#i love both greeds equally | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hazelfoureyes · 8 months ago

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I just need you to know this story has had me in a chokehold and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I am enjoying writing it. This is gonna be a weird smutty slow burn, so still smut every post but full p in v sex will be a reward you have to work for?

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

Part 1 - Pretty in Redsmut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedysmut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds Part 11 - Caught Part 12 - Eddie

A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

「warnings/tags: HumanAlastor x FemaleReader, implied attempt to SA, fingering, plot with porn?, Multi part work, bad kind of choking, blood kink, blood licking, just in general blood, Non-Sex repulsed Ace Spectrum Alastor, stalking, murder obvs, finger sucking, smoking kinda kills if you squint, Public sex acts, garter belt, You have a stage name but no one important uses it, Greed, Lust, Human Alastor is a little different than Demon Alastor. 」

minors dni 💅🏽

Part 1 Pretty in Red

The marriage between burlesque and jazz wasn’t unexpected. Before the Great Depression took the nation into a stranglehold, both Jazz and Burlesque were immoral wastes of time only the most barbaric sought out.

And oh, did you love it. Everyone who was made to feel like nobody flocked to your theater and the surrounding neighborhood. Men, women, the people who didn’t agree with either. The biblically inclined, those closer to sodom, the sapphic dolls. Everyone was equal in the halls of jazz rooms and theatres where burlesquers were welcome.

Because of the inclusive nature of such places, you often saw familiar faces. It wouldn’t be unusual for someone from Thursday night to be seen Saturday at a different locale.

That presented certain opportunities and challenges. When you found a good mark, it was easy to be wherever he was and play it off as fate and common interests.

And when you gained a new stalker, someone wanting a personal show, it could be hard to tell until it was too late.

Maybe it was your greed, or just your love of attention, but you found yourself focused almost entirely on a particularly well dressed man one evening. You’d seen him around before. Clean cut, sharp suit, a welcoming smile always on display. He looked like he had money, the most attractive quality of any man you could meet.

So focused on his gleaming stare from the side booths you hadn’t noticed the man at the stage front tables. You barely noticed him the night before, or the night before that, either. Because Smiles, as you took to calling the handsome stranger in the back, had been here three nights now too.

You really put on a show. Shimmying your hips, ostrich feathers following suit with every move. Your brassiere was heavy with shining rhinestones, panties of silk and lace. Your set was almost done, all that was left was to remove your top and slink away behind the curtains to hollers and whistles. Back turned, you unhooked the painful bra and let it fall to the stage with a clunk. Foot in front of foot, you stalked the stage length. With your hand hidden from view you took the feathered fan from the stagehand behind the curtain. As the music crescendoed you turned, fan unfurling just in time to hide yourself.

Groans, mass begging from the audience. Your stage name a chant now, a prayer. “Autumn! Come on!”

As the band slowed, music dying to mark the end of your number, you scanned the crowd. Eyes blinking coyly, you mouthed, “More? Did you want more?”

People were jumping to their feet, not Smiles but that was fine, you were focused now on the adoration of the crowd. The music ended, a second of silence.

You winked, the drums hitting one last beat as you let the fan close.

Fanfare! Men whistling, women clapping. Someone shouted a marriage proposal. You took a bow, twirled on the balls of your feet and slipped gracefully behind the curtains.

Your hands wound to your spine, rubbing blood flow back into your skin as the staff removed your headdress. Someone slipped your robe over you and you nodded a thanks, aching feet carrying you to the dressing room. It was chaos, as usual. Women buzzing around, tits and ass here and there. You smiled. You happened to enjoy this part of the job. Soft bodies in shiny costumes, lovely smells and sweet voices. If you could get dressed quickly enough, you could still take a tour of the room and slide into Smiles’ booth.

“Enjoy the show?” You’d ask. He’d lean in, maybe blush, “Always when you’re here.” Or something like that. You’d cozy up to him, flag down a waiter for something strong and pricey, and get him properly drunk. He’d wake up outside, fine and dandy except his missing cash.

You’ll call him a drunkard if he confronts you, accuse him of getting himself robbed after you refused his advances. You’ll say it too loudly, and he’ll run off.

You danced a little in your seat, another game of cat and mouse about to commence. But first, a smoke.

Unbeknownst to you, the well dressed man hadn’t come to see you. He preferred your singing shows at the little dive bar two blocks over. No, he had come for the man at the front table. For weeks now, he had watched him harassing the ladies of the few joints in New Orleans that weren’t regularly hounded by police. Your smiley mark even heard stories of unsavory acts, many women leaving the dance scene entirely after.

He didn’t care for it. He didn’t care for him. So he took to his hunt, following the man to come to his own conclusions. The pattern of behavior was obvious, and though he hadn’t seen what ended the last obsession, it was clear one of the performers at this club was being stalked as the next victim.

He watched your dance with half lidded eyes, just as much as he watched the man give dirty looks to the other men cheering. Heard the, “Marry me!” shouted at you.

Yes, it was obvious to him now.

So when the target of his interest got up and pushed his way into a staff only door, well, the well dressed man was sure to follow.

The great thing about confidence and a nicely tailored suit is that no one questions you about why you are where you are. So while the brute he tailed had to shove past people to get wherever he was going, people smiled and made room for the gentleman who was not far behind.

He caught the street access door before it closed, allowing it to stay open just a sliver. Enough for one golden brown eye to watch the events unfold.

“Can I have a light?” The stranger asked you. You looked at him, then to the staff only entrance he just came out of.

“I don’t think I know you….,” you handed him the lighter but he instead leaned into you, cigarette hanging from his lips. “You… new?”

You sparked the flint with a practiced thumb, taking three tries to get it lit, and put your hand out. The man didn’t budge, eyebrows rising, “You really don’t recognize me?” He asked, motioning with his hand to come closer. Your eyes glanced down the alley, cars slowly moving past the street. When you looked back, the man took your wrist in his hand. He held you so tightly that the muscles in your palm locked and you dropped the lighter.

“What the fu-,” his hand came across your face, halting your sentence.

“I’m your best customer. Every show. I’m the one who brings flowers.”

Dozens of men bring flowers, especially on the weekend shows. You held your cheek, skin burning. Your hand pulled back, the corner of your lip bleeding from his rings. Scrambling, your mind was searching for the right words.

With a forced smiled, your shaky voice finally piped up, “Oh! Yeah! Oh geez. I am so sorry, doll. I’m just so tired, and the alley is so dark. Here, let’s go inside so I can get a better look at you.” You tried to take your wrist from him but he didn’t loosen up.

“Nah, you ain’t tricking me. You owe me.” He pulled you into him, large hand gripping your face with ease, “You can’t lead on men like this and think you don’t gotta answer for it.” He kissed you, forcing your face into his. “Bitch! Did you fucking bite me?” He threw you into the tin trash cans beside the wall, knocking the wind out of you.

No purse, no sharp object, not even a heeled shoe to defend yourself with. You cursed, so preoccupied with Smiles you forgot your wits.

You spit out the copper saliva, his blood and yours. “I’ll keep biting, too.”

Why scream? The sounds of the next act were bouncing off the brick walls. Upbeat jazz and applause echoing around you. No one would hear you. Men can break your body but you never had to give them your dignity. Never give them the satisfaction of a response.

No. No screaming. You instead spent your energy trying to get to your feet. He took hold of your neck now, throttling you. It wasn’t what you had expected, but as he lifted you off the ground and your little dressing room slippers fell off, you thought this was actually better.

“Well I think that’s quite enough.”

You felt warmth, then registered wetness. Your shin scraped on the asphalt as you were dropped without warning. Trying to open your eyes, you found you couldn’t see. Wiping and blinking away the foreign liquid, you watched your attacker fall to his knees.

Blood was shooting from between his fingers around his own neck, each pulse becoming weaker and weaker, evident through the stream.

When he finally fell over, drained, you were startled to see another man with you. The light reflected off his glasses as he adjusted them, the knife still in his right hand as he did so.

“My, my. What a mess he’s made.” The man smiled down at you, offering a hand. When you didn’t immediately react, he cocked his head to the left, “Is that anyway to treat your rescuer?”

Is that was this was? A rescue? You took his hand with both of yours, pulling yourself up.

Smiles? You blinked away the shock, time to shift into your next part. Damsel. You weren’t out the woods yet.

“You saved my life!” As you pressed yourself into his chest, you tucked your head beneath his chin. You tried to make yourself small. “I owe you! Please let’s go inside, drinks on me!” You looked up, batting your lashes.

“I don’t think that’s wise, dear.” His gaze panned down your dress, soaked through. He could see the thinking behind your eyes.

“No, right….,” You gripped his vest, “We gotta get outta here, fast. There’s a hotel just behind the threatre.” You started to pull his suit jacket off, slipping it over yourself. “No cops, the theatre will get raided. Just— take me somewhere safe?”

You watched him look you over, arm finally extending to let you hook yours with his.

As soon as the hotel door closed behind you, you slipped off his jacket and ran to the dressing table mirror.

Your face was painted red, navy dress now black and sticky. It was good you stayed from view of the reception staff. “I didn’t get my rescuer’s name,” you licked your thumb and rubbed at the blood around your cheeks.

“Alastor. It’s a pleasure.”

You laughed, “Is that what you call a pleasure?” Turning, you pulled the mostly still dry handkerchief from your pocket and dabbed the corner on your tongue. You brought it up to the frame of his glasses and wiped the blood from the metal. “I’d hate to see what you call a bad time.”

Your hand slowed, noticing the way he was looking at you. Typically men’s pupils were blown when they fell on you, but his were constricted. They flitted around your face. His hand took hold of yours, fingers separating the thumb from the handkerchief. He pulled the little square of yellow fabric free with his other hand, allowing him to hold your thumb now by itself.

His lips opened, tongue licking the blood stained finger before placing it directly into his mouth.

Your stared, horrified, as he sucked the digit clean.

His eyes fluttered close, finger popping out of his mouth with a debauched sound. You made no attempt to take back your hand. The realization you may have hopped out of the frying pan and into the fire set in.

“You are a funny one, aren’t you?” You tried to sound as in control as possible. Calm. Unwavered. Offered a timid smile.

He chuckled, “You could say that. May I?” His fingers lifted your chin. You didn’t know what he was asking. His soft smile looked downright loving. He smelled so good, notes of something earthy rising above the copper.

You nodded, because part of you wanted to see where it would go. And part of you thought you didn’t have a choice.

As his face came to yours, you instinctually closed your eyes expecting a kiss. But no, instead you felt his tongue wipe across the cut at the corner of your mouth. His breath blanketed your cheek. Then his hand left your chin, the warmth of his body gone entirely.

You opened your eyes to see him at the door, slipping back into his jacket, “I’ll pay for the night.” He tipped his head to you and exited the room back first, eyes locked with yours until the door closed.

You just stood there in the silence left behind. But as if on cue, the adrenaline waned and your knees buckled under you. You were moments from death, now somehow spared. But what had he— Alastor, been doing there? Did he follow you, too? The cat and mouse had been flipped, or perhaps now this was a fox and hound?

Gripping the dressing table, you pulled yourself up and into the view of the mirror again. Face streaked in dried blood save for the one clean spot where your lips met cheek.

You felt like a ghost the next day. It would be nice to tell someone about what happened but, “Hey a man tried to kill me and then another man killed him! Then he licked blood off my face and I let him. It was the most disturbingly erotic thing to happen to me in months!” would get you tossed into a wagon.

“Are you rude or just stupid?” The theatre manager pulled you aside by the arm when you came into rehearsal. “You can’t just disappear like that, people were waiting.”

Your eyes narrowed, “Was… my absence really the most exciting part of the evening? Not the John in the gutter?”

He huffed, “So that’s it? Got a beau?”

“Wait— nothing else happened last night? After I left?”

“This show doesn’t revolve around you. Plenty happened.”

“Excuse me,” you hurried into the back, “And sorry!”

You opened the street access door and looked into the alley. Trash cans neat and tidy, no dead man, nothing strange or telltale.

You ducked back inside. Had Smiles done this? Obviously, actually. No stranger just cleaned up the dead body. If the flatfeet had found him, the club would have been under scrutiny.

Good, you thought, and went about your work.

Rehearsal dragged on. Little details summoning you back to the night before.

“You okay?” Another performer asked, grabbing your hand and inspecting the blood around your cuticles.

“Oh it’s not mine!” You laughed, she laughed, you walked off before she could clarify.

When applying your makeup, you remembered his hands on your face. They were so soft. Definitely a man of means. A brief intrusive thought, the other hands on your face last night.

You pranced on stage, going through the motions of your routine. Even in the empty hall, your eyes wandered to the booth he’d been in. And as you took the stage in earnest later that night you searched the crowd for the glint of his glasses and found nothing shiny nor promising.

Back in the dressing room you took a moment to wonder what the actual fuck you we’re doing. He murdered a man in front of you, why were you hoping to see him again? He had half a mind to kill you next.

But would that really be so bad? Your life was routine, boring even. The only thing keeping your lungs expanding was the applause. Maybe the headlines of your death would cause such an uproar, dancer struck down in her prime, that you could bask in the loving glow all the way from hell.

One way to remain famous, you considered. A dramatic death.

Not that you were famous. You weren’t part of the national circuits. Just your local theatres, a common face and body to the sinners of Louisiana’s most infamous city. But, well, fame is relative. For the scene you were in, you were your own little star.

A shining light. Shimmering. The faint light reflecting off— Blood. For a second you could only remember looking through bloodied, heavy lashes.

“You’ve been so out of it. Trouble in paradise?” Ruth, the curviest of your coworkers and arguably the favorite of the crew, rested her chin on your head. Looking at each other in the mirror, you offered a soft smile.

“I’ll letcha know when I get there.”

She pinched your cheek, “Tommy said you had a new guy. I just figured-,”

“That isn’t,” you clenched your eyes shut, “no, no guy. I just got locked out last night in the alley. The sticky-,” sticky and viscous blood, “back door wouldn’t open up. I didn’t want to come in the front in my slippers so I just hoofed it home.”

She patted your head, “if you say so! Be careful out there though. Dangerous these days.”

An understatement.

You enjoyed the spotlight, but more than that you craved the attention doted on you after. You’d walk through the hall to the bar to adoring looks and free drinks. It bothered you that Tommy was telling the girls you had a man. You didn’t want to appear too closed off, or for word to spread to the customers.

Last thing you needed was men passing you by for more available options. Not that the pay wasn’t fine. Ends were being met, but grifting added an element of thrill. You really did love the chase. Finding someone and deciding he would be yours, he would fall under your spell and be at your feminine mercy. It made you feel powerful, almost mythical. And the money was nice. Sometimes you didn’t even need to steal, the men would just lavish you in gifts and you’d let it fizzle out naturally. Normally their wives would snatch them back or they’d just get tired of waiting for you to leave the stage and dance into their domestic dreams. A housewife? An adopted mother to a grown man during the day, a hungry nymph at night? For what, an allowance and a home you didn’t own? Pass. Where’s that handsome man with his knife? That was a much better steel to fall onto than what these men offered from their laps.

From your view at the bar you knew he wasn’t there. But with a nod you decided the chase was still on. You were going to get your victory. If anything, this would be easier. You had dirt on him. Blackmail would be simple enough. Bloody clothes and the perfect alibi; being a woman. No cop would think you took down that hulking man.

Ah, right. There was no body.

That would be an issue. He had to have taken it somewhere. Just find him and follow. Worst case scenario, you play the usual game and steal whatever cash was in his wallet.

Well, worst case you die.

You slept sitting up to keep your hair set, during the day your makeup barely was there but a red lip always the star. You had three nice dresses (well, you had had four) so you figured three nights to find him before moving on.

You slinked through the crowds of the hot and sweaty dance club Moxie. Swinging music kept bodies moving, and though you kept your eyes open you didn’t catch sight of this Alastor fellow. Which was fine! You enjoyed a few dances, swing always making you feel energized. Not a waste of a Friday night.

Saturday was easy, the lounge on fifth. Smooth jazz, plush chairs, rich men. Definitely a place you could imagine Smiles to frequent. The whisky was all top shelf, and many gentlemen offered you a lap to sit. Sure, no Alastor, but you didn’t go home empty handed.

You weren’t a particularly great singer, but if the room was small enough and the piano loud enough, you could please a crowd. Your friend had you on a semi-set schedule most Sundays at her little dive too many blocks from Main Street. Her darling played piano, you sat and sang to the couple dozen patrons stuffed into the one room bar. When you finished your set, you took your bows and looked for your friend. You needed to tell her you wouldn’t be staying.

Your polite nods and gracious thank yous were abruptly ended by a tap on your shoulder, “You dropped this, miss.” You did a mental check of your purse before turning around.

“Oh, a sight for sore eyes. Mr. Alastor.” Your face lit up, you could see it in his glasses.

“You’re too kind. Here, I apologize for the delay. I wanted to return them clean.” In his hand was your yellow handkerchief, folded neatly. You took it and found it uncharacteristically heavy.

When you unfurled it, your brass lighter fell into your waiting palm. Your thumb caressed the engraving.

Alastor watched your face as the lighter tumbled out. “I figured it was important, given the condition and detailing.”

You tested the weight in your hand, “Did you fill it?” You looked to him incredulously. He nodded.

It was a surprisingly kind act, and you needed a second to regain your composure. “I don’t know how to thank you.” Your quick wit failed for a moment, but rebounded fast. “Except with a drink. My treat. To my rescuer.”

He mulled the idea, your reaction to him was interesting. Alastor had thought if he approached you first you’d show a little more fear, or shock. But you looked downright chipper to see him there.

“Unfortunately I don’t have much time tonight. I had just wanted to return your items.”

Your smile dropped. How did he know you were here? Had he been carrying— no, he said he had them cleaned. Had he seen you here before, before the incident? A chuckle, smile brought back, “My luck is terrible. You always flee me. I hope you don’t see my company as deadweight.”

Alastor’s smile twitched, eyes hidden behind the glare of his glasses, “Not at all! I think you’d find I’m quite comfortable with-.”

“Lugging people around?” You said. That constricted pupil again, eyes wild. A chill ran down your spine. Alarms were going off. Wrong answer. You straightened your back, popping the items into your purse, “Next time.”

Alastor nodded, “Yes. Next time, then.”

You fucked it up. You knew you had, but suddenly his words felt like a thinly veiled threat.

You turned to leave and hadn’t seen his smile sour.

It hadn’t been a threat. He hadn’t anticipated you to notice the implication. Most people would have been so blinded by his charm they would fail to notice the glaring red flags. He was mildly impressed. You would be more trouble than he had expected.

Alastor knew he needed to do something about the clearly clever woman who was seemingly expecting him. He had followed you for several days, surprised to find you not spreading word about the murder. You hadn’t spoken to anyone, really. Even the man you left the lounge with, you just smiled and nodded nearly all evening while the man dominated the conversation. So, your sharp wit took him off guard. Who were you pretending to be? And why?

All of your cleverness fell apart when you tried to follow him. It was almost comical. He felt bad. This was going to be embarrassing for you.

He took several right turns and stepped into the park just outside of the bar. You thought perhaps he had gotten lost and considered turning around after you realized you’d lost sight of him. As you passed a large weeping willow, you were pulled under the curtains of hanging moss by your waist.

Back against the large tree, you could only pout.

“What are you after, stalking a man in the dead of night?” Alastor had you pinned, both hands on either side of your head. His body boxed you in, not that there was much more to see than moss and darkness.

You blinked several times. What a question. You answered honestly, “You.” He cocked a brow. Then you lied, “Your affection. Your time.”

Something akin to a giggle bubbled from his chest. “I don’t have much affection, but I have even less time.” Your eyes darted around, looking for your next move. “I-,” you grabbed him by the face and kissed him. When you broke the kiss he was staring wide eyed, glasses askew. He opened his mouth to speak and you kissed him again, longer, harder.

He seemed frozen under your mouth, lips taut. Your hands roamed his face, messing up his hair and glasses. Mind reeling. Play the nymph. Be the whore the men always said they hated. Be too strong, too forward, too much and he’ll run off like men do. You could try again another day.

Your hand reached for his lap, his hips instinctively jerking away. Perfect. Men these days can’t get it up for a woman who takes the lead.

Alastor was entirely unsure what the fuck was happening. You were wildly unpredictable. When you grabbed at his dick, he thought his eyes would cross from the shock. Is this what ‘affection’ meant to you? He couldn’t understand it. Couldn’t understand you. Were you really just lustful? Even after what you’d seen him—

You bit at his bottom lip, pulling slightly. Big eyes looking back at him. Your breath was already running away from you, adrenaline seemingly synonymous with Alastor. Staring up at him, you waited. His move.

It was his turn to blink. He looked off to his left, eyes swinging back to you. With a shrug, he leaned his body back towards yours. His hand slid down the front of your dress; red silk. A deer in the headlights, you tensed. The rare third option; fight, flight, freeze. Soon his fingers were tracing the lace of your stockings, climbing up the garter straps.

His eyes were studying your face. You didn’t want to give the wrong answer again, but at this point you weren’t sure any answer was right. This was taking a sudden turn and your foot was off the brake. You closed your eyes, opting out of the scrutiny of his stare. His hand met your stomach and began to slip down again. He rested it between your thighs, longer fingers and palm cupping the entirety of your sex.

Alastor struggled to decipher your expression. It was almost like a pout, but more subtle. You hadn’t said stop or pushed him away yet. Was he right? You were just… horny? As his hand slid back up and pried their way into your panties, you trembled.

It had been so long since someone else’s hand was on you. Someone whose hands you genuinely enjoyed, who you wanted to be on you.

Is that right? You wanted him to touch you?

Maybe it was the stare, or the smile. Probably just the adrenaline.

His hand found its place again, middle finger bending to part your folds and feel your wetness. You whimpered, hand coming to cover your own mouth.

“Is this what you wanted?” He said it low, a husky tone he didn’t have before.

No. Maybe. You nodded yes.

“Will you be satisfied now? No more tailing me?”

No. Probably not. Another nod.

His finger pushed in, and with a kind of greed you didn't recognize your hips ground down into his palm. He slipped in and out of you with ease. You had no idea when or why you got so wet.

“I always end up dripping around you, Alastor,” you whispered through your fingers. His ring finger joined. Why couldn’t you shut up? Why did you have to bring up, well, the murder?

“A common problem for those I take an interest in.”

Oh no. You moaned softly into your hand. Sharp mind made dull by his fingers so you didn’t, couldn’t, process his double meaning.

Oh no. The sounds of footsteps, a pair of lovers sneaking into the park for privacy. You heard their giggles, the sounds of kisses interrupting their walking.

“Shhh”, he breathed into your ear as he worked a third finger into your heat. One knuckle, two knuckles. A whimper. His hand came to press down over your own on your mouth, a second barrier for your mewling. You groaned, the sound coming from your throat.

Whispers. The silhouette of the two interlopers was visible through the willow’s curtains. You watched from over his shoulder, pussy clenching around him. Three knuckles deep, bottoming out.

Fuck it. You moaned freely into your hand, wiggling down onto his hand. Hips rolling, you let your little sounds of praise flow.

The couple laughed, “That’s the spirit!” A man said, a woman hushing him and pulling him away.

Alastor grinned into your neck, immensely amused. He would have better luck predicting a dice roll than your next move.

You hadn’t realized how hollow you’d been until now, feeling so full. When alone, you focused on just cumming, fingers on your clit and mind on memories. You never bothered much with anything else.

Your hunger intensified. You wanted more. Both hands reached for his crotch again, finding nothing there for you. You could have cried. How were you a wet mess pressed against a tree and he was soft as a newspaper in a rainstorm?

Your pride stung. Men usually stood at attention around you. A half sob into the air earned you a chuckle from Alastor. “It’s no reflection of you, darling.” His nose nudged your ear lobe, “I need a little different stimulation than most.”

“Do you play for the other team?” You considered how you could momentarily switch.

A louder laugh, “I don’t have a team.” He leaned back now to look at you. His freehand came to press on your lower stomach, gently pushing your womb down. Your brows knit, why did that feel so good? Hands going to the tree behind you for stability.

“Sure feels like you know how to play. This is-,” his hand switched from thrusting slowly in and out to moving front and back. It sent vibrations up into you. Your eyes rolled close. Shut up. Stop talking. Focus. Close.

He kissed around your open mouth, “Well, it’d be unamerican to not dabble. When necessary, or when the conditions are right.”

Double speak over, “Just tell me what to do to get you to fuck me.”

Alastor’s head fell back as he laughed earnestly, most likely alerting anyone in the immediate area. “Ha! No, this is more fun.”

“Oh fuck you,” you brought a hand around to your throbbing clit to quicken your release.

“Maybe next time, dear.” He took a second, fingers in you sliding around your walls in search of something before finding his place and continuing. Your breath noticeably changed, instead of panting you were practically holding it in. You needed the pressure, you needed something to squeeze that spring of pleasure down so it could snap back. As your face went flush, he kissed at your temple, “You look so pretty in red.”

“Oh god-,” Your head fell onto his chest, your joint effort bringing you to orgasm.

“A little late on Sunday for prayers, don't you think?”

A tiny scream into his suit pocket, his hand not stopping until your thighs finished twitching around him. Even after his hand stopped moving you gripped him by the wrist and rolled onto his fingers a few more times. The pleasure ebbing but still spiking every time he moved against you.

Ah, greed. That was it. He understood a little better. This wasn’t lust, not alone. You were definitely a mix of the two. With a sigh, you released your hold and let him slide out of you. Already you felt lonelier. Already you wished to start over.

With his dry hand he smoothed out your dress. You weren’t ashamed but you suddenly felt too embarrassed to look him the eye. But you did, hearing him hum as he sucked his fingers clean.

Why were you only ever in his mouth in the strangest ways?

“You always taste so sweet, dear. Now!” You wanted to say something clever and salacious like, ‘there’s more where that came from’ but he didn’t afford you the opportunity. He offered you his hooked arm, “It’s dangerous in the park at night. Let’s get you to a cab and on your way home.”

“Is this a hobby of yours?” Your legs were wobbly but otherwise fine. “Illegal activities in public?”

“Funny, I was just wondering the same of you. Stalking is a crime, dear.”

You bit your lip. “Touché.”

He flagged down a taxi, “Tell him where to go.” You slid into the back seat and half-whispered to the driver. Alastor leaned into the passenger side front window and after paying the man, went to close your door, “You’ve been an entertaining sparring partner. Goodbye, sweetheart.”

With a thud of the door and a growl of the engine, you were driving away from him. You could see him in the rear window. He didn’t dare to move, he didn’t need you following another step of his.

Which was unfortunate for him, as you were already scheming how to find him again.

༻Masterlist༺

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

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anthurak · 1 year ago

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As someone who was very curious as to how Mammon was going to be presented in Helluva Boss, you can probably imagine I was looking through the new episode very closely.

And while I may have been off the mark with my theory that Mammon would follow the trend of Asmodeus and Beelzebub and NOT actually be antagonistic, I nonetheless think it is VERY interesting how Vivzie and the team handled and presented him.

Specifically, in just how PETTY Mammon is shown to be in this episode.

Like really think about what you might generally expect from a character like Mammon just from a basic background description: He is one of the seven rulers of Hell, lord of the seven rings and embodiment of GREED. Likely a fallen angel who helped to create hell as it exists today, is matched in power only by his five fellow Sins, and is functionally only truly outranked by Lucifer himself.

And yet, Mammon’s characterization in this episode presents him as this petty, selfish, manipulative asshole interested in little more than money and attention. He acts more like a shitty, full-of-himself asshole celebrity than a demon lord. Just look at how he manipulates Fizzerolli, not through lording power and authority over him but through emotional coercion like an abusive parent, ex-, or boss, which is precisely WHAT he is presented as. fi

What makes this even more interesting is that despite Mammon being characterized as Fizz’s petty, manipulative boss, we nonetheless see him display all the POWER and experience we’d expect from one of the seven rulers of Hell. Asmodeus mentions earlier in the episode that he’s known Mammon ‘since the START of Hell’, confirming they were both involved in its creation, and when the two square off at the end, it’s clear that Mammon is very much Ozzie’s EQUAL in power, and that everyone else present is pretty much an insect in comparison.

This is what I think makes the inclusion of that one creepy, obsessive fan of Fizzerolli’s in this episode so significant; he serves as a point of comparison to Mammon.

For all the power and authority that he might wield, Mammon is characterized as being no different/better than a creepy, manipulative, entitled and obsessive stalker.

I think this might be the true common ‘thru-line’ connecting all of the seven sins through Helluva Boss and possibly even Hazbin Hotel: That despite essentially being ‘God-Emperors’ of Hell and outclassed in power likely only by the most powerful angels of Heaven itself, the seven sins are characterized in a very grounded, down-to-earth and for lack of a better term, ‘human’ way.

All the times we’ve seen them, Ozzie, Bee and Mam haven’t presented themselves as these all-powerful beings lording themselves over their subjects like we might expect or even what we’ve seen of the Goetic nobility. They don’t present themselves as ‘royalty’ but rather more like celebrity performers, which is certainly in keeping with Vivzie’s comments about how Hell is meant to represent a circus.

It really gives this fascinating dichotomy to the Sins as characters, where they’re presented as these big wacky celebrities with big, over-the-top personas which in turn hide very grounded, down-to-earth people underneath. While at the same time still being these monstrously powerful and ancient beings whose dominion over Hell is entirely uncontested.

It also gives them a nice contrast with the Goetic Nobility and the Sinner Overlords. Like those two groups actually do act and present themselves like demonic ‘royalty’ who lord themselves over those considered ‘beneath’ them, while in reality they’re at best the ‘middle-managers’, and instead it’s these wacky characters who are the TRUE masters of Hell.

It may even continue into what we might see in Hazbin Hotel, what with Charlie being this bubbly, happy-go-lucky Disney-esque princess who also may very well have power outclassing literally EVERYONE else in the show apart from her parents.

Overall, I loved this episode and I think we may now have a good idea what we might expect from the other Sins, and possibly even Lucifer himself in Hazbin Hotel.

#helluva boss #helluva boss analysis #mammon #helluva mammon #asmodeus #helluva asmodeus #beelzebub #helluva beelzebub #fizzarolli #helluva fizzarolli #expectation subversion

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minimomoe · 6 months ago

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Clingy Toji

gonna start posting more casual drabbles here when I hit roadblocks in my longer fics.

Toji is a clingy man. In fact, in his eyes, there's nothing that you can't do sitting in his lap if he could help it. He'd go to seek you out like a moth drawn to a flame if you weren't within arm's length of him. Toji can't help to run his hands over your body, committing the curves of your body to his memory. In his head you started it first. The way that you'd kiss him by cradling his face in the both of your hands like he was precious to you, or the way you skated your nails on the back of his hand, just to slip your hand under and lace your fingers between his. Yes, you shouldn't blame him now that he wants to live in your skin. Not only did he crave physical touch, but it was the intimacy he got from you that made him impossible to shake off.

You exude warmth, the hearth of your love washing over him, basking him in affection. Slipping his arm around your waist to hold your frame tighter to him steadied him. Sometimes it was hard to believe that you were real, that you loved him in a similar manner. He needed a physical reminder, and oftentimes the best way was to lay on top of you, nestled between your legs and arms, and listen to your steady heartbeat as you massaged his back, running your fingers down his spine, or combing your fingers through his hair. Toji needed to shove his face in the crook of your neck because there isn't a place in the world that could compare to your scent, or the tickle of your hair against his nose. Toji has always been a greedy man, and that greed translated through love meant constant skinship. He was just lucky enough to find someone who is equally as clingy.

#minimoe #minimomoe #momoe drabbles #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji fluff #soft toji #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk #fushiguro toji

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the-travelling-witch · 11 months ago

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summary: a pouty demon has become part of your nighttime routine

pairing: mammon x gn!reader

warnings: fluff with mentions of insecurities (skin/appearance related)

obey me! masterlist

“Babe, how much longer are ya goin’ to take?” Mammon whined from behind you, his pout reflecting in the large bathroom mirror.

“I’ve only just finished with cleansing.” Turning off the faucet, you gently dabbed a towel over your face, watching the demon with affectionate eyes. “But everything else shouldn’t take too long.”

“Why d’ya have to do all of this anyway?” Apparently not content with your answer, he stepped closer to you and cut himself off with a yawn. “Just come to bed.”

You’d think that, as a model, Mammon would understand the importance of skincare but, to your annoyance, he was one of those guys who seemingly splashed their face with water and still had the perfect complexion.

Could demons also be god’s favourites? One glance over his shirtless form definitely swayed your answer towards ‘yes’.

“No, this is important. Especially if you keep sitting me down for a bowl of spicy late-night ramen,” you sighed. By now, Mammon had closed the gap between the two of you, his arms comfortably circled around your waist and his cheek squished against the top of your head. “Besides, I finally want to be free of these blemishes and look good too.”

Immediately, Mammon stood straight and held you a little tighter. The angelic eyes looking at you through the mirror were earnest and genuine as he spoke with a bewildered tone, almost as if what you had said never occurred to him.

“But yer already so pretty! How could ya get any more stunnin’ than this?”

That was what you loved about him. Despite his usually tsundere behaviour, he never failed to compliment you with his entire heart behind it. Having someone so sincerely tell you you were beautiful, while you wore an old shirt of his as pyjama, had no makeup on and had your insecurities out in the open like this, it made you start believing it too.

A thought that was kinda terrifying.

But you had no time to go teary-eyed or worry about whether you were starting to become too conceited or delusional. Not with this demon around. Before you could say something, Mammon had already swooped down, snowy hair obscuring part of your vision, and planted a sweet kiss onto your cheek. Both the surprise of his action and the visual of his face scrunched up in disgust as he tasted the toner on his lips made you laugh, shushing the voices in your head.

“That one’s on you, I already told you not to do that when I’m doing my routine,” you giggled. Then, you twisted in his hold and returned an equally affectionate kiss to his cheek. “Thank you so much though. Hearing that means a lot.”

“Don’t look at me like that! Just hurry up, so we can go to bed!” Though he averted his eyes, you could still feel the heat radiating off his face and you suppressed another laugh. He really was too cute for his own good.

Even though he’d complained a lot about the lengthiness of your little ritual, he still attentively watched you work, offering his concerns about the colour of a hot pink serum (“Should ya really be puttin’ that on yer face?”) and having his eyes nearly pop out of their sockets when you casually mentioned one of your creams could bleach clothes or hair.

“Well, good thing your hair is already white and you’re already shirtless,” you joked as you finished putting on your moisturiser before turning and looping your arms around his neck. “Because I plan to cuddle you all-night long.”

“Ya’d better! Yer the only human who’d ever make me, the Avatar of Greed, wait, ya know,” Mammon huffed. Contradictory to his words, he had already swooped you up princess-style and set off towards the bedroom.

“Mhm and I am so glad you were generous enough to give me so much of your time. Maybe this,” you put a hand over his heart as he gently lowered you onto the mattress, “is made out of gold after all.”

“Now yer just bein’ cheesy,” Mammon snorted as he crawled under the black sheets with you and pulled you close, the same way a tide would always reach for the shore again and again. “Ya should get some rest before ya say somethin’ even more stupid.”

“But I was just about to confess to the best thing that ever happened to me,” you hummed. When he sceptically raised an eyebrow, you looked him deep in the eyes and smiled. “I love you, Mammon.”

For a fraction of a second his eyes widened in shock before he shut them tightly as he inhaled. When he opened them again, he mirrored your fond smile as a slender finger traced the side of your face.

“I love ya too, treasure.”

if you like my content, reblogs, comments and asks are always much appreciated ♡

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#┊holly’s potions ೃ༄#obey me #x reader #obey me x reader #obey me fluff #mammon x reader #mammon fluff #om! mammon #obey me shall we date #obey me mammon

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seonghrtz · 8 months ago

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𝒇𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒚 𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 ✶ geto suguru

꒰ daylight ! ꒱ geto suguru, a powerful fairy who has had his wings taken from him, finds himself falling in love with the girl who has been cursed by his mother.

❛❛ if you're kind, you might discover something extraordinary you can do ❜❜

pairing. fairy!geto suguru x (aurora)fem!reader.

contents. maleficent universe, fluff, angst, childhood friends to lovers, forbidden love (?), he fell first he fell harder, royal!au, slight age gap (geto is 4 y.o older than reader), mentions of death, maleficent is geto's mom, ooc geto.

amy's note. hi sweetie, this is amy!!! i was so excited to write this one in particular. i love geto so much, and i think he deserves more, but since we are talking about him, it will obviously have a little angst, but with lots of cute and happy moments. i think geto is the one who best fits the whole aesthetic of maleficent, and here we are!!! i hope you enjoy it and have a good read <3

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated!

𝕺𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐔𝐏𝐎𝐍 𝐀 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄, there was a vast enchanted forest called the Moors. This forest existed a long time ago, even before humans settled within its borders, and it was home to countless magical creatures who lived free. Creatures that humans had never dreamed could exist. They all had their uniqueness and strangeness, and even though they were from different species, they lived in harmony with each other ⸻ something that sometimes even members of the same species could not do. The Moors were neither a kingdom nor a dynasty. Hierarchy was unknown among its inhabitants, everyone was equal (even with their differences). However, the forest had its guardians, the fairies. Fairies, specifically forest fairies, were powerful beings who served as protectors of the forests. They were responsible for keeping the Pillar of Harmony intact and protecting the forest from those with evil and malicious intentions.

When the first humans established their kingdom near the edge of the forest, the relationship between them and the inhabitants of the Moors was one of the best ⸻ which seemed surprising. Curiosity ran through both worlds, which were close but different in many ways. However, as the years went by, this friendly relationship seemed to become more unstable and fragile.

Until the fateful day when Moors lost his guardian to human greed.

Stefan, the young prince of the human kingdom, had greed and selfishness in his heart when he tried to dream that one day he could control the Moors as well as his own kingdom. But things didn't go according to plan and it backfired.

On a frosty dawn, Stefan and a few guards set out on a mission to capture the wings of the Moors' guardian fairy, imprison her, and finally take over the forest. Not as discreet as they should have been, they entered the forest before dawn, armed and determined. Things began to go wrong when, instead of capturing the guardian fairy, they first captured her four-year-old son, Geto Suguru.

The little fairy boy, who was absent-mindedly wandering through the forest, watching the day creatures rest while the night creatures went on with their lives, didn't notice the humans approaching with their evil intentions, and the next thing he knew, he was grabbed by the arms. The boy whimpered and cried, trying desperately to free himself from the arms that were twice his size and stronger than his frail frame. Geto let out an agonizing scream as he felt the metal chains wrapped around the beginning of his wings. The pain and burning made the boy choke on his screams and tears, which mingled into a painful sound.

Once Stefan had gained the wings of the helpless child, he pursued his ambition to gain the wings of the Guardian of the Moors. Geto was thrown to the side, writhing in pain and crying for his lost wings. The pain seemed unbearable. Not just the physical pain, but the pain of knowing that he could no longer fly, that he would never touch the sky again. His freedom in the sky, where no one could reach him, had been taken from him when he was still a helpless child.

"My son..." Geto heard his mother's voice and her footsteps approaching his slumped body. "My dear son... what have they done to you?"

"There you are, Guardian of the Moors." Stefan spat out the words with contempt.

"Young Prince Stefan of the realm of men..." the fairy said, trying to control her anger, "Give my son back his wings!”

"If you give me yours, I might think about returning his... if I don't take them for myself in the future."

"You will regret this moment." The woman's hand closed tightly on her staff.

"And why would I regret it? You're a freak!"

"Your wife is pregnant with a beautiful baby girl who is about to be born, and in a few months, if not weeks, you will take over your human kingdom... it would be a shame to have something as precious as your daughter taken away from you."

"How do you know that, you witch?!" the man shouted angrily.

"Listen, everyone," the fairy said, drawing everyone's attention as a green spell emanated from her, "The princess will indeed grow up with grace and beauty and be loved by those who know her, but at sunset on her eighteenth birthday, she will stick her finger through the spindle of a spinning wheel and then fall into the deep sleep of death! A sleep from which she will never awaken unless awakened by a kiss of true love! And this curse will last forever, no power on earth can change it!"

"How dare you curse my daughter, barely born!" Stefan drew his sword from its sheath and positioned himself to attack the guardian.

"And how dare you rip my son's wings off and think you'd get away with it!"

Geto's eyes blurred with tears and an unbearable pain in his back as he watched his mother fight the future king. The little boy couldn't keep up with what was happening, his head was spinning and the only thing he could see was his mother's last breaths as she was caught off guard at a clear disadvantage in the unfair fight. As his mother fell to her knees, he felt the earth tremble and huge thorns grow larger along the edges of the Moors. Frightened, and not knowing what those giant thorns were, Stefan and his companions fled with Geto's wings, happy that they had killed the guardian of Moors and won her son's wings. Without enough strength, the boy crawled over to his mother's fallen body. He rocked the woman from side to side, trying to wake her, but his actions seemed to be in vain. His mother's heartbeat could no longer be heard. With a tightness in his chest, Geto lay down on his mother's lifeless body and cried himself unconscious.

Deep down, he wished this was all just a nightmare that would end the next day. And he would live happily ever after with his mother.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ✶

With the Wall of Thorns, Moors was protected from any threat from humans or any other creature that tried to take over the forest. Geto thought that time would make him forget that tragic night in his life, but he couldn't have been more wrong. But time only helped him develop a dislike for humans and their arrogance and greed. Time helped Geto work hard to train his powers and learn to live without his wings. Even at the age of eight, he had incredible abilities that might have taken longer to learn.

The sun was rising in the east, and while the nocturnal creatures went to their shelters, the daytime creatures awoke to the sun's rays and began their day. Little Suguru, eight years old, followed the forest path to a lake he always went to in the morning. Ever since he was a baby, his mother had taken him to the pond to pick some of the plants that grew around the edge of the pond. It was a little routine that kept his mother's memory alive.

Geto just didn't expect to be followed that morning.

"Who's there?" The boy turned when he heard the hurried footsteps, but there was no one there. He returned to his destination, but the footsteps followed him again, "Whoever it is, I don't want to play!" A low chuckle echoed through the room, causing Geto to roll his eyes. With an idea in his head, he started on his way again. When the one following him was least expecting it, Suguru quickly turned around to see a little girl half his age fall to the ground, startled by the boy's sudden movement, "What do you think you're doing following me?" Geto crossed his arms in front of him, but all he got in return was a giggle.

Geto watched the little girl sitting on the ground. She didn't seem to belong to any of the species that sheltered in the Moors. She resembled Geto physically, but she didn't have wings or a pair of horns.

"Why do you have horns?" the little girl asked with a smile. She stood up, slapped her hand on her baby blue dress, brushed the dirt off it, and stared at the boy in front of her.

"Because I'm a fairy." Geto rolled his eyes and returned to his morning chores, "Now leave me alone!"

"My fairy aunts don't have horns!" The little girl followed Geto with light footsteps.

"That means we are a different kind of fairy."

"Wow! There's more than one kind of fairy?" the little girl smiled, "I'd like to be a fairy!"

"And why would you like to be a fairy?" asked Geto curiously.

"Because you have magic powers! And some fairies can fly too!" she said, her eyes shining, "I can't do anything interesting or unique, even though my fairy aunts keep telling me I'm a princess, whatever that means, I don't have anything extraordinary about me..."

"If you're kind, you might discover something extraordinary you can do."

"Can I... can I touch your horns?" The little girl asked.

"Um, just once!" Geto leaned down a bit so that the little one could touch his horns.

Geto thought that this little interaction would end right there, and that he would never see this little girl again in the vast forest. He just didn't expect her to come down to the lake with him every morning to talk about anything and everything.

Her presence could fill the boy's loneliness.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ✶

When that little girl told him there was nothing extraordinary about her, Geto was absolutely sure it was a lie. And he seemed to prove it with every passing year. And the passing years never scared Geto, but perhaps his feelings were the only things that could scare him.

Within a few months, the presence of the little human at his side had become commonplace. It was difficult to spend any time apart. They had become inseparable best friends. They were always running around in the forest, playing with each other and with the other creatures that lived there. And from time to time, the girl even helped Geto practice controlling his magic. They shared stories and secrets.

And there was only one secret that he had never shared with her...

Every day, Geto Suguru fell more and more in love with that gentle, delicate human being.

Geto didn't know when he fell in love, for him there was no right moment, he just fell in love. And maybe his feelings were the biggest problem. They couldn't be together, not when they were from different species, or when she was the child his own mother had cursed before she died ⸻ a fact that wasn't hard to discover. The young fairy would have to suppress his feelings and accept that they could never be together in this universe. However, Geto decided to enjoy every minute of his friendship with the human who had stolen his heart until her eighteenth birthday, when she would return to her home ⸻ the human kingdom.

"It's a very nice gift, I'm sure she'll like it," said Dival, the shape-shifter who had been rescued by Geto's mother and had since become the advisor and right hand of the Guardians of the Moors ⸻ and who had also advised Geto in his training.

"It's just a souvenir..." Geto sighed, looking at the amethyst necklace he had made.

"You should tell her your romantic feelings for her..." Dival watched the quick movements of the boy's chest.

"I can't do that, Dival"

"Why not?"

"First of all, she is a princess. Just as I have my responsibilities as the guardian of the Moors, she has hers as the future ruler of the human kingdom. Besides, we're different species. You know how humans treat anything that is different by their standards. Not to mention that we're just friends, that's how she sees me and will always see me..."

"And all this keeps you from being happy in love?" Dival crossed his arms.

"These things aren't as easy as they seem..." Geto sighed softly, "Especially when your feelings aren't reciprocated.

"You should definitely get rid of this idea of unrequited love. She likes you! You can see how she looks at you and how she treats you!"

"It is not like that! She's just kind to me, like she is to all beings. I don't get any special treatment." Geto clutched the amethyst necklace in his hand, afraid of losing it, and left for the young princess' house. "See you soon, Dival!"

"How stubborn he is!" Dival muttered to himself as he watched Geto's figure disappear between the thick-stemmed trees in this part of the forest.

The conversation he'd had with Dival a few minutes ago replayed in his mind: could she possibly reciprocate his romantic feelings?

The answer seemed to be right in front of him…

Geto stopped walking quickly when he noticed the young princess singing a love song while dancing with another human. Perhaps Suguru had to worry about how this tall, white-haired, blue-eyed young man had managed to get past his mother's wall of thorns. But the dreamy smile on the young woman's face made his heart squeeze with pain and fear. The fairy looked away and decided that it would be best to wait until the princess left for her kingdom to deliver her gift ⸻ if only he had the courage.

The young fairy made his way to the lake he used to go to with his mother, which had become one of his meeting places with the young princess, and sat on a rock by the shore, watching the crystal clear water and the aquatic creatures that lived there. Geto didn't know how long he stayed there, pondering feelings that should never have blossomed.

"Sugu!" The princess's voice snapped Geto out of his deep thoughts, and the boy turned back, murmuring her name.

"What are you doing here?" Suguru asked, she should have been on her way to the castle by now.

"You didn't think I would leave without saying goodbye, did you?" The girl smiled and sat down next to the boy.

"I thought you'd be more excited to see where you came from and to see your parents again."

"Yes, I'm excited... But then I remember that I'm leaving all this behind and I get scared..." she sighed.

"You can come back, you know." Geto turned to the princess.

"But the thing is, sometimes I don't know if I really want to go! It's a completely different world, even though it's right next door. And I don't want to leave you..." she looked up at the clear blue sky, it would be a while before it darkened. "Could you come with me?"

"You know what they did to my wings and my mother, I don't think I'll be welcome there." Geto sighed deeply. A few years ago he had told her the fateful story of the day King Stefan invaded the Moors, but he hadn't told her that it was her father who had orchestrated the attack and torn off his wings.

"I know, I just don't want to be away from you."

"Come to me whenever you want, I'll be here waiting for you." Geto gently held the princess' hand and placed the stone from the necklace in her palm. The young woman smiled gently and hugged Suguru until he gasped for breath, drawing a laugh from her.

And Geto, deep in his heart, hoped that she would come back as soon as possible.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ✶

Geto put his hand to his forehead and took a deep breath. He was sitting on a kind of throne made of twisted logs and thorns, the place he usually used for one of his duties as Guardian. The sky was dark and the stars were not visible, and Geto found himself clinging more and more to the mere memories that floated through his mind.

"Geto! Geto!" Dival's desperate voice came from afar in his raven form, flying as fast as he could.

"What now, Dival?" Geto watched as the crow turned into a human in front of him.

"They're invading the Moors!"

"WHAT?!" Suguru quickly got up from his seat, eyes wide with disbelief at the news.

"Your mother's curse somehow came true and King Stefan was furious, he sent troops to attack the Moors, but apparently the wall is keeping them out, but I'm afraid that won't last long."

"The sleep curse has come true..." Geto sighed" Suguru looked at a random spot on the ground, his face blank, "She will sleep forever..."

"Can you wake her?" Dival asked.

"I've tried over the years, when I found out she was the princess my mother cursed, it didn't work."

"Can't you try now that the curse has come true?"

"I could try..." Geto looked at Dival, who seemed to be hiding something, but revealed it by looking for ways to wake the princess. "First we have to get there, then I'll think about waking her."

"You'll have to get past the king's troops first."

"That's the least of the problems, Dival," Geto smiled sideways.

And indeed, the troops of the human army were no match for Geto Suguru's power. With a flick of his finger, the fairy immobilized the soldiers, sending them into a deep sleep until he could reverse the spell. Determined, he made his way to the castle, using his magic to clear the way and avoid any unpleasant and unnecessary conflicts.

"King Stefan..." His voice rang out from the throne room, drawing the king's attention.

"You!" the king said in a voice of disgust.

"Well, I think you know that we have some unresolved issues in the past that make me hold on with all my might so as not to crush that tiny little brain of yours. However, due to the current circumstances, I'd like you to listen to my somewhat irrefutable proposal." Geto's hands closed on the staff that had once belonged to his mother.

"What do you want?"

"Wow, that was pretty quick to convince you..." a sideways smile appeared on Suguru's lips, "If you, noble king, withdraw your troops from the Moor's border of your own free will and never come near my forest again, perhaps I can wake your beloved and sweet daughter."

"Can you wake her?" the king's voice came out choked. In addition to his ego, his daughter's life was at stake.

"Only on my terms!" Suguru lied.

"I promise, I promise to leave your forest alone, just save my daughter!"

"I hope you keep your promise or the consequences will be unimaginable." Geto's voice was firm, "Take me to the princess."

The king, still unsure of his decision, ordered one of his guards to take Geto to where the princess rested in her deep sleep. As the fairy entered the huge, luxurious room, he encountered a figure he didn't like very much. The white-haired boy turned towards Suguru, his hands clenching the wooden staff. Geto's purple eyes met the crystal blue of the stranger he had caught dancing with the princess in the forest not long ago.

"Black hair and a pair of horns? You must be the guardian of the Moors," the blue-eyed boy said.

"Get out of here," Geto said, controlling his tone.

"Wow, the princess said you were kind, I don't see much of that kindness," the boy smiled sideways and crossed his arms in front of him. "I bet your kiss would wake her up..." he muttered to himself, getting ready to leave the room.

"What did you say?" Geto looked at the stranger suspiciously.

"Nothing." The boy smiled. "If you'll excuse me, I have some diplomatic business to attend to with the king."

After the boy left, Geto made his way to the princess's bed, where she slept peacefully. This was not a new sight; they had already fallen asleep by the lake they visited every day ⸻ it seemed like yesterday that Geto was studying the princess's features, memorizing all her curves and smallest details under the starry sky. But unlike the last time they had slept in each other's company, when the first rays of sunlight had awakened him and the princess had cracked a broad smile and wished Suguru a good morning, she wouldn't wake up now, not if the spell wasn't broken. Geto sighed, he had been quietly trying to remove the spell from his mother ever since he had discovered that she was the Princess, Stefan's daughter, but nothing was strong enough to break it. And even now, after years of training and trying to control his power, nothing woke her.

"I'm sorry..." Geto's voice came out lower than usual, "I'm sorry I couldn't save you! It's my fault that I was so weak that none of my attempts to free you from this curse worked. I'm sorry I couldn't give you what you needed and be who you wanted, I'm not worthy of having you by my side, not when the only thing that prevails in my heart is hatred. You're too good for this world, too good for me. I wish I could do anything to have you by my side... just once." With a trembling hand, Geto reached for the icy cheek of the sleeping princess and slowly moved closer, touching his lips lightly to hers. He whispered another apology and turned, ready to flee the castle and fortify the wall around Moors, knowing that the king would not let his lies go unchallenged.

"Sugu...?" The weak, sleepy voice of the princess made the fairy stop walking quickly and turn towards the young woman. "You came to see me?"

"I just wanted to see if you arrived safely."

"I just fell asleep..." She sat down on the bed and smiled, "Couldn't you stay a little longer, I want to show you the castle... please."

"Then let's go..." Geto relented.

"Come on, I want you to see everything here!" She smiled openly and hugged Suguru tightly before wrapping her right arm around the fairy's left and leading him through the castle corridors to the throne room where Stefan was.

When they arrived at the scene, the king looked in surprise at his daughter, who was well and awake, and observed the intertwined arms with disgust.

"Arrest him!" the king shouted to the guards, who attacked Suguru, knocking his staff from his hand and binding him to his arm with steel chains, causing the fairy to scream in agony. The princess looked up in horror and saw Geto being carried away, writhing in pain. She tried to save him from the guards, but was stopped by other guards at the king's behest.

"What are you doing?" she looked at the king with watery eyes, "Let him go, please! He hasn't done anything! Please leave him alone!"

"Don't worry, child, I'm just saving our kingdom from this freak!"

"Freak?!" the young woman looked at her parents in disbelief, "He's a living being, just like us! He's never done anything wrong, no evil! Geto Suguru is the kindest person I know, please let him go!"

"HIS MOTHER CURSED YOU, DO YOU THINK I'LL FORGIVE HIS KIND FOR THAT?!"

"How can you blame him when you are the real culprit?"

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN?"

"My fairy aunts told me that you stole Geto's wings and killed his mother in an attempt to take over the Moors." Tears streamed down the young woman's face, "How could you dare to do such a cruel thing, he was just a child!"

"WHAT DOES IT MATTER? THEY TOOK YOU AWAY FROM ME!"

"And you took away his mother! Forever!" The princess wiped her tears with her hands and released the guards. "Because of their selfish desires, the Moors are afraid of humans, afraid of losing their families and their freedom, they are not hideous monsters, they have feelings too. And I can't stay in a place and with people who feel entitled to destroy the lives of everything that is different from them!"

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ✶

The princess ran frantically through the castle corridors as she fled from the guards. After arguing with her father, she soon fled the place, determined to find Geto and free him from prison so they could return to Moors. Looking for a place to lose the guards, she entered a dark room and waited for the guards to pass by. When the sound of footsteps quickly faded, she breathed a sigh of relief; now she would have one less problem to worry about when she found Suguru. However, something piqued her interest when she noticed something in the middle of the room. It looked like a cupboard covered with a long, thick, dusty cloth. She approached the object and, without thinking twice, pulled the cloth down, revealing what it was.

The huge glass box allowed her to see inside, and the young woman couldn't hide her surprise when she realized that she was standing in front of Suguru's wings, which had been stolen by her father.

‘They are beautiful...' the young woman thought, staring in wonder at the pair of wings in front of her. However, she quickly snapped out of her trance when she heard footsteps in the hallway. She took a deep breath, picked up the wings, wrapped them in the cloth, and carefully ran to the catacombs where the cells were.

Noticing that no one was in the catacombs, the princess left her wings in a hidden corner and, on tiptoe, picked up the key hanging on the wall near the exit and went to the cell where Geto was.

"Sugu...?" She whispered, searching the darkness for the fairy. When she heard the boy call her name, she let out a relieved sigh and opened the cell, approaching the fairy in the corner, who was writhing in pain, her wrists aching from the handcuffs. Gently, the princess removed the handcuffs and asked him to wait for her while she fetched something. She walked quickly, picking up Geto's wings where she had left them, but the wings seemed to move on their own with each step she took as she approached him. When the wings slipped from her hands and met their true owner, the princess was even more amazed to see Geto with his majestic wings.

"As much as I'd like to admire you longer, I'm afraid we have to leave as soon as possible before they come looking for me here!"

"Why are we running away?"

"I may have had a fight with my father..."

"You did what?" Geto asked incredulously.

"I had a fight with my father after you were taken away, I can't let my father treat you like that."

"You shouldn't have fought with him... not for me. You just came back home, you found your family again..."

"Why don't you let me save you just this once?" the young woman took Geto's hands in her own, "When I arrived here, I must admit I was excited by the idea of a new world, new places to explore and new people to meet, but at no time did I feel like I belonged here, not like I did in Moors. So please, take me home with you..."

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Geto asked, trying to hide his happiness at what he had just heard from the princess.

"I am absolutely sure."

"Then let's go home!"

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ✶

The princess clung to Geto as tightly as she could while the fairy flew through the sky as if there was no tomorrow. Over the years, Suguru had resigned himself to never experiencing that feeling of freedom again, but apparently he was wrong. Having his wings again seemed like a dream, and to his happiness, it was a dream come true.

When they arrived in Moors, the princess asked Dival to deliver a letter to the king, saying that she had run away and would return to the forest and live there, where she had always felt at home, but that she could occasionally visit the kingdom and spend time with her biological family if they wanted her around.

"Are you going to fly around all night?" The princess asked with a smile as she watched Geto approach her.

"Maybe, it feels too good to stop."

"Your wings... They are beautiful... may I touch them?"

With a feeling of déjà vu, Geto approached the princess and allowed her to gently run her hand over the black feathers of his wings.

"Thank you... for saving me and for loving me as much as I love you."

"Wha... what?"

"I like you, Suguru. I like you so much that sometimes I feel like my heart will explode if I stay by your side for too long... you're my everything. That's why I want to be selfish and have you by my side until the end of this world."

"Well, I think I'll be more than happy to stay by your side until you don't want me anymore." Geto approached the princess, placing one of his hands on her waist, pulling her closer to his body, while the other rested on her cheek, his thumb making a light circular caress of her skin. Slowly, Suguru brought his lips to hers and gave her a soft kiss, which was immediately returned by the princess. Even though he had dreamed of this moment for a long time, Geto didn't rush into the kiss, but enjoyed and savored every moment that their lips were together, as if they had all the time in the world.

"I love you more than you can imagine..." When they broke apart for lack of air, Geto rested his forehead on hers and smiled openly, it all seemed like a dream and if it turned out to be a dream, he didn't want to wake up ever again. The fairy's hands closed around the young woman's waist and he hugged her tightly, as if she could disappear from his arms at any moment.

"But I love you more." The princess said as she rested her cheek on Suguru's chest and listened to his heartbeat, which was slowing down.

"That's impossible, darling!" Geto smiled openly and kissed the princess's forehead, "But I'll let you believe it is."

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miifu666 · 2 months ago

Text

We know sukuna's a huge hater for Yuuji right? But theres a saying around my country where "you shouldn't hate someone TOO MUCH or else fate will always unite u with them."

Or sum like "don't hate someone too much, it'll turn to love."

<<<<<<♡>>>>>>>

Imagine a happy ending Sukuna, one where he genuinely decided to be in a loving and domestic household with you. He saw what the jujutsu world can do, both ancient and modern, Gojo has provenly showed him a thrilling time by being the one and almost only person to make him feel the life and death situation in such a predictable battle.

He got to meet the plentiful talented sorcerers in the modern world, one where they have far more advanced knowledge in how life works than those in the heian era. The new sorcerers didn't disappoint him too much. Some managed to learn innate domain expansion in a mere second, others didn't have any curse energy yet managed to hurt him more than those who do. He's seen it all, he feels content.

Hence why he made a choice to have his own happy ending, see where life gets him after his "unsavory" conversation with his fated nephew. The tangy memories of that boy's bright smile hearing sukuna giving him a chance to show him how beautiful life can be, even if deep within. Theres a dreaded feeling whenever he sees that gullible boy, a fire pit inside him whenever he realized how innocent his so called "nephew" is for believing someone like him can be saved too.

Sukuna thought back idly, coming back to his senses as he feels your hair being combed through his fingers in a consistent motion. He wonders if maybe that annoying brat is right, he has a dutiful lover now. One who he feels as though wouldn't have been his if he didn't accept that despicable brat's decision.

The warm feeling of the sun hitting both him and his equal is... a blissful feeling. He used to be empty, seeking thrill from both knowledge and greed of such delicacies, humans, animals.. all he could find and devour till his stomach is full. All knowledgeable for such sorcery to make sure he stays the top, to see if someone is there to fight and able to defeat him on top of the lonely world of the strongest.

Now he's sitting here, the daunting feeling of such title no longer haunts him. Theres no one who can use him like an object, to fight and treat him like a game boss, speak his name like an object to defeat, disregard him as something worth less than humanity and curses, a natural calamity. Inside this prosperous Minka, he is just sukuna. Hes not the starving child, ostracized from society, being stripped bare of his real birth given name.

He's now.. Sukuna.

The husband and father of... currently one brat.

Speaking of a brat.

There's hustling noises of running feet ontop of the well cared grass, the thumping of something- no. Someone not much older than 5 years old.

"Papa!"

There he is.

"I got butterflies!!"

The small brat he managed to raise. The one and only child he has, a miracle. He was tempted to call him "megumi" too actually- but he's too prideful to use a rip off of someone elses name. He created his own, he hoped. This child doesn't get sick from bearing the weight of his own name.

"Those are Dragonflies, Yajou"

Yajou, a combination of both the kanji for appearance and fulfillment. A perfect name for one who completes the boundaries between human and curses.

Although...

Sukuna stared at his son again. His face is much more similar to a certain brat than him. His bright and naive eyes, those unopened set of eyes under his proper main ones, the tufs of pink hair on top while his lover's natural hair decorated the sides. Its all too familiar, he hates it. He hates having a split image of his disgusting nephew in this... fleshy and chonky baby form.

"Free! Free dragon!"

The child babbles out, spreading his hands out to let the Dragonfly leave his fleshy touch. It was... cute, adorable even. Sukuna sigh.

This.. is a funny way of fate telling him to learn his lesson.

>>>♡♡<<<

God i had this thought at 1am i did NOT proof reading this i just fucking wing it brooooooo. Hope its good ig djdhdjjdkd

Yajou Doodles♡

#📖—writings #sukuna #ryoumen sukuna #sukuna fluff #sukuna ryoumen #sukuna x reader #fluff #i NEEED DOMESTIC SUKUNA #FAAAAAAAAAAAACKCKKKK #ryoumen sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #sukuna comfort

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once-in-a-blood-moon · 5 months ago

Note

solomon couldn't stand your pact marks.

well, no, that wasn't the right way to put it. he was proud, even jealous of your pacts. they were one of the many admirable things about you! he just hated... looking at them. he knew what other people thought when they saw them.

when one would see those marks on your skin for the first time, they would be able to get a glimpse at your relationship with the brothers. one of trust and respect, gathered from just a glance. meanwhile, one would have to be told about his and your relationship. one look at you couldn't decipher all the time you two have shared together, filled with chatting between classes, practicing magic for hours, and endless love.

at first, solomon tried to mitigate this with his own marks upon your skin. wearing lipstick as he placed a kiss on your neck, a few stray bite marks from your time together at night. but those, while fun, were temporary. and solomon needed something permanent.

why not a ring?

(Hope you don't mind me adding on, anon. Thank you for the delicious meal! Literally so honored to read your beautiful work! 🥹)

Getting the ring was the easy part. Getting you away from the brothers long enough to propose...was not.

The lengths Solomon went through to be able to have a private moment with you might put him in a record book as the three realms' most whipped man. With the mask of his "shady" persona secured, he lets his silver tongue weave him through these seven obstacles, the sin of each dripping from it with only you on his mind.

Swallowing his pride, breathing in greed, spitting out envy...his wrath, lust, gluttony, and sloth. A vicious rinse, repeat until he's either buttered them up or grated them down until they finally gave in. But he did it. With the day cleared of any interruptions, his plans were set in motion.

He decides to have a redo of your very first date, flying you up and walking in the sky amongst the stars. It's just the two of you against the ever inky black sky of the Devildom, a place that has become synonymous with your presence. Only this time, there are no surprise gales, no surprise drones -- just the surprise of a velvet heart-shaped box in the inside pocket of his coat.

Solomon brings up fond memories of your time together as you both near the spot he's picked to pop the question. He's filled with a giddy glee that soon you'll have something that binds you to him, something to show the world you're his.

Still, there's a little voice in the back of his head reminding him that you could say no. That perhaps he's not worthy. Does he deserve to have matching rings adorned on his and your fingers forevermore? Does he dare stand by your side as your equal when you are, in fact, so far above him?

He decides it's best not to dwell on such thoughts as this is meant to be a happy occasion, as long as all goes well.

Your feet touch the ground once he lowers you both on top of a cliff that overlooks the Devildom, the moon hanging brightly above. As you take in the magnificent sight, he lowers himself on one knee behind you, waiting with bated breath for you to turn on your own volition.

The moment you do, he knows he'll have to keep this memory stored away with his magic, just staring in awe. The moon is angled just right that it shines right behind your head like a halo. Your eyes are as wide as saucers while your jaw is slacked. With the way you look, he truly wonders if he's in the Celestial Realm.

Nervously, Solomon begins his improvised speech after clearing his throat, "my dearest apprentice, it is with great honor that I'm knelt before you tonight. I have dreamt of this moment more than I'd care to admit, yet I never thought it'd come true. But here I am, willing to give you all of me, if you're willing to give me all of you. You are the sun to my moon, the air in my lungs, the very reason why I believe I've lived so long. I was always meant to find you and work side by side to protect the human realm together. And most importantly, to love you. So, please do this old sorcerer a favor...by marrying me..."

He pulls out the ring box, opening it to offer you the ring within. The blessed box is shaking as he trembles, waiting patiently for your answer.

Happy tears spring from his eyes once you say, "yes." The ring is carefully slipped onto your finger, and a single word comes to Solomon's mind.

Mine.

#everybody show some love to anon right now!!#loved everything about your little mini fic thank you for blessing me!#mom: why are you grinning at your phone is it a boy? me who got this in my inbox at 2am: no :)#reference to his 'spread our wings and fly' devilgram #this was not meant to be this long i'm so sorry...i got carried away #kinda possessive/clingy solomon but he's also soft and insecure #what a fascinating guy #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me solomon #obey me solomon x reader #jo writes #blood moon mail #edit: sorry for the wrong tag i just realized it XD

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pookalicious-hq · 6 months ago

Text

endgame || pt. 2 to tolerate it

caitlin clark x reader (previous paige bueckers x reader) || previous: tolerate it || masterlist

notes: fluff, lmk if you guys want more caitlin stuff!! sorry for taking so long lmao, hope you like it <3

now playing: endgame by taylor swift

Endless streams of black silk flowed along her arms, down the small of her back, the weightless tule pooling at her feet. Gems stitched across the expanse caught sight of the flashing glares, absorbing the endless bursts of light.

(Y/n) had been positioned at the beginning of the velvety carpet, the expanse of red spreading to the entrance of the 2024 WNBA draft.

With her smiles, she carried along her reputation. She held the weight of tonight's unknown outcomes atop her head, her chin never wavering. Soon, (Y/n) would take the first leap, discarding everything and everyone who dared to trap her in the past.

Luckily, she wouldn’t be alone.

“Caitlin! (Y/n)! To your left here, please!”

The two girls moved together in unison at the request. An arm clad in white made its way around (Y/n)’s waist, finding solace in the familiar position. Soft smiles were placed upon their features. Their presence swallowed the venue whole, demanding attention.

Before, (Y/n) would’ve shied away from the sudden spotlight. She had been taught that seeking attention was greed, and only those who deserved it received it.

Now, she learned from someone else.

She met a girl whose love contrasted with anything she’d ever learnt before. Every word the girl spoke had been dipped in nectar. Apologizes were sent along with flowers and warmth, there wouldn’t be room for doubt anymore.

Ever since that night, days with Caitlin moulded into months. Savoured kisses were hidden behind curtains, bodies tangled beneath soft sheets.

Anyone would assume they had been cut from the same cloth given their natural lines that effortlessly fit together.

Now here they stood. After a lengthy conversation, the two eventually decided to make their first appearance together.

Another thing Caitlin had drilled into (Y/n)’s mind; never change who you are.

They addressed no comments towards their relationship. Only offering welcoming replies, carefully steering from the unsaid questions that plagued everyone’s mind: what were (Y/n) and Caitlin to each other?

If they had real answer, they would’ve told any who asked. But, unfortunately that was still a question left unanswered between the two girls.

Of course, they were friends. They had been friends ever since playing on the same team in seventh grade. They were friends who had shared each other’s first kiss. They were friends ever since they knew what it meant to want the princess, not the prince.

Being friends was the safest option. They both lead a busy life. There wasn’t much they could do together but send a ‘happy birthday <3’ text when they lived (about) 1000 miles away.

Though, together now, there still lied this unanswered question.

“Did I mention you look gorgeous, love?”

Caitlin’s soft murmur travelled across the expanse of (Y/n)’s neck, the sensation sparking warmth throughout her body. She swept her gaze upwards towards the brunette, eyebrows raised playfully.

“Yeah,” (Y/n) laughed, “like, three times already. You’re so dumb, Cait.”

Her last words were laced with love, of course, Caitlin knew what she was doing. After her comment, (Y/n) stepped out of Caitlin’s reach, continuing her path down the carpet. The brunette’s gaze trailed behind the deep cut of her black gown, she was never out of Caitlin’s sight.

It was a given that they would be separated tonight. Even before their arrival together, they had been the main topic of the night. Everyone wanted to talk to the all-time NCAA leading scorer from Iowa just as equally as they wanted to talk to the March Madness MVP from South Carolina.

Flash

“Please stand here for an interview, miss.”

“(Y/n), who are you wearing tonight?”

“Caitlin, how are you feeling?”

“Please sign my jersey, I love you guys so much!”

Every comment, instruction and praise was met with the genuine smile that places itself on her features. Her gown flowed along the carpet as she made her way towards her third interview of the night. However, her steady gait soon faltered as her gaze found an unexpected variable in her path. The shock rippled through her, momentarily freezing her in place. It had been months since they last spoke, since they last exchanged words that weren't filled with bitterness and hurt.

Paige's presence hit (Y/n) like a sudden gust of wind, stirring up memories that she had buried deep within herself. She remembered the laughter they’d shared, the late-night conversations, the warmth of Paige's embrace. Unfortunately, alongside those memories came the pain of their parting, the arguments, the tears, the lingering sense of resentment.

But, despite those average thoughts that came up on the topic of Paige, (Y/n) now felt something additional, something different.

As she stood there, her gaze briefly catching Paige's figure in the crowd, a wave of indifference washed over her. It wasn't that (Y/n) harboured any ill will towards Paige—far from it. (Sure, if Paige tripped and fell in that moment she would laugh at her pain, but no one would know that.) She had long since disregarded her for the actions of the past. But forgiveness didn't equate to a desire to rekindle what once was.

Paige Bueckers had exited her life. Whether anyone else thought differently, it didn’t matter.

Her performance over her college years had granted her a seat at the table.

Well, her own table.

She stood atop the stage among teammates and competitors she’d met over the years. The only difference this moment held, they would all be happy for each other no matter the outcome. Every player here had earned this moment.

And no one would doubt that (Y/n) and Caitlin deserved this moment.

Hard work leads to rewards.

But, hard work and raw talent lead to a spotlight reserved for the best.

The line defining the two is a delicate balance, one that is forced to put both against each other. Nevertheless, what the media depicts as a head-to-head is never the true case.

Throughout their careers, Caitlin and (Y/n) had unwillingly been placed on opposite sides of a scale. What others perceived as a rivalry, the two girls simply considered their competitive nature. Nevertheless, they found no reason to acknowledge the headlines.

Who would be granted the championship?

Who would the title of MVP belong to?

Who would win?

On that significant night, (Y/n) and Caitlin painted a masterpiece of determination and skill. As the clock dwindled to its final seconds, Caitlin conceded—it was (Y/n)'s turn to shine. And shine she did, her brilliance lighting up the court with a mesmerizing career high of 39 points.

South Carolina roared with triumph, claiming the championship banner, while (Y/n) (L/n) ascended to MVP status. Amidst the cacophony of celebration, whispers of debate lingered, but for most, there was no denying—she had earned her crown.

Now, on this electric draft night, (Y/n) waded through a sea of flashing lights and eager faces, her senses alive with anticipation. The air crackled with anticipation, pregnant with the promise of new beginnings and boundless opportunities. Yet, amidst the excitement, one question lingered—whose name would be called first?

With each step, purpose pulsed through (Y/n)'s veins, a steady rhythm guiding her forward. Tonight wasn't just about personal glory—it was the culmination of years of dedication, an opportunity to showcase her artistry on the grandest stage.

As she settled into her seat at the draft table, nerves and excitement tangled in her chest. The room buzzed with energy, a symphony of voices and whispered dreams. But amid the chaos, one figure stood out—Caitlin, a beacon of unwavering support, making her way to (Y/n) with purpose.

"Hey there, superstar," Caitlin's voice, a melody of pride and affection, washed over (Y/n) like a warm embrace. Leaning in, she planted a tender kiss on her lover's cheek, igniting a spark that danced across her skin.

(Y/n) returned the gesture with a soft smile, her heart overflowing with love. "Hey yourself," she murmured, reaching out to intertwine her fingers with Caitlin's, their connection a lifeline in the swirling chaos.

"Okay, sassy are we?" Caitlin teased, a playful twinkle in her eyes.

(Y/n) rolled her eyes in mock exasperation, her laughter a melody that danced through the air. At that moment, amidst the clamour of the crowd, they were a symphony unto themselves.

Though, soon enough, the minutes they were sharing vanished as the familiar chords sung, marking the beginning of the 2024 WNBA draft. The look shared between the two girls could only be described as duplicated. While their loving smiles spoke ‘good luck’, their eyes held nothing but determination. With one final squeeze to (Y/n)’s hand, Caitlin weaved back through the tables and took her seat.

Truthfully, (Y/n) couldn’t give a damn about the speech that Cathy Engelbert was reading. The probably scripted words only added to the weight on her heart as she awaited her next team assignment. Despite the dragging minutes, she kept up a facade of interest for the camera.

“And now, we don’t have to wait any longer because the pick is in!”

Those words flipped a switch in (Y/n)’s mind, her senses sharpening as Cathy Engelbert took the stage, her heels clicking against the polished floor. Each click echoed through the room, a metronome counting down to the pivotal moment. The air was thick with tension, electric and charged, every breath laden with anticipation.

The moment drew closer and closer.

“With the first pick in the 2024 WNBA Draft, the Indiana Fever select…”

The words hung in the air, estatic with possibility. Everyone held their breath as the selection came down to two athletes. (Y/n) glanced over to Caitlin’s table, finding her already searching for her eyes.

“Caitlin Clark, University of Iowa!”

Time seemed to stand still for a moment, the room erupting in chaos as the crowd roared in ecstasy. (Y/n)’s heart thundered in her chest, adrenaline coursing through her veins. It was a rush, overwhelming and intoxicating.

With her eyes still locked onto Caitlin’s, she broke into a blinding smile, Caitlin mirroring her. In that moment, everything else faded into the background, the world narrowing down to just the two of them.

(Y/n) stood, her heart pounding, her pulse thrumming in her ears. Every step toward Caitlin felt like an eternity, the ground solid beneath her feet. Suspense hung in the air like a heavy fog, thick and suffocating.

With a barely contained laugh, she tumbled into Caitlin’s embrace, the world spinning around them. Nothing else mattered but the warmth of Caitlin’s arms around her, the sound of their shared laughter drowning out the noise of the crowd.

“You did it. You deserve this, Caitlin,” (Y/n) spoke, her voice ringing clear over the clamour of the crowd. Her words were a declaration, a testament to Caitlin’s strength and resilience. Her final words slipped out in a hush, “I love you.”

Amidst the cacophony of noise and celebration, Caitlin held onto (Y/n) as if she were the anchor in a tempest. Each beat of her heart reverberated with the pulse of the crowd, her senses heightened by the rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins. It was a moment suspended in time, a fleeting eternity of shared joy and boundless emotion.

As Caitlin finally released her grip, (Y/n) felt a bittersweet pang in her chest. Her heart swelled with pride for her friend, yet beneath the surface, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions threatened to overwhelm her. In another time, her stomach might have plummeted, her throat constricted by the weight of unshed tears. But now, amidst the chaos of the draft, she found only a sense of serene acceptance.

Her gaze lingered on Caitlin, the embodiment of success and possibility, as she stood adorned in her Indiana Fever jersey. In that moment, (Y/n) glimpsed the future unfolding before her, a future that held boundless potential and untold promise.

Returning to her own table, (Y/n) was met with sympathetic glances and unspoken assumptions. But she brushed them aside with a knowing smile, the genuine ecstasy of Caitlin's triumph shining through her features. For in that moment, she understood that second place held no sting, no bitterness. Caitlin's victory was her own.

The room buzzed with anticipation as the attention shifted to the second pick of the night, belonging to the LA Sparks. (Y/n)'s heart raced with a mix of nerves and excitement. She couldn't help but steal glances at Caitlin, who was now enveloped in the embrace of her family, her smile radiant with joy.

As the tension mounted, (Y/n)'s mind raced back to all the years of hard work and putting up with undeserved bullshit. She remembered the countless hours spent on the court, the sacrifices made, and the people she overcame. It had all led to this, the culmination of a lifelong dream.

But amidst the anticipation, there was a sense of contentment that washed over her. She had already achieved so much, and seeing Caitlin's success only fueled her determination. Her focus remained unwavering, her heart filled with pride for her lover.

And then, it happened.

"With the second pick in the 2024 WNBA Draft, the LA Sparks select... (Y/n) (L/n)!"

The words echoed through the room, but Mayari hardly registered them at first. It was as if time stood still, her mind unable to comprehend the magnitude of what had just been announced.

But then, reality crashed over her like a wave. The cheers of the crowd filled her ears, and she felt a surge of emotion welling up inside her. The room seemed to spin, the lights blurring into a dazzling array of colours as she stood, her legs trembling with a mix of exhilaration and disbelief. The warmth of the moment enveloped her, and with every beat of her heart, she felt the weight of everything she had worked for lifting off her shoulders.

Just then, amidst the applause of the crowd, she heard melodic notes of her name being called out.

Suddenly, (Y/n)’s world tilted on its axis as she was swept up into Caitlin’s embrace. Their gazes locked smiles mirroring one another in joyous ecstasy. The sounds of the cheering crowd seemed to fade, replaced by the pounding of her own heart and the warmth of Caitlin's arms around her.

"I love you too," Caitlin whispered, her voice barely audible over the roar of the crowd.

(Y/n) felt her heart swell, her emotions threatening to overflow. They rested their foreheads against each other, their breaths mingling as they shared the profound intimacy of the moment. It was as if the world had fallen away, leaving just the two of them in their shared victory.

The fans in the crowd went wild, their cheers and applause creating a wave of sound that crashed over the two girls. Cameras flashed, capturing the raw emotion etched on their faces. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated joy, one that neither of them would ever forget.

As they finally pulled apart, (Y/n) felt a laugh bubble out of her throat, the sound drawing an admirable expression from the brunette. She turned to face the stage, her heart pounding with excitement and anticipation. This was it—the moment she had dreamed of for so long.

Taking a deep breath, (Y/n) made her way to the stage, the cheers of the crowd propelling her forward. She felt the warmth of their support, the love and pride radiating from every corner of the room. This was her moment, a testament to all the hard work, the sacrifices, and the unwavering determination that had brought her here.

As she stepped onto the stage to accept her LA Sparks jersey, she glanced back at Caitlin, who was watching her with a look of pure, unadulterated pride. (Y/n) knew, in that moment, that they had both achieved something extraordinary and that this was just the beginning of their journey.

With the weight of the jersey in her hands and the future spread out before her like a vast, open sky, she felt a profound sense of peace and accomplishment. The journey had been long and arduous, filled with moments of doubt and resilience, but standing there under the bright lights, she knew it had all been worth it.

As she held up the jersey, a symbol of her new beginning, her eyes swept across the sea of faces, each one a blur of colors and emotions. The lights above her were warm, casting a golden glow that bathed the room in a surreal, dreamlike quality.

Her gaze found Paige amidst the cheering crowd. Paige's smile was radiant, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, her expression a blend of pride and a quiet acknowledgment of their shared past. The sounds of applause and cheers seemed to fade into the background, replaced by the rhythmic thudding of (Y/n)'s heart. The moment hung in the air, thick with unspoken words, a silent reconciliation and mutual respect woven between them.

(Y/n)'s heart swelled, a rush of warmth spreading through her chest, filling her with a deep sense of closure and peace. She returned Paige's smile, a genuine and heartfelt gesture, before her gaze naturally found its way back to Caitlin. Caitlin's eyes sparkled with joy, her love and pride shining brightly, grounding (Y/n) in the whirlwind of emotions surrounding her.

Caitlin's eyes were bright with joy and love, reflecting everything (Y/n) felt in that moment. The applause of the crowd seemed to fade into the background as they shared a private, intimate moment amidst the public celebration. Caitlin, in all her seriousness, blew (Y/n) a kiss, a tender gesture that drew a smile out from her. (Y/n), with a smile, reached out as if to catch it and then graciously tucked it into her pocket.

As she stood there, the weight of her journey lifted, she knew this was the beginning of a new chapter. With Caitlin's silent encouragement echoing in her mind, she felt ready to embrace whatever came next. The next step would be difficult, but it was hers to shape, and she would no longer be alone.

a/n: IM SO SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG SHIT'S BEEN TOUGH. anyways hope you liked it, if you wanna see more cc x reader lmkk also next chapter of midnight love will come out soon IM SERIOUS I PROMISE DON'T HATE ME

anyways thank you for the support love you guys, mwah <3

taglist: @kenzie-luvzz , @idratherbesleepingrn , @h34rtsformilli , @pinkandlilacroses , @i-bribri-i , @thatonemarvelfan03 , @girlokwhatever , @ihrtthotdads , @kc88888888 , @nfleditsrjustbetteridk , @imsobabygiirl , @vi0lentb3rry , @sejus-wife , @katemlk , @littlelesbianinternujung, @ktaerssoi, @evangelinexo , @c999sh , @yazmunson , @choibeomkai , @ekisokay

#paige bueckers x reader #caitlin clark x reader #paige bueckers #uconn wbb #wlw #wlw fic #caitlin clark #iowa wbb

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bird-inacage · 5 months ago

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Love Sea: The Price of Love (Tongrak & Mut's Backstories)

"Love is just a figment of our imagination." We were given more clues to both Tongrak and Mut's backstories in Episode 2 and how this has impacted their attitudes to love. There are crossovers starting to take shape, so here I am trying to connect some of those dots.

EP2: FLASHBACKS | History Repeating Itself

In Tongrak's flashbacks, we see two memories. One of him as a child where his parents Liw and Jak are fighting. His father demands that his mother pay him to stay. From the dialogue alone, I'm speculating if this is a man who married for wealth. If his father's driving force in the marriage had been monetary gain and greed - then 'love' for his family meant very little to him.

The next is of teenage Tongrak and his sister Kongkwan. It seems his sister was abandoned by her boyfriend, due to her unexpected pregnancy. In the case of both his mother and sister, love proved to be a fickle thing. So much so that a man could walk away from his unborn child, or abandon his family. Love was never enough.

So what is the price you pay for a shot at love, and is it worth it? Love brings ruin. It brings disappointment and unhappiness. Love doesn't guarantee stability or loyalty. So as Tongrak watches on, the very idea of love feels like a sham. An elaborate lie we have all bought into. "Yes, it's something we make up," Tongrak says, because he hasn't seen evidence to prove any different.

"If you don't want to end up like me...don't fall in love with anyone" his mother warns. A cautionary tale. Don't fall in love. Because love leads to nothing good. Do not make the same mistake.

EP3: PREVIEW | Embrace the Fantasy

In Episode 3's preview, Mut is eager to show Tongrak that he is capable of experiencing love. (I believe Tongrak is already starting to, which is why his mother's advice is haunting him. He's afraid he's falling into the same trap). Mut is being considerate of Tongrak's mental aversion to the idea by making his proposal feel low entry.

'If you think love is imaginary, then let's pretend. Why not indulge in that fantasy? We'll play make-believe whilst we're on the island.' (The implication being this isn't for real yet, so there's no need to panic). Mut is inviting Tongrak to focus only on the now and not the after. The island will be their bubble, suspended from the threat of reality for the timebeing. What Mut is hoping for is that Tongrak will come to change his mind on love through that process. That the feelings they experience whilst playing house can be transferred to real life. If it's easier to consider love within the confines of fantasy, then let's start there and see where it takes us.

WITH WEALTH, COMES POWER

We've seen Tongrak use his money to get what he wants. Money has the power to tether a man to his family, and equally it had the means to tear his family apart. "I'm not possessive of you but once I've paid you, you're mine." It's no surprise that Tongrak would see money as a means to exert control and as a bargaining chip.

In their NC scene, Tongrak repeatedly says "How much do I need to pay you to sleep with me?" By that point, Mut clearly didn't need money to be the deciding factor. He was plenty invested. But if it's easier for Tongrak to use money as a pretence for bargaining Mut's time, then Mut seems all too happy to oblige.

MAHASAMUT VERSUS TONGRAK'S FATHER

If Tongrak's father did leech off his mother's wealth, that would provide an interesting antithesis to Mut. Mut, the teenage runaway from a small island who has paved his way through life with very little. And yet takes full responsibility for himself, and doesn't expect a hand out. He only accepts payment in exchange for his hard work, and he doesn't wallow in self-pity because of this hardship.

I do expect a confrontation between Mut and Rak's father at some point. Jak could claim that Mut is essentially doing the same thing and exploiting Rak for his wealth. That there's no love involved. Thus, playing on Tongrak's fear and insecurity of history repeating itself. Whilst Mut does all he can to assure Tongrak he's anything but.

Tongrak's father also abandoned him (emotionally and/or physically). Now he has heard Mut share his own backstory about how his father kicked him out and left him to fend for himself, that's going to be a significant point of connection and compassion between them both. They may be on opposite sides of the coin with their upbringing, but they've gone through similar forms of heartache.

You can check out bird-inacage’s BL meta directory for all my other posts around Love Sea.

#love sea #love sea the series #tongrak x mahasamut #rakmut #fortpeat #fort thitipong #peat wasuthorn #love sea meta #no novel spoilers pls!#i love how these backstories are shaping up

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kp-alice · 5 months ago

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Romantic greed (the best kind). | sub!Yeosang smut

Word count: 1 191

Warnings: pegging, sub!yeosang x condescending!dom!reader (they're both into it, it's okay), the slightest bit of what could be considered a corruption kink (nothing creepy, though, obv), begging, slightly fluffy during some parts.

A/N: So, uh... this fic was not planned at all, lol. I'm currently working on a few longer fics which aren't anywhere near finished, but today I had the displeasure of listening to two insanely racist, homophobic and just generally ignorant people talking loudly on the train for two hours straight, and somehow my annoyance turned into this. Don't ask me how, the frustration just made me want to fuck a man, okay,?? Yeah, that's pretty much it. Hope you enjoy!!

A/N 2: Btw, this is part of a small event I did on both this blog and my other, more sfw one, @seohwang! Go check it out if you're interested in some Jongho fluff ♥

The bed rocked back and forth with your powerful thrusts, the bed frame grazing against the wall every now and then. Accompanying the squeaking of the cheap wood were Yeosang's breathy moans, sounding like absolute heaven to your ears. He was clutching the pillow in front of him as tightly as he could, occasionally burying his face into it to muffle any wanton whimpers. His back was arched just the way you liked it, showcasing his beautiful broad back with muscle rippling all over. You would have taken a picture if you could, the scene was so pretty. Oh well. For now, all you could do was burn the image in front of you into your memory and grip his hips even tighter.

Yeosang keened as you leaned over his back to whisper into his ear, the change in angle hitting all the right spots in him.

"Roll over for me, handsome."

He bit his lip at your words, feeling the blush already tinting his cheeks get even deeper. He'd never admit it, but he loved it when you treated him like eye candy. Just a little boy toy for you to indulge in. Not that you needed him to admit anything, his reactions to the pet names you'd throw his way were more than enough.

Feeling you pull out of him, Yeosang shuddered, forcing his limbs to cooperate. With weak arms and legs, he flipped over, instinctively spreading his legs for you to slot your body between them. And when you did so, he couldn't help but let out a calm, content sigh. The sight of you like this, leaned over his sluggish yet excited body with your equally as tired but aroused one, buzzing with love and eagerness to make the both of you feel as good as possible, was nothing short of breath-taking. He didn't care about what society deemed the right, conventional way of lovemaking. Because in this moment, and even afterwards as he'd likely be recalling this over and over in his head, everything just felt so right. He was yours and you were his, inside and out.

His hazy thoughts of adoration were halted, however, as he felt something prod at him again. His excitement quickly turned to confusion, though, as he realized it wasn't your strap this time. Though initially similar in shape, he noticed it was much thinner yet warmer. Looking down, he caught a glimpse of your two fingers just as they began slipping inside of him.

Yeosang let out a teary, malcontent whine, feeling the slowly building orgasm in him stagnate. "Wait, no! I want- I need your cock in me, please!" he begged, grinding down on your hand to chase after the dwindling pleasure. "I was getting so close, please please please, I need more than this!"

Your core ached hearing him beg, and his thrusts against your palm certainly weren't helping. Despite his hole already being prepped and fucked loose, you could still feel every clench of him around your fingers, only adding to your unending arousal. Leaning over him even more, you looked down at him in faux remorse, contrasting the way your hand started pushing even harder into him. "But I want to feel you some more, hun," you explained with a fake, patronizing pout, "the strap is fun and all, but I can't feel you squeezing me with it nearly as much as I can like this. I need to know I'm making my boy feel good, right?"

Yeosang whimpered at your explanation, knowing you weren't going to budge until he'd give in to your game. With one hand clutching the pillow under his head again, he brought the other down to his twitching, neglected cock. He tentatively wrapped his fingers around it, looking up to gauge your reaction. When you didn't say anything, he slowly began stroking himself, huffing a strained breath from finally getting at least a fraction of the pleasure he so craved.

But even then, his hand and your fingers curling inside of him just weren't enough.

"Y/N, please," he began again, suppressing all shame churning his stomach as he conceded at last. "Please, I really- fuck! I need it! Please fuck me again, I promise you can use your fingers on me later but I-" a suppressed cry slipped past his lips and his hips bucked up as you hit his prostate dead-on, "I really need to cum right now."

The moment he saw your smirk, he knew he was done for.

"Aww, you need to cum?" You asked condescendingly, to which he nodded abashedly. "And my fingers just aren't doing it anymore, are they? You need something more, huh," you adjusted your hand, fingers reaching just a little deeper now, "something bigger," scissoring the two digits, you felt Yeosang shiver again, "my cock."

Closing his eyes and clenching his jaw, he nodded vehemently, already getting excited again just at the thought of it. You chuckled at his response, unable to hide your genuine, giddy smile. Luckily, Yeosang couldn't see your facade breaking, too busy willing the blazing hot blush off his face and chest.

"I've really spoiled you, haven't I?" You asked rhetorically, curling your fingers inside of him a few more times before finally sliding out. "You used to get all sensitive and shy whenever you'd ask me to finger you, and look at you now."

Yeosang let out a small sniffle at your words, which quickly turned to a gasp as he finally felt the blunt tip of your strap press up against his clenching hole again.

"Now you're begging me to fuck you with my bigger strap because not even the other one can satisfy you anymore."

Yeosang whimpered as you finally slid back home, hands flying up and around your neck to hold on for dear life as you quickly returned to your original, rough pace.

Noticing he was too distracted by you inside of him to keep stroking himself, you decided to help him out with your free hand, the other holding tightly onto his hip.

Yeosang cried out weakly at the added stimulation, brain starting to fog over from the onslaught of pleasure. His nails dug into your back as you jostled him up on the bed with your thrusts, leaving pretty marks he knew you both would be marveling at in the mirror later.

"...but guess what, Sangie," you suddenly spoke up again, bringing your boyfriend out of his thoughts just as his mind was starting to get a little too hazy.

Taking a few shallow breaths, he dared his voice to answer, "w-what?"

Yeosang squealed the moment you fully leaned over him, resting your chest against his as you drove your strap right into his g-spot. His eyes squeezed shut at the electrifying feeling and he buried his face into your neck to breathe you in while his legs wrapped around your torso. His hands were still clutching onto you tightly, the tremble in them worsening the closer he got to his long-awaited orgasm of the night.

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

Thank you so much for reading! And remember, feedback is always appreciated!! <3

#yeosang x reader #sub!yeosang #yeosang smut #yeosang oneshot #ateez x reader #sub!ateez #sub!atz #ateez smut #ateez oneshots #yeosang imagines #yeosang hard hours #ateez hard hours #sub yeosang #sub ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez oneshot #atz smut #ateez reactions

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vessel-token · 1 month ago

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— sugar, i’ve got a taste for you now. (pt. 2)

Sleep Token Vessel x F!Reader x III.

Tags ; Explicit Sexual Content. Dom/Sub Undertones. Implied Polyamorous Relationship. Double Penetration. Handjob. Fingering. Threesome (you’re all lowkey switches btw). Multiple Orgasms. Creampie. Praise Kink. Implied Aftercare. Fluff (at the end).

AN ; first of all, i am so, SO sorry for how long this sequel took me!! i got a job back at the end of august and finally achieved a romantic relationship (shocking, i know), so things have been moving rather fast for me. this fic is gonna end up being a birthday gift for me, too!! but, life aside, i am finally here to supply what i’ve been promising. i tried to add a bit more of sleep lore, too! i wanna delve into that more later… i hope you all enjoy, and thank you so much for your support and patience! as before, this is NSFW, so MDNI! love you all. <33

Their kiss is indication enough that whatever flame has sparked between you is nowhere near ready to burn out.

Vessel acts as the instigator as always, but he certainly doesn’t have to do much this time around. III’s erection still strains eagerly against the zipper of his jeans and while you may be just now coming down from your previous high, you’re more than ready to go again. You can’t explain it, but these two have a way of making you dreadfully insatiable, like they’re your own twin sins of greed.

You’re not much better, though.

Like a moth can’t resist approaching the flame, so too are you unable to resist indulging in their antics. The second that III and Vessel break apart, both equally breathless, you wrap your arms around III’s shoulders and usher him upward. His legs bracket yours and Vessel’s, his knees planted on either side as he hovers over you. The position practically begs you to touch him, and who are you to deny him when he’s been so very good?

Your fingers tremble as you begin to deftly undo the buttons on III’s pants. Vessel steps in to help you by tugging them and III’s boxers down, pulling the offending fabric past his slim hips until your prize is revealed. Whereas III is smaller than Vessel in length, he’s thicker, and still every bit as well endowed as the first. You’re excited to get your hands on him, you can’t lie. His cock is flushed and angry from the neglect, with precum already gathering at its tip.

Like the resourceful woman you are, you reach between your legs and use your own slick to coat your hand, making the glide far more comfortable for III as you wordlessly invite him to fuck your fist. You don’t even have to instruct him on what to do or present it as an offer, the man is far too desperate to care for manners as his hips begin to buck almost frantically into your grasp.

Behind you, Vessel hums his approval. His eyes are obscured by his mask—that damned mask—but you can feel them darting between III and you, as though he’s indecisive as to which part of the show he wants to pay more attention to. You don’t mind in the slightest, and you know III is too fucked out to truly care in the moment.

“It’s not enough,” comes the third’s rasp, his hands clutching at your shoulders. “I need more.”

Before you can answer, Vessel speaks up instead, “What are you asking for?”

The faux innocence woven into his voice tells you he really means; say it aloud, beg for it. You can’t help but snort at his teasing, but you share no sympathy for III. He let Vessel torture you earlier, he deserves it in return. It’s only fair.

You peer up at III while you await his answer, unable to disguise the satisfied upturn of your lips as he clearly struggles with voicing his desires out loud. Though he’s pulled his balaclava mask back down to conceal his face, you can tell he’s frowning (read: pouting) in mild frustration. His eyes meet yours and you can sense his mental cursing of you as he holds your gaze steady. It’s all in good fun, you know that, but the imagined threat sends a thrill down your spine. You know he’ll get you back for this. You and Vessel both.

III’s palm glides over the sweat-slicked skin of your torso, over your stomach and the valley of your breasts. It takes Vessel’s previous spot on your neck, his fingers curling lightly around your throat. He leans over you, close enough to kiss if his mask wasn’t in the way, and you can feel his sigh through the fabric. Your own hand stills on his cock, but you can still clearly feel it twitch against you.

“I need to take you,” III murmurs. He tilts his head in a way eerily similar to a predator sizing up its prey. “Is that good enough? Or would you rather me say I need to fuck you? To ruin you, to dissemble you bit by bit and place myself within the cracks, until no one knows where one of us begins and the other ends.”

To become one.

That’s what he’s implying, and it leaves you a little breathless.

Under Sleep’s influence, you have all already been united. You are all meant to contain Him, and maybe that’s what’s drawn you together to begin with. You’d spoken with the others about it before, how they all felt compelled to accompany Vessel upon meeting him, like he was a magnetic force guiding them in. Upon accepting Sleep, you were now all connected on a level deeper than anything fathomable. In a way, you are all one entity as much as you are unique individuals, but there has always been that ache to merge.

It’s a want that extends so much farther than bodily desires or lust. Unfortunately—or fortunately, depending on how you look at it—flesh has its limits. The closest you can come to reuniting with Vessel and III is by having them like this.

“How romantic,” you muse, having located your voice again. If your words come out a little more strained or breathy than usual, you can only hope the other two don’t notice it.

They will and they always do, but you can pretend, if only to save your dignity.

“We require a proper answer, my love,” Vessel reminds you, his mouth against your ear. “I don’t think any of us would like to wait much longer.”

You suppose that’s a fair point. You can still feel Vessel’s own arousal pressed against your ass, and III’s is still throbbing in your grasp. You aren’t unaffected, either. With the high of your first orgasm having finally subsided, your cunt continues to clench around nothing, more slick gathering where III had previously licked clean.

“I want both of you,” you reply, “together.”

All at once, the room seems to get a few degrees hotter, as though the simultaneous sharp inhales from the two men have absorbed any lingering chill. They say nothing, but you can hear their hums of mutual agreement as they begin to shift around you. You’ve always found it interesting how despite their blatant excitement, they abstain from handling you roughly. They’d do so if you asked of course, but they’re otherwise gentle. Reverent.

Vessel lays back and they position you so that you’re straddling him, hovering tantalizingly over his stiff cock. III is the one behind you now, one hand on your waist while the other lines up his dick with your dripping cunt. He presses lightly on the small of your back, urging you to bend over so that he has easier access. You do so without hesitation, bracing yourself on your palms placed on either side of Vessel’s head.

Seeing as neither man is particularly small, their fingers work their way into you before anything else. They do so without warning, undoubtedly delighting in the gasp and startled moan you let out when four digits slide into your tight heat. You hear them both chuckle as you wiggle your hips, unsure whether to grind forward or backward. It’s overwhelming, having both Vessel and III buried to the knuckle inside of you, rubbing and scissoring against your spongy walls.

Though it’s certainly not the first time, it always takes your breath away as if it is. The pleasure is intoxicating, but nowhere as intense as it is when they both have their cocks in you. That is a heaven no religion could ever even hope to promise or encapsulate.

“Fuck,” you whine, feeling Vessel crook his fingers at the same time that III thrusts his back inside.

You don’t even know how long they stretch you for, but you do know that you’ve cum twice already, gushing over both of their hands. Your thighs are already beginning to tremble with the effort it takes to support yourself. You’re white-knuckling the cushions beneath you, eyes half-lidded, and they haven’t even fucked you yet. It’s maddening, but you can barely form the words to demand they hurry up.

Vessel and III always try to make an effort to prioritize your pleasure and comfort over their own, meaning they likely would’ve stretched you for hours if you truly needed it, even if they were both aroused to the point of pain. If the discomfort still proved to be too much, then they wouldn’t dare to take you like that. They’d just find an alternative method, like they’d done when you had first tried this. Thankfully though, after weeks of your own insistence and reassurance (and practice with toys in secret), they had been willing to attempt it again. The discomfort was always there considering the unnatural stretch, but the experience was wholly worth it.

Thankfully though, they get the message themselves that you’re more than ready.

With those two orgasms to loosen you up and daze you, Vessel is able to slip into you with relative ease. You make a sound caught somewhere between a whimper and a moan as he bottoms out inside you, your body greedily taking him. III is quick to follow suit, the thick head of his cock nudging at your entrance before slowly beginning to press inside as well. His girth stretches you the most, the familiar stinging pain alerting your senses to the intrusion. You breathe deeply and remind yourself to relax your muscles as much as possible, feeling III pause after each shallow thrust so as not to hurt you anymore than absolutely necessary.

Vessel reaches up from beneath you, his hand cupping and stroking your cheek. III mirrors the comforting display, peppering kisses over your back and shoulders. He must’ve pulled his mask up when positioning you, you belatedly realize. Both men do their best to soothe you, calloused palms running over your body to rub and squeeze.

“You’re doing so well for us, darling,” III assures you, now embracing you from behind. “Your body welcomes us so beautifully. Made for us, made for this.”

“You are so deserving,” Vessel adds, his voice like warm honey as it pours into your mind and melts it blissfully. “Deserving of pleasure greater than either of us could offer you, of everything good and all that’s beyond that. You embody perfection.”

If you had been focused more on their words and not the glorious sensation of III finally sliding home inside you, their words would have been enough to have tears stinging your eyes. You’ve never quite been able to view yourself the way that you know they view you; like a sacred treasure with a history of ignorant misuse and lack of adequate appreciation. Now that you’ve fallen into their hands, they’ll do everything in their power to ensure you’re valued the way you should have been from the start, regardless of whether you believe yourself undeserving or not.

Your forehead thuds against Vessel’s chest as your own heaves with each gasp. Everything feels heightened, like you’re teetering on the precipice of oblivion. You feel unbelievably full, unbelievably whole. This is what it means to be one, to belong and be belonged to.

Around you, you hear the shared groans of III and Vessel, both fighting against the desperate need to move. They want to make sure you’re adjusted and alright first, but between the friction of their own dicks brushing together and the way your cunt keeps clenching around them, you’re positive they’re at the brink of madness.

“Please,” you manage to babble out. “Need you to fuck me, I need it. Wanna feel good.”

You’re sure you’re slurring your words a bit there at the end, but the pair get your point loud and clear. Two sets of hands settle on your waist, holding—no, bracing—you as they take you. They can’t go very fast or rough like this, but it doesn’t matter in the slightest. The sensation is more than enough to get you off, ripping a cry out of your throat as your entire body shakes. Every rock of their hips has you swaying, their cocks spearing you open with even the tiniest of movements.

Somewhere over your shoulder, you hear III swear and moan out, his face buried in the crook of your neck as he begins to slow to a grind while Vessel continues to thrust. You can only imagine how overwhelming the friction must be for them, especially judging by the way that neither of them can keep their voices down. Neither man is usually that vocal in bed, Vessel is generally louder than III, but both are releasing all sorts of sounds you’d never had the joy of hearing before.

“So goddamn tight,” III curses, his fingertips pressing what will likely become small bruises into your hips. Vessel groans his agreement below you, his own head thrown back and his lips parted as he pants.

God, that was a sight.

They’re both close, you can tell. They’re just rutting into you at this point, treating your cunt like a glorified fleshlight with the sole purpose of getting them off. They keep adjusting their grip on you, trying to pull you closer and squeeze tighter. Your mind is virtually gone by this point, so you have little qualms with getting treated like a rope toy by two competitive dogs. As long as it feels good, you couldn’t care less.

“Doing perfect for us, love,” Vessel praises, his hips stuttering beneath you.

“Gonna make us cum,” III husks.

You’re given no warning as Vessel reaches between your quivering thighs, rubbing frantic figure-eights on your swollen clit. You can’t even tell them you’re close before your body is jerking and tensing up on its own accord, unable to choose whether to buck forward against Vessel or back against III. Your orgasm hits you with the force of a thousand waves, crashing over you mercilessly as you scream in delight. It’s about the only thing you can do, your walls spasm deliciously around Vessel and III as if trying to urge them to finish, too.

It doesn’t take much persuasion for them to be cumming as well, spilling deep inside you and filling you past your limit. You can feel their spend drip out of you, leaking down the insides of your thighs along with your own fluids. It’s too much, yet it’s perfect. You can’t describe it, you can’t even think. Your head is a blank canvas and the pleasure is a splatter of colorful paint all over it.

You’re not certain how long you remain there, slumped over Vessel’s chest with III bent over your back. You’re all thoroughly satisfied and spent, boneless in each other’s embrace. Despite the ache that’s beginning to creep into your legs and the stickiness that’s drying between them, you feel wonderful.

As Vessel’s fingers card through your damp hair and III’s lips press absentminded kisses along your shoulder blades, you know that you are whole, you are safe, you are loved.

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jubileemon · 9 months ago

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Fizzmodeus

Somehow in the infernal landscape of Hell, the relationship between Fizzarolli and Asmodeus, stands out as a sweet love story for the ages.

They were first introduced in the episode 'Ozzie's'. Despite their public disdain for sentimental relationships, they are entangled in a secret romance that defies Hell's social hierarchy and expectations. At first, Fizz and Asmodeus appeared as massive hypocrites, mocking others for their romantic endeavors while secretly harboring their own.

Fizzarolli's life was marked by a traumatic experience with fire, resulting in losing his horns and cybernetic replacements. As he thought Blitzo abandoned him to burn, Fizz began to develop a deep resentment towards his former best friend. Despite his normal jovial nature Fizzarolli suffers from extreme self-worth and self-image issues, the latter of which mostly originating from the severe injuries he received from a circus fire that he was involved in when he was younger. Because of this, he feels like he needs to do whatever Mammon tells him to do, as he feels he must repay the man for all the fame and success being his brand figure has brought, despite how horribly he is treated.

Working under Mammon, the Sin of Greed, further complicates his identity when Fizz became a symbol of Mammon's brand. The cost of fame weighs heavily on him, as public scrutiny and the demands of celebrity challenge his sense of self and personal values. Asmodeus' title as the Sin of Lust comes with its own set of expectations, yet his love for Fizzarolli transcends these. His protective instincts are often on display, particularly when Fizzarolli is in danger or vulnerable. Despite the initial portrayal of their relationship as hypocritical, the secret romance between Fizzarolli and Asmodeus is depicted as both sweet and healthy.

Despite one being a demon prince and one being an imp, and also portraying their partnership in public as purely lustful, Fizzarolli and Asmodeus' relationship is actually as healthy and romantic if not more so than Moxxie and Millie's, where the two are equals who look out for each other. Asmodeus' even lets Fizzarolli go out in public without him or an escort to defend him, despite Ozzie's concerns, because Fizzarolli wants to go alone, a far cry from if Ozzie truly didn't care about Fizzy beyond having sex with him. It's like if Stolas and Blitzø managed to work things out between them and had things be not so rocky.

Hard to believe, but aside from sex jokes, occasional rudeness and his grudge towards his former best friend, Fizzarolli stayed as nice and innocent as he was in childhood, despite all of his trauma. He does admit that it was difficult and challenging at first, but Fizzarolli finding someone who cared so much about him has led to him feeling like he leads a good life.

The relationship between Fizzarolli and Asmodeus is not without its trials. Asmodeus's deep concern for Fizzarolli's well-being is evident when Fizzarolli is taken hostage, an event that ignites Asmodeus's fury and prompts him to take drastic measures to secure Fizzarolli's safety. This protective streak is further shown in their interactions with Mammon, another Prince of Hell, whose abusive and manipulative behavior towards Fizzarolli causes Asmodeus to harbor intense animosity towards him.

In Season 2, Asmodeus reassuring Fizz at the beginning that he doesn't have to worry about being "perfect" for Mammon because perfection is impossible, and that he deserves a break or vacation without having to fend off creeps constantly.

Asmodeus' line when he rephrases his actual feelings in regard to Fizz being in Mammon's clown contest: "I don't like how many creeps you have now, thanks to Mammon. And I don't like designing sex toys with your likeness for him. Pretty sure you feel the same"; this one line has numerous, subtle but still important subtext that really shows how much Asmodeus cares for and respects Fizzarolli. Just the fact that Asmodeus is being honest about his feelings about Fizzarolli being in Mammon's competition.

In most forms of media, when someone doesn't like something that their significant other is doing, they’ll either dance around it until they can’t take it anymore and/or even lie to get their partner to stop. But Asmodeus doesn't do that - when his initial plea doesn't work, he gets straight to the point of him not liking it but in a healthy and mature manner. He doesn't put any blame on Fizzarolli for his own discomfort, instead putting it all rightly on Mammon's greedy shoulders.

Asmodeus' dislike over Fizzarolli as Mammon's brand figure not only comes from a place of concern and worry but respect. In the second sentence of his above-mentioned line, he mentions he does not like having sex toys in Fizz's likeness. Given that he's the King of Lust, one would think he would hardly care, but he does. Because it's his boyfriend using in such a way. Asmodeus also makes sure to note that he's also aware that Fizzarolli doesn't like the sex-bots as well. He's acknowledging not only his own discomfort but his partner's.

After acting like everything's all righr for the majority of the episode and having a full-on panic attack in his dressing room, Fizz finally pours out his insecurities to Asmodeus, telling him that he's terrified of losing him if he doesn't win the pageant because he feels that Ozzie's only with him because of who he is under Mammon's patronage. He even yanks his jester hat off - revealing his scarred, splotchy head and the jagged stumps of what remains of his horns - in an attempt to show Ozzie what he believes he is without Mammon: an ugly, broken, worthless imp.

"Crooked" is a sweet, simple song where Asmodeus and Fizz admit that while they both have their flaws and insecurities.

Asmodeus reassures him of his worth and publicly declares his love, a bold move that underscores the depth of his feelings and his willingness to face potential consequences for the sake of their relationship. Instead of the crowd being shocked or mocking the two, they are all instead excited and reveal they already had theories on it.

Crimson did call Ozzie's relationship with Fizz "the worst-kept secret in all of Hell." Nearly everyone in the crowd probably already knew or at least suspected. Which makes their reaction all the more heartwarming because it's acceptance. One of Ozzie's main worries was being seen as a hypocrite for being the incarnation of carnal hedonism while having a loving, monogamous relationship. It turns out nobody thinks that at all. The King of Lust has fallen in love, and everybody is happy for him.

#helluva boss #helluva boss analysis #fizzarolli #fizzmodeus #fizzarozzie #fizzaroli helluva boss #helluva boss asmodeus #asmodeus x fizzarolli #relationship #couples #true love #romance #hazbin hotel #vivziepop #hellaverse #helluva boss mammon #helluva boss fizzmodeus #why i love this ship

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