morango) - Alastor X Reader fic

Summary: On a dreadful night, Alastor goes to collect one of his contracts. Something goes terribly wrong. He finds you.

Warnings: fem!reader, Human!reader, smut, 18+, period sex, overstimulation, light cannibalism, blood, A LOT OF BLOOD, general creeppiness, Alastor is in hell for a reason, oral sex, alastor kind of hunts reader down, possessive!Alastor

A/N: Soooo!! This was a long time coming but here it is. This idea has been on my mind for a long time now and I wanted to test the waters before i commit to a long fic. I hope you guys like it, i'm kinda on the fence about it. I'm working on the requests and they should be out soon I PROMISEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. Also I got a little carried away, i'm sorry. Hope you guys enjoy it. It's always a pleasure to write for you. The visuals and the title for this fic are heavily inspire by this music video. Not the lyrics tho, i always felt like the singer did a poor job with this concept and i wanted to do it justice.

Taglist: @markster666@jyoongim@stygianoir @pepperycookie@fraspent @aether-th3-enby  @lady-valtieri @karolinda007-blog @jesi-pinkman@polytheatrix If the tags aren’t working or you wanna be tagged, let me know.

You curse when another sharp stone cuts your feet.

You regret it a second later when you hear the ominous sounds that reverberate through the trees. They are closing in on you.

You don’t know how you got here, you just know now you are running for your life inside these woods now. The only guiding light, a full moon that looks weirdly otherworldly.

Adrenaline burns inside your bloodstream, the forest seems devoid of any living thing. It’s only you and whoever is chasing you. You wish you could hear gunshots, you wish you could hear screams. Anything besides the occasional twig snap or wind caressing the pine trees’ leaves. The eerie silence is deafening, and worse: the eerie silence makes you even more aware of your situation. 

It’s incredible how everything gets clearer when you’re about to die.

Maybe you shouldn’t have traveled alone, maybe you shouldn’t have decided to go somewhere where the closest thing to civilization is the village’s old-yet-charming dinner. 

You just wanted a little bit of quiet, a place that made introspection inviting. Next time you should go for a beach vacation.

Next time? why does next time sound so… far away? Somehow your feet carry you away from the forest’s well marked path and deeper into the thick vegetation, hiding behind a large tree. You gained a few minutes on them by taking a detour.

Breathe. Remember to breathe.

Right, your mind remembers. You’re being hunted down like prey in the creepy horror film woods, time to focus on surviving again. You can overthink later.

You assess your options: you can keep going into the woods, a deadly game of hide and seek. Zig-zag through the trees, keep them guessing. There’s a good chance you will find wildlife as you go deeper. This could be a problem, it’s too dark to make anything out, an encounter could cause enough of a distraction, you could take advantage of that. Or you could end up mauled. Plus, you are absolutely positive there are bear traps somewhere. If you're gonna die, make your death less dumb. Quite an embarrassing topic of discussion in the afterlife, saying that you died like horror film pretty girls making dumb decisions that you clearly would never make in a situation like that. You just know they are incredible hunters, you need to take them out of their element, expose them.

So yeah, going deeper isn't an option. 

Something catches your eye, there’s a big opening in the thick vegetation, there’s a clearing ahead and… sparks? You definitely see a light. You were told by the locals how the population is scattered across acres and acres of practically untouched wilderness, there’s also the park’s rangers stationed on specific places that grant them a visual advantage in case of emergencies. A big clearing is perfect for that. Maybe, just maybe there’s hope. 

Of course bolting there will make you terribly exposed, they will know your position all the time, and they can still hunt you hidden by the edge of the trail.  Besides there’s no guarantee of what awaits you when you reach the promised land, they could have a partner waiting, there could be nothing at all there. Taking this risk for nothing sounds worse than being lured into a trap. You just have this gut feeling that’s where you should go. Your brain starts to pick the plan apart, this doesn’t sound good. Hesitation can be fatal. But you are all adrenaline and primal flight intistic - 

The decision was made for you, you start running again. Taking advantage of the final stretch of cover you still have until you hit the trail again, you take several deep breaths. Oxygen needs to keep coming, so you can make decisions, so your limbs can respond quickly. Your peripheral catches something that’s also running. It’s a stag.

He’s also prey. He’s an omen. He’s your cue. 

You leap across some fallen branches and your scratched feet land on the main trial. As soon as you complete your first step you hear movement and hurried voices. They are onto you. “What do we say to the good of death? Not today” you give yourself a pep-talk as you keep running. Maybe thinking this is all fiction will help you survive this, detach yourself from the situation, don’t think about the consequences, just act. 

And like that, you don’t stop running. You sing your abcs to focus and stop spiraling. Evolution is truly amazing, the cuts you suffered don’t hurt anymore, precious shooting adrenaline, adrenaline that makes you tunnel vision towards your objective. By now you know where to step, when to dodge, when to slow down and when to go faster. Millennia of sheer force of survival catching up to you.

breathe, remember to breathe.

You inhale a good chunk of oxygen and look ahead. There’s a man on the edge of the tree line and a few meters left. Your mind wants to sing in victory, but you refrain from that, you know better than that it only ends when it’s over-

You’re positively sprinting towards the man right now, like he is your assured salvation. Something inside you screams louder and louder guiding you to him and you follow the sound. 

You hear gunshots. 

So noooooow they bring out the guns? That’s low. 

But that’s a good thing right? If they are shooting they are getting out of time. A single gunshot can take you down and they can smoothly and swiftly carry you away, like it’s a normal hunt. No one will question shooting something they didn’t see getting shot so deep into these woods. But shooting a girl in front of a witness? that’s for amateurs right? So, the man is not a partner you decide. 

remember to breathe, you are not breathing. 

You are so close now, you see an outstretched hand coming your way only a few more steps

breathe. 

You don’t, instead you leap towards your loosely established finish line and take the hand an-

 Dirt greets your face as you fall face first into the trail,  and you crawl like a zombie that just rose from its grave. You have a collection of new cuts and scrapes now, it hurts and you can’t bite your lip to suppress the pain. Still, you intertwine your fingers with his, your other arm aggressively seeking for leverage, clinging to your flesh lifeline. You blur out a bunch of incoherent things as he effortlessly lifts you up  in one swift motion. 

“Get behind me, my dear.” he asks. He has a weird voice almost like it leaves something in the air that caresses your skin, an inviting voice nonetheless. You hide yourself inside the crook of his arm, giving you the ability to witness just a little bit of the action there’s about to happen. You never let go of his hand. Your prince charming feels awfully cold.

Alastor waits, rather impatiently, for his clients to arrive. Making a deal with a human is his ticket topside and Hell is still terribly boring, even with the hotel. The Radio Demon was no stranger to contracts with humans, they were a win-win situation. Those who seek him always have a taste for the wicked and deranged, so it’s easy to figure out what they want and twist it for his own benefit. When they inevitably die, be it death by old age or death by occupational hazard, Alastor gets useful men from the moment they manifest in Hell. They always know exactly where they are and why, they are not confused sinners, petty crime or moral crime sinners. They are, most times, skilled killers who take no trouble doing Alastor’s bidding. An accomplished killer in life makes an even better prolific hellish soldier, someone who will continue indulging in their desires without the constraints of society, but eternally tied down by Alastor’s constraints. With the right incentive, they can rise in the ranks and become treasured resources for the overlord. Plus, the camaraderie isn’t all bad. Takes one to know one, they say.

However, humans these days are getting careless, sloppy. This entire display is proof of that, they should be over to kill and cover their tracks alone. The basics, for hell’s sake. 

 Alastor only takes care of the details. Tampering with some evidence here, getting a victim on the right place at the right time there. The occasional final encouragement to give into the darkness and finally kill, some advice. A self respecting killer should be able to kill and get away with it without the demon’s aid. He’s there for consulting and making sure there are no loose ends. 

But never this. Having to intervene in the middle of a kill because his client made a very very big mess that screams “you’re getting caught!” is below him. Amateurs are not worth Alastor's time.

The two men approach the tree line, clearly worked up from the hunt and shocked to see him there. If Alastor is withholding a victim, something went very, very wrong.

“Good night my good fellows!” the greeting leaves his lips in an overly-chirpy tone. Is that static in his voice?  Radio static? Is that what’s leaving goosebumps on your skin? The stress and the adrenaline are making you imagine things. You took the “pretend this is all a fantasy and you the main character” too seriously. Because now you are hiding behind Darth Vader’s skirts. That’s impossible, right? right?

“Great.” you can see the sarcasm dripping from one of your aggressors. “You’re here to watch?” the question asked all passive aggressive with an edgy tone. That’s definitely a teenager. What the fuck? you were being chased by a high school kid? This is ridiculous, utterly ridiculous, how can a teen pull this off? And you almost died? What? Your mind starts spirling. 

Alastor ignores the son, is the father he cares about. They’ve known each other for years now, and he’s underperforming to say the least. He waits for the father to address him, it’s his mess after all. The older man gives his son a stern look and finally breaks the silence. 

“Goodnight. We didn’t expect to see you here tonight, to be honest.’”

 The second voice is much older. That doesn’t quiet your thoughts at all. Is this a cult initiation thing? Hunting girls down like they are prey? WHY DID YOU TRAVEL TO THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE IN THE FIRST PLACE??? OF COURSE THERE WOULD BE CULTS HERE, DUUUUH. IF I WAS IN A CULT THIS WOULD BE THE PERFECT PLACE TO HIDE. There are so many voices screaming inside your head now, you are shivering. With anger, anticipation, fear. Your inner monologue overrides your brain and you are not sure you can cope with everything that’s going on. The voices, all the voices, sound wrong. They land weirdly inside your ear and you need to think hard to understand the words, you know how crucial every piece of information is. They could make all the difference when you talk to the police. They could help a conviction when you are on the stand, giving your official statement. You are surviving this. You are going to watch these fuckers get life in prision or worse.  You are surviving this right? There’s so much you haven’t thought through. Whose hand are you holding again? 

“Oh please. Don’t act all coy now, it doesn’t suit you old friend” Alastor is starting to cross the line from nuisance to anger. He twirls his microphone in annoyance, and makes sure to sink it deep into the moist ground. “Let me remind you about the terms of our agreement. For each 2 kills you make, one soul is mine to take. Or am I wrong?”

“No. You aren’t”. The father answers through gritted teeth.  “But I never thought you would want to collec-” Alastor tilts his head, his grin widens and he snaps “Never thought what? That I would claim what I am owed at my leisure? That I would stop waiting patiently for you, acting at your whim? You earned the privilege of killing unbothered by my vigilance. Because you always delivered your side of the bargain with excellence. I can revoke said privilege whenever I want. Especially after this pitiful performance.” The seasoned killer seems to slightly cower at Alastor’s words. Good. He always regarded the demon without fear or trepidation. His work was meticulous, spotless, basically perfect. And that gave him the justifiable confidence for going toe to toe with the Radio Demon during conversations, a bargaining chip during dealings of his contracts. Few could say that. 

You feel nauseous. Reality is crashing down at you hard and fast. How many people have these people killed? They are trading lives like it is the stock market, and yet you can’t let go of your prince charming’s hand. There’s no rational thought to justify it, actually rational thought is also being slaughtered like a sacrificial lamb tonight, because despite the gigantic red flags you are not letting go of this man’s hands. Everything about him screams danger, everything about him screams your safety. He’s the type of paradoxical that messes with your primal senses, that makes a moth go to the lights that will kill it. 

From the crook of his arm you finally gather the courage to open your eyes. You try to look up to your prince charming, but his face is concealed by the shadows of the night. Actually, everything of importance seems to be conveniently hidden from you. Your aggressor’s faces look distorted, recognizable traits melting together like watercolor painted by 100 shades of darkness, voices and words fuse together creating only cacophony. You hear things, you see things, but you can’t discern them. The three men keep going back and forth, but their conversation seems to dissipate into the air. Everything about this feels like a dream. 

Of course you can’t register anything of importance. Alastor makes sure of it. You are a potential victim after all. A liability, capable of making a positive identification. It’s wishful thinking that someone would take your account of what’s happening on this dreadful night seriously.

 Alastor has no shame in using the prejudices of your world to his advantage. If you were to tell, everyone would make the assumption that you are “just another hysterical woman, thinking too much about folktales”. You had too much to drink, partied too hard. Hallucinogens are a common party drug and this is the result of a bad trip. At worst, “someone tried to spike your drink, but nothing happened. You should be thankful, not getting in the way of important police work”. Alastor also knows that injustice is no real crime, and yet he decided to spare you. It doesn’t feel fair for you to perish in such crude ways, a practice run for a post pubescent, obnoxious serial killer in training. A precious thing like you should be honored, savored. In the odd chance that your voice was heard, the Radio Demon  guarantees that no reliable information will come out of your mouth. His clients might be lacking, but in the dealmaking business your words are your worth and Alastor has a silvertongue. Surely that pretty mouth of yours won’t be a problem. 

“I’m afraid I have to insist, my good friend. The pair of you caused enough damage already with these sloppy, impetuous spree killings. Your law enforcement is already on your scent, tracking the pattern and by the looks of it tonight’s mess will send quite a message. A message that I will have to make sure is delivered faultlessly. I will uphold my hand of the bargain, you will uphold yours. The girl will be spared. There’s plenty of prey out there, plus her death would only act as an aggravation, she’s not your type, and trust me, they will know you made a mistake, you will be exposed.” The Radio Demon’s patience is wearing thin. He shouldn’t have to justify his actions to humans. There’s no compromise to be found here, they went to him and the deal is always on his terms. You squeeze his hand really tight during the discussion of your scheduled demise, like a reminder that you are still there. Still afraid. 

 How cute. Alastor thinks. Your adrenaline is starting to wear off, dissipating into the cool forest breeze and opening space for a strong sense of false security, equally as inebriating. The smell of your sweet fear laced blood is unmistakable, assaulting your savior’s nostrils. Your knees buckle, and you struggle to keep yourself on your feet, clinging to prince charming’s hand for dear life. “Breathe darling, you are forgetting to breathe” He turns quickly towards you, his voice impossibly soft, shooting. You try to look up at charming’s face again, the only new discovery made is that he's awfully tall, and his face is still hidden by opaque darkness. You work really hard on breathing normally again, but you want to keep looking. Their faces are a monstrous distortion, vacant eyes that seem to cry blood. Your entire body tingles, you feel weird goosebumps. It takes all of your willpower to keep standing. You won’t lay yourself at their feat, defeated, like the corpse they would drag from these woods. But you just can’t keep looking, so you shut your eyes and grip the hand that has become your lifeline even tighter.

“You won’t even truly use the bitch, she’s no use for you” The entitled brat opens his mouth again. That’s the trigger.

The Radio Demon grows as tall as the native pine trees, his antlers furiously expanding and casting a shadow so dark over the two serial killers that the moon is completely obstructed. The only source of light in the forest now is the burning red dials of his eyes. The father sees the burning inferno of Alastor’s eyes and for the first time he is speechless. Maybe the realization of where destiny is sending him finally happens. The son sees raw, untamed power for the first time in his life and cowers like a scared puppy. Pathetic. 

“Now let’s get something clear here. I’m only tolerating your insolence because of my decade long relationship with your father.” You shut your eyes harder, your eyelids a shield from whatever is about to happen. Foreboding making the forest air too thick for you to breathe. You finally break down and start crying, too fucking much.  Alastor’s face meets the son on eye level. His teeth are bared, static picks up around the group to the point both men are struggling to breathe. A clawed hand traps the father’s face, a trail of blood dripping from the older serial killer’s cheek.“He’s as close to a professional as our kind gets. Shame the same thing can’t be said about you. This juvenile outburst does not make you more feared nor does it assert your dominance. It displays how weak you are, inept to succeed on this because you can’t keep your entitled demeanor in check. You are not owed anything in this lifestyle, if you want something you need to prove you’re worthy of it by taking it yourself. Whining like a petulant child won’t get you anywhere” You feel dizzy, the earth beneath your feet quakes,  whoever, whatever is holding your hand is sheeting with rage so consuming the ground shakes with the intensity of their emotions.

Alastor’s attention is now focused on the father, the red inferno from his eyes making the man feel genuine fear for the first time in his long, violence-filled life.  “Teach your spawn some manners and proper work, otherwise get him out of my sight. This was a courtesy. Fulfillment failings lead to contract termination, and contract termination means a lot of details appearing. You do not wish to make an enemy of me” Alastor delivers his last threat with a snarl. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up at the intensity of his words, you feel a powerful rush of wind, leaves ruffling, hurried steps and suddenly the world is at a standstill. The forest seems devoid of life excluding you, your mysterious prince charming and your two aggressors. All of your senses are assaulted with an overwhelming feeling of wrongness… darkness. Darkness that feels like the most luxurious silky dress on your skin, the most intense look of a passionate lover. It feels dangerously alluring and your will power is being gladly tempted by it. 

You feel like you’ve been holding your breath for hours, the rollercoaster of adrenaline inducing hyperventilation and conscious calming breaths making your brain enter some sort of high. Is that what people felt after a battle in ancient times? Is that what It means to stare death in the face and come out victorious? You don’t understand what you are feeling, but when oxygen finally feels normal again, tall, dark and handsome is escorting you deeper into the woods and you don’t even care.

 You’ve just slayed the dragon with your bare hands. You don’t care. You just want to bask on the feeling. To fucking feel. To remind yourself that you are still alive. 

Alastor is drunk on something that he rarely indulges in. Desire. Pure, raw carnality that makes him antagonize one of his greatests clients. Someone Alastor awaited his inevitable death with anxiety and hopefulness, someone he could actually call more than a partner in crime when in hell. A friend. A friendship born from blood and gore but bathed in kinship and inexplicable understanding of one’s dark nature. And the Radio Demon almost killed the man and his useless spawn and fucked everything up because when he saw your running for your life something ignited inside him. When you squeezed his hand so tightly, with such abandon and trust, like he was an Angel sent from heaven to protect you when reality was the most wicked antonym. 

Alastor spared you because you were prey. Beautiful, delicious prey that defied your destiny by accepting the nature of your condition. You didn’t dare to fight, you didn’t dare to think you could stand a chance against your hunters. You just fled. You fled and was perfectly lured into another trap, you doubled the bet when you held his hand and didn’t let go, serving all of your vulnerability on a silver platter to someone you deep down knew was way worse than any serial killer. 

Prey, that will chew its own leg to get out of a trap. Prey, that will offer herself to the most ungodly creature around if it means she can survive a few more moments, just to spite those who started the chase. Prey, that now holds his hand completely carefree and all giggles while she is led to a much more final and insidious type of slaughter. Prey that he was now going to claim.

Your wounded feet start to land on soft squishy things, a familiar scent invades your nostris. From the scent of sweat, blood and gore now to the scent of juicy, plump strawberries. 

“Hey, are we on a strawberry field?” it’s the first time you addressed him directly. You trail behind him, hurried steps crushing the strawberries on your way. You look up and for the first time you can see open skies. “You don’t need to worry my dear, you are perfectly safe now”

Are you? 

You decide that he doesn’t sound like  Darth Vader anymore, his voice is impossibly staticy, it prickles your skin and it feels like goosebumps that accompany butterflies on your stomach. He sounds like someone you would meet at a ball and have a cinderella moment with. The blanket of stars that illuminates the clearing you ferociously fought for grants you a better vision of his figure: scarlet red, snug tailcoat, perfectly tailored. Long legs and trousers that fit like skinny jeans. He dresses like the lead singer from a classic emo band. You can’t say you are complaining, you always loved the idea of a tall dark and handsome prince charming. 

“So, you have some weird friends don’t you?” you ask him. You can hear him chuckle, it is a very pleasant sound. Suddenly the twirls you, a fucking disney princess’ musical number twirl, and you find yourself in front of very big bed. 

With impeccable white sheets, you mind adds. Must be really hard to maintain white sheets in the middle of a strawberry field. Wait, what is a king size bed doing in the middle of th-

“Ah, I don’t really do friends, more like reluctant colleagues” bootleg brandon urie is the melancholic type, then. 

Alastor finally takes a good look at you when you take your seat on the bed with a contented sigh. You look marvelous. Your hair is messy and wild, your cheeks and neck flushed red from the effort. Your eyes big and pliant, waiting for his answers. You look so human, so deliciously alive. He desperately wants to be the cause of your disarray, to make the blood rush to your face under his materfully wicked touch. To feel your pulse fluttering when he touches your neck. 

You still can’t see all of him though. There’s stars, a big full moon whose light outstretches far, bathing the clearing in ethereal silver. The brightest lights cast the darkest shadows, your savior is always in the shadows.

By now you know he is purposefully hiding his identity from you, but you always liked a game.  Plus you don’t really have anything to lose now, you just want to forget everything that happened to you tonight, you just want to inebriate yourself, and charming really looks like someone who could show you a good time.

Either that or you are having a psychotic break after enduring life threatening stress. 

Anyway, you decide to bite. One possible psychotic murder, funny, charming murderer is better than two lukewarm ones.

“Do you always take random women to a creepy bed  with impeccable white sheets in the middle of the woods or am I just special?” not a chuckle now, a laugh. A beautiful, full laugh. The residual static on your skin making you shiver. 

Alastor completely understands what you are trying to do, and it’s truly hilarious. Your petulance and sarcasm towards him means to an end. You’re so precious, talking to him like this, thinking you could take him at his own game. What a beauty! Seeing you think you are succeeding in this only for him to take that conviction away from you at the last minute is going to be so entertaining. He wants you to dig your own grave, lay yourself at his feet.

He doesn’t indulge you, instead he takes a thick, silky strand of your hair and inhales deeply. You smell like sweet innocence and summer. It makes Alastor euphoric. 

His head tilts down as he smells your hair. You don’t that’s creepy, it looks creepy, it sounds creepy, but you feel reverence in his action. 

And then out of the shadows comes a revelation, you see his horns. You suspected his unhumanity, but the confirmation of it knocks the wind out of you. Your eyes widen, you simply cannot make sense of this night, everything feels too surreal and raw reality at the same time, it’s giving you whiplash.

“Are you the devil?” you ask him without much consideration of the weight of this question. You do your best to keep your voice from failing but it’s impossible. You never dropped his hand, in fact you feel like you are permanently attached to him, like a marble statue. Your fingers open and interlock again and again, reflecting your anxiety, but you don’t let go.

You can’t see it, but Alastor’s grin is as big as a cheshire cat’s.

 “Do you seek the devil?” answering a question with a question. Smoke and mirrors. Alastor waits for you to answer, but you don’t. You don’t know what to answer, you try to contemplate if enganding further could mean eternal damnation, or if you are already damned. Is he going to make you an offer you can’t refuse? an offer you aren’t allowed to refuse? Alastor will blame it on lack of patience, but the fact is he can’t wait anymore to taste you, there’s a burning desire inside him, that only gets more and more ferocious as he tastes the inebriating smell of your fear blessing the air he breathes again. 

He removes your interlocking fingers, his hand quickly trapping your tiny wrist inside. You hear heavy breathing. 

“Or do you seek a taste of the forbidden fruit?” The demon licks the long cut across our open palm. His tongue is sensual and cold, the sensation of it slowly dragging across your wounded skin a soothing balm. You moan, he growls. “Forbidden fruit it is.” he announces, delivered like a sentence. 

You are completely free of his touch for the first time since it all began, but it feels like you just suffered an enormous loss. You feel taunted, like someone just dangled a shiny new thing in front of you and took it away. It’s like your entire being has become tunnel vision and you need to get to the bottom of this, whatever this is. Consequences be damned. 

You watch closely as your paranormal paramour moves towards the bed, he is completely concealed by the darkness. Darkness deep and palpable, he morphs within it. The visuals are beautiful, it looks like one of the art’s greatest masters is painting a watercolor in front of you. Darkness from absence of light floating and mixing with otherworldly opaque darkness, flowing like a river. You wonder if it would run through your fingers like water if you touch it. 

Antlers. He has antlers, not horns. 

The not-devil settles himself behind you, back against the headboard. He quickly maneuvers you onto his lap, grabbing you by the waist. You squeal in surprise as more of him touches you, now pressed flush against his hard chest you feel something you shouldn’t be feeling, nonetheless resistance is futile, you spread your legs giving him more access. He has barely touched you, and yet you are completely surrendered to him. 

Alastor wasn’t joking when he established that a woman like you should be savored, slowly consumed so he can extract everything you have to offer. He knows your mind is exhausting itself trying to discern what is happening, how the body and the spirit get more susceptible to succumb to desire after surviving imminent death, and he intends to take full advantage of it. Alastor wants to see you writhe under his touch, pain and pleasure. He wants to torment you and make you pay for existing near him, for making him careless. For making him indulge in carnality and arousal. But mainly, he wants to punish you, because you battled so hard for your survival against them. When you should fear him. 

The Radio Demon touches your neck, exactly where your pulse is, where he can feel your beating heart, full of life pulsing. Life that taunts him and seduces him. The thump thump thump of your heart beneath his fingers like a moth going directly to the light that will kill it. He holds your entire life, your entire existence under his clawed finger, it makes him delirious. 

You feel a sharp sting on your neck, fangs that break your skin and spill your blood, red and ready for his taking. Holding your breath while he sucks the life out of you, your head swims,  and you drown on the feelings. You feel pleasure, forbidden pleasure from having something hurting and feasting on you. 

“If you are not the devil, are you a vampire?” It might be a dumb question, but it’s the logical one. Sometimes the obvious needs to be said.  He laughs again, a full deep laugh,mockery dripping from it.

“Why? If I were a vampire would it make you feel better about spilling your blood for me?” he dodges the question again. Bait and switch. He’s feeding on you and you are enjoying it.. You don’t know what he is, you don’t know his name. It only spurs the burning desire in the pit on your stomach.

Alastor licks the entire length of your neck, his other hand applying light pressure on your pulse point. He bites down on you again, harder, going deeper. You roll your eyes and moan obscenely  as he sucks on it. This is going to leave a mark for sure, but you don’t care, because whatever he’s doing to you feels delirious, it’s the best thing you’ve ever felt. 

Your blood is dripping from Alastor’s lips, he licks it not wanting to waste a drop. He can taste your eagerness, your fear, your essence, your soul. The red liquid is solid proof of how alive and defenseless you are, completely at his mercy. You keep moaning and melting on his lap at his ministrations, a finger starts tracing your arm, feather light touch that leaves you shivering in anticipation. 

He’s gently scratching, teasingly. It’s a claw, you realize. Another part of his unhumanity making you scared and deliciously trembling in anticipation. It’s Alastor’s turn to moan now, his clawed finger comes to torment your clothed nipple, he makes sure to do it tantalizing slow to give you just a taste of what it could be. He wants to hear you ask for it, beg even.

 “I’m afraid I’m way worse than the Devil, little doe” his low, threatening tone makes you close your legs together and rub, desperately seeking friction, some relief. 

“Re–really? You don’t sound that bad” A lie. You just want to say something back.

Your paramour laughs again, he takes your hand in his and starts making his way downwards. 

“How precious are you, lying like that to me” He stops both of your hands on your lower belly, threatening to cross the point of no return. You squeal and struggle on a desperate attempt to raise your hips and get something more, anything.

Delighted in seeing you writhe this badly when he has not even properly touched you, Alastor squeezes your neck tighter, inflicting just enough pain and pressure to make you sing. The Radio Demon finally makes the decision and drops any pretense of moderation, hastily dropping the band of your panties and guiding your joined hands to your slit. “I can taste the fear in your blood, how your sense of pleasure has been forever skewed”.

The two digits tease your entrance that is coated with arousal and something more, his touch is masterful, like he knows the ways of the human body the same way a talented musician knows their way around an instrument. He makes you moan, he makes you sing with only the possibility of his actions. The idea of being taken by something unholy. 

At last, Alastor finally enters your  tight wet pussy, his finger guides yours as he undoes you in ways that should not be allowed. He pumps your cunt mercilessly, gone are the careful, calculated touches, he wants to make you crash and burn as quick as possible, he wants to make you understand that you crossed the most important line of your life. There’s no going back now, your pretty mortal body is forever tainted by unholiness, by his darkness. 

“You spread yourself like this for me, a wanton little thing while I choke and feast on your blood”. Alastor curls the fingers inside you repeatedly making you move your hips in the maniac rhythm he has set. You ride your joined digits, moaning like a whore while your lover’s grip on your throat tightens and releases making your brain short circuits in pure unknown carnal feeling. “You are not the demure, feisty thing like you desperately tried to prove earlier. It only takes the slight touch of something forbidden to make you moan like a common whore” he adds another one of his huge fingers and starts scissoring inside you, the combination of two of his digits and your little one only adds insult to injury. You will never be able to replicate these ministrations, the feeling of being this full and stretched, you had a taste of the forbidden fruit, you are high on it and you will never get another hit on your own. 

Alastor alternates between choking you and curling the fingers inside you, your lightheadedness combined with the assaulting pleasure making you feel feverishly delirious. Your body is hot from desire and adrenaline combined, a starking contrast to your mysterious lover’s touch, ice cold. The two of you distinct seasons, distinct stages of existence mixing together, life and death tethering each other, blurring the lines of worlds that shouldn’t exist together. 

Orgasm building quickly, you grip the white sheets tighter and tighter and tighter but your fingers feel wet, you look down to see a mess of redness leaking from your core. 

Oh fuck, you are on your period. You completely forgot about it. In normal circumstances you would feel mortified about being fingered like this while bleeding, but right now it makes things even more erotic, you’ve learned that your lover may not be a vampire, but he definitely has a thing for blood and something inside you ignites at the idea of letting him feast on your blood, eat you out while you bleed for him. 

Your pussy flutters with the fantasy of that tongue working your pussy and with a particularly harsh pinch on your clit you are off. Waves of pleasure spread across your entire body like wildfire, he chokes you merciless making the urge to scream to the universe how fucking good you feel impossible. You want to scream his name, but you don’t know who he is, what he is. You just want more.  

While you ride the waves of your orgasm unbothered Alastor takes the opportunity to take fingers from your pussy to his mouth, red with blood and slick with arousal, he moans audibly as he tastes you, the most intimate parts of you. Only a little bit of it inebriates him, this is better than 70% of what he does in Hell. This feels better than closing a new deal, watching the princess of Hell fail miserably at rehabilitating sinners. You taste so sweet, so alive and afraid. He’s hard with the conviction of how scared you are, of how he has permanently tainted something so innocent and pure. How you stupidly threw yourself to his mercy. Perishing at the hand of those serial killers is more merciful than him. And now you will know. 

You must have babbled something while you came, about wanting to scream his name and not knowing it, because now you find yourself completely lying down, the bed feels soft like a cloud and you are sprawled like an angel, and he finally reveals something about him of his own volition.

“The name is Alastor, my dear. It has definitely been a pleasure meeting you.” Alastor, now you know, settles himself between your thighs and the pooling redness from your core. You feel him running his claws across the impossibly soft flesh of your inner thighs, you cover your face with your arm.

“Alastor I’ve never… No one has ever…” you trail off, you shouldn’t be embarrassed at this point, but nevertheless you feel your cheeks burning. Is he really going to eat your bloody pussy? fuck.

Alastor’s name on your lips sounds so soft, so pure. He wants to ruin it. He wants to destroy the careful constructed cognitive dissonance that makes you feel safe and comfortable around him. He wants you to be completely afraid and craving being scared of him, disrupting your sense of pleasure so he can ruin you completely, getting you hooked on him and delirious for more, willing to do anything for another taste of the forbidden fruit.

So, he makes you look.

“Look at me” you don’t want to. You feel a lot of things right now, but mainly you feel as if you really take a look at your dark lover tragedy is going to happen. Eros and psyche all over again, but bloodier. 

He claws your thighs, you hiss at the delicious pain, but still disobey him. 

“Look. At. Me” he snarls, definitely a threat. You feel yourself getting wetter. 

Alastor slaps your ass, hard. He’s losing patience, his temper turning quick at the realization that you not knowing who he is isn’t a perfect plan.

You moan from the pain, from the sting. It feels wickedly erotic. You almost want him to hit you again. Since when pain felt so fucking good?

So you do, you finally look at him. 

Red. The first thing that your brain fixates on is how much red there is. Scarlet red hair, red blood running down your core and staining the white sheets. Red claws that pierce your skin. 

Red eyes. Burning red eyes that entrap you. It’s like you can see the blazing fire that tortures the damned inside those eyes. 

If this is why people fall from grace, you totally understand the appeal now.

The second thing, the thing that makes you transfixed at the sight of him is how wrong he looks. His antlers are beautiful, growing from his scarlet hair beautifully adorning ears that look extremely soft, non-threatening, like a crown. His eyes are big and sharp, close together 

while he stares at your soul, eyes of a predator in the middle of softness of prey. His grin is completely predatory, dangerous, sharp teeth that hurt and maul, but at the same time bite you just the right way to make you moan in raw carnality. The skin is pale, not in a michael-jackson-thriller-way but in an ethereal way. His voice is static that seems to tickle your skin, sometimes more than others. He’s paradoxical, everything you should be afraid of and the comfort you should seek at the same time. A force you shouldn’t meddle with. Primal and raw. 

You may not know what exactly he is, but one thing is certain: he’s dangerously alluring, and you completely fell into his trap. But it hardly matters anymore, because he is about to drink blood from your pussy with that marvelous silvertongue of his.

“Fucking beautiful” you blur out, not realising he’s going to hear you.

One of Alastor’s eyebrows shoots up. He’s not regarded as beautiful often. Alluring, maybe. 

He wants to make you pay for all the soft ideas you have about him.

You soon learn how hard it is to hold the gaze of your lover’s eyes, his burning red irises entrap you. It's impossible to look away but overwhelming to stare into. 

“If all the mortal men you’ve been with are weak and pathetic enough to decline the dark gift of your bleeding cunt, then I’m honored to be your first” and without much more warning you feel a delicious cold tongue licking your entrance and you are off

 Alastor isn’t eating you out, he’s feasting on you like you are his last chance of salvation. His face is completely buried deep in between your legs as his tongue assaults you at a merciless pace. He makes sure not to waste a drop of anything your gushing pussy gives him. His tongue enters you and the contrast between your tight heat and his coldness makes you delirious. Exquisite carnal pleasure, you could cum from it alone.

Alastor is having a hard time navigating this double edged knife: you don’t know who he is what is capable of, which means your aren’t near as scared of being this vulnerable with him as you should be, a literal cannibal delighting in your soft flesh, drinking the warmth of your sacred blood. You must taste delicious terrified. But the silver lining is that the fear he inspires would make any woman who knows more compliant to this, even offering this to him freely. You have no idea about his exploits, he can and he will tarnish you with all of his unholy darkness, wrecking your world during the eleventh hour when you realize what you’ve done, who you’ve so easily corrupted your morals and your spirit for. You’re so beautiful, so naive, so trusting, so alive. You moan “Alastor, Alastor, Alastor” soft ohhhs and aaaahs as he polishes your cunt, every sound you make, every twitch of your legs and roll of your lips reminding your ungodly lover of how delicate and rare you are, aiding him on his mission. Gripping the sheets isn’t enough anymore, you instinctively place your hands on his antlers, the texture indescribable. Again, the contradiction of the softness of his velvet and the sharpness of his teeth, wickedness of his tongue giving you whiplash. You start rubbing them furiously, trying to mirror his ministries on your swollen folds. It definitely is doing something to him because he drags his teeth along your inner tie, breaking more skin, drawing more blood, hissing. You scream at the heavenly pain mixed with unholy pleasure.

Normally, Alastor wouldn’t let anyone near his antlers, arguably the most sensitive part of his body. If worked right, the sensations take him to another level of desire, insane carnality. But you taste so sweet, rich blood mixed with erotic arousal on a soft flesh platter, he consumes your innocence as he coaxes another orgasm from you. You hold on to dear life on his antlers, his velvet shedding and bloodying your hands, running through adding to the painting of reds that connects you two. Something ignites on you and it’s the most intense orgasm of your life, you feel every nerve burning from everlasting fire, that transforms and transforms until it explodes in a supernova. You don’t have the strength to scream, so you whisper Alastor’s name like a filthy prayer. 

He looks up grinning like a devil. Something makes you open your eyes as you ride out the waves of pleasure. There’s so much blood, blood dripping from his lips, blood on his nose, blood cascading down his bewitching face mixing in a flowing current of red, it ends in a glistening red pool where you meet each other in immoral sin, so inviting you could jump in. It’s like what would happen if the killers had caught you, but twisted into wicked, ungodly pleasure, it’s almost worse. Because well, if you’re killed you’d be dead and would never have experienced this, but now you have and the ephemerality of this night crashes on you and you feel conned, betrayed. 

 He licks his lips and stares right at you, a doe caught in the headlights of his eyes, you almost cum again. 

Alastor feels delirious from the bloody mess in front of him, carnality so powerful it makes him insane, he needs to finish this. He needs to sink his cook deep into your slick cunt. Pushing himself up, he starts to position his cock on your entrance. He’s so tall, the shadows of his bloodied antlers cover you and hide the welcoming silver lighting of the moon. The stars look so different today, and the welcoming sight of a full moon looks merciless, devoid of warmth and hope.

“Women like you are not meant for mortal men. They cannot honor you, they cannot savor you, they cannot satisfy you. Once you take a bite of the forbidden fruit you understand your place. Pliant and submissive beneath me. To be ravished and tamed by something beyond puny mortality. You are made to me fucked, to be owned by the better man who defied destiny and transcended what the hands of fate enforced on him. You are Helen of Troy, tailor made to fit my cock, satisfy my thirst”

He teases your entrance with just the tip, making you greedly roll your hips towards him, a primal response to the ravishing words. Alastor laughs mockling at you attempt of getting him to fuck you on your terms, your time. You may not be aware of everything but by now you know you can’t outfox and fox on his own game. 

“please. please. PLEASE” you scream the last word, you can’t take it anymore. A second without him touching your body feels like an eternity. 

“Tsk. You look so pretty when you beg” the condescending compliment lands like music on your ears and he finally enters you. Inch after inch he spreads your tight walls open, practically breaking you. You understand now why people in times before yours had sex after battle. It’s the most rare and coveted feeling in existence, to greet imminent death, escape her fatal calling and then do the thing that undoubtedly proves you are alive. Only to meet her again at the finish line of carnal sensations and no rational thought. Primal need to feel, to live.

Alastor finally bottoms out with an animalistic growl, making your shiver under him. He fucks you at a merciless pace, he fucks you with haste, with urgency and abandon. He knows what he needs and he is going to take it. 

“Hoooooly FUCK Alastor” you scream. 

“There’s nothing holy here. Everything that’s holy has abandoned you. There’s only me, your wicked god who has you completely at his mercy, to fuck, to break” he takes it all out and enters you at once. You try so bad to look at him, to hold his piercing gaze with adamantine conviction but you can’t. It’s too much, overstimulation creeps on you and everything hurts. You shut your eyes. 

“Look at me. Fucking look at me or I will stop” it’s not an order, it’s a threat. You should be scared, you feel scared, but tonight fear is diesel to your desire, and the pain makes you enter a mind numbing stage. The lines of torture and relief blurring together until you can’t discern a thing, you feel. 

You do as you’re told. You look at him as he fucks you, thrusting like a mad man, obscene sounds reverberating throughout, you are being so loud you are sure they can hear you back on the village. The village, your cabin. You had a life before tonight. Will there be life after tonight?

You don’t have time to have an existential crisis because what Alastor does next gets your undivided attention. 

“You will look at the demon who is ruining you, fucking you. You are no immaculate maiden anymore. You are a common whore for the Radio Demon” your eyes widen at the revelation. He is not a vampire, he’s not the devil. The fact that he is a demon and not satan makes you even more mortified, like you’ve settled for less. Just a little demon is what it takes to completely undo you. 

Alastor keeps thrusting at a breakneck pace, feeling vindicated. He did exactly what he said he would do, he took the last fiber of comfort, of dignity away from you. He can see your  entire world shattering on your beautiful doe eyes, making you finally feel the right amount of horror on the edge of a rapturous orgasm. 

You feel true terror now, there was still a slimmer hope that he wasn’ evil incarnated, that he had a redeeming quality. After all, he saved you. Didn’t he save you? Or did you start something you are not even close to understanding? You feel terrified because there’s a demon fucking you, biting you, feasting on your blood and you fucking love it, you want it every night. You really took a bite from the forbidden fruit and ruined yourself.

“It’s too much, Alastor I can’t” the words leave your lips and feel like confession, like somehow if you admit your complete surrender it will absolve you of something.

“Too. Bad.” Alastor punctuates his point with delicious sharp trust after each word. He finally tainted you with his darkness and made you aware of it. He feels delirious, he feels like victory incarnated. Your moans grow louder and louder, now pleasure means pain, hell means rapture. Things that should not exist together making you feel the best you have ever felt. Tears spill from your eyes, the overstimulation something you’ve never felt before, mind numbing and life-altering.

In an act of paradoxical mercy, your demon lover rubs your clit and you’re out like a light. Your walls tighten around Alastor’s cock, and white hot pain, blinding red pleasure overcomes you. You feel like falling, you feel your literal fall from grace as your body tingles and burns with ineffable, forbidden pleasure. Alastor howls and cums inside you. 

You land on silky, comfortable, alluring darkness. 

-

The cool forest breeze greets your abused skin, it stings but feels soothing at the same time. Paradoxical, like everything from this night. Alastor holds you tight, cradling your head on his chest, petting your hair. He draws lazy circles on your hip bone, featherlight touch, careful and coy. You turn on your side to face him.

“Can you see it now? It’s beautiful, he’s so beautiful” your mind asks you. You agree.

You start giggling, laughing. It is also so funny.

“What’s so funny, little doe?” Alastor asks you, genuinely amused. He feels elated from this night. He feels satiated, contented. It’s a very rare feeling for him. 

“For a while I seriously considered you are an alien” you tell him, you can’t contain your laughter now. You are so silly. Alastor’s eyebrow shoots up, quizzical. He chuckles and indulges you. “Alien, is so mundane. You could never be an Alien, it’s way too easy”. What your giddy minds means is that now you know Alastor is anything but easy, actually there’s nothing like him. He’s something else. Something entirely different, a delicious mystery that creeps inside your heart, haunts you forever. 

You stop laughing when realization hits you.

“Will I ever see you again, Alastor?” you ask him, your voice failing, nothing more than a whisper. You feel the ephemerality of this night, you feel daylight closing, ruthless sun rising that ends this everlasting dream. 

Alastor stares deeply into your eyes, he sees your wanton desire, your trepidant expectations. “That depends entirely on you, my dear doe. It’s time to make a decision.” his voice is so soft it fucking hurts. 

You look at the fading moon on the horizon, the distant stars judge you, the earliest of birds sing for you. 

Yet from those starts, no light but rather, darkness visible.

-

You open your eyes, you feel impossibly rested. Your bed feels soft and you want to visit dreamland again, but the noise stops you.

Songbirds and blazing sirens mix together a cacophony of urgency. You get up fast, trying to remember little bits and pieces of the crazy dream you had and run to the big window across the room. 

You look down, you see ambulances, police cars, lab coats and tall guys in FBI jackets.

Something definitely happened here last night.

 That explains it then, the nature of your murderous dreams. The sirens creeped their way into your subconscious making that murderous, dreadful dream. You take a quick look and your hands and see nothing. Perfect, unblemished skin. 

It felt so real. Strawberry fields and blood. 

Your neighbor from across the street gestures manically at you from her window. 

Fuck, it must have been really bad. There’s a lot of people at your doorstep. 

Hurrying to put your robe on, you fly down the stairs towards the bustling crowd outside. 

You are dying to know what happened. You were always a vivid dreamer.

You reach the hall and open the door, a polite officer starts talking to you.

You don’t notice the old radio on your vanity, or the opaque darkness that followed you from the corner of your room to the world outside.

[rafecameronsgun]

heey so this is my very first post,i wanna knoww what you think,so please leave a comment 🙏🏻🤍

warnings: smoker!rafe,party, christian girl,dangerous rafe who ruinssss every part of reader

Always,always the bad boys…

Always, always, always, you hated boys like Rafe Cameron. The heartless bad boys. Always, always, always, it was the kind-hearted, devoted guys who swept you off your feet. The guys with the best grades in school, attending advanced math classes, constantly talking about science and how everything around us is a miraculous gift from God. The guys who ask if they can hold your hand. Always, always, always the good guys. The respectful, cute little nerds. Because you are exactly like that. You wear a bow in your hair like a little girl, if a skirt doesnt reach your knee, you put on tights... every day you read the Bible, go to church on Sundays... You only see the good in people, always helping everyone, and nothing irritates your nerves more than someone not appreciating education.

You were perfect. Until Rafe Cameron ruined you.

Your friend, Sophie, is celebrating her 18th birthday today, and she invited you to her birthday party. You ring the doorbell of a huge, white house with a gift in your hand. Loud music is playing inside the house, and through the window, you see rapidly changing colorful LED lights. You don't have time to turn back when you realize that this is not the kind of party you're used to.

"Hi there!" your friend opens the door and invites you in. The gift in your hand is quickly replaced by a red party cup. The loud music is pounding in your body, it scares you because you've never heard such loud music before. With trembling legs, still in shock, you cautiously venture further inside, walking along the wall, trying not to bump into any drunk youngsters. You don't even want to get into their line of sight. You want to disappear, but you can't be so rude to your friend. You can't leave her, you can't be so impolite.

Sophie grabs your arm and pulls you down onto a couch.

Your legs pressed together, you clutch your cup. Your stomach tightens to the size of a fist, your lungs betray you by not supplying oxygen to your bloodstream. You grip the cup tighter to hide your trembling hand. You want to get out of here, as soon as possible.

"Truth or dare?" a guy speaks in a deep, hoarse voice. You didn't think it was meant for you until Sophie nudges you. Shyly, you look up from your lap, and your gaze meets a beautiful pair of ocean blue eyes. The owner is Rafe Cameron, but you don't know that yet. All you know is that he is very attractive. His massive body stretches out on the couch, lean muscles tense under the royal blue fabric of his shirt as he lights a cigarette. "Wh-what?" you ask in a soft, trembling voice. You look at Sophie, she raises her eyebrows excitedly, waiting for you to respond.

"Umm... dare?" you say, or maybe ask, you're not sure anymore, you just want to leave. The guy smirks satisfactorily, lets out a dark laugh, and moves up on the opposite couch. Leaning forward, barely 20 centimeters separate you, and then he says, "Sit on my lap!"

His jaw tightens, and you’re sure you saw a little flame flickering in his eyes as he waits for your reaction. He takes a drag from the cigarette, and you are still frozen in place. Sophie looks at you, raises her eyebrows excitedly, waiting for me to respond.

"And what if I don't?" you ask, now a bit indignant.

"Then smoke this cigarette!" he holds the substance towards you. In the Bible, it says not to do drugs. And not to fornicate. You don't know which is the heavier sin in the eyes of God, but before you can decide, Sophie pushes you into his laps

"Have some fun, Sleeping Beauty!" she laughs at you.

You freeze. Your legs on either side of the guy, your eyes pop open, your hand accidentally lands on his chest. You feel his loud heartbeat under your palm, his warm muscles as he leans back. He casually tosses his arn onto the back of the couch, using one arm to lift the harmful substance to his mouth. And then, in the next moment, you feel something that's the cherry on top of the cake. Something hard, very hard, is trying to penetrate the gap between your legs through your pants. Your eyes almost pop out of your head, you pull your hips back, and somewhere on his thigh, you sit down. He takes a big drag of the cigarette, then blows it into your face.You cough, withdrawing. The smoke fills your face, and you try to move away. He grabs you with one arm, lifting you back to where you were. Then he looks at you with an intense, intimidating look, and you find yourself gazing at the bulge in his pants...

He chuckles softly as he pulls you forward with one hand. You let out a soft gasp when you recognize the shape beneath you, and you'd rather sink into the ground in shame for finding this appealing.

"What's wrong, scared of a dick?" he laughs loudly, and the way he looks at you... he finds you pathetic. And so do you find yourself pathetic. You'd leap off him, but then he lifts you up with one arm, standing up with you, there's a height difference of at least 40 centimeters between you. And he love it. Taking another drag from his cigarette, you remain frozen. He leans down, until his face is about two fingers away from yours. You can't move, and you certainly don't want to. Rafe Cameron fascinates you. The golden chain around his neck sways as he leans down, his ocean blue eyes and his buzzcut... perfectly fitting the "dangerous bad boy" vibe.

He raises his hand to your face, lifting your chin with his thumb. Placing his palm on your cheek, his thumb separates your two lips, and what happens next... every cell in your body trembles.

He exhales the smoke into your mouth, and now you also feel the foul, tobacco smell in your own mouth. You start to cough, and he smiles with a menacing look, causing your knees to almost buckle.

"What's your name, Princess?" he asks, then secures his strong arms around your thin, toned waist.

"I... I..." you can't answer because, the next moment, he squeezes both sides of your waist, sending shivers through your veins. You find yourself looking at his pants. You need to know if he like this situation as much as you do. And yes, he ENORMOUSLY love it.

After this, you became Rafe Cameron's mission. Every time you meet, every time he follows you, and every time he sneaks through your window at 4am in the morning to finger you, he corrupts you a bit more. And you find yourself realizing that, in just a few weeks, you've committed more sins in his presence than in your entire life. He intoxicates you at parties, demands you to smoke from his cigarette... in just a few weeks, he completely ruined you. And you fucking love him for it.

[ih8simps]

My first post EVER;

The Runaway (Chrollo x reader)

The sound of the deep bass assaulted your ear drums as the lights around you flashed.

The room was filled with the smell of sweat and alcohol as the people around you continued to bump against one another. Your eyes swiveled around the room as you watched the sea of people all dancing to their own rhythms.

The music made you feel the need to continue dancing and the alcohol dancing around your bloodstream made you never want to stop. You continued to dance even when a red haired stranger came into your view. The moment his golden eyes locked onto yours, you knew he was trouble. From the bold red of his hair to the points on the tips of his shoes, you knew this guy was something peculiar. But by all means, you liked peculiar. As if drawn together by magnets you both met in the middle of the dance floor. You didn’t give him a chance to speak as you began to press your body against his. That smirk on his face grew into a Cheshire grin as you both danced to the music.

After a few songs you were still pressed against him and by now you could feel that he was certainly excited for you to be so close.

“Do I get to know your name now?” He spoke with his lips practically against your ear.

“You’re a pretty decent dancer. I’m having fun with you”. You turned away from him and rubbed your ass against his hard length. From what could be felt through your clothes, that would certainly be a sight to see. Your body hummed in delight at the thought. If only time and circumstance had been different.

In the rafters above the dancing bodies, the spiders were spinning a web. Phinks, Feitan, Pakunoda, Shalnark, Machi, Shizuku, Nobunaga, and their leader Chrollo were stationed in the upper level of the club watching those below. The spider was here for a job. There were some big fish that owned some shiny things that Chrollo wanted to steal. The owner of this club was a prolific businessman who was heavily into trade. He had a safe somewhere on this premises full of rare treasures. He used this club as a way to gather fellow traders and rare collectors without raising too much suspicion. To the authorities this just happened to be the place where rich traders and businessmen found themselves on Friday nights.

“Damn it. I wish I was a better dancer” Phinks practically whined.

“You are bad” Feitan spoke in his slow drawl. Phinks opened his mouth to yell out a retort but before he could Machi cut in.

“How you dance doesn’t matter. We aren’t here for dancing. We are scouting this place”

The spiders all had their eyes on a different target. They all knew who exactly they were supposed to be keeping their eyes on at all times but watching old men try to drunkenly dance or slobber on women was such boring work. It seemed that Shalnark had become bored quite a while ago as he was playing a game on his phone. Feitan flanked Phinks against the railing that looked over the crowd. Pakunoda sat on the sofa sipping a glass of vodka. Machi stood close to Chrollo as he stood with his back to the railing. Nobunaga begrudgingly stood close to Shizuku as she leaned over the railing to get a closer look at the crowd.

“I don’t know. Maybe Phinks is right. We should all learn how to dance. I mean look at Hisoka.”

The eyes of the spider searched the crowd for the eccentric red head. When they finally caught a glimpse of him, a hush fell over the group. Shizuku couldn’t understand the sudden silence.

“What’s wrong?”

“Is that-“ Phinks could hardly believe what he was seeing.

“(Y/n)” Machi whispered.

With the music still blaring, the lights still flashing absurdly, and the warm body of the man behind you still rubbing against you, you were in a form of chaotic bliss. For a brief moment you felt truly free. That feeling came to a screeching halt when a heavy coldness swept over you. It felt like a cloak of heavy darkness and filthy disgust. It seemed that the man behind you could feel it too as he suddenly stopped dancing. His eyes immediately swept the room before he looked up and directly at the source of the awful feeling. Your blood ran cold as you realized what you were looking at. The minute your eyes locked with his steel cold gaze, you realized you knew this feeling all too well. This was Chrollo’s bloodlust.

It had been years since you had seen him. Even from this far away you could tell that even in this sea of still dancing people he was looking directly at you. The intensity in his eyes made you believe he could probably see through you.

“No” you choked out.

The man behind you grabbed your arm, seemingly making the room grow even colder.

“How do you know each other?” You shook your head in response. Shock wouldn’t allow words to fall from your lips.

“How-“ the man opened his mouth to speak again but before he could you watched as the spider suddenly began its ascent down to the dance floor. One moment they were 40 feet away, the next moment you could feel them near inches away from you.

“(Y/n)” Feitan was the first to speak from his short distance away. “Why are you here?”

You ignored him as you began to count backwards from 10.

“What is she saying?” Shizuku could not understand what she was hearing.

“Grab her before she gets to-“

“One” you choked out. Just as you were about to disappear from the room you felt a brief pressure on the back of your neck. Before you lost consciousness you peered into a pair of familiar grey eyes.

“Chrollo” you whispered.

[theworldofotps]

You Look Like You Love Me

Pairing: Adam Page x Reader Word Count: 1,066 Description: While at a bar Adam is approached by a beautiful woman.

I keep hearing this song on tiktok and it just screamed Adam to me. I hope you enjoy, I tried to switch back and forth between both of them without it being confusing. _______ Tag list: @omg-im-such-a-masochist​ @melissahausen​ @new-zealand-chic​ @writtingrose​ @hotgirlgraps @madhatterbri @sjwrites22 @sassymox @mrsacklesevansmgk @xladyxfatex @adamcolesbaybay @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @demonqueen29 @itsicantbelievethis666 @lilred91 @rebellious-desires @claymorexpunisher @letsgivethisonemoreshot @ava-valerie @shortyiceheart @serpantscorpio8497 @thatpanpal ​ @wrestlersownmyheart @vebner37 @seeingstarks @whenimakeitshine1234 @legit9thlunaticwarrior @blaquekitty @ironshamelessyouth @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @ripleyswhore @moonrosekk @xbreezymeadowsx @alyyaana  @elevennbloom @melblacc @alliwant456  @mcreignsera @auburnwrites​ @aews-four-pillars @thatnerdwriter If you wanna be added to the list lemme know. _____ The dim lights of the small-town bar that Adam decided to visit tonight were a nice contrast to the bright lights he worked under in AEW. He sipped the cold beer occasionally listening to the story his friend Kenny was telling from his days in Japan. A few of their coworkers had eventually found the small bar as well so the place was semi packed for a Wednesday night.

“Did you hear what I said?”

“Huh? Sorry man no, my mind was wondering but I’m listening this time.”

“Nah forget it I can always tell you it later, why don’t we go stand over by the dancefloor? I think Matt is currently trying to refrain his brother from taking his pants off and dancing in his underwear.”

Adam chuckled in amusement as he sipped his beer reluctantly standing from his barstool and walking over to the dance floor. A mix of town folk and wrestlers were dancing to music from an old jukebox in the corner of the room.

“With the life we live sometimes I forget to just stop in the moment and enjoy the present.”

Kenny muttered leaning against the wall while his eyes scanned the place before landing back on Adam, a grin on his face.

“You know you really fit this bar setting with your outfit and them damn cowboy boots I think the only thing missing is a hat.”

Rolling his eyes Adam sipped his beer glancing down at his attire, his friend wasn’t wrong, but this was normally what he wore for work. Being the Hangman wasn’t just a gig for him it was a comfortable outfit if he was being honest.

“Thanks man I guess, now why would I hide this gorgeous head of hair?”

Smirking he looked around the room hearing a commotion from the center of the dance floor a laugh falling from the two men.

“And there goes Nick trying to do a square dance, this is why we don’t go out often with these guys because they’re wild.” Across the room Y/n stood up from her chair her legs a little unsteady from the alcohol coursing through her bloodstream. She hadn’t meant to drink more than one beer but after the tough week at work she didn’t think it would hurt anything. The girls she had come with to the bar were either chatting together at the table or on the dance floor.

Blinking a few times, she gave herself a moment for the room to stop spinning then walked across the bar. Her eyes had been on a cowboy all night long and with the liquid courage she finally felt brave enough to approach him. She had noticed that his eyes kept finding her more than once during the night.  Despite being drunk she felt a magnetic pull to speak with him. Pushing her way through the crown y/n hesitated for just a moment before tapping his shoulder.

“Hello, my name is y/n, and well I think you’re going to want to hear this.”

She said tugging him away from his friend as the song switched to an upbeat country tune, the man smiled at her which caused her stomach to swirl.

“Excuse me, you look like you love me you like you want me to want you to come on home.”

Y/n couldn’t look away from the beautiful blue eyes watching her every movement as she spoke. The man’s smile grew as he let out a chuckle rubbing his chin as she spoke again

“Baby I don’t blame you for looking me up and down across this room I’m drunk and I’m ready to leave. You look like you love me.”

“Well then ma’am why don’t I take you home, I can call an uber for us.”

Adam walked over to Kenny telling him he was heading back to the hotel for the night, making his way back to the woman he held out his arm.

“Lets go.”

Leading her through the crowd of people, Adam pulled his phone out texting one of the staff that AEW had hired to transport the wrestlers tonight so nobody would be drinking. Y/n inhaled the fresh air once outside which smell much nicer than the stale beer scent of the bar. When the car pulled up the two of them got in the backseat, y/n’s eyes closing as her head rested against the seat. She wasn’t sure why she felt so safe with this man, but she wasn’t going to question it right now.

Adam kept his arm around y/n glancing down at her every so often to be sure she was doing okay. When they pulled up outside the hotel he tipped the driver, carefully helping her from the back seat. The pair made their way inside to the elevator, Adam pressing the fourth-floor button. Listening as y/n laughed quietly to herself. Smiling, he walked with her to the room sliding his key card then just scooping her up. Taking her to the bed Adam laid her against the sheets after pulling the blankets back then removed her shoes.

“Could I have some water please?”

“Sure, I’ll be right back.”

Y/n waited as the man left the room, she could hear him in what she assumed was the kitchen opening drawers. When he returned with a bottle of water and two Tylenol pills in his hand.

“It’ll help you in the morning.”

He said helping her drink it then tucked her into bed pushing the hair out of her face he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Sweet dreams darling.”

Y/n didn’t remember falling asleep, didn’t remember him climbing into bed with her either, when she opened her eyes the next morning her head throbbed but slightly less. She felt movement beside her, groaning she pulled the blankets up.

“How you feeling this morning baby?”

“Kind of shit if I’m honest.”

“Hopefully not as bad as you would if I hadn’t given you the medicine, you tried to pick me up again?”

Opening her eyes y/n turned looking at her boyfriend who lay beside her with a grin on his face.

“Are you serious?”

“Mhm it was rather cute but I’ll tell you about that later try and get some more sleep.”

Adam pulled her close to him once more his hand rubbing soothing patterns on her back as she was lulled back to sleep.

[thebellearchives]

hi there, i'm new to your blog. would you consider fluff 18 for sukuna?

𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐀𝐅𝐄𝐓𝐘

~ ryomen sukuna ; jujutsu kaisen

✧˚ · . S Y N O P S I S : you’ve been stuck on a bad moment of your life for a while, thankfully someone comes along to break that monotony

‧₊˚ c o n t e n t s : fem!reader, non-curse!au, sukuna has his own body but is still described with yuuji’s physical appearance, slightly suggestive, fluff, consumption of alcohol, weapons (reader almost gets mugged)

‧₊˚ a / n : hi anon! i hope you’re still around 😭?! writer’s block’s been kicking my ass lately so i hope this didn’t turn out too bad (once again did not proofread) ): enjoy the reading ~

You told yourself over and over again: going through a rough patch in your life is normal. It will pass. But this one rough patch seemed to be turning into a particularly long one. Loneliness was the worst part, but you also knew you didn’t want to have anyone around either, so you started going out alone. Going to the movies alone, going to coffee shops alone, even started frequenting this one bar. It was a pretty establishment, fancy but not too much, people generally minded their own business and the music was just perfect, at a certain point you even wondered if they had been playing songs directly from your playlist. Nights at the bar were nice, sipping on your favourite drink and enjoying the music, nothing out of the ordinary ever happened… until it did.

Not like it was usual for you to get hung up on guys at first sight, but the sound of his voice on a thursday night set butterflies loose inside you. He was taller than you, a handsome smirk danced playfully on his lips, tattoos covered the visible skin of his arms as disappeared under a black shirt that stuck to him like a second skin. Curves of muscle decorated his torso and his arms, and he was talking to you. Dark crimson eyes staring right back at you, the smell of his cologne enticed you the moment you perceived it. Sparks between both of you were instantaneous. Confident, almost arrogant, flirtatious comments from him made of that night one you wouldn’t forget for the next years. So when it was time to leave you decided to not say much, kept your address a secret, leaving on your own and saying you might see each other again in a stupid attempt at keeping some kind of mystery.

“I’ll be looking forward to it sugar” he leaned back into the wall as he watched you leave with a smug smile.

And so you returned the next thursday, and once again you both ended up in the dark alleyway next to the bar’s back door. You left with tingling lips and teeth marks. And then the next thursday, those marks had started traveling lower, jaw, the crook of your neck, even your shoulders. The little affair had your head turning in circles, the way his strong arms held your melting figure so firmly, his intense irises making your body shake, that damn smirk of his that spiked your heart rate. So the next thursday your decided to let your fingers linger on top of his hands and pull him playfully away from your hiding place. You tried to lead him towards your apartment, the sweet taste of alcohol and his mouth lingering on your tongue. Unfortunately, it didn’t go as planned.

Something cold and pointy was placed against your lower back, almost piercing fabric and threatening to injure your skin. You almost swore all your drinks evaporated from your bloodstream in an instant, suddenly going cold and a chill running throughout you.

“Tough luck pretty girl, give me that purse of yours and i might think about letting you go unharmed” a voice came up from behind you, tour breath got stuck in your throat.

“What’d you say, scum?” the moment your lover came closer and the street lamp’s illuminated his figure the blade faltered, the man took a step back.

Sukuna pulled you out of the way by your arm and you quickly moved away to step behind him, your eyes finally meeting the stranger who had just tried to rob you. The tingling of the sharp dagger falling to the floor was followed by the dull thud of his chest hitting the wall, Sukuna held him there from his shirt, his shoes almost didn’t touch the ground.

“Wait! I didn’t- It wasn’t my intention to-”

“It wasn’t your intention to hurt her? Then what was that pathetic bad quality dagger doing pressed against her back, you lowlife?”

Your shocked eyes could only stare at the scene unfolding in front of you. Part of you wanted to stop him, fearing whatever could happen next if his anger kept rising, but another part of you demanded to see the man get the punishment he deserved. Thankfully you didn’t have to make a decision, because with a displeased expression on his face Sukuna relaxed the grip on his shirt until the robber was able to feel the floor underneath him once again, pupils blown and gasping for air.

“You’re lucky I don’t think the lady should watch this, but if i see you again…”

“You won’t! You won’t”

He didn’t add anything else, but swung the man from his shirt and tossed him towards the street. Stumbling, he struggled to stand on both his feet again, but quickly ran away, not looking back. Still shocked at everything that had just happened and with your heart pumping quicker than ever, you watched him run away, until Sukuna’s voice brought you back down to earth.

“Are you alright?” he walked up to you inquisitively, your eyes snapped back to his.

“Yes. Yeah I’m fine” with a sigh you walked up to him to bury yourself into his arms and chest, he held you there firmly “I’m fine thanks to you”

Sukuna held you close, one of his hands cradling your head and threading fingers into your hair.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I just… feel calmer when I'm with you”

[jjunieworld]

okay full sanctuary reactions!!!! （╯°□°）╯︵( .o.)

over the moon mv (& technically second listen): i love the mv so so much and i especially love the little dreamy editing they did it’s so good!! THE SONG IS SO FUCKING GOOD!!! the little over the moonnn~ over the starsss~ they ate so bad. THE RANDOM CLIPS OF KAI WORKING OUT??? what was that all about do they want me to die?? i’m confused about the symbolism but it’s still good!! 10/10 title track i love it!!! i’ve been trying to wipe my memory of it since the live performance yesterday but it’s just as good as i remember.. THE RUN AWAY REFERENCES STOP IM SOBBING.

heaven: i feel like i’ve heard this whole song already from all the tiktoks posted but it’s still so so good!! it reminds me of early 2010s songs so much i don’t know how to describe it. kinda the same vibes as steal my girl by 1d or just a 1d song in general lmao 8/10

danger: “tomorrow x together” HELLO???? this song is so fucking good i need it injected into my bloodstream and tattooed on my forehead. “i’m so obsessed” “what’re doing to me” ???????? goodbye. yeonjun’s part right after is my favorite i think. love love it 10/10

resist (not gonna run away): THE VOCALSSSSS!!!!! stop cause first listen this might be my favorite… but i still got two more songs. i CANTTT resistttt~ THEY ATEEEE!! the beat like i’m shaking ass rn like don’t even joke lad. “some imma get down witchu” STOPPP. 10/10

forty one winks: head already bopping like… txt is allergic to not releasing bangers. INCOMINGGGGG🔊 the vocals in this one too like oh my god. i love this song it scratches my brain just right. bangers all around 10/10

higher than heaven: this sounds another song right out of the early 2010s i love it so much it feels so nostalgic!!! like dun dun HIGHHH dun dun HIGHHHH dun dun HIGHHHHHH you guys don’t get it like i do. 9/10

overall album thoughts & review: i’m sick of short, under 3 minute songs in general, but this is criminal. i know it’s only 6 songs and is a mini album but it’s CRAZY.. i still need to read all of the lyric translation but we got another banger album, of course. they’re physically incapable to releasing bad music!! i wish the line distribution was better but i wish for that every album and hybe sucks literal ass so… 10/10 album EASILY. i love how nostalgic it all felt but somehow also feels like a breath of fresh air?? does that make sense? idk. it’s so good tho i will be shocked if anyone hates it

song ranking (for right now lmao):

1. resist (not gonna run away)

2. over the moon

3. danger

4. forty one winks

5. highter than heaven (lol)

6. heaven

song ranking is def gonna change the more i listen to the album but as for first listens this is where they’re at!! the album once again is so so good and i love it!! i hope the boys are proud of it, truly!! (づ ￣ ³￣)づ♡♡♡

[onceuponastory]

desperately seeking sam - sam wilson x reader

Plot: After meeting Sam at a festival, Y/N finds herself falling deeply and madly in love with him. When they are forced to go their separate ways, Y/N can't wait to see him again... but there's only one problem. She doesn't know his surname, or even his phone number. But Sam has the perfect idea to find her. Pairing: Sam Wilson x Female!Reader Warnings: Mentions of alcohol. As always if I miss any triggers, let me know. Notes: Sam is not the Falcon or Captain America in this, because I figured he'd be really recognisable if he was, and I wanted to add the element of them searching for one another! I saw a poster like this the other day, and thought it would be something Sam would do, so here we are.

Joining the long queue for the bar, Y/N hums along with the music playing from behind her, the sounds of drums and guitars filling the air. Bopping her head to the beat, she steps closer and closer to the front of the line, smiling as the sun beats down on her. Y/N’s been spending the day at a music festival, and despite being alone, she’s actually having a lot of fun. But that may be because of the cocktails they have. After paying for her drink, she turns, ready to go back to the music, not really paying much attention to her surroundings. That is, however, until she collides with someone, the cold liquid of both of their drinks splashing on his chest. Y/N’s eyes widen, shame seeping through her… much like the remnants of her drink. “Oh, my god. I’m so sorry.” She gasps, immediately sobering up. “I’ll pay for a new one… and for that to be dry cleaned.” She expects the person to be angry, but to her pleasant surprise, the man grins, instantly filling her with relief. His smile is so bright, and fills her with such a warm feeling, that her worries soon fade away.

“No! Not at all. It happens.” He reassures her. “I will definitely accept that drink offer, though. Can’t let a pretty lady like yourself feel bad, right?” He flirts, and Y/N chuckles. It’s been so long since someone flirted with her so openly, and she definitely wasn’t expecting to fall in love with someone at a music festival of all places. …But the man is so attractive, she doesn’t seem to mind. “Well, thank you.” She grins as they rejoin the growing queue at the bar, trying to act cool and like she definitely knows what she’s doing, and isn’t woefully inexperienced at flirting. “Can’t let a handsome guy like yourself go without, now can I?” Y/N watches him curiously, waiting to see how he reacts to the line she dropped. Thankfully, he grins. “I like your way of thinking.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She soon learns the man’s name is Sam, and he’s originally from Delacroix, but lives and works in New York now. He tells her all kinds of stories, and Y/N hangs onto his every word. He’s so interesting. So funny, so charming, so kind.

And honestly, she thinks she’s falling in love with him.

Y/N and Sam spend the rest of the day together, learning more and more about one another in between musical acts. It certainly is the most unorthodox way she’s ever met someone, but that just makes it more exciting, a funny story to tell all their friends and family. If they ever make it that far, that is. And god, she hopes they do. Thinking about their future may be moving on too quickly, but Y/N doesn’t care. She’s just so happy in the moment. That night, as the festival draws to a close, she and Sam go see the headliner, dancing and singing along at the top of their lungs. As the music pounds, almost pumping through her entire body and bloodstream, Y/N has never felt so alive. And it seems Sam feels the same. “Can I kiss you?” He calls over the music. “What?” She asks, wondering if she misheard him. But then he asks her again, and Y/N realises he’s serious. Smiling, she nods. Sam grabs her, pulling her close as the last song reaches its climax. He presses his lips to hers in a passionate kiss, grinning. Y/N cups his cheeks with her hands, pulling Sam even closer to her. Her heart pounds, and her stomach swells. As they kiss, the band turns on their confetti cannon, raining multicoloured pieces down on them, landing on their clothes, their head, their feet.

It’s perfect.

After the last act has ended, Sam walks her back to the train station with the rest of the crowd, keeping a soft, protective hold on her hand. Honestly, Y/N is glad to have it. After their kiss, she feels like she’s walking on air. Sam’s helping to bring her back down to earth again. “It was great to meet you Y/N.” Sam smiles, and Y/N nods, her smile just as wide. Hopefully this dream night lasts forever. “It was wonderful to meet you, too.” She replies. He leads her all the way down to her platform. As her train thunders into the station, he finally lets her hand go. Y/N’s heart sinks, and she reaches out for it again for a moment. Somehow, she already feels at home in his grasp. “Goodnight Sam.” Y/N whispers, pecking his cheek as the train doors open. “Goodnight Y/N.” Y/N almost considers staying there and missing her train, even if it’s just for another second of Sam’s time. As he looks over her, smiling softly. But as the doors' loud beeping, signifying they’re about to close, fills the air, Sam gently nudges her inside. “You better go before you miss your train.” He chuckles. She sits by the window, staring out at the man who changed her night and made her feel incredible. He gives her a wave, and the train slowly pulls out of the station.

But as Sam disappears from view, a horrible realisation dawns on Y/N, spoiling her cheerful mood. Like a rain cloud on a bright, sunny day. “I don’t even know his last name. Or his number. How will I ever see him again?”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“You kissed her? And you didn’t even get her number?!” Bucky gasps in disbelief from across the table, his eyes wide. Sam sighs, nodding. The second he woke up the day after meeting Y/N, after making sure it wasn’t a dream, he headed off to see Bucky and ask for his advice. Or at least… what Bucky classes as advice.

“Yes, I did. And no, I didn’t.” Bucky shakes his head, still in disbelief, which doesn’t make Sam feel any better. “Yes. I know I’m an idiot. But I wasn’t thinking about that sort of stuff, you know? I just was thinking about kissing her, holding her and maybe taking-” 

“Okay, I get it.” Bucky nods, cutting him off. “So, you've already searched through social media for her?" Sam nods. "Well what are you going to do? You can’t exactly camp outside of the train station until she comes back, can you?”

“Can’t I?” Sam jokes, and Bucky frowns. “I know, I know. I’m kidding.” He sighs. And then… an idea strikes. “I know what to do.” Sam grins.

Every day since the festival ended, Y/N hopes and prays that she’ll find Sam again. She scrolls through social media every day, checking for a post or message about her. But each day only brings more and more disappointment. And after a few days with no messages, Y/N just settles back into her regular, mundane existence: going to and from work each day and getting home to enjoy what little time she has to herself before doing it all again the next day.

And trying to ignore the aching feeling in her heart whenever she thinks of Sam, of course. Y/N tries to stop herself from feeling disappointed, telling herself that this is just life. It gives you the best thing in your life… and then snatches it away from you. It may be unfair, but it’s just what happens. Although it may have been foolish, she was still hoping that things for her and Sam would be different, that he’d find her again.

But as the days pass, that seems less and less likely. “You like him.” Her coworker grins, smirking at her from across her desk one day. “You should try to find him.” “How? I don’t even have his number, or his last name. Do you know how many Sams there are in New York alone?” Y/N groans, resting her head in her hands. “I can’t believe that in this world full of technology, you can’t find your true love who you met at a festival. It’s like… some modern Cinderella story or something. And you didn’t even need to lose a shoe!” “Really not helping.” Y/N groans, not even looking up. Deep down, though, she knows her coworker is right. And she’d be lying if she said that despite her disappointment, this whole experience wasn’t exciting her. To have someone searching for her, and to be searching for him just as much, trying every possible route to find one another, like some modern fairytale rom-com mashup.

It doesn’t make the longing for Sam any better, though.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Later that day, after her shift is finally over, Y/N joins the throngs of commuters heading home. Her mind is on other things, like what she’s going to have for dinner, and if her neighbour has actually taken his trash out.

It’s only when she arrives at her train station and notices a group of people huddled around something on the wall that she’s broken out of her thoughts. Curiously, she strains her neck, trying to see what has everyone so interested. Finally, she gets close enough to see what they were looking at. A handwritten poster is on the wall outside the station. When she sees what is written there, her eyes widen.

“To Y/N, the gorgeous woman I bonded with at the festival, yet I was stupid enough to leave without getting her number. Hopefully this works. Keep dancing and call me sometime. Love Sam.” Under the message is a phone number. Y/N smiles, taking out her phone and dialling the number.  He answers right away, of course.

“Hello? Sam?” she asks. “It’s Y/N. …Yeah, I saw your poster. …No, no. I love it! It’s wonderful. Unique for sure.” She laughs. “...Sure, I’d love to meet up for coffee.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

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