#had a little glimmer of an idea for these two and I think it worked out well

[ragingdumpsterfire]

🍾🪩🥳

Delsin x Juno | Infamous Second Son OC

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The streets below buzzed with anticipation, groups of people gathered together, letting the worries of life fall aside for a night with the promise of a new beginning. All of Seattle had taken a well deserved break to find a spot to watch the fireworks and ring in the new year, and the two conduits perched on top of a rooftop billboard were no exception.

Juno had a well worn plaid blanket wrapped over her shoulders, thermos of hot chocolate in her hands, head leaning against Delsin’s impossibly warm body. He had his own thermos, which was sloshing around dangerously as he waved his hands, recounting the time he had tagged a DUP agent’s helmet with a particularly suggestive design. Juno couldn’t stifle the snorting laughter that erupted from her, the idea of Delsin going so low as to draw a dick on some DUP agent caught her off guard. He was usually more tactful when it came to portraying his ideas and worldview through art. This DUP agent must have really pissed him off.

A loud cheering from the crowds below cut Delsin’s words short, Juno quickly pulling out her phone to check the time. 11:59 pm.

“Del, holy shit, it’s almost time!”

Drinks are set down as the pair turns their eyes to the skies, waiting for the explosions of fireworks in the Seattle sky. As Juno starts counting down, voice joining in unison with the others in the streets below, Delsin glances over, watching the way that her eyes reflect the city lights. The way she got little creases at the corners of her eyes whenever she smiled. The way she looked onto the world with wonder. He always felt his stomach flip flop a little whenever she looked at him like that, those blue eyes gazing up at him like he was the only other person in the world.

“Ready?”

The question breaks him out of his thoughts, and Delsin turns his gaze back up to the sky, his own voice melting in with hers. As the countdown reaches the last few seconds, Juno feels a warm hand grab hers, long fingers entwining, and she glances over, finding herself dangerously close to those warm eyes. The shouts of glee from the city fade away into ocean waves of background noise, fireworks sparkling somewhere in the sky above. The smile playing on Delsin’s lips tell Juno a story unspoken, and his reply is the only thing that Juno hears as the crowd beckons on the new day.

“Ready.”

[disneyprincemuke]

ღ this barbie’s teammate is a schumacher

notes: hello gays it is i, finally writing for barbie

she closes the car door and sighs with a small smile, looking at the building ahead of her. this will be her life until she decides otherwise. she shoves her car keys into her purse and watches curiously as another supercar pulls into the empty lot next to her.

is that who she thinks it is?

she takes a step towards her car, watching the car be parked into the slot flawlessly. she tilts her head when it comes to a stop, the driver's side opening to reveal its driver.

"oh!" she shrieks, running around the front of her car to approach the young man. "mick schumacher, right? i am such a big fan! i'm so excited to finally be working with you!"

the german takes a step back, overwhelmed by the sudden presence of the girl in pink approaching him. she has a pair of sunglasses resting on the top of her head, a fur coat on and a purse hanging off her elbow.

"oh, hi," mick smiles politely. he's not a mean person; he's just a little more introverted than the next guy. "i'm glad to be with honda this year. i'm looking forward to spending the year with you."

he was in deep thought before she came up to him. he wondered, as the way he's been doing for years, if the rumours that he'd been scouted for the second seat at the request of his boss's daughter. but who is he to complain; he's racing in f1 again. does it matter how he got back into it?

surely not.

but this girl that stands in front of him – could she be an intern? she looks fairly young, very enthusiastic, and a glimmer of hope in her eyes that he doesn't see from individuals his age often. perhaps a marketing intern.

"alright, well, i'll see you inside! i love the sweater, by the way!" she shrieks, waving at him with a wide smile. she waves at him as she walks away, cautiously crossing the parking lot as the rest of the cars for the day start to roll in. "and the car! you have to give me a tour someday!"

he waves back at her in confusion, only able to mutter a 'goodbye' to himself as she disappears into the big front doors of the building. he locks his car and follows her in the direction she left, ready to start his new year with a new team.

he spends the next 10 minutes navigating the new factory he'll be frequenting from now on. introducing himself to people, familiarising himself with the engineers he'll be working closely with, and other members of the team. it's a surprisingly bigger team than he had initially thought, so it takes him longer than he expected.

about 20 minutes introducing himself and trying to pin names with the new faces. then he ends up in a quiet office, shaking his leg in anticipation as he awaits his first face-to-face meeting with his new teammate and his boss.

he hears clicks of heels right by the door, prompting him to sit up a little straighter as he glances behind him quickly. he straightens his sweater, pulls his sleeves down and wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans. he can't screw himself over.

"i'm telling you, daddy, he's got the coolest car! i saw him in the parking lot earlier!" the door opens, revealing two figures with two familiar faces. which, shouldn't be the case, because this is the first time he's meeting his teammate.

"do you want one, honey?"

"no, that's so silly! i love my car!" she giggles, before abruptly stopping at the sight of his wide blue eyes staring at her in disbelief. "my car is perfectly fine! right, mick?"

mick blinks, swallowing the forming lump of guilt in his throat. he had no idea that the girl in the parking lot was going to be his teammate eventually.

oh god, and for him to assume that she's a marketing or pr intern? how humiliating. how would he feel if someone were to think that of his sister was a mere backend worker when she is something more?

"yes," he answers by default, not really remembering what she was asking him. he immediately pushes himself up to his feet and extends a hand to her first. "i'm sorry. i don't believe i got your name in the parking lot – i didn't know you were going to be my teammate. i'm so sorry."

"oh, don't worry about it. it happens a lot." she introduces herself before quickly walking away, running over to the empty seat next to him.

mick huffs, grinning at her father before he takes a seat. but the entire time, all he can think of is how embarrassed he is for misjudging her. "you don't care that i didn't take you for a driver at first?"

she looks off blankly, pressing her lips together before shaking her head. she turns to him again. "it's not like i told you," she grins. "anyway, do you like japanese curry? that's my favourite – i'll make you some when we meet again for pre-season."

taglist: @cashtons-wife @darleneslane @namgification @happy-nico @nikfigueiredo @localwhoore @angsthology @renarots @elliegrey2803 @cha-hot @cosmoscoffeee @fanficweasley @sugarhoneylemons @aquangxl @omgsuperstarg @strawberryubin @lovecarsgoingvroom @mangotaitai @cherry-piee @ladyladybuggg @lethalvenus @gentlyweeps-world @spilled-coffee-cup @charizznorizz @wcnorris @storminacloud @minkyungseokie @viennakarma @leilanixx @daniellef89x @fezlvr @lavisenri @xcharlottemikaelsonx @ultraviolencesam @selsbackyard @ilove-tswizzle @riddle-me-im-sirius @kindestofkings

[riddlesb1tch]

Under the Stars

Azriel x reader

summary: years ago you made a pact with Azriel that if the two of you were single in 20 years, you'd marry each other. As you two reflect on this promise years later, Azriel admits something that he has been hiding since that day.

warnings: none!

Azriel stood on the balcony of the House of Wind, his elbows resting on the railing as he gazed up at the stars. You could see the tightness in his shoulders, the way his posture was just a little too stiff. It was clear that he was in pain, his heart breaking in a way that made yours ache for him. You had no idea why, though. He had been upset the whole day and refused to speak with anyone.

You moved quietly to his side, mirroring his stance, and offered a gentle, “Hey.”

“Hey,” he replied, his voice soft but carrying a depth of sadness that cut through you.

Looking up at the night sky, you ventured, “Wanna tell me why you’re sad?”

Azriel inhaled deeply and after a couple of seconds spoke so softly you barely heard him. “What if I can’t find anyone? What if no one likes me?” 

Furrowing your brows, you turned to him. “Why would you think that?” you asked. 

Azriel shrugged, mumbling, “I don’t know,” while looking down at his hands. “Maybe I’ll always be too much of a weirdo for love,” he let out a hollow laugh. 

“You’re not too much of a weirdo,” you said softly. “You’re just the right amount of weird, Az. I’m sure one of these days, someone will come along who will love you exactly as you are. They won’t try to change you or ask you to give more than you have, and they won’t give you for the world.” 

Azriel gave a hollow laugh, the sound devoid of true humour. “It’s been five centuries. I can’t imagine a miracle happening now.”

Your heart twisted further at the weight of his words. The pain etched into his features and the hopelessness in his eyes were almost too much to bear. You took a deep breath and decided to offer a glimmer of light.

“Hey,” you said, trying to sound more upbeat, “if things don’t work out, we could always marry each other.”

He turned to you, a surprised smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “What?”

“I’m serious!” you insisted, trying to keep the mood light. “If, in 20 years, we’re both still single, let’s make a pact. We’ll marry each other.”

Azriel’s gaze was sceptical but intrigued. “Why would you want that?”

You took a moment to consider your answer, glancing up at the stars once more before meeting his eyes. “Well, we’ve been friends for over a century. We know each other well, and we get along great. We live in the same house, so there’s really nothing we don’t know about each other. And,” you added softly, “I care about you, Az.”

His eyes softened, and a warmth spread through his gaze as he looked at you. “I care about you, too, Y/n.”

A genuine smile broke across your face at his words. “So it’s settled, then! In 20 years, if we’re still single, we’ll marry each other.” You extended your hand toward him, hoping he would agree. 

Azriel hesitated for a moment, a mixture of scepticism and amusement dancing across his features. Then he reached out, his hand clasping yours firmly. “Deal,” he said with a small, hopeful smile.

You squeezed his hand and gave him a reassuring look. “I won’t let you die alone, Shadowsinger,” you whispered. “You’re much too precious for that.” 

At that moment, Azriel looked at you as if you had hung the stars in the sky. He pulled you into a tight hug and you felt the tension leave his shoulders. 

You chuckled softly as Liam animatedly recounted the stories from your date. When you reached your door, he gave you a wistful smile, the kind that suggested he wished the evening could last a bit longer.

“So is this where the night ends?” he asked, his tone betraying a hint of disappointment.

You mirrored his expression, nodding solemnly. “It’s not goodbye,” you ventured, a soft smile touching your lips. “We will see each other again.”

Liam’s face brightened slightly. He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek, his lips warm and lingering for a brief moment. “I’ll see you tomorrow!” he called cheerfully as he turned and walked away, his steps echoing softly down the hallway.

Smiling, you winnowed inside the House of Wind, the familiar warmth of the house wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. The house was quiet, as expected. Cassian and Nesta had gone away for the weekend to a secluded cabin to celebrate their first anniversary, leaving just you and Azriel behind. You assumed Azriel had gone out too since he hadn’t mentioned any plans, and fatigue from your date was beginning to weigh on you.

As you made your way to your room, the muffled sounds of grunting and punching reached your ears. Curious and concerned, you realized that Azriel was on the rooftop training.

Deciding to check on him, you headed towards the roof. The cool, crisp night air hit your face as you stepped into the open training ring. The sight before you was striking: Azriel stood in the centre of the ring, his hands clenched into fists, his focus fixed intently on the punching bag. The bag swung with each of his forceful strikes, and his movements were charged with a pent-up intensity that made the air around him almost crackle.

You took a moment to admire Azriel, appreciating his physicality—the way his muscles flexed with each punch, the fluidity of his movements, the raw strength he exuded. Though nothing romantic had ever happened between the two of you, you couldn’t deny that Azriel was strikingly handsome. His sharp, defined features, and dark hair contrasting with his light eyes, paired with his impressive physique, made him undeniably captivating.

“Hey there,” he greeted, his voice carrying a smirk as he glanced over at you.

You felt a flush of warmth spread across your cheeks but tried to maintain a casual demeanour. Leaning against the doorframe, you crossed your arms over your chest. “So what did the poor punching bag do to you? You’re hitting it like it stole your bride.”

Azriel chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. He hung his head slightly, shaking off the tension, and moved to the bench at the corner of the training area. He sank onto the bench, grabbing his water bottle with a sigh of relief. You followed and took a seat next to him.

“How’d the date go?” he asked, his voice a mix of casual curiosity and concern.

You sighed, staring at the starry night sky of Velaris. “It was okay,” you admitted, your voice carrying a note of resignation.

“Uh oh,” Azriel said, a teasing edge creeping into his tone. “Did he do something shitty? Did he say ‘pacifically’ instead of ‘specifically’?” he teased.

You laughed, shaking your head. “No, no, he was actually really nice. I just didn’t feel like he was right for me,” you said. “You know?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, nodding in understanding.

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence, gazing at the vast, twinkling expanse above. Your gaze eventually drifted to Azriel’s hands, and you noticed the bloodied and bruised knuckles, evidence of his intense training session.

“You’re bleeding,” you said, your voice gentle but laced with concern as you reached for his hand to inspect it up close. The sight of his battered knuckles tugged at your heart.

Azriel dismissed your concern with a casual wave. “It’s nothing. Just been at it for a while,” he said nonchalantly.

You frowned, disapproval evident in your eyes. Turning to his shadows, which had been hovering around you both, you whispered, “Can you bring me a first aid kit?” The shadows bobbed up and down as if nodding in agreement before darting out of the room.

Azriel looked at you and his shadows with surprise. “Since when do they listen to you?” he asked, his astonishment clear.

“They always have,” you replied with a shrug. “You didn’t know?”

He shook his head, clearly amazed.

The shadows soon returned, depositing a rectangular box in your lap. You opened it, retrieved the alcohol and cotton pads, and set the kit aside. Gently, you resumed tending to Azriel’s wounds, dabbing the alcohol-soaked cotton on his knuckles, slowly and carefully cleaning away the blood. As you worked, Azriel’s eyes remained fixed on your face—observing your concentration, the kindness in your eyes, and the tenderness of your touch.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

You looked up, offering him a soft smile. “It’s no problem,” you replied.

A comfortable silence settled between you, the only sound the rustling of the night wind and the occasional hum of the city below. You continued to work on his hands, your fingers brushing against his skin with a soothing touch, while Azriel turned his gaze back to the sky.

After a few moments, he spoke again, his voice reflective. “Do you remember 20 years ago when we were standing right over there?” He gestured toward the railing. “And we made that promise to each other—that if we were both single in 20 years, we’d marry each other?” His smile was wistful, a touch of nostalgia in his eyes.

You turned to look at the spot he indicated, your smile mirroring his. “Yeah,” you whispered. “Crazy how fast time flies.”

You finished cleaning his hands but didn’t let go. Instead, you held his hand gently between your own, your fingers tracing the lines of his scars with a delicate touch.

“So are you still down for it?” Azriel asked, his eyes softened by an earnest hope.

You were taken aback by the question but managed a soft smile. “Yeah, I am.”

Azriel sighed in relief, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “Because, truth be told, Y/n, I’ve been yours since the day we made that promise,” he confessed, his gaze unwavering as he looked deeply into your eyes.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you stared at him, stunned. “What?” you whispered, barely able to comprehend his words.

“It’s true,” he continued quietly. “I’ve avoided every long-term relationship with the hope that one day, we’d end up together, Y/n.”

For a moment, you were at a loss for words, your mind reeling. Then, with a shaky breath, you replied, “Well, if only you had said that 20 years ago, we could have been celebrating our 20th anniversary today.”

Azriel chuckled softly, his head hanging in a sheepish gesture. “Forgive me, my dear. I’m not the best at expressing my feelings.”

“No, you are not,” you agreed with a light laugh. “But I’d be happy to teach you,” you said softly, your voice filled with warmth.

“And there is no one else I’d rather learn from,” Azriel whispered before leaning in and capturing your lips in a kiss that was both tender and fervent, a culmination of all the years of unspoken feelings and promises.

Masterlist

[multifandomme]

Carmine

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x Female Reader

Summary: A lesson learnt?

Genre: Smut, (breathplay, degradation, power dynamics, thigh riding, pet names, praise kink, daddy kink, prentiss in crotchless panties), not suitable for minors.

Word Count: 1.7k.

This piece is for day 6 of kinktober under the 'lingerie' prompt.

More works from me here. || Masterlist here. || Kinktober 2024 Masterlist here.

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A carmine silhouette flooded your vision as you entered the bedroom, the distinct scent of smoke fizzling from a cigarette that dangled from her fingers. Emily regarded you with a knowing smirk having instantaneously secured your undivided attention, the intricate lace adornments fixated below your gaze as an air of suspicion cast its shadow. Beneath the subtlety of the surrounding candlelight, Emily was elysian, skin aglow with the gentlest spark of orange. 

On the exterior, the scene oozed romance, her motives unsullied, though you knew that this was merely a distraction tactic of the deliberate kind. No, she was in pursuit of ridding a very particular memory from your mind. 

Emily’s stare was unwavering as she sucked in another mouthful of smoke, wordless temptation suspended in the space between you. Daringly, she widened her thighs, offering a fleeting glimpse of what lay below, purposefully long enough for you to deduce that her panties were crotchless. Subconsciously, your tongue swiped across your lips and for a split second, the upper hand found itself in her possession. 

“You look hungry,” she lured, sexily, her free hand meandering until it settled between her legs, two fingers trailing across her exposed flesh in a valiant attempt at seducing you. “Why don’t you come and have a taste, hm?”

Deviously, she plucked the cigarette from her lips, replacing its absence with her arousal-covered digits, suckling them clean with sounds of zeal, excitement, eyes peeking open to assure your continual supervision of her. And she need not have questioned your observation of her for a second, engrossed in a way so resolute that you were almost tempted to set aside your plans and relinquish to senseless desire. 

“You really think you deserve my mouth on you?” You asked, stoically, a wry chuckle tumbling out of you when you noted the sudden disappearance of her smug little simper. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out what you did, sweetheart?”

A conspicuous glimmer of fear, of doubt materialised upon her face and only added to your entrancement of her. She gulped audibly, but the inadvertent display of nervousness was soon dismissed with a slight shake of her head.

“I wish I could help you,” she shrugged, feigning ignorance, her gaze averted as she discarded her cigarette into the ashtray upon the bedside table. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

A conceited smile remained bitten behind pursed lips, paled as she crawled to the edge of the bed to gain closer proximities, to rile you further you assumed. 

“I had a very enlightening conversation with Doug Bailey,” you revealed, frankly, stepping forwards to clasp her jaw within your hand and observing as her irises kindled with lust. “He told me all about the clever little stunt you pulled today in the interrogation room.”

The harshened force that you had exerted around her jaw did nothing to deter her biting remarks, a grin activating, sizzling stabs of adrenaline piercing into you in response to her defiance. 

“Doesn’t ring a bell,” she denied, cockily, her attitude beginning to hack away at your self-control. 

“How convenient,” you growled, releasing her abruptly to curl a finger below her chin, drawing her towards you until your lips were just short of making a connection with hers. “Apparently, Mommy put on a hell of a show for one lucky murderer.”

Emily hummed in faux surprise, her eyes widening to garnish the masquerade into believability. It was a game to her, always had been, bumping up against the boundary until you forcibly yanked her away from it. She never won, never had, though it never prevented her from playing, if anything, it only seemed to heighten the appeal. 

“But you didn’t stop there,” you husked, a tinge of anger pricking at your composure. “No, you unbuttoned your shirt for him, didn’t you, baby?” You questioned, hotly, your jaw flexing with intensity. “And bent all the way over that interrogation table so he could take a good, hard look at you.” 

The sound of cachinnation blurted out to hinder the flitting silence, ebbing out once Emily recognised the familiarity of the expression that you were sporting, wrathful, unpredictable. She leaned in, enticingly, her mouth agape and breezing air against your lips with each lengthened exhale, as if she was mustering the courage to do something that was certain to induce a marked response. 

“It worked like a charm,” she admitted, boldly, her words kissing against you. “You should have seen the way he looked at me,” she continued, fixed, unafraid, her eyes falling to a close with a contented sigh, as if she was recalling it with fondness to incite maximal rage. “If Bailey wasn’t behind the glass, I bet he-“

Emily’s sentence was forsaken to be stolen away, her breath held captive by your sturdy hand enfolded around her throat. She spluttered, let out a wavering gasp, her consciousness waning and re-emerging with the varying pressure that you applied. 

“Oh, I’ll bet,” you gnarled, viciously, a maniacal smirk fused to your lips as you basked in her state of incapacitation, admired her in all of her glory. “Did you like it, huh? Whoring yourself out for a criminal?” You probed, intimidatingly, your hand mirroring the force of your words, constricting until an almost undetectable squeak escaped her. “Is that what you are, baby? A whore?"

Emily’s thighs pressed snugly together as she knelt on the edge of the mattress, fixed in position with no way to break free of you. It was only when a reticent groan bled out into the deafening quiet that you realised that she was reaping gratification from her crafty manoeuvres. Her eyes bored into yours, scorching with allure, her mouth open as she gathered the coherency to utter a word.

“Be very careful with your next words,” you warned, thwarting her before she had the opportunity to instigate her own ruin. “Your oxygen is at my disposal, baby,” you cooed, a scoff bursting from you as Emily jolted physically at the prospect. “Wouldn’t want you to pass out now, would we?”

Emily released a pathetic whine, one that only grew in volume when you administered a squeeze of reiteration around her slender neck. She writhed lightly in your grasp, her mind wiped clean of thoughts, dizzied by the oxygen depletion with nothing but nonsensical fragments spilling from her lips.

“No,” she rasped, tears brimming in the corners of her eyes as she tried avidly to will them away. “I’m only yours, Daddy,” she insisted, fervently, despite the fact that she was breathless, weary. 

“There’s my good girl,” you extolled, loosening your hold until it vanished, Emily appearing to float away in the absence of pressure, her head bobbing around gently as its weight restored. “Now, let Daddy take a look at you, hm?”

Softly, you guided her onto her back, her pussy occluded by the arousal that had amassed during your exacerbation of her. She was swollen, desperate, so much that you almost pledged to give in, just once. 

“Please,” she murmured, completely malleable below your hands as her pussy twitched with every painstaking stroke to her clit, her back arching upward from the bed with verve. “Fuck, I need you, Daddy.”

Your sudden retreat saw her scrambling up onto her elbows to discern your whereabouts, creeping over to your newfound position against the pillows. 

“Disobedient sluts don’t get rewards, you know that, sweetheart,” you reminded, softly, your fingers caressing her silver tresses with affection. “But it would be a shame to waste those pretty panties, hm?”

Emily offered a zealous nod, her interest roused as she awaited instruction, eager to obey you. The palm of your hand met your thigh, your eyes flickering in an unspoken demand and Emily was quick to oblige as she settled herself atop it.

“Are you going to let me cum, Daddy?” She questioned, a lilt of hopefulness in her voice, her lip captured between her teeth. 

“If you behave,” you acceded, feasting on the view before you, your thigh soaked with arousal from the way her pussy smothered against your skin. “Maybe you can put on a show for me, hm, sweetheart? Since you are so good at it as you said.”

A testy frown tugged at her face, soon to be transformed into one of utmost enjoyment as she ground her hips down against your thigh, gyrating slowly, sensually with her eyes trained wholly on you. 

“Such a pretty slut,” you cooed, lovingly, taken by the way her hips rolled until her movement had mesmerised you, unable to draw your attention from her, not ever wanting to. “All mine.”

“Do you like it, Daddy?” She moaned, breathily, glazed over as she regarded you, her pupils blown, her jaw slackened until it hung wide to draw in shaky breaths. “Am I being, mhm… good?”

Her aura expelled warmth, her form illuminated at its edges like some kind of deity and you vowed to worship at the altar of her if it meant that you could have her like this for eternity. 

“You’re doing so good, sweetheart,” you assured, tenderly, your hands springing to grope at her breasts, your thumbs sliding over her lace-clad nipples just to watch her rhythm falter, propelled into sporadic chaos. “So desperate to cum for me, hm?”

Emily rutted with ardor, her clit pushing into your thigh with a rapidly mutating pace, her hands flailing to reach out for you, to attain some stability. 

“Gonna cum,” she blurted, mindlessly, her expression overtaken by the forceful craving to come undone, to find alleviation. “Can I cum, Daddy?”

“Cum for me, sweetheart,” you coaxed, intently, your hands sinking against her hip bones as a means of encouragement, observing with delight as she lost control before you, trembling. 

A guttural sound echoed out into the room, her body lurching forward in lethargy as she battled to settle her breathing. You carefully peeled away the sticky strands that obstructed her beauty, her lips painted in sanguine, swollen from the way she had buried her teeth into them so brutally. 

“Have you learned your lesson, sweetheart?” You asked, curiously, a palpable sense of unrest gnawing at you as Emily raised her head, a sly smile of pearly white greeting you. 

“Yes,” she winked, flopping into your embrace, her body aflame as it melded with yours. “And, I agree with you completely,” she clarified. “Bailey really needs to learn how to keep his mouth shut, right?"

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[sunni-stuff]

I have bad baby fever so take this.

—★! Tags: Established relationship, baby? Afab!!

Ghost never thought about having children before. He didn't understand them; they confused him. Worst of all, he envied them. How could someone willingly bring a child into a world filled with so much chaos that men like him and the task force had to clean it all up? How could a child smile so innocently while his childhood was nothing short of a nightmare?

He didn't want kids.

That was until he met your niece, Lola. She had to stay overnight, interrupting the plans he made with the team. Johnny wanted to sit down and play a game of drunk poker, but upon seeing chubby little Lola sitting on the rug playing with her blocks, his heart practically melted at the sight.

"Lt., you didn't tell us the missus gave birth," Soap teased, eyes twinkling with mischief.

Ghost snorted, shaking his head. "She's not mine, Johnny. That's my niece, Lola."

The men exchanged amused glances, but their attention quickly turned back to Lola, who looked up from her blocks with a bright, toothy grin. She babbled something unintelligible and held up a block as if showing off her masterpiece.

Ghost found himself smiling beneath his mask, an unfamiliar warmth spreading through his chest. He wasn't used to this feeling—this softness. It was alien to him, yet he couldn't deny the tiny spark of joy Lola brought into the room.

The poker game was postponed as the men took turns entertaining Lola. She giggled at Gaz's funny faces, clapped along with Soap's silly songs, and stared wide-eyed at Price's stories. But it was Ghost who seemed to captivate her the most. She crawled over to him, tugging at his pant leg until he picked her up.

Simon held her awkwardly at first, unsure of what to do. But as Lola nestled into his arms, a sense of calm washed over him. She looked up at him with those big, innocent eyes, and for a moment, all the chaos and darkness in his life faded away.

He still didn't understand children, and they still confused him. But holding Lola, Simon began to see a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, there was a place for a bit of light in his shadowed world.

Needless to say, after that eye-opening experience, Simon quickly became attached to the loveable child. He tells your sibling to call on their work days if they need a babysitter, claiming he's just trying to help lift the burden. Family helps family, after all.

Wrong!!

In reality, that man is completely smitten by Lola. Loves her to death. The moment he gets free time Simon is calling up your sibling, asking if they need any help, maybe needing a break from the child for a while and if Simon gets the okay, he's speeding to pick up Lola and whisking her away to your home.

Simon drops everything for her. In the middle of a workout? Give him 5 minutes. He's a fresh man, ready to play dinosaurs. Hell, he doesn't even know what playing dinosaurs is besides the fact Lola loves t-rex and being chased in her green dinosaur onesie. He went as far as to buy countless toys and books for Lola to play with in his home office, no less! Her favorite story books are tucked away in his desk, burying the paperwork he was supposed to have done for Price.

If Lola throws a tantrum with you, he immediately gives you a side-eye. What did you do to make the princess unhappy?

The man absolutely adores that cute muffin, and you couldn't be more shocked. Simon "Ghost" Riley, your husband, who refused to think about children, was now wrapped around your tiny niece's finger! Heck, she's practically your kid now, especially since Lola sleeps in between the two of you, cuddling up to Simon contently.

Simon treats Lola like she is his own child, so imagine his heartbreak when your sibling gives you two the news that they're going to be visiting home for a while. He's distraught, already missing the tiny ball of life, moping about your shared home putting away Lola's toys when suddenly an idea rings in his head.

His beautiful, hardworking doll can give him a child.

♡! I have a lot of drafts, and this was one. My writing is all funky and all over the place bc it's written between being awake and having no sleep!! I have more stuff I want to post, and I might continue this.

[choccorin]

lovers quarrel

tags. hurt / comfort, sakura haruka x gn!reader

you've been ignoring sakura because of the argument you both had two days ago. he missed out on your date, again. this is the third time this happened in your relationship of 5 months, sure, it wasn't a big deal but for you it is.

the two of you are busy students, he's busy at furin and you're busy with your school works. you can rarely hangout these days due to it being exam season, both of your schedules were packed.

you were so excited that day, you waited at the cafe you both planned to meet at but after two hours, he still didn't show up. you tried calling him, no answer, you tried contacting his friends, also no response. you went home after waiting for three hours, you felt embarrassed because the staff kept checking up on you, so you just left.

you understand that he has things to take care of back at furin but can't he make some time for you, even just a day? you're both still new to relationships, in fact, this is your and his first relationship. you start doubting yourself if getting into one was a good idea, you love him — you're sure of that. and he loves you too, but can the both of you maintain a relationship with little to no experience?

these questions cloud your mind while you're walking back to your apartment, you halt when you see him outside, standing and looking down, he's drenched in the rain. what is he doing here, you ask yourself. don't tell me he's walked here, in this weather?!

“sakura .. ” you call out to him

he lifts his head and looks at you, his eyes are glimmering with hope. he looks tired, the dark circles forming under his eyes say so. are you the reason for them?

you hesitantly walk towards him, “why did you walk here while it's raining? idiot.” you mumble that last word, looking away from his gaze.

“ah, s-sorry.. i was in a hurry to talk to you.. ” his voice is trembling — he sounds like he's about to burst into tears.

you sigh, “ get in first. ”, you unlock your door, letting him in.

“i'll bring a towel, wait here. ”

“(y/n), can we please talk? .. please.” he's pleading you, you've never heard him like this before.

you stop walking, only glancing at him from behind since you're still upset with him.

“fine, talk.” your voice sounds cold and sakura doesn't like that.

“listen. i .. ”, he breathes in, “i'm sorry. i didn't mean to bail on you, it was just that a lot of things happened like a gang was threatening to hurt the town an-”

“just forget it, what's done is done.”

“but i-”

“there's no point in apologizing, sakura!” you wince, that came out harsher than you expected.

the silence in the room felt like a heavy weight crushing you, almost suffocating. both of you were just standing there — waiting for the other person to speak up, but there was nothing. only the sound of the rain .. and sniffles.

he's crying.

you turn around to face him, he's looking down but you can tell he's crying his heart out. his shoulders and hands were trembling, you felt guilty yelling at him.

“haruka, i'm sorry! i was just upset and-” you scramble your words, trying to explain your side to make him stop crying but he cuts you off.

“no. you're right, there's point in apologizing. it's my fault for missing another date and i .. i know i mess up a lot but just please, please don't leave me.” he holds your hands, tears streaming down his face, “i can't go on without you, you've made me the happiest guy in the world in just a few months and-”

you pull him into you, hugging him as tightly and gently as you can, “i'm not leaving you, you idiot. why would you think that.. ”, your voice is shaking, you were crying now too.

he hugs you back, “please don't let me go .. ” sakura mumbles against your neck, hugging you tighter — afraid that you'll let him go.

you kiss his forehead, holding him tighter against you — not caring about his drenched clothes, “i won't hakura, i promise. ”.

both of you stay like this for a couple of minutes, melting in each others hold. but your mind snaps out of it when you feel your clothes getting wet, you wipe your tears away. telling him that he needs to change or else he'll catch a cold, you full him into your bathroom, ignoring his protests, and leave him there to get new clothes, a t-shirt and short that the left at your place just in case.

you tell him that once he gets changed, both of you will talk properly and fix this, even if you two have little to no experience in relationships.

n. this is so bad but i needed to get something off my mind so here's this.

t. @kyoghurts, hi again, i hope u don't mind me posting another sakura fic >_<

[sharedramblings]

I think Larissa would be the biggest tease if she caught on that you're also attracted to her while you haven't yet realized that she knew, relishing on your every hitch breath, reddened cheeks, and flustered face.

So one time when she needs to check if she has to touch up, but doesn't feel like going to the comfort room, she turns to you who already has your trusty compact mirror in hand, already doing the same thing.

"Can I borrow that, darling?" She asked, blue eyes looking at your hand before meeting with yours.

"Here." You said, offering the mirror to her.

What you expected her to do was to take the mirror, but when Larissa instead adjusted your hand so she could see her reflection properly, your eyebrows shot up in silent query.

She paid you no mind and leaned closer, turning her face here and there to inspect her make up, humming to herself. The sudden closeness had your breath catching in your throat, and with such proximity, she heard it clearly, one corner of her lips curving upwards at your reaction.

Within the first few seconds, she already knew she doesn't need any touch up, but she continued checking a bit more just to mess with you, her soft and warm hands not letting yours go.

You simply watched her then, unable to think of what to do other than that. Appreciating how close she is, how you can feel her warmth, how her breath hits your skin every now and then. Eyes roaming her face, taking in every feature of hers, thinking just how unbelievably gorgeous the woman in front of you is. And how you would kiss her if you could. And how you would want her to kiss you, please. And how addicting this small space between you two is, dreaming this be your reality all the time.

So lost in thought that you didn't realize Larissa is staring at you. When your eyes meet, you can't help but feel like you were caught doing something you shouldn't, and the knowing glimmer in her eyes doesn't help your case at all.

"Do I still look presentable?" She asked, batting her eyes at you. Teasing smile on her red painted lips. Head tilted a bit to the right.

You blushed, her unrelenting actions causing an onslaught of emotions.

"Yes," you managed to meek out, voice higher than you wanted.

"And my lipstick? Do I need to reapply it?" Your eyes immediately flicked down to her lips, feeling your cheeks get hotter. You gulp as you feel your throat start to dry, and with your focus trained on her mouth that you've been desperately wanting to feel, you failed to notice how Larissa followed the action.

You felt like combusting, and you really hope she couldn't see how flushed this is all making you feel (you knew she could, it's impossible with the little distance you two have). Her hand was still cupping the back of yours, and you have no idea if it's grounding you or adding fuel to the fire.

"No," you answered after what felt like a long time, the tension distorting your sense of time, "your lips look lovely."

You wet your lips as you realize what you said, adding the first thing you thought of as you panic. "I meant..." taking a deep breath to stabilize your trembling voice, you look her in the eye again, "...you know, the coverage is amazing, as always."

You cringed at yourself, but the low chuckle Larissa let out made up for it (almost).

"Of course," she stated.

Not trusting yourself to take anymore of this any longer, you move to keep the mirror inside your bag, the bustle on the cafe coming back to your senses.

"Shall we head out?" Larissa offered, softly taking you in one more time.

You nod and regard her with a sheepish smile she finds adorable, "Work's calling us back."

As you two walk towards her car, your hand can't help but seek her warmth, taking every chance you could to touch her even just for a few seconds under the guise of poorly believable excuses, ready to slip off your tongue to justify it to anyone who dares point it out. While she waits for you to officially make a move, Larissa would enjoy every bit of this in the meantime.

[yellowharrington]

all i really want (is you) -- carmy berzatto x reader

pairing + fandom: carmen "carmy" berzatto x reader, the bear fx

word count: 3k

warnings: smut! 18+, minors pls dni. afab!reader with pullable hair, no use of y/n. light daddy kink and dom/sub undertones. spanking, exhibitionism, oral (m + f receiving), unprotected piv + creampie, reader and carmy both drink alcohol. please let me know if i missed anything :)

a/n: this is depraved. thanks @wtfsteveharrington for reigniting my need to write about carmy lmao. title is from "all i really want is you" by the marias. please leave comments or reblogs if you liked it <3

divider by @cafekitsune

summary: carmy secretly books a lake-front hotel room in chicago for your anniversary.

Carmy would be the first to admit he’s not very good at being romantic.

He forgets, lets things slip through the cracks, time and time again. He makes up for it, and you understand of course, but he’s working on it.

When your anniversary is approaching, he knows he has to make a plan. Busy with the restaurant, the menu, the money - all of it was overwhelming, but your not-so-subtle reminder of the date gave him the idea.

“So…” you had joined him in your shared kitchen, hand brushing through his curls as he slaved over a pan sauce he’d been perfecting.

“Yes?” He wasn’t annoyed - never annoyed, by you - but in the thralls of cooking, nonetheless.

“It’s our anniversary next weekend and I was thinking we’d try out that new restaurant you were talking about. You know… the one that’s suuuuuper hard to get a reservation at?” You smiled coyly as he held out the spoon with the hot liquid on it, wordlessly asking you for a taste-test. 

“Sounds good,” he had remarked, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek and returning to the task at hand. “I’ll make a call.”

“Thank you, Carm,” you let your hands roam his clothed back as you feel the sauce between your lips and on your tongue. “That’s delicious.”

He hummed in response, as your hands drifted down to his sides and played at the hem of his t-shirt. “After our anniversary dinner I have a little… present for you.”

Before he could respond, you had slipped away to the bedroom, only flashing him a smirk before closing the door.

The weekend of your anniversary had approached quickly, and Carmy had actually managed to get everything in place. The reservation for dinner was set, his gift burning a hole in his pocket, and thoughts of what your gift to him may entail swirling around in his head. 

You walked out of your shared bedroom, adorning a black dress that hugged your body perfectly. Jewelry to match - done up just right, effortlessly perfect for the occasion. His hand came up to his mouth as he took you in, thanking whatever God above that brought you to him.

“Too much?” You asked, toying with your hair in the mirror and correcting the edge of your lipstick. 

“No,” Carmy answered, coming up behind you in the mirror and admiring your form. “Perfect.”

You felt yourself blush as he took your hand and held it to his lips, kissing your knuckles and pulling you into him. “Ready?” 

~

Dinner came and passed, shared glasses of wine between the two of you as you reminisced about past times together. Carmy had always been shy, but easy to talk to, especially when he had some time to open up. You gave him space to do that - he’d never felt more comfortable with anybody before, somebody he trusted with everything. You listened, told him what he needed to hear when he needed to hear it, and kept him in check all while supporting him from the sidelines and meshing perfectly into his insane life. He was eternally grateful for finding you.

He slides a small box across the table at dinner, and when you open it up, you gasp at what’s inside. A dainty necklace, a glossy “C” hanging on the end of it, where it would sit against your chest. 

You let his deft fingers close the tiny clasp behind your neck, the pendant hanging perfectly, glimmering in the amber candlelight of the restaurant. “You’re gonna make me cry,” you laugh through a watery smile, Carmy’s hand crossing the table to slide into yours. Warm skin against warm skin, you smile at his small display of affection, tilting your glass towards him as he clinked it with yours. 

You notice something might be up when you get back into his car, and he doesn’t take the turn off back to your shared apartment. Instead, he veers off into another lane, holding onto your thigh and giving it a gentle squeeze for encouragement. 

You’re down by the water now, making a confused expression at your surroundings. City lights around you, the bustling of other people on dates or nights out, as Carmy pulls into the parking lot of a hotel. 

“What are we doing here?” You look at the people stepping into the hotel lobby, some dressed in clothing that was probably more than your rent. He wordlessly turns off his car and exits through the driver’s side, saying something to the valet before grabbing a bag out of the back seat and rounding back to your side. He opens the door for you and takes your hand, before leading you through the doors and into the grand front lobby.

Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling above as he took your hand and lead you to the front desk, a confused scowl still across your features. The person at the front desk waved you two over, typing something into the computer. “Good evening. Checking in?”

Carmy nods, handing over his ID and credit card before smiling down at you.

“We’re checking in?”

“Happy Anniversary.”

You have to make sure your mouth isn’t hanging open, as Carmy’s coy smile plays along his lips. 

“You didn’t have to do all of this,” you whisper to him, feeling heat spread across your cheeks as you take in your surroundings. Your hand slips into his as you press your cheek to his jacketed shoulder. “Let me show you to your room.”

An elevator ride to the top floor has you antsy, as the attendant opens the door for you to your room. She reveals a lake-front room, with views of the harbour, twinkling lights in the distance reflecting onto the massive floor-to-ceiling window. “Is it to your liking, Mr. and Mrs. Berzatto?”

A blush runs up your cheeks as the insinuation. Carmy didn’t correct her, just slipped her a tip and assured her the room was perfect. The door clicked politely behind you as you stepped into the room and kicked off your shoes. You turned around to meet Carmy’s eyes as his expression softened, your hands coming up to cup his face.

“I can’t believe you did this.” You’re breathless, still taking in this grand gesture he’d somehow planned completely behind your back.

“You deserve it,” he said simply, tongue darting between his lips as a strong hand came to overlap yours. 

~

The sun had gone down now, navy sky further illuminating the lights below. Rain slacked against the window, simultaneously hard and soft, the glow of the bedside lamps casting shadows on the walls as you got yourself settled. Carmy had abandoned his jacket and tie, leaving him in a crisp white button-up shirt and black slacks. He was laid back on the bed, one hand behind his head, taking some time to relax.

You dipped into the bathroom, smoothing out your hair and checking your makeup in the mirror. You undid the back of your dress and let it slip down your body into a pool on the tile, revealing the gift you’d picked out for Carmy. A black lace set - cupping your breasts perfectly. Lace panties to match, connected to stockings that came high up on your thighs. 

You stepped out, stocking-clad feet soft against the carpet. Carmy immediately notices, eyes blown wide as he sits up to take you in. 

“Thought you might want your gift now,” you sauntered towards him and met him at the end of the bed, his thighs spread for you to fit between them. His hands immediately came up to touch - to confirm you were real, mostly - because his brain was telling him you weren’t.

You looked down at him, cupping his chin with your hand and the other coming down to his shoulder. Pushing down on him gently, his back hit the mattress, wild eyes not moving off of you for even a second. 

You move to straddle his lap, fingers coming down to start unfurling the buttons on his shirt, revealing the soft skin of his chest. Carmy’s rough, calloused fingertips pressed into the plush skin of your hips, eyes wanting to flutter closed but being too entranced by the sight before him to look away. 

His fiery eyes fell to the swell of your breasts, hands coming up to press and squeeze at the skin there, thumbs ghosting over your hard nipples. You felt your back arch, pressing against his palms, wanting more, as much of him as you could get. 

Carmy’s hands slid down your body to find your clothed core, eliciting a small moan from your lips. You rutted into his hand slightly, feeling his skilful fingers start to work at you over the lace.

You weren’t expecting to give him the upper hand, but it was hard not to submit to his touch - wholly his, looking down at him but still feeling as though he had all the power.

He was sitting up now, pushing your panties to the side and feeling the slick between your folds, maintaining eye contact with you through it all. “Carm,” you panted, strained, embarrassed to be coming apart for him already.

As if he knew, he pulled away, wordlessly bringing his fingers up to your lips. You wrapped your mouth around them, letting your tongue dart between the digits as he wet them with your spit.

“Pretty girl,” he muttered, only loud enough for you to hear, earnest eyes looking up at you, fuzzy around the edges with lust. “My pretty slut, aren’t you?”

“Just for you,” you replied, a smirk on the corner of your lip as he swiftly grabbed your hips and flipped you to have your back on the soft hotel comforter.

He stood before you, giving you a chance to unbutton the rest of his shirt and undo his dress pants, his hand now cradling your chin. You pushed his slacks to the floor, rubbing his thick cock over the fabric of his black boxers. His hand came down to pet your hair, taking a fistful of it at the nape and pulling it back to reveal your shiny lips and eager eyes to him. The pendant he purchased for you glinted in the light.

“Tell me how bad you want it.”

His firm hand on the back of your neck was enough to make your cunt weep, even without his touch. “Please, I need your cock. Please.”

“Good girl. Sit up, all fours.”

You quickly found yourself on your knees on the soft bed, as he let his cock free. He pumped it a few times, angling your mouth with his grip to allow it to drop open. He pressed forward, slipping in between your wet lips and eliciting a carnal groan from his throat. You let yourself submit to his face-fucking, using your mouth to get himself off, leaking tip pressing against the back of your throat. You gagged around him, throat constricting, which only emboldened him to continue. Spit escaped the corners of your lips as you took him in, swallowing him down, all while looking up and batting your long lashes at him. 

“Taking it so good,” he remarked, with a particularly long thrust into your throat. Leaning forward, his broad hand found a fistful of your ass, squeezing it before planting a firm spank. A yelp escaped your lips, as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes from the force of him in your throat.  

He pulled you off, cock bobbing between his legs before he smeared the spit that had collected all over your plush lips. “So fucking good for me, baby.”

You smiled triumphantly as he leaned down to kiss you sloppily, mixing your spit with his and taking the time to undo your bra and throw it to the ground. 

You didn’t even mind when he pushed you back onto the bed, pulling the stockings and panties off to meet your bra on the floor, surely ripping them. His hands pushed your thighs apart, wet pussy on full display as he dove right in, not giving you even a second to catch your breath.

“Fu-uck,” your voice was hoarse and jagged, his warm tongue feeling like it was everywhere. You squirmed beneath his strong squeeze, forcing your back off the mattress as he licked a broad stripe up your centre and flashed his eyes up at you.

Your eyes were trained on his movements, knowing better than to close them. Your hand came down to his sandy curls, feeling your breath quicken as he suckled on your clit, moving his jaw in such a way that was sending an electrifying pulse up your spine.

He moved one hand from your thigh to circle your entrance with his middle finger, enjoying the way you shuddered at the feeling. “Please,” you begged, watching as he detached his tongue from your clit to simply play with your hole. “Please, I need you inside of me.”

His lips pursed as he waited for you to understand why he wasn’t proceeding. A knowing glance, a sob from you as he teased you. “Are you talking to me? I don’t think I heard you correctly.”

“Please, daddy. Please fuck me with your fingers.”

“That’s better.” He plunged into you, thick finger curling inside as you let out a choked sob, your cunt pulsing around him as he moved in and out. His lips attached to your clit once again, sucking and grinding his tongue into you, other hand coming up along your stomach to grab your tit and pinch your nipple.

You rasped his name, throat raw from his previous fucking, letting it pour out of your lips over and over. He lapped at you - feeling every quiver from your pussy and shake of your legs as he continued at a bruising pace, not letting up no matter how much you squirmed beneath him. Still pushing you into the mattress, his own cock rutting against the sheets and growing harder every second that his mouth is on you.

A white-hot feeling spread across the back of your thighs, back arched as you tugged on his hair and met his gaze. He rode out your high with you, letting you gush around his fingers and feeling waves of pleasure rise and fall as your breath steadied. Your chest heaving, sticky with sweat, mascara smeared at the edges as you laid back, feeling Carmy’s fingers pull out and his mouth detach from you.

He found himself between your thighs once more, rock-hard cock sliding between your slick folds to tease your overly sensitive clit. He kissed you, a hunger within him, arms coming up under you to hold you as close as possible. Bare skin against bare skin, his mouth sucking in your bottom lip and biting down slightly, eliciting a smile from you and a depraved moan from your lips.

You reached down between your two bodies and slipped his cock into your ready pussy, swallowing him inside of you and hearing his gasp against your lips at the friction. A shameless grunt as his hips drove into you relentlessly, his curls falling into your face as your head tipped back, letting his mouth attach to the side of your throat and suck a bruise into the soft skin beneath your ear. Your hands found the strong muscles of his back, digging them into his skin and finding your legs wrapping around his middle.

An assaulting pace, languidly in and out of you as you met his eyes, pure lust and fire behind them. You could see the idea flash across his eyes.

He pulled out of you gingerly, as you winced at the loss of contact. He pulled you up with him, towards the windows of the hotel room.

He lightly pushed you against the cold glass, earning a sinful moan from your lips as he took your hands hostage behind your back. The rain still pelted down outside, a symphony against your hard and fast breath.

“Why don’t you show all those people how you like to get fucked, huh? Show them what a slut you are?”

A devilish smile on your lips was met with your cheek against the glass, a broad palm on the opposite side of your face, as his cock slid back into your pussy with ease. Your ass was pushed out for him to land a firm slap on it once again, picking up his pace. His hand came around to push your legs apart, playing with your clit and drawing you close once again, as he released your hands to leave prints on the glass.

“Fill me up, please daddy,” you moaned, letting your head fall slack. “I want you to cum so fucking deep inside of me, fuck,” — another spank, paired with jagged thrusts as Carmy got closer to finishing — “fuck me like you own me, baby.”

“I do own you,” he growled, forehead pressed against your shoulder blades as he felt your pussy clench around him. “Cum baby, cum with all those people fucking watching you.” 

“You own me Carmen, I’m yours.” you chanted, turning around to meet his eyes. You watched his eyes glaze over and jaw hang open as his thrusts slowed, making a mess of your pussy as he came deep inside of you.

Your second orgasm followed soon after, cock twitching inside of you as you clenched around him. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder as you stepped away from the glass, legs unstable as a furious warmth came up over your cheeks.

After getting cleaned up together in the bathroom, he flicked off the light as you turned towards the window. His body pressed up against yours, arm secured around your waist as he peppered kisses along your neck and shoulders, musing about how beautiful you are.

“Best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he whispered, another kiss to the outer shell of your ear that made a shiver go up your spine. “I love you more than anything.”

You curled into him and listened to the relaxing rain, his steadying breath and strong arm lulling you safely to sleep.

[chaos-in-deepspace]

LNDS: Cursed Spice | 18+ NSFW

Aight homies, I almost ran over like four old ladies speeding home on my lunch break to write this. It's cursed. BUt only a little...I don't think it's that bad. This was born from being challenged not directly by @anxiousgoddest so if any of y'all read this at work or in a public place, that's on you and your bad decision making.

Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+. Warnings: Pegging mentioned, Zayne's Sanity™, Sounding mentioned, Biting, Alligator Death Rolls in bed, Xavier is too old for your shit, Simba, Rafayel wants to both laugh and cry, why are you like this situations, Oh SEX that happens a little in this, it's NSFW what did you expect?

Blog Information | Masterlist

Xavier

Xavier was on top...again. One hand trapping both your wrists above your head while he ground his clothed cock against your heat. The only thing separating you two were his thin boxers and your skimpy underwear that you wore for the express purpose of him ripping them off you.

However, you wanted to be on top, and he knew it. You were pouting as you looked up at him and you could see the amused glimmer in his eyes as he continued teasing you.

"Something wrong?" He chuckled, his boyish laugh filling the room and you groaned as he managed to angle his hips just right. The bastard knew he was being unfair. He had been on top every single time this week. You just wanted to ride him, tease him a bit, maybe do a little edging for flavor. He decided otherwise as he continued taking control of your session.

"Lemme top for once, please?" You asked, batting your eyelashes at him, hoping that was all it would take for him to give in.

"If I'm not mistaken, last time you were on top you got tired halfway through and made me take over so you could lay down." He reminded you and you huffed.

"It was one time..." You tried arguing but he rose an eyebrow, "Okay it was a few times, but it's not my fault you have a surprising amount of stamina, okay?"

"Then perhaps we should work on your stamina next?" Xavier said it so nonchalantly and you bit back a remark as his hands snuck to your sides, snapping the elastic of your underwear, "We should start immediately."

He leaned down to press a kiss to your lips, but you had another idea. You went in, biting down on his neck a bit harsher than you normally would. Xavier let out a gasp as his grip on your wrists loosened and you took the opportunity to wrap your limbs around him, your arms and legs locked into place around his neck and torso.

Then you rolled, mouth still clamped on his neck. Xavier let out a groan as he found himself on his back and you sat up triumphantly, looking at the angry bite mark you left on him. You ground your hips down on him and snickered.

"What was that for?" Xavier asked, his hand going to his neck to make sure he wasn't bleeding.

"Classic Alligator Fuckhouse. Gotta keep up, old man." You said, knowing that 99% of people probably wouldn't know what the hell that was.

"A what...that's a thing?"

"It is indeed, and I just did it...successfully might I add."

Xavier sighed before remembered what you said, "You called me an old man."

"You kinda are one, Xav."

"What does it mean if you like this old man?" Oh he was pouting now, how adorable. You just wanted to squish his cheeks...or fuck the shit out of him...perhaps both.

"It means I'm into Gilfs."

Xavier paused, thinking over what you said before sighing, "What am I going to do with you?"

"Love me and fuck me, babe."

Zayne

At this point Zayne was well aware that you had an obsession over his ass. It was unavoidable when you were always making a grab for it. He just never thought you would have...plans like these.

"Please Zayne, I am begging you. Just one time, and if you don't like it we never have to talk about it again." You were pleading, and normally it always worked on him. He had a soft spot for you, after all, and was almost a push over when you requested something. This, however, seemed to be something he wasn't prepared to do...at least not at first.

"I understand you like to be adventurous...but this?" Zayne said as he sat on the couch. His shirt was already tossed to the side and his pants unbuttoned. You had worked hard to get him in the mood before you popped this question. Your hand going teasingly over the bulge in his pants.

"I already have the stuff for it, if you'd let me..." You cooed, trying your hardest to make this seem like it was a good idea on his end. Zayne sighed as he leaned his head back onto the couch.

"Of course you've already bought the necessary items..." You don't know why Zayne seemed to surprised by this with your current track record.

"Lemme just grab them to show you. It won't be that bad, I swear." You said, getting up and running to your room and grabbing a bag filled with everything you'd need. Most items had to be ordered online, so you had literally been planning this for a while. You scurried back to the living room and took out the items.

Zayne paused as he took it all in before he finally spoke, "Why does it look like that?" He said as he pointed at the dildo that was very much not human.

"Oh, I got it off bad dragon. I think this one was called-" You got cut off before you could finish the sentence.

"You bought a large dragon shaped dildo...for me?" Zayne was already feeling the grays peaking through the dark locks of hair on his head.

"I actually measured and it's the same size as you, doctor. If I can handle taking your dick, you can handle taking mine." You said, placing the dildo next to the harness, "Now can I please peg you, I just wanna see that ass jiggle with every thrust. It'll be so hot." You whined.

"That is not going inside me." Zayne finally said.

"But consider if it did." He didn't seem like he wanted to consider the possibility.

You paused before looking back at more of your supplies, "Fine...then how about sounding?"

Zayne looked on in horror before zipping his pants up and standing up. You let out a small wail as you realized he was actually going to just leave you.

"No Zaaaaaayne, don't leave me! At least lemme suck your dick I've been so good."

"My love, I think we need to sign you up for a therapy session before we have sex again."

"I am mentally sound now lemme peg that ass!"

Rafayel

Your entire body was shaking from exertion as you came again, clamping down on Rafayel's bottom cock. You could hear the man underneath you groaning as well, clearly close to his own release. The waves lapped at your skin as you looked down, the soft glow of the moonlight illuminating his flushed face perfectly.

He was always a sight to behold, but especially like this. Completely open with you in his Lemurian form was something you two were still exploring together. Every time you found yourself tangled with him like this you swore you were the luckiest human being to ever grace this realm.

Your hand wrapped around his top cock, jerking the slick appendage against your stomach as you helped him. His clawed hands dug into your thighs as he bucked up into you, groaning as he came both inside of you and all over your stomach.

When he finally settled down you both just basked in the afterglow. The sea breeze helping to cool you off as you stared down at him.

"Normally I'd ask for another round, but I don't think I can feel my legs." You admitted with a small laugh. You could see Rafayel's grin as he sat up with you. The scales of his tail were soft under your ass as he pulled you a bit closer to him.

"Can't relate." He said and you chuckled before getting an idea. You looked down at your stomach and how his cum managed to glow a dim blue. It had fascinated you the first time you had seen it, and you recall how embarrassed he was when you asked if it was safe to eat. Now you had other plans.

"Ah, I can get us a bit cleaned up before we head back inside." Rafayel was already pushing you two back into the ocean, slowly taking his length out of you. Before your stomach could be submerged, you took your thumb and swiped at some of his release.

Rafayel gave you a curious look before he saw the wide smile spreading across your lips. Before he could question you, you swiped your thumb over his forehead.

"Simba." You said.

Rafayel was at a loss for words as he just stared at you. He was used to you being eccentric, but this was...something else. You were pretty damn proud of yourself as you looked at his glowing forehead. He took in a small breath before speaking.

"Might I ask what you're doing?" He said, his voice a little clipped. He didn't know whether he should laugh or cry.

"NAAAAAAAAAANTS ingonyama bagithi baba!" You shouted as you began singing. Rafayel's hand went over to cover your mouth from continuing your song.

"You little nightmare." He said, hearing your laughter from under his hand. He then got an idea and smirked. He stared at you for a moment and you wondered what he had planned. Until suddenly he fell backwards with you in his arms, submerging you both into the ocean water.

It was worth it.

[rosielovesspence]

I have a request. This is my first time but k love your stories. Okay what if reader is 23 and she is the secret Blossom daughter anyways she is also dating FP and she gets super jealous of Alice (who I’m sorry don’t like) anyways what if she gets down and sees maybe FP would do better without her but he changes her mind? With some smut?!! Hehehe ahh I’m so excited

I am so sorry this took so long 😭 I so forgot about it, I'm so sorry hun!!! (Also dw I totally hated Alice too) (Also I totally forgot about the Blossom's secret child so idk how they treated them, I ain't watched the show in a bit so just pretend I added that to the story) also it became MOSTLY SMUT tbh

F!reader x FP Jones

Alice Cooper was highly unlikable. Always being around FP because of her daughter and his son was one thing, the way she constantly nagged everyone else was another reason. But you didn't need many reasons to dislike her, your first reason was well enough. She was always around your man FP. At first it was a mild annoyance, and soon it was every second.

So you decided you felt stupid. You kept your distance from FP, you were absolutely downed, thinking about breaking up with him so he could go date Alice, it made sense after all, you were a bit young. Keeping your distance worked well at first, for the first two days he was too busy to notice, but after a while he was calling all the time, showing up unexpectedly, he was trying to find out what was wrong. "Honey, you gotta talk to me, you can't hide forever." He mumbled while he was standing in front of you at your job. "I'm not hiding, nothing's going on, go spend time with Alice."

Okay, so maybe your sadness and insecurity fronted themselves as anger. You had snapped at him and he looked like a kicked puppy for a second before his eyes glimmered with recognition. "Oh, dear, is that what's wrong?" You just turn to the clock, hoping to check the time until you leave. "Five minutes." FP says quickly, already knowing you well enough. "And as soon as you're clocked out you're coming home with me."

And so with barely any room to argue, that's exactly what happened, once you clocked out he took you home with him. You felt absolutely stupid, sitting on the edge of his bed while he stood in front of you, looking down at you. "Look, i-" you couldn't even finish, as he quickly sank to his knees right in front of you. "No." He said quickly pressing a kiss to your right leg. "No?" You asked and he nodded, kissing further up your leg, gently spreading your legs before sucking a hickey into your inner thigh.

"Yes, I said no." He turned his attention to your other leg, kissing, licking, and nipping hickeys into your pretty skin. "You don't even know what I was about to say." Your sentence comes out breathy, stutter filled as you try your best to not become absolutely soaked at the sight before you. He just looks up at you for a moment before speaking, "I know exactly what you were gonna say," his tone is harsh, strict, and absolutely sexy, "it was gonna be about Alice, and I don't wanna hear it."

His tone alone has you ready to give up your endeavors, he stands up in front of you however and you decide to keep pushing. "FP-" you're quickly cut off again, his rough lips against yours, hands roughly grabbing at your hips. "No more talking." He mumbles against your lips. You again decided to push your luck, leaning back to protest but the second you even tried to speak he gently pushed you down onto the bed. "No more talking." He repeats, tone much more strict than before, if it's even possible it made you wetter too. "Now, do I gotta fuck this little idea out of your head or are you a smart girl who can get rid of it yourself?" That was a comment no one else could possibly get away with, but FP was different, his condescending tone was something laced with sweetness somehow.

"Need your help." You mumbled, and he smiled, hands gently rubbing your thigh. "Good girl." Was his reply, leaning down to kiss you as his hand slowly travelled up your leg. It went past your inner thigh and slowly his fingers pressed against your panties, the wet fabric making him smile as he pushed them aside, fingers teasing your clit. "Good girl, so ready for me." He praised, slowly sinking two fingers into you, watching your nose scrunch in pleasure as you let out small whines. He continued to plunge his fingers in and out of you, watching you moan beneath him. "Good girl, look at your pretty face, the only face I wanna see."

He sped up his fingers, making you let out a high pitched squeal of pleasure. "There it is, oh, that's my favorite sound. Something no one else could achieve." You couldn't even reply, on the brink of crying at his praise, he was slowly making the insecurity fall away. Who else could ever imagine he'd be in love with another woman while he's saying such things about you? And soon you feel that coil snap, and you hear more praise. "Oh, just dirtying my fingers, aren't ya? Mhm, doing so good." He coos, praise making your head spin as his fingers come up and he sucks your juices off of them like the sweetest nectar.

"Think you can handle anymore?" Always the gentleman, making sure you're ready for him completely. Making sure to give you time, you nod and he smiles softly. Taking off your panties completely he flips your skirt up, looking down at the prettiness that is you, leaning down to kiss you once more before leaning back again, undoing his belt.

That had been hours ago, he was still plunging into you, moaning at your tight walls around him. "Good girl, my only girl, only girl I want." You whined at such words, face buried in a pillow while he held your hips up to fuck you from behind. "Taking me so good, the only girl that could take me this good" he praised. "Only girl that could make me want you this much, only girl so irresistible." His praises were mixed with your whined of pleasure, his small grunts of pleasure. He finished with one thrust, filling you up, smiling down at your shaking form.

"Good girl." He praised sweetly, kissing your shoulder, pulling out and laying you in a more comfortable position. "My girl, my only girl." He praised, peppering soft kisses across your face. "Ready to give up your silly idea?" You nodded, cuddling against him and laying your face against his chest. "Yeah, it was really stupid anyway." He smiled broadly, "ain't that the truth." He kissed you once more before you fell asleep. Happy and content in the arms of a man who you were now certain, was yours and only yours.

[winchester-24]

Imagine you being possessed, and Dean doesn’t realize it at first

It seemed like these days, there were demons everywhere. Most of the cases you and the boys went on were demons. This case was the same. It was two towns over from the bunker, so you three were going to crash and dash their little chaos party they have going on. Sam estimated five altogether, so while being outnumbered, you three hoped the element of surprise would be on your side.

While in the backseat, you were reading a new book that Dean had picked up for you not too long ago. While you were focused on your book, Dean was focused on you. He admired how your face would change when something happened in the book, how you looked cute when you were concentrating, and how, most of the time, you had a little grin that he thought was the most adorable thing in the world. His eyes fought between concentrating on the road and concentrating on you. He never expected to fall for you, but slowly, the three of you working together over the years, you found a way into his heart. You were his best friend, and you knew almost everything about him. You accepted him, flaws and all. While he wanted to pursue more and be the one to call you his, he didn’t want to mess up what the two of you already shared. So, he would wear his best friend's title with honor and ignore the feeling he got when another guy would come around. He would pretend like he wasn’t happy when they left as well.

You, on the other hand, have loved Dean Winchester since you first met. The way his green eyes looked over you, concerned and impressed when they first met you. The first time he called you sweetheart, and over the years, the pet name princess he settled for would make your heart skip a beat every time. He would grab your hand in sticky situations to keep you close and make your face turn red at the worst time, and how he tended to you so carefully after each hunt. You have loved this man for years, but he never made a move, so you wore your best friend’s title with pride and tried not to compare yourself to the women he would pick up at the bar or try to feel that glimmer of hope when he does something that doesn’t seem entirely platonic.

The three of you came to the back of the house where the demons stayed. From the window, it looked like most of them were downstairs. Dean made the plan that he and Sammy would take the downstairs with most of them, and you would head upstairs to gank any others. When you and Dean nodded, Sam kicked the door down, and the three of you rushed in.

Upstairs, you have cleared most of the rooms. You can still hear the two boys downstairs fighting, so you are trying to be quick. You open one bedroom door and step in at first, not seeing anything, and then you get hit from behind. Two men grab you, and a woman steps forward from the dark corner of the room with black eyes. There is way more than what Sammy had initially thought.

“Hmm, you seemed to have ruined my little party.” The demon faked pouted. You looked up at her with hate in your eyes.

“Go to hell.” You replied. She bent down to your level.

“Baby, I’ve been there and don’t plan on returning.” She stood back up, and one of the men looked like they were about to hit you in the head.

“Stop!” She said suddenly. The man stopped. “I think I have a better idea.” Black smoke came out of the woman and headed directly to you. Panic struck you as the smoke entered you and down your throat. You now regret not going to get an anti-possession tattoo with the boys. She was now inside your body, and you were screaming and fighting to get out. The men let you go. She turned to them.

“Get out of here unless you want the Winchesters to kill you for touching their little trophy girl. I’ll catch up to you another time.” The men nodded, and then black smoke exited the two bodies, making them drop to the floor. The demon went and stabbed each body with your demon knife, making it look like you killed them. You are screaming the entire time to stop. She looks at you in the mirror.

“Hmm, we need a little more convincing.” She takes a different knife and cuts one of your arms, your cheek, and then cuts from your eyebrow up. She makes the one starting at your eyebrow a little deeper, and she or you hiss in pain. That cut will probably need stitches.

“Princess!” You hear Dean yell as feet are pounding up the stairs. The demon smirks in your body.

“Show time, Y/N.” She snickers and then changes her face to one of fake exhaustion.

“Dean! I’m here!” You yell. You turn and run towards the door and meet Dean at the entranceway. He immediately grabs your face and looks at the gash on your head, worry clouding in his eyes. His eyes dart behind you, and see the three bodies on the floor.

“You had to take on three of them?” He said, worry and guilt laced in his question. You nod your head.

“I’m so sorry, princess; I should have come up here with you.”

“I’m okay; I took care of it.” You speak. Sam looks behind you.

“I’m sorry, Y/N; I should have known there were more.” You turn to Sam.

“It’s okay, Sammy.” You say. You look back at Dean.

“Can we go home?” You ask, the demon trying to do your little puppy face that you learned from Sam. He nods.

“Yeah, we will go home and patch you up.” The three of you start to leave. Meanwhile, you’re screaming from inside your head, trying desperately to take control just for a few seconds. 

Back at the bunker, Dean patches your cut on your face up, careful with the stitches, eyes only leaving his work temporarily to look at you. You sit there, the demon doing her best not to give off any signs that you aren’t you.

“All done, " he says. His eyes lock onto yours, and you try to scream to him that you are not him. You take his face in your hand, and he closes his eyes and leans into it.

“Thank you, Dean.” You say softly. He looks at you.

“I should have gone with you.”

“It’s okay; I’m a big girl; I took care of them.”

“Yeah, but you got hurt.”

“You patched me up; I feel as good as new.” You smile at him. He smiles and leans over, and kisses your forehead.

“I’m glad, princess; I’m going to take a shower.” You nod your head and watch him leave. As soon as he is gone, you roll your eyes and scoff.

“You two are disgusting.” The demon says in disgust to you. You are cussing her out seven ways from Sunday, but she laughs.

“Your little Dean is so smitten with you; he has no idea something is wrong with you; he is just glad his precious little Y/N is okay.” The demon makes you giggle and then gets up. She catches sight of you in the mirror and turns her eyes black.

“This is going to be so fun.”

A week. You have been trapped in your body for a week, and neither of the boys have noticed. You have stopped fighting. It's heartbreaking that the boys can’t pick up on the fact that you haven’t been in your reading corner for a week while they do research, you haven’t cooked in a week, you haven’t gone into Dean’s room in the middle of the night, or you haven’t joined Sam in for a workout. The demon has made you more flirty with Dean, which makes you sick as it’s not you, but more that Dean is giving into it and flirting back. While you would love to be on the receiving end of the flirting, it’s not you.

Without your or the demon's knowledge. The boys have noticed a change in you. They talk about it quietly while you’re not around and share glances when you do something you wouldn’t normally do or say in front of them. At first, they thought you were shaken up from having to fight three-on-one at the house, so they let you cope, but now they suspect something else is happening with you. Dean’s heart clenches whenever you make a flirty comment to you, wishing he could believe it was you saying these things to you, but that isn’t like you to be so bold in coming onto someone. He plays along to make what he thinks is a demon in you not suspicious, but also, he can briefly believe you return his sentiment.

You just came back from the bunker, talking to the two demons who were at the house. They are planning their next move, and the demon has big plans for your body and getting the Winchester brothers. Dean is sitting in his usual spot across the library, and Sam is walking in from the bedrooms.

“Hey, princess,” Dean says, looking up at you coming down the stairs.

“Hey, handsome, miss me?” You say, smiling, flirting with him. You make your way across the library.

“Always beautiful.” He flirts back with you. You go to step to him when you can’t move. You look confused.

“What?” You say. You look around, and Dean gets up and moves the corner of the rug to show part of a devil’s trap. This grabs your attention inside your mind. The demon inside you makes your face twist into anger.

“What gave me away?” You sneer at Dean.

“Few things.” Dean cocks back at you with an attitude, hate showing in his face. While you know it's not directed at you; it still hurts you a little to see him looking at your body like that.

“Firstly,” Sam starts, “Y/N always joins me in the morning for a little bit of a workout, even if it’s just fifteen minutes to get her body going for the day. She also always goes to that little corner while Dean and I are researching; she never joins in as that is the quietest time in the bunker to get a few chapters in her book done.” Sam points to the corner when your reading nook is set up that hasn’t been touched in a week.

“Next, Y/N always cooks meals while we are here; it’s something that makes her feel like she is helping since she doesn’t research, even if it is just something small and easy.” Dean continues. “She also always comes into my room in the middle of the night. She hasn’t been in her room for a whole week in a long time. Also, Y/N is never as flirty as you have been. She has never been that direct with any man, let alone her best friend. She would never say those things to me.” Dean snarks at you, jaw clenched, eyes hard.

You laugh. “Oh, Dean,” You start. You are yelling inside your mind for the demon to shut up. “Poor little Y/N was fighting for a good while to try to get to you, but she gave up.” You say darkly. “She couldn’t bear the thought that you and little Sammy couldn’t tell it wasn’t her and making her stay trapped inside her own body, so she gave up fighting. Her little heartbreaking that you two were so comfortable with me around.” Dean faltered slightly, but his eyes got hard again; Sam stood beside him, glaring at you.

“You should hear some of the things Y/N thinks about her best friend, Dean. This girl is head over heels in love with you, and it was making her so sad that you liked me better than her; flirting with me, holding me, she just wished it was her. Y/N doesn’t think you could ever love someone like her, as she is not who you usually go for, but we know better, little Dean. You are so in love with her; you couldn’t even tell the first night you brought her back; you were just so thrilled that she was being a little more handsy with you.”

“You bitch.” Dean sneers at you. Sam and Dean grab you and tie you up to a chair. Once you are tied, Dean leans over you, getting very close to you or the demon.

“You’re going to get out of her and go back to hell where you belong,” Dean says darkly. You smile.

“Careful, Dean, you’ll turn her on being so close.” Dean goes to slap you but has to stop himself, reminding himself that you are still in there and he doesn’t want to hurt you.

“Oh, you were going to hit me? Kinky Dean.” You reply seductively, trying to get a rise out of him.

“Fuck you.” He spits as Sam finds the book with the exorcism in it. Sam starts reading it, and your body starts to twitch. You look at Dean glaring.

“You know she wanted to die all week? She kept thinking about how she would rather die than have me in her body any longer. She would beg you to notice and do something, but you never did.”

“Shut up!” Dean yelled at you as Sam continued reading. The demon was gripping to stay onto you, but you could tell she was losing. You were able to take control.

“Ugh, get out of my body! Sammy, hurry up!” You yelled as your body was jerking around.

“Princess, fight it!” Dean said, getting close to you and grabbing your arms. You look at him with tears in your eyes. Then your head leans back, and the black smoke comes spilling out of your mouth before disappearing to hell, where the demon belongs. You close your eyes, breathing heavily, and little tears come down your face as the boys untie you. Dean helps you up and guides you to the couch while Sam grabs you some water. You roll your head to the side and peek your eyes open to see Dean already looking at you.

“I know that face; it’s not your fault.” You say before he has a chance to let a word out.

“I should have noticed sooner, " he responds, his hands rubbing against yours. Sam brings you the water, and you take a sip.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Sam says. You look at Sam.

“It’s not your fault, Sammy.” You say. “I’m just glad the bitch is out of me.” Sam looks at you worried.

“Was it telling the truth, Y/N? Did you want to die?” Sam asks quietly. You sigh and look at him, trying to decide how to handle the situation.

“I wanted to,” you said softly. Being able to watch what you're doing but not able to control it is the most exhausting and frustrating thing. I did things that I couldn’t stop myself from doing, and I will have to live with them for the rest of my life.” You look between the two brothers.

“But you two saved me and got me out; that’s all I can be grateful for.” You give them a small smile, and Dean looks at Sam with a pointed look. Sam gets the hint and excuses himself. Dean looks back at you.

“Was the demon lying about the other things too?” He asks quietly after a few moments of silence. Your breath hitched in your throat. You looked at him, and his eyes scanned your face, trying to figure out what you would say before you said it.

“No, it was the truth.” You finally say your heart is beating fast while looking at the other brother. Dean wastes no time leaning over and crashing his lips onto yours. He grabs your face in his hands while you drop the water bottle Sam gave you and guides your hands to his hair. You two pull away after a few moments, foreheads touching, eyes closed.

“I’ve loved you for a very long time, Dean. I never wanted to mess our friendship up, so I didn’t know how to tell you.” You whisper to him. Your eyes open to his green ones, and a smile plays at his lips.

“I love you, Princess, and I’m going to spend the rest of my life making up for lost time.” You smile as he pulls you into another kiss. Maybe that demon was helpful for something, but you will never admit that to anyone else.

[xozombiee]

“AFTER HOURS!” | W. BONNEY

✫| synopsis: bartending in the west gets boring at times, especially when the same old cowboys and outlaws come through those saloon doors everyday. you’d thought this was it..that’s the end of your story. then a certain outlaw, who’s name was getting around, walked through the doors.

warnings: porn with little plot, mentions of death, riding, little praise..it’s always gonna be there, female bodied reader, lowk psy rubbing??, hair pulling me thinks, idk what else

note: am i doing this instead of my homework?…yes. also do i know wtf women wore in the 1800s? err no. i tried tho! this is not proofread btw

In a dusty, sun-kissed town nestled amidst the rugged landscape of the west, there stood a saloon that echoed with tales of grit and resilience. behind the polished mahogany bar, you stood tall with a fiery spirit that matched the flickering glow of the oil lamps that illuminated the room.

you weren’t any ordinary bartender; you were a force to be reckoned with. with glimmering eyes that held mystery, and a rough demeanor that you used to command respect from every patron who dared to enter the establishment. your hands, calloused from years of hard work, moved with grace and precision as you served up drinks that could raise spirits or drown sorrows.

though the town was dominated by rough cowboys and outlaws, you had carved out your own place in their rugged hearts. they sought solace in your presence, and you became a confidante, offering a sympathetic ear to the broken souls who stumbled through the doors.

as the sun began its descent, casting an orange hue over the town, your saloon transformed into a sanctuary of camaraderie and laughter. the clinking of glasses and the lively banter of patrons mixed with the soulful melodies of a lone pianist, creating a symphony that echoed through the wooden walls.

but behind the facade of joviality, you carried your own secrets and dreams. you arrived in this town not long ago, escaping a past that haunted your every step. determined to leave a mark on the world, you had chosen the life of a bartending, finding comfort in the stories and journeys of those who crossed paths with you.

with swift movements back and forth behind your bar, you served drinks to the men celebrating..whatever it was this time. they sang along with others, their words jumbled and lazy, but undoubtedly filled with passion. you laughed as one of them sung to you, his eyes droopy and a crooked smile at his lips.

cleaning a few glasses, you watch as they all chat amongst themselves, if they weren’t still singing that is. a part of you yearned to have a life like theirs. to be free to do whatever you please, and not be told otherwise. you’d liked the idea of running from place to place and meeting new people. though, that’d never happen for you.

your back turns as you gather the clean glasses together, putting them neatly side by side. the sound of the saloon doors open, a sound you were used to by now. with your back still turned, you notice how most of the attendees in the saloon had gone quiet, watching as the person and their footsteps approached the bar.

turning back around, you come face to face with a taller man. he wore a shabby black hat, a maroon corduroy jacket that sat along his shoulders, and a gun at his waist. two actually, you noted as the jacket moved when he sat at the bar.

with a polite smile, you come closer, holding his gaze with yours. “evening, sir. what can i get you?”

he gives you a tight lipped smile, “whiskey, please.”

you hold his gaze for a second longer before glancing back at the people in the saloon. they stared with either fear, or curiosity in their faces. a scowl grows on your lips, muttering a small ‘drunkards’ under your breath.

the man watches as you place a clean glass onto the bar, and grab a bottle filled with brown liquid. his gaze moves to the drink as it pours into the cup, almost filling to the brim.

“you look familiar,” your voice chimes in again. “have i seen you in here before?”

he shakes his head, gaze falling back to yours. “nah.” he replies. “just passing through.”

with a sigh falling from your nose, you try to read his expression; he looked tired. you weren’t an idiot, it was obvious he was on the run. you’d seen his face on the posters, but didn’t know what his name was or what he was wanted for.

your fingernail taps against the glossy wood of the bar. trying to hide your sympathetic expression, you glance around the room. “if you need anything else, let me know, yeah?”

he nods, watching as you walk away to tend to the other customers. the way you moved was calm despite working in such an intense environment. his eyes trailed up and down your figure before taking a sip from his glass.

it seemed like hours passed as you worked. going back and forth behind the counter was time consuming as it passed so quickly. more and more people were leaving the bar as the early hours of the next day were coming.

as you went to grab some glasses from tables, you notice as the man before was still at the bar. his head was hung low, eyes trained on his glass. he’d had about three glasses of whiskey by now, only taking sips from time to time.

you’d noticed through the night how people tried to approach him. he’d usually brush them off, or making small talk that ended in peaceful silence. he wasn’t someone that was easily approachable to the blind eye. he held a strong, cold demeanor.

after gathering all the dirty glasses, and kicking the last passed out drunkard, you slide back behind the bar. you take the bucket of dirty glasses to the small sink, placing it inside before turning the water on. as it fills, you stare at it as your mind falls else where.

before it overflows, you turn the faucet off. you pour a little soap into the mix before drying your hands off to let the glasses soak. with echoing footsteps, you turn back to the bar and are face to face with the man of the night.

“want another, or is three enough?” you ask, a slight smile at your lips.

he glances up at you, studying your expression for a moment. his eyes drop back to the wooden bar, fingers tapping his halfway-empty-glass.

“this is fine.” he answers.

your elbows come to rest at the cool wood, chin in your palm as you watch him. you’d debated for most of the night to ask him what exactly he was running from. it would probably sound stupid considering how everyone and their second cousin knew about it. all except for you, as you didn’t look much into news and such.

he stares back at you, giving you the same energy within his gaze. his blue eyes analyze every bit of you, and you almost shudder at the sight of it.

“so, how long you been on the run now?” you ask, voice interrupting each of your own thoughts.

he brings the glass to his lips, downing the rest before replying. “months.” he mutters, not even phased by your abrupt question.

you hum in reply, “alone?”

“mhm.”

with his short and simple response, you laugh. it wasn’t out of humor, but rather more of irritation. you’d think someone as well known as him would talk more. most outlaws never shut up about flaunting their reputations. it’s different.

“you’re not a man of many words.” you say, not really caring about how he’d take your tone.

he shrugs, sucking his teeth a bit. “i’ve got nothing to say.”

you raise a brow, “tell me a story or something. i hear the same shit every night from my regulars. give me something new.” you request.

pouring a little more whiskey into his glass, you watch as his eyes dart to yours. “it’s on me.” you assure, giving him a smile.

the man sighs, tilting his head a little at the thought. what could he tell you? that he killed a man? that he fought a man in a saloon just like yours right before shooting him in the stomach out of defense? no..you’d probably already heard it anyways.

“what do you already know about me?” he questions, taking another sip.

your eyes squint at him, “i know you’re an outlaw on the run, obviously..and that’s about it. i don’t even know what the hell they call you.” you reply.

he chuckles, a small smile at his lips. “you’re probably one of the first.” he says. “just call me billy.”

with another hum, you nod slowly and give him your name. “billy..yeah, i think i did hear that once or twice.”

“well, either way, i don’t have many stories to tell.”

your eyes roll, a huff coming from your nose. “tell me why you’re an outlaw. i’ve heard like three different stories, and it can’t be all of them.”

billy smiles again, eyes falling from yours and to your lips for a split second. you watch him debate in his head before taking his hat off. he sets it on the empty stool next to him, running his fingers through his hair. he had brown shaggy hair that was sprawled all over his head.

“i killed a man. it was self defense.” he says, almost as if he was pleading his case.

you deadpan at him, “that’s all i get? not even a backstory?”

“there’s not much to it. he was making accusations at me..which weren’t entirely false, then he came at me. we fought over my gun, and i shot.” he elaborates, glancing at you with disinterest as if it was a meaningless story.

you fall quiet for a moment, brows raised while processing his words. that story was heard, but you didn’t know if it was the truth until now. the other stories were about robbing a bank and killing a bunch of people. hearing the actual story now..you couldn’t understand all the fuss.

a laugh falls from your lips, hand moving to pinch the bridge of your nose. “so, all this talk is because you killed a man that was attacking you?”

“yes, ma’am.”

your smile remains for a bit, eyes watching billy. “so, what now? you just gonna keep running?”

he shrugs once more, eyes kept on his glass. “probably.”

“have you at least slept?”

billy shakes his head. you chew on the inside of your cheek, contemplating multiple things in your head. if you offered him a place to sleep in the loft above your saloon, he’d probably laugh in your face. but, a part of you didn’t want him out on the street sleeping defenseless.

as a other sigh falls from you, you move away from the bar and stand straight. “i’ve got an extra room where i stay. wanna take it for the night?”

his eyes find yours, expression vague, “are you sure? i mean, i don’t wanna—”

“it’s fine. i’d feel guilty if i opened up tomorrow and my regulars are telling me you got killed in your sleep.”

billy focuses on you for awhile before taking one last sip. he lightly places the glass on the counter before moving to grab some money from his pocket.

your hand finds his wrist as he places it on the counter. “keep it. just take your ass upstairs while i finish up.”

he grins a little, grabbing his hat and standing from the stool. billy slowly moves to the door at the back of the saloon, opening it and disappearing from sight. you roll up your sleeves as you move back to the sink, dipping your hands into the soapy water to clean the glasses.

after about ten minutes, you make way up to your loft in the building. your footsteps slightly echo as you move toward the light in the living room. when you reach the floor, you watch as billy sits on the couch with his head thrown back on the edge while his hat covered up his face.

slowly approaching in front of him, you lightly kick his shin. he snaps his head up, eyes wide as his hat falls to his lap. he lets out a small breath in relief, making you smile. you watch as he sits up on the couch.

“scared the shit out of me.” he mumbles, putting that ragged hat on again.

you move to sit next to him, bouncing lightly on the cushions. “must’ve been too tired to hear me coming up the steps.”

he leans into the couch once more, eyes trained on the ceiling. you watched his expression and how he studied the whiteness of the panels above.

“penny for your thoughts?” you whisper, watching his eyes shift over to you.

billy shakes his head, scoffing a little to himself. “it’s nothing. just thinking.”

“about?”

“everything.”

you let your gaze falter, moving to the floor. “everything that’s happened?” you ask.

he nods, fidgeting with his hands in his lap. billy wants nothing more than to go back and stop everything that’s happened. to change what got him to this point.

but if he did that, he would’ve never met you. you were one of the kindest people to him since the incident. the way you carried yourself, much like him, was with confidence. he respected you, and that aspect of your personality.

“i understand what it’s like..kind of.” you say, patting down the wrinkles in your outfit. “i was never wanted, but i’ve done things. things i wish i could take back.”

billy watches as you speak, the way your lips move and the expression you hold shifts with each emotion running through you. he almost doesn’t understand what you’re saying. the only thing keeping him to reality was the fact you sounded serious.

he adjusts himself on the furniture, “what have you done?” he asks, a part of him afraid to know the answer.

“i’ve killed.” you reply, the tone of your voice dropping lowly. “it was in defense, like you.”

billy watches the way you bounce your knee against the flooring of the loft. the dress you wear moves along with it, and your shoe lightly taps.

“when did it happen?” he asks as his pure curiosity gets the best of him.

you look up at him, smiling a little. “i was fourteen.”

billy looks at you, empathizing with your situation. though he wasn’t that young when it happened, he still felt some sort of connection with your experience.

“i don’t regret killing him honestly, but i regret hurting my family and his. they didn’t deserve to go through that. it wasn’t any of their faults.” you say as you breathe out slowly.

in an small moment, his hand is on yours. it’s a light touch, like he’s afraid to hurt you. billy moves his other hand to the space beneath your chin, and shifts your head to look at him in the eyes.

his voice is light, “you were defending yourself. it wasn’t your fault either.” billy whispers.

the words make your heart swell. after everything, hearing those words made it all feel better. almost all the guilt left your veins. he was right after all. it wasn’t your fault. what that man did..you just did what you had to.

as he holds your gaze, you slowly inch toward him. his blue irises bore into yours, watching as you shift them to his lips. they were slightly chapped and held a small frown on them.

billy leaned closer to you and your breaths mingled, like two lights finding each other in the darkness. he could feel your heart beating against your ribcage, as all of his senses were focused on you and you alone.

he closed the distance, and his lips met yours. billy felt himself melt into you like a magnet. everything muted itself, and his hands made way to your waist. he pulled you onto him, your knees caging around his thighs.

your hands found their way to his jaw, pulling him even closer. he tasted your soft lips and felt your warm skin against his. the room seemed to dissolve around you as the only thing in existence was this. this perfect union.

time stood still, and you both wanted more, but neither wanting it to initiate it. then, with what restraint he had left, he pulled away, his lips still grazing yours.

he looks up at you, his eyes filled with worry. “im sorry, i didn’t mean—”

“shut up.”

pressing your lips back to his, he lets out a grunt in reply before melting into you once more. the warmth of you, your lips, your being that sat in his lap—he felt lightheaded. billy moved his hands to your waist again, slowly trailing them up your back.

you feel the buttons of your dress being undone. he stops right before taking the sleeves off, prying himself away from you. billy’s eyes look into yours for confirmation, and you give him a quick, impatient nod in reply.

with that, he pulls the dress off slowly. your lips trail from his own to his neck, putting the flesh between your teeth. he groaned, trying to focus on untying your corset.

as he removed it, he wasted no time to discard it to the floor, hands making way to take off the chemise you wore.

“all those months on the run got you impatient now, cowboy?” you mutter, laughing as he would struggle from time to time.

billy looks up at you, his gaze slightly hidden by his hat, “no, just none of the women i’ve been with wore this much underneath. i’m also not a cowboy, sweetheart.”

rolling your eyes, you grab at his wrists to stop him. he looks up at you, big eyes and all, causing the built up pressure in your lower stomach to worsen. “just leave it. i’m not wearing anything under, so don’t fuss.”

you watch him nod slowly as he started to stare, making no move to take off his clothes. “do i have to do it for you?” you whisper, hands undoing the brown suspenders on his shoulders.

he shakes his head, moving to unbutton his pants he wore. you watch the way he fumbles with them, sliding them midway down his thighs. billy’s hands eventually move back to your waist, bunching up your chemise to your hips.

billy’s eyes watch as your pretty pussy comes into view, sitting in his lap with such a prepossessing aura. he has to restrain himself from taking you right then.

his dick was hard and twitching, the length had an angry tip with its slit profusely leaking pre-cum. it looked painful and it was because of you. you. you wondered if you had power over him now for a brief second but you shake your head clear of these thoughts.

instead, you catch his lips again, the kiss slower this time. you raise yourself a bit so he can align himself to your entrance. the cool touch of his hand meets your cunt, sliding a finger through the folds and collecting the juices flowing from you.

he uses your slick and spreads it across your sensitive pussy. you took a deep breath of air into your lungs. this feeling was new, since no man you’d been with ever did this, but it wasn’t unwelcome.

a small groan falls from billy’s lips as he uses it to prep himself, guiding his hand along his cock and pumping it slowly. he was on the girthy side with veins on the underside of his cock.

you knew you would stretch around him, that your walls would be a perfect fit around his length. you were too impatient for any sort of foreplay; you wanted the stretch. you wanted him to make you dizzy with his cock splitting you apart.

billy grabs your hips with his unoccupied hand, bringing you closer to him. you let out a whimper as you began to sink onto him, eyes flicking to his. those blue ones he held were zeroed down to the place you both were connected now.

his hands are on either side of your hip, guiding you down on his length. it was after his cock was fully stuffed in you, that his self-control allowed him to almost whine at the feeling of you.

your hands are on his shoulders to support yourself. your fingers weakly fist his shirt as you begin to ride him, raising yourself a few inches before slamming down on his cock with a loud moan escaping your lips. he reached the deepest spot inside of you somehow. no one had ever done that. not like this.

his cockhead grazes your spongy spot as you fuck yourself on him. arousal and his pre-cum are smeared all over your thighs. this sight made billy’s breath hitch, something you didn't notice as you were too busy with your eyes closed and taking him. you looked completely dissoluted like this.

your hair was a mess now, your lips glossy and swollen, hands digging into his shoulder. billy felt himself become enraptured by you and this sight. it was something he could get used to..if he wasn’t an outlaw that is.

he pulls you closer to him. one of his hands is on your back, pressing you to him. his hips raise upwards to fuck you as he now lets out more vocal sounds of enjoyment.

watching him with a hazy gaze, you remove the hat from his head. you place it onto your own, grinning at how he stares up at you like you were the creator of all living beings and creatures on this earth.

moving one of your hands from his shoulder, you bring it to his hair and give some strands a tug. he groans, the vibrations of his chest transferring to his dick, which transferred to you.

each thrust of his was made for his selfishness in your velvet walls. the drag of his cock was perfect, his speed was unbelievable. it was like heaven itself, but without the pearly gates and clouds.

while stuck in your own brain, the feeling of teeth bring you back to reality. you let a shuddered sigh fall as billy digs into the collarbone that peaked from your square-necked chemise. he slowly kisses up your neck, bringing a hand to the back of your head.

“fuck..’s too good,” he mutters, trying to keep his voice even.

you laugh, making him groan a little. he looks up, watching as you bounce with one hand held on his hat to keep it on. “too good? were all your other girls shit?”

he lets out short breaths, his blue eyes studying the way you moved as if he was in a trance. billy would answer if he wasn’t on another planet right now. a planet where you were taking him so deliciously, almost to the point where he could pass out.

“fuck,” he says under his breath as your pussy clenches around him. “where do you want it?” his voice was strained from trying to keep his composure.

you pant, “inside.”

billy doesn’t waste a second before obliging and quickening his pace, making the hat on your head fall lopsided. you could feel the pressure in you tightening, almost about to burst like a pipe.

he moves his thumb to rub at your clit, and the tip of his cock repeatedly nudges against that one spot that has you falling apart on top of him with a loud cry. your orgasm hits you hard and billy can’t hold it in any longer. he fucks into you for another minute, eyes squeezed shut as he groans out your name.

billy groans when you flutter around him as you cum. he’s thrusting his hips up into you with his newfound force. it requires you to tighten your grip on his shoulders to stay put as he empties his load deep inside you, his sweet moans echoing in the living room.

your cunt milks him dry, and he fills you up to the brim—to the point where you could feel him leak out of you. the both of you pause, your hands resting on his chest as you catch your breath.

he slowly eases his cock out of you. the both of you were breathing heavily as he pulls you closer, letting you rest your head on his shoulder. you wrap you arms around his chest, listening to his heart beat.

“wanna share my bed?” you whisper.

tags: @m0rphys

[yan-lorkai]

Hello! :) I just really love all of your works for Hellsing and an idea popped into my mind. Could you write an Alucard x darling!Reader where Integra sends them on a mission to Brazil in disguise as a newlyweds on their honeymoon? I'm just sooo obsessed with his Riocard look, I thought it would be so fun to imagine! <3

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: To be honest I get you anon. He is so handsome in his RioCard form, with his little glass full of blood and wearing that suit 🤭💕💕. @marieisaghost

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: Yandere content, reader is unsettled by Alucard but both of them keep flirting with one another lol, mention of killing, gn!reader

"Lulu, you travel a lot, don't you?" You turn your face to stare at him, gorgeous smile already on his lips as soon as that little nickname left you. "What is it like in Brazil? How are the people?"

He thought about. Ancient as he was, Alucard was present to see or hear about all major events from humanity. And later on, to visit those same countries, as you two are doing now - hunting for a potentially dangerous vampire who climbed the stairs to the success, he was so important now, so powerful but Integra had her way of getting you and Alucard into one of his big parties.

After a few seconds pondering, Alucard glanced at his glass full of blood, long, dark hair hiding his eyes from you as he chuckled.

"The air smells like golden hour and the birds sing so loud, as if they wish for you to sing among them. The Brazilians are like fairies, if you will, as they can't lie but contour whatever promise they made with polite words and jokes. And the common folk are very affectionate." He sipped from his glass, little trinket of blood running down his lower lip before he could lick it. You laughed at that. "And their words sounds like a gentle song, so familiar yet so distante you can't quite remember where you have heard it."

The gentle hum of the plane's engines filled the cabin, the dim lighting casting soft shadows against the sleek leather seats. You sat beside Alucard, watching the clouds drift by through the small window. A moment goes by before you answer him.

"Quiet poetical, don't you think?" You mused, imagining the country based on his description. "Well, I'm looking forward to see it. We will be able to sightsee after the mission is done, right?"

Alucard turned his head slowly, he was still sipping from his glass, sometimes just shaking it to see the red liquid sway gently. His crimson eyes glimmered with amusement, lips curling into a slow, knowing smile. He always found your mortal, innocent optimism endearing — if not a bit naive. But he never discouraged it outright. No, he enjoyed watching you dangle the idea of freedom, without realizing he was the one holding the string.

He was the one who chose you for this role. So beautiful and all his, pretending to be his cute little spouse.

“Sightseeing?” Alucard repeated, his voice low, filled with the silky cadence you knew too well. He leaned back further into his seat, fingers steepled together as if considering your words. “That all depends. If the mission goes well and... if you behave, darling.”

You shifted uncomfortably, pretending to be preoccupied with the view outside. Sometimes Alucard took his jokes too far, the line between truth and joke unclear.

“Well, I just thought… if we’re pretending to be newlyweds, we might as well enjoy the facade a little more!” You explained your point of view, trying to sound casual. “A little sightseeing wouldn’t hurt. Husband.”

Alucard’s chuckle was soft but dark, a sound that sent a shiver down your spine. It was a beautiful sound yet terrifying in other circumstances. “Oh, you’ve been enjoying this facade more than you admit, darling” He teased, his eyes narrowing as he studied you. “Playing the role of my beloved spouse… It suits you.”

His words were laced with a possessiveness that you couldn’t ignore. You swallowed hard, your heart pounding as you tried to maintain composure under his piercing gaze. Alucard thrived on your uncertainty — on the way you balanced between curiosity and frustration in equal measures. He loved seeing you struggle. You knew that. He was an asshole like that sometimes.

“Maybe,” You replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper and your face heating up. Ultimately it was better to let him have this little win or he'll pout and throw a tantrum the entire time. “But it’s hard to keep up the act sometimes, you’re very convincing. I fear I won't be as convincing as you are.”

Alucard’s smile widened, a dark, predatory gleam flickering in his eyes. He leaned toward you, his cold fingers brushing against your cheek, tracing the line of your jaw with a delicate yet possessive touch. He seemed like he wanted to say something, a secret passing through his eyes, black long hair hiding his face like a curtain, and then he pulled back.

“Rest now, my love,” Alucard said, his voice softer as he reclined back in his seat but the command was clear. "We still have a few hours until we get there. And perhaps, I’ll indulge you with that sightseeing you’re so fond. There's so very interesting places that are open at night.”

You rolled your eyes. "Aye aye captain."

Yoou reached out, your hand sliding around his arm and tugging him toward you. His eyes widened slightly, not in surprise but in curiosity. You didn’t say a word, there was no need. All that mattered was the closeness, the warmth, even if it came from the cold embrace of a vampire. Without a word, you rested your head against his arm, and he allowed you to whatever you wanted, his lips curling into a soft smirk as he watched you for a few seconds.

/⁠～⁠♡

The private plane had landed hours ago, and the sun now hung low on the horizon, casting the hotel room in a warm, golden glow. You stood in front of the full-length mirror, adjusting the fabric of your outfit, a carefully chosen disguise for the next phase of the mission. The luxurious suite you were in felt almost too extravagant, too different from what you were used but trying to argument with Alucard was near impossível. And he wanted to stay at the most expensive place just for the sake of it.

Greedy vampire, you thought, he wouldn't even be able to sleep. After all, he's used to sleep at morning and you, as a Hellsing soldier, is more than used to sleep in whatever you can lie on during night. Extravagance was not your style.

Behind you, Alucard moved with quiet grace, his eyes fixed on you in the mirror. He had already shed his coat, his shirt untucked slightly, looking every bit the devilish rogue he was. He stepped closer, slipping a gloved hand around your waist, guiding you as you fumbled with the buttons on your collar.

"Let me," He asked, his voice low and smooth, as he brushed your hands away and began fastening the buttons for you. His fingers worked skillfully, but his touch lingered a bit too long. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, though a small smile tugged at your lips.

"You know, I can dress myself," You teased him, raising an eyebrow at him through the mirror.

"Of course you can," Alucard replied with a smirk, not missing a beat. "But why would I miss the chance to enjoy this view?" His hands slid up to adjust the collar, his eyes flickering with amusement.

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. "You’re impossible, you know that?"

Alucard chuckled softly, his breath warm against your neck as he leaned in just a bit closer. "I’m many things, love. Impossible is only one of them." He finished with the last button, his hands lingering on your shoulders, fingers tracing the fabric as though he couldn’t help but touch you. You turned slightly to face him, a playful glint in your eyes.

"So husband, what's the plan?" You teased him, emphasizing the word, adjusting your sleeves as he watched you with that ever-present intensity. "Or you're just want to take care of everything alone while I stay helpless by your side, like a damsel?."

Alucard raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk. "Playing the damsel role certainly is fun but not safe. Besides it's counterproductive. I'II catch our target while you search his office for those documents."

You nodded, trying to think of ways to enter the target's office, but the warmth in Alucard's eyes made it impossible. His thumb traced small circles against your waist, and though you hated to admit it, his presence was comforting in moments like these, when the mission loomed large and the stakes were high. He knew how you soothe your worries and fears with just a few gestures.

"Focus, Alucard," You said, but your voice lacked any real conviction.

"I am focused," He replied smoothly, his lips dangerously close to yours. "Just… not on the mission right now."

You felt your heartbeat quicken, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned into him just a little, your fingers brushing the fabric of his shirt. "You’re incorrigible."

His eyes gleamed as he leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his voice a low, teasing purr. "And you love it."

You laughed softly, shaking your head again as you turned back toward the mirror. "You’re lucky you’re helping with this mission. Otherwise, I’d leave you to flirt with yourself.

Alucard chuckled, stepping back slightly, though his hand never left your waist. "Oh, I can flirt with myself just fine. But it’s much more fun with you."

You met his gaze in the mirror, your reflection showing the playful tension between you two. Despite everything, the danger, the complexity of your relationship, moments like this felt oddly natural. Easy, even.

"Fine," you said, adjusting the last piece of your outfit and putting your weapons in their proper places. "After this mission and you taking me to sightsee, you should really take me on a date, Alucard. I wouldn't say no."

Alucard’s smirk softened into a more genuine smile as he pressed a kiss to your temple, his hand squeezing your waist lightly. "Whatever you want, darling. But until then…" His eyes sparkled mischievously. "We make quite the team, don’t we?"

You couldn’t argue with that. Despite the chaos, despite the danger, there was something undeniably magnetic about being at his side. Even if he drove you crazy half the time and acted strange sometimes.

"Yeah," You said with a sigh, a smile tugging at your lips. "We do."

The night air was crisp as you stepped out of the grand hotel, the city’s lights reflecting off the polished black limousine waiting at the curb. The distant hum of life in the city created a soft backdrop of noise, but here, in front of the sleek vehicle, everything felt quieter, more intimate. Alucard, as always, had his hand lightly resting on your lower back as he guided you toward the car.

“After you, love,” He said smoothly, his voice laced with amusement as he opened the door for you. His crimson eyes gleamed under the streetlights, and even in the dim evening, he looked effortlessly sharp in his tailored suit, dark and dangerously handsome.

You gave him a playful smirk before slipping into the limousine’s spacious interior. The leather seats were cool against your skin as you settled in, and a faint, luxurious scent lingered in the air. Alucard followed, closing the door behind him as he took the seat beside you.

As the driver began pulling away from the curb, the city lights blurred past the tinted windows, creating a dreamlike atmosphere. Alucard stretched his arm along the back of the seat, his fingers lightly brushing against your shoulder in a way that felt casual yet intentional.

“Excited?” hHe asked, his voice low and teasing as his eyes flickered to yours. “Or is it nerves I sense?”

You glanced at him, rolling your eyes slightly. “Excited isn’t the word I’d use. This is a mission, remember? Focus, Alucard.”

He chuckled, his hand sliding down to lightly squeeze your shoulder. “I’m always focused. It’s you who seems to be on edge, dragul meu.” His voice was a playful murmur, but there was that undercurrent of seriousness you knew all too well. He thrived in these high-stakes situations, while you, well, you preferred a little less danger and a little more simplicity.

You preferred a better plan, you preferred having more allies. Yet, you had to make it do with just Alucard by your side. Either way, you knew he wouldn't let you hurt yourself.

“I’m not on edge,” You retorted lightly, turning to face him fully. “I’m just thinking about the plan. We’re supposed to be subtle, blend in, gather intel. You remember the whole ‘don’t draw attention to ourselves’ part, right?”

Alucard’s lips curled into that familiar, devilish smirk. “Subtlety isn’t always the most fun, but I suppose I can behave for one night.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Of course, if things get boring, I might have to… stir the pot a little.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “You’re incorrigible.”

“I prefer the term ‘charming,’” He corrected you, eyes gleaming mischievously.

The limousine cruised through the city, the lights outside glowing brighter as you approached the heart of the bustling nightlife. The party you were heading to was in one of the city’s most elite venues — a towering glass building that loomed in the distance, sparkling against the night sky. The event was exclusive, crawling with high-society types, all hiding secrets beneath their polished exteriors. You and Alucard were here to uncover one of those secrets.

As the limousine neared the grand entrance, you adjusted your clothes, making sure everything was in place. Alucard watched you with an almost predatory gleam in his eyes, though there was a softness in the way his gaze lingered.

“You look stunning,” He murmured, his voice softer now, devoid of the usual teasing edge. “They won’t know what hit them.”

You met his eyes, feeling a flutter in your chest despite yourself. “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself.”

He smirked, leaning in just a bit closer. “Just ‘not so bad?’ I think I deserve more credit than that.”

You nudged him lightly with your elbow. “Let’s just get through this without any chaos, alright? Then I’ll give you all the credit you want.”

The limousine came to a smooth stop in front of the towering venue, the driver stepping out to open the door for you both. Alucard was out first, offering his hand to help you out, his grip firm but gentle. As you stepped out onto the red carpet, the flashes of cameras and the murmurs of the crowd were already starting.

He pulled you close, his arm slipping around your waist as you both made your way toward the entrance. You could feel the weight of his presence beside you, commanding and magnetic.

“We’ll be the perfect couple tonight,” Alucard whispered into your ear as you ascended the stairs, his breath warm against your skin. “Just follow my lead.”

You glanced up at him, your lips curving into a small smile. “I’m used to that by now.”

With that, you both stepped through the grand doors into the glittering party, where the real game was about to begin.

[psuedosugu]

OMG your Vox with a pop star darling was perf!! Can you please do one where Vox starts to fall in love with his assistant who’s an imp?? At first he’d be in major denial because of the class differences but he’s just subconsciously SUPER doting towards her. Pen out of ink? Guess he'll just have to buy a brand new pack for her! Forgot her lunch? Obviously he'll just give her his!! Sorry if it's long :((((

thank youuu !! this idea is so interesting and no, its definitely not too long, i personally like longer asks better tbh !!

cw: stalking, manipulation, and things of the sort

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || you had always stood out to vox as one of his assistants the whole time u had worked for him.

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || at first he didn’t recognize his feelings as romantic.

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || you were a really good assistant. you were organized and always knew what to do, plus you knew how to handle his outbursts

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || he appreciated you and thats all…right?

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || it was the little things that made him realize what his feelings really were.

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || the way your nose scrunches up when you laugh, the way ur eyes glimmer when you’re given something to do, things like that.

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || you were such a delicate thing.

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || once he realized, he tried to deny it all he could.

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || his brain was at war with his heart. you were an imp. he was an overlord! things could never work out with you two..or could they?

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || its not like there were any written rules on it, plus he could use this power imbalance to his benefit.

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || vox favored you over all of his other workers and assistants, everyone could tell, even you.

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || you were naive, thinking that it was a sign to keep going, to work harder to get more of his approval.

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || at first it was just him being visibly nicer to you than he is with others but then things started to escalate

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || getting paid significantly more, longer breaks and more vacation days,

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || he even started buying you things, wether it be lunch, more office supplies, the latest tech (which he definitely didn’t use to spy on you), expensive jewelry, anything and everything you’d ever need.

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || you tried to decline them, you didn’t need all this, but he refused to take them back. you were his favorite assistant, after all!

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || he also threw flirty quips at you from time to time which confused you to no end.

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || he felt a pang of jealousy in his chest whenever he spied on you calling or texting other people (he could definitely look through your phone, texts, and calls)

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || he wanted you all to himself! you didn’t need anyone else.

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || he’ll probably ask you to move into the building with him, “-so you can work more efficiently!” he says.

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || if you said yes, you two would live “happily ever after”. he would coerce you into a situationship of some sorts. not an actual relationship, though, do you know what that would do for his image?

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || he would keep you close, though, close enough to the point where you wouldn’t want to leave.

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || if you said no, though, or showed any sign of leaving, oh, that just wouldn’t do.

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || what do you mean you wanna quit? he makes you uncomfortable? just calm down for a second, look into his eyes for a bit…and there! see, its fine, everything is fine.

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || and you don’t have the strength to refuse.

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || you spend the next few days in a hazy blur. you want to stay. you want to stay? vox does feel slightly guilty, hypnotizing you into staying, but he has no choice. you’re his, and you need to be protected! what if something happens to you?

✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ || he stays doting over you, making sure you’re okay and stuff, he really is trying his best to make this comfortable for you, so pleasee don’t make this harder for him.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

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[uncouth-the-fifth]

good morning, charlie - Leon Kennedy/Reader

read it on Ao3.

Pairing: Agent!Leon/Detective!Wife!Reader Tags: domestic fluff with the tiniest dustings of background angst, married life, hugging, kissing, and snuggling. Words: 3k (yes, I'm capable of keeping something this short) Notes: read this in a WWE announcer voice: THAT'S RIGHT! UNCOUTH HAS COME CRASHING BACK INTO THE RING AFTER YET ANOTHER MONTHS-LONG HIATUS. i'm magical, truly. here is the first Leon fic I promised last month! There's so much I want to say about this little drabble, but I'll save that for my curious ppl on Ao3. this is going to be a big 180 from my spn content, and I sincerely hope that's okay with the public 😭 for my RE people: enjoy domestic Leon bullshit!

At two in the morning, Washington D.C. is pouring everything it has into crafting the coziest atmosphere of all time. A pleasant window-tapping storm had rolled in right around when you resolved to stay up working. Some late-night radio host is making soft, fizzing chatter in the next room, and coupled with a stellar view of the city from fancy floor-to-ceiling windows, you have a prime opportunity to pass the fuck out.

Unfortunately, you have made some spectacular life choices that don’t mix well with a full night’s rest. Nope, no sleep for you. Despite all of fate’s attempts to stop you from being a cop, (including throwing a city-wide outbreak at you on your first day), you are still here, gripping your job with both hands. At two in the damn morning.

Since scrubbing your eyes hadn’t woken you up the first five times you tried it, you give it another shot as you pace the length of your living room rug—from the coffee table you’ve stacked with files, then back to the whiteboard pasted top-to-bottom with pictures of missing young women. The whiteboard had been Leon’s idea. After the fourth time you’d transformed a flattened cardboard box into a morbid case-board for work, he’d cajoled you into letting him buy one for the apartment.

But I won’t be able to stab the tacks into it, you’d pouted.

Oh, the agony, your husband had drawled. He was a master of delivering a good, dry look.

You’d propped your fists on your hips and tried your best to look serious. The red yarn connecting everything isn’t just a detective-movie thing, y’know! It’s actually really useful. And I need my tacks to stick the yarn in—

Leon had cut cleanly through your building sass with another look, this time one glimmering with humor. Then I’ll get you magnetic ones, detective. Don’t you use whiteboards at the precinct anyway?

You’d grumbled. Because, yes, you did use whiteboards at the station, and they did have the little tacks with the magnets on the bottom. But you’d refused to deal with Leon being all smug (he was unbearable pretty when he was right), and had teased back instead, Whatever, nerd. Why don’t you and the other two angels go call Charlie already?

The reference had gone clean over Leon’s head. Of course, he hated being left out of a joke, so he’d roped you over by your wrist and pinched an explanation out of you until you were squealing with giggles.

Summarizing Charlie’s Angels to Leon had been a lot like offering a paper rocketship to an aerospace engineer. But, hey, picturing him running around in skimpy outfits and escaping action movie explosions on a motorcycle is a whole lot more fun than… than the real deal.

You don’t want to think about what his missions are really like. Not that you’re even allowed to know in the first place. Being Leon’s wife permits you a government-issued phone with his handler’s number, and on antsy days you can push Ingrid for details if you want. But after so long you’ve learned it only hurts both of you—for her, in the inability to answer, and for you, in the excruciating pain of being unable to know. Where is he? That’s classified.

She can’t always tell you when he’s coming home, either. So much of your life is hinged on her check-ins, and even more is forced to live off a simple, He’s okay.

For the seventh time, you scrub at your tired eyes and suck in a deep breath. You’d gotten that fabled text from Hunnigan—he’s okay—earlier today, and like always you crawled through the rest of your shift roiling with anticipation, waiting for Leon to materialize back into your life.

You force your gaze back to the whiteboard, littered with notes and pictures hung up with magnetic tacks. The faces of five missing women bore back. The ten-ton weight of your caseload slams down in full, and again, you scold yourself for floating back into comforting memories of your husband. These girls have lost all comfort in the world since they were taken. Your Captain gave you the responsibility of finding them, and after all you’ve been through, after all the other cases you’ve closed, there can’t be any room for failure. Think.

Your legs ache from being on your feet all day, chasing leads, but dropping into Leon’s armchair for even an instant will just have you nodding off again. More pacing it is, then. This is your pattern for the next half-hour: pace, re-read witness statements, turn, sip your coffee, pace, cross-reference alibis. He’s okay. Two of the girls were taken from Queen’s Chapel, two from Takoma, one from Woodridge. He’s fine. The last victim breaks the profile. What’s different about her? Why take her? Think think think— You know what Leon would do. He was the kind of person you could put in front of a problem, and no matter what he would find a way to shoulder his way through. With physical force, sure, but mental force too. He would sit and just look at the puzzle, and sheer willpower would lead him to some kind of answer. But you’d been pushing and pushing for days now, pursuing every lead, pressing every witness, yet nothing will give. The whole thing feels like a punching bag you’re beating at over and over again, knuckles raw and bloody—

Keys rattle just outside the front door.

First the big deadbolt scrapes open, unlatching with a heavy thud, and that sound alone is enough to shock you awake. More than any coffee could. Then comes the doorknob. Leon hasn’t even turned his key before you’ve twisted the lock open, yanked the door out of your way, and sent it whipping into the jamb with his keyring still swinging from its slot. You give him one full blink to register that it’s you before you’re throwing yourself on him without a single lick of shame, legs and all.

Of course, Leon bears your weight with grace. He grunts out an oof! when you come in for landing, and the living, breathing sound drains into one gruff laugh. You’re scooped up under the thighs and teddy bear squeezed against him. He reeks of cheap motel soap and something faintly coppery—then mint, a whole world of plush, wet spearmint when he nudges your face up with his nose and lays a hello kiss on you. The taste of his gum and the scratch of his stubble on your chin make your skin feel like it’s fizzing, inside-burning-out, every inch of you stood on end by his static charge. Jesus, this guy. He feels like fucking magic, and you’re confident that the laws of physics don’t quite apply around him. Everything in the room, in the too-big apartment that’s painfully empty without him in it, tilts toward Leon.

You shove your face nose-first into his neck and clutch the back of his jacket in both fists. Swallowing hard, you manage, “Hey, angel.”

“Good morning, Charlie,” Leon says.

If you had any resolve for today left in you at all, the wash of his sizzling butter voice would squash the last of it. You’d been trying to be sweet, but your husband has to be funny about fucking everything, of course. Even after weeks spent apart. You love him so fucking much.

“Don’t tell me you found time to watch that stupid movie.” Your voice is muffled by his coat, and you’re grateful for an excuse to hide.

You’re moving. Leon carries you inside, his wedding band pressing into your leg and his other big, warm hand spooned around your back. “Boring plane ride. I wanted to get your jokes.”

Your front door is toed shut, and with all the efficient maneuvering of a proper agent, Leon gets the place locked up behind you. Somewhere in all the commotion he’d dropped his go-bag by the welcome mat, and you hear the dramatic thunk, thunk, of his fancy work loafers being kicked off beside it. Only then does he slip you onto your own feet again.

Your hands slide down his arms as you make contact with the floor. Somewhere in the back of your mind you’re aware that he’s damp from the rain, but that fact hangs in the little alternate universe he’s made in your front hall. Standing there and being able to look at him straight-on, Leon doesn’t feel real. It’s like your constant thoughts of him have manifested a ghost in his shape, mimicking the smiley rookie you remember.

He greets you with a quiet, beaten-down smile, and you understand immediately that the world has thrown its fair share of punches at him, too. You’ve both had a shit week. The Kennedy surname just brims with good luck, huh?

Your hands work on autopilot as you take him in, slipping under the fabric of his jacket and lingering over his thudding heart. His warm blue gaze swims over your face, and you can almost hear the clicking mechanisms in his head as he forces himself out of operative mode and into home mode by looking at you.

“It’s a really bad movie,” you say, choked up.

Leon’s jacket hits the floor with his shoes. There’s a swath of ugly, purpling bruises crawling up his bare arm, old enough to be greening at the edges, and your stomach churns when you see it.

He taps your chin up, pulling you away from the damage and back on him. His voice rolls over you like bourbon in a glass. “Absolutely. So-bad-it’s-good, even. We should watch it, make fun of it together. Like, why the hell does…”

Leon flawlessly falls into an analysis of the movie’s poorly-written espionage elements. The movie you made one offhand joke about several weeks ago, mind you. He’s pulling at straws, saying whatever the hell comes to mind to make you laugh, so exhausted he’s literally swaying on his feet. You can’t believe he’s trying to distract you with something so trivial, but this is your husband. One flash of that weary closed-mouth smile, one brush of those callused hands down your wrists, and your whole world resumes its orbit around him.

You laugh at the jokes he’s obviously crafted for your benefit, a weak chuckle your heart isn’t in. With his hands looped around your wrists, he guides your arms around his neck and welcomes you back into the toasty bubble of his touch. Leon’s even warmer from being tucked underneath his coat. Pure goodness and safety glows off him like a fucking nuclear reactor, and it dawns on you that you haven’t felt safe at all since he left. Anyone can be plucked off the streets here.

One more scratchy kiss and then he’s leading you deeper into your apartment. No one on Earth would believe that he’s a chatty guy, but he talks the whole way through. Too often he’s left to sit in his own mind on missions, and you’re treated to two week’s worth of his backlog in the next ten minutes. All the little things he wanted to say to you. The streams of smart-mouth commentary he was famous for at the academy are all inner monologue now, but you’re confident the Leon radio show still runs twenty four hours a day. He chatters so much in his head that it slips out of him like water sometimes—

“…that close to an explosion would disintegrate you, but fuck physics I guess—“ Leon interrupts his own flow of thought to squint at you. “Quit looking at me like that. It’s unfair how pretty you are when you’re tired. What was I—not like the laws of physics apply to that movie anyway, but…”

—and you’re stupidly charmed by it. He talks to comfort himself, and because the two of you are one unit, one person to him, he does the same for you.

With your hand tethered in his, he clicks off the radio in the kitchen. One of Leon’s side-stories replaces the random late-night station that’d been playing, floating over the din of the rain like bass over relaxing drums. He pours out the dregs of your coffee. He closes the files full of gruesome crime scene photos on your coffee table, and you watch, barely able to keep your head up, as he flips your whiteboard over to its blank side. You’ll get his second opinion on the case tomorrow.

Leon sweeps the place with you in tow, and once the security system’s armed and you’re almost sagging against him, the lights come off. Though you’ve had plenty of time to adjust to the Leon that returned home from training, you’ll never get used to the little alien ticks it’s given him. He navigates to your bedroom in complete blackness. He avoids the creaky floorboard just outside your door without seeing, deathly silent. The broad presence of him looms in the dark.

One wall of the bedroom is nothing but paneled glass, throwing a long square of dark blue moonlight over your rumpled comforter. While the view of the Potomac and Capital Hill is stellar from up here, you’ve always felt out of place among the things Leon’s generous salary has earned the two of you: a flat with a private elevator in the nice part of town, fresh-off-the-press sports cars, a getaway cabin up north. So much of it you end up enjoying by yourself. It only ever feels worth it when he’s here, smacking his elbow into the digital wall-panel that controls your A/C.

“—s’ supposed to be a touch screen,” he sidebars himself for the tenth time. Softer, Leon adds, “Brush your teeth. I’ll be right there.”

You rope your arms around his middle and press your face into the heart of his back, careful of the bruises he’s doing his best to hide. “Wanna wait for you.”

Leon doesn’t protest. There’s more little beeps as he screws with the temperature of your mattress or something, deciding, “We live in a damn spaceship. Are we too good for plain old-fashioned buttons now?”

Apparently you are, since old man Leon fails to figure out how to crank the heat up. You let him play with it for a little while longer (it’s not his fault he’s rarely home), and then intervene with a few quick taps when things get dire. The heater hums to life under the floor a beat later, and he turns in your grip to scoff, mystified by your vast and incredible knowledge.

“My smart girl,” he hums.

Just that is enough to chip off a piece of your strength. Had he said that to you over the phone, a million miles away in god-knows-where, your knees would buckle. He is the only one who talks to you like that—with so much simple, uncomplicated love. Too tired to put your thoughts into words, you flatten a hand over his heart and kiss the sun-freckled nape of his neck.

“Clingy,” Leon mutters. You’re pretty sure it’s supposed to sound dry and funny, another one of his jokes. But then he’s smoothing both of his palms down your arms in two long handsy swaths, and the gesture tells you everything about just how clingy he’s feeling, too.

His stories make getting ready for bed an even slower affair. You couldn’t mind if you wanted to. As you help him out of his starchy dress-shirt button by button, he surprises you with a rare explanation of where he’s been for the last weeks. The UK. Truly, your husband is the special secret agent to end all special secret agents: he talks around his job as if it was a bump he’d hit on the way home, entertaining you instead with his Leon-ified vision of London. Touristy as shit. Loud as shit. Smelled like shit.

“Just like DC,” he chuckles, and then a second time when your fluffy head pops through the collar of the sleep shirt he’s dressing you in.

It’s too much rough, cinnamon spice laughter for one woman to stand. You duck away to brush your teeth and groan into your palms like a schoolgirl over him, but sure enough, Leon trails you, fingers chasing the hem of your shirt (his shirt) in a sleepy daze. He always keeps you in view. Nervous, maybe, to have you out of his sight.

This tradition continues when the two of you crawl into bed. Your eyes have adjusted to the darkness, and so has your body, able to sense him on the stupidly expensive mattress beside you. He thinks you can’t tell, but his gaze roves over you again and again—down your back when you flop face-first into the plush bedding, over the slope of your shoulder when you wiggle under the covers. Leon draws you into the glorious halo of his body heat with a gentle hand on your belly. If you could bottle this feeling, the whole world would be sick and stupid for him in hours. Minutes even.

You feel so safe that the word doesn’t even come to mind. Just vague, peaceful shapes of things you know, home, sleep, cologne, cozy. His work-rough palm with his body-warm wedding band slips under your tee to sweep over your ribs. Then comes Leon’s face, just on the right side of stubbly as he shoves it between your shoulder blades without a single lick of shame. The breath he takes of you is so heavy that his whole frame shudders with it, top to bottom.

You remember how you’d burrowed into his jacket the second he got home and think, You are me and I am you. We’re always on the same page.

With that, the stage is set. DC’s faraway glittering cityscape lights up all the raindrops on your window, and you watch them run as the two of you melt into one another. Leon’s warm breaths slow across your neck. Time for you to deliver your line.

You wet your lips and murmur into your pillow, “Do you want to talk about your mission?”

Legally, he can’t say yes. Government secrets, bureaucracy, yadda yadda. Leon isn’t always emotionally ready to crack open a coffin he’s just finished sealing, either, but while it is his job to close your case files for the night, you’re his wife. You’re the only person who can knock on that door. With how little choice he has left in his life, you try to give him options whenever you can. Regardless, you know the man you married—strong-willed on a mythical fucking level, and just as self-sacrificing. He’ll always try to spare you.

Sure enough, Leon says, “Tomorrow. Do you want to talk about your case?”

You shake your head at him, exhausted to the point of dizziness. “Tomorrow.”

A tender kiss is pressed to the nape of your neck, and the whole world goes silent for the perfect, husky whisper you’ve ached to hear. You feel his wry smile against your skin. “We’re always on the same page, baby.”

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

so I saw your requests are open. It seems that Astarion believes- at least in the beginning- that his purpose is to give pleasure. He does it to survive, he does it to gain Tavs trust and affection... what if Tav takes it upon herself to pleasure him. I HC Astarion is more dominant as he regains his autonomy, after centuries of having no say or control hiw would he react to Tav gently kissing him, asking him to let her make him feel good for a change. He's spent all this time giving, he deserves to receive for once. Expecting nothing in return.

Yaaas, let's go. I think I may have made this a lil fluffier than what you had in mind but hopefully it works! Playful/Sweet Tav! This is set before he admits his feelings but still in act 2 so he's like close!

TW: They bang and it's graphic under the cut with some mentions of his backstory, which is fucked up. But yeah, sexing is occurring. 18+ That's it. Pretty sweet outside of his backstory.

~

Astarion was aware the sex could be enjoyable, despite the centuries of the act being used against him. There had been glimmers of genuine pleasure through it all, mostly poisoned by the knowledge of what happened to all of his conquests when the job was finished after, but still. They were there.

Enough for Astarion to be somewhat prepared for the loveliness of being with you. When he had made the choice to seduce you, he had done it assuming that sex would be mediocre at best, and unpleasant at worst.

But no. Instead it just felt... wonderful. A word that Astarion was not used to associating with the deed. Though he supposed it made sense. He did like you after all, even outside of the protection he could get out of you. You were intelligent enough to make for good conversation; you were fun, mischievous even. Enough to match up with his own bitchy little quips. But you were also... sweet. Caring even, though it seemed you had a habit of giving that care to the least deserving mortals in the realm.

Not that that was a bad thing. He had been more than ready to use that kind nature against. It was so easy to worm his way into your heart. And the sex was good? Astarion's luck was almost certainly on the edge of running out, but he'd happily take advantage of the streak while he could.

You were just... so submissive. So ready for him to take the lead. Astarion had developed many personas in bed over the centuries, cultivating them for whatever situation he may need. But they were always tools, it had little or nothing to do with what he wanted. Just what he could use to lure them back to their deaths.

In all honesty, he had tried to do the exact same with you, and he would have too if he hadn't lost control on that first night. But then you had to bare your neck to him, the siren song of your blood screaming at him to bite. And then he just... lost control.

Was it the best sex of Astarion's life? Yes. Was he about to tell you that? No.

And it kept being good. Even on the nights he didn't drink from you, he liked it. Borderline loved it, if he was emotionally capable of associating that word with you. And he wanted to enjoy it while he could. He knew deep down that this was temporary, for more reasons than one. Soon enough he simply wouldn't need you anymore. After you defeated the demon for Raphael, Astarion would have some idea of Cazador's plans, and maybe enough to figure out a way to secure his freedom for good. And unless you planned on killing the man yourself, he... wouldn't have any reason to keep the facade going. Not to mention the obvious fact that you could wake up from your lust-induced stupor and break things off at any moment. Astarion wasn't looking forward to either outcome. But how else would this end? It's not like the two of you could set off into the sunset together, like some inane fairytale.

... right?

Astarion wasn't quite sure anymore. And he certainly wasn't going to figure it out any time soon. It was easier just to push the whole thing out of his mind. Especially now, when the two of you finally had a private room at the Last Light Inn, thank the gods. One more night of calm before they rushed into a temple full of horrors.

It was hard to hide his excitement as he pushed you onto the bed, his fangs already sharpening in anticipation. He wanted you to be marked head to toe by the end of the night, bites, bruises, anything and everything to remind you that you were his.

At least for tonight.

"Wait, wait!" You laughed as Astarion crawled over you, wasting no time in trying to claw your clothes off.

But the ask was enough to make him pause, a flash of worry running through his when he asked, "What's wrong? Did I- are you okay?"

You shook your head at him with a smile, your legs suddenly wrapping tightly around his waist "Nothing sweetheart, I'm fine. But..."

The next thing Astarion knew you were always flipping him over, so fast that he couldn't help but be impressed. He always underestimated just how strong you were. You grinned down at him as you sat atop his thighs, your hands rubbing over his chest through the thin fabric of his shirt, "But I think it's my turn to spoil you for a change."

Astarion furrowed his brow, sincerely confused for a moment. And maybe even a little self-conscious, "Why? I mean-do you not like how-"

"You're very good darling," You gently interrupted with a laugh, your hands already working to pull his shirt over his head, laughed as you sat atop his thighs, doing the work to unbutton his shirt, "Best I've ever had, sincerely. But don't you think that things have been a bit one-sided?"

He hadn't, not for a moment, but he sure as hells wasn't going to complain. Not when he had a gorgeous woman on top of him, one who was already doing the work of taking his cock out.

"Let me take care of you for once," You murmured as you started to stroke his length, pre-come already dribbling at the tip, "Anything you want is yours tonight. Just say the word."

Astarion blinked up at you, momentarily at a loss before regaining his usual confidence. Or at least some of it, "Taking your clothes off would be a fantastic start."

You laughed as you did just that, light and airy while you tore your shirt over your head. Astarion didn't waste any time in surging forward, latching his mouth around your nipple with a groan.

He wrapped his arms around your bare back, pulling you closer as you moaned.

"I'm supposed to be pleasing you," You panted as you slipped your skirt down your thighs, tossing it to the side as he suckled on your chest, "Remember?"

"Pleasing you pleases me," Astarion popped off with a chuckle, looking up at you with dark eyes, "Lovely thing that you are."

You softly smiled down at him before pressing a tender kiss to his lips. And then you were squirming away from him. Ducking out of his arms and lap.

He just hadn't expected you to sink to your knees in front of the bed. You rubbed at his thighs, so close to him that he could feel the heat of your breath against his length.

"Can I?" You asked coyly, the question sweet enough to make him shiver. He would never get tired of that, you always asking for permission for the smallest little things.

Astarion sat up with a smile and a nod, tangling his fingers in your hair as he said, "Of course my sweet, go right ahead."

And off you went. You wrapped your lips around the head, suckling on it like the little minx you were. You looked beautiful down there, your hair in disarray as you swallowed around his cock; more than happy to let him take the lead and force your head to take him fully down your throat.

You were drooling around him, staring up at him with your big wet eyes as you worked your tongue around him. It felt wonderful, amazing even. But it wasn't enough. As lovely as your throat was, it was only his second favorite place to store his cock.

"Get up here my love," Astarion ordered, his voice rough and his mind too preoccupied to notice his own slip. He tightened the hand in your hair, easing you off of his cock with a groan, "As wonderful as your mouth is, I want to be inside you."

You grinned up at him before gracefully standing, your breasts on full display, pretty enough to make Astarion's mouth water. You pushed him back first onto the bed before crawling over him again, the heat of your wet cunt so close to his sensitive cock. You gripped the base of it before rubbing the head over your folds, whimpering as you used him to circle your own clit.

It felt amazing, and it looked even better. But Astarion was nearly out of patience. He gripped your hips, his nails just on the edge of piercing your skin as he growled at you, "Are you trying to kill me darling?"

"Just the opposite," You breathily laughed as you finally started to sink down onto his cock, brokenly moaning all the while, "J-Just want to make you feel good."

You were so wet, tight and perfect around him. And the noises you were making, all of your little whimpers and whines. They would be haunting his dreams for years to come. But it still wasn't enough. Despite how lovely it was to have you bouncing in his lap, he couldn't help but thrust up inside of you, matching your movements in tandem.

You gasped as he really started to fuck into you, hard and deep enough to bring tears to your eyes. You were clutching at his chest, hard enough to make him bleed. Not that he cared. How could he when he had you like this? Desperate and needy as you pussy leaked slick onto him, so soaked that Astarion knew that you had to be close.

It had been a long instilled habit of Astarion to be sure his partner always reached their peak first. It was nearly ingrained in his DNA at this point, a pattern that he had no intention of breaking anytime soon.

But then you were leaning in to kiss him, something that shouldn't have caught him off guard, yet it did.

The press of your lips to his felt so soft, so sweet, nothing like the way he was savagely fucking into you. It was gentle, loving even. And before Astarion knew it he was coming, his end abrupt and explosive. It felt like fireworks bursting behind his eyes; he barely even had the wherewithal to move his hand to rub at your clit. But he managed, and soon enough you were crying out above him, your pussy clenching hard around his still leaking cock.

You were still kissing him in that same tender way, softly licking into his mouth as warmth overtook him. He felt... good. Too good even. Enough so where he barely knew what to do with himself.

You pulled away first, but you didn't go far. Thank the gods, Astarion wasn't... he didn't know if he could handle being apart from you at the moment. You rested your forehead against his, smiling down at him with a smitten look, one that made his heart clench.

"Did you like that?" You asked softly, wincing slightly as you pulled off of his cock, "Because I sure did."

I love you.

The thought came sudden and unbidden, screaming into the front of his mind without his consent. He didn't-he wasn't-why had that come into his head at all?

Astarion tried to stomp the wayward thought down as he gave you a strained smile.

"I loved it," He answered sincerely, the truth of his feelings far too close to the truth of his idiotic heart, "I-thank you darling. You really are amazing, aren't you?"

"Such a charmer," You sighed as you laid down next to him, reaching out to tangle your fingers together, "I really never stood a chance against you, did I?"

That was almost enough to make Astarion break out in hysterical laughter.

But instead he squeezed your hand, his eyes turned to the ceiling while a conflicted smile graced his face, "No. You never did."

He could only hope that continued to be true.