#i’m concerned for his standard but even more concerned for me because i was considering it

[passiveagressivepoet]

almost just bought a tolberone because it reminded me of misha collins’ nose… the brain rot is insane

[midascrow]

Alastor x Reader

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Favoritism Pt.2(1.5)

Part 1

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Synopsis: Alastor finds himself wondering why exactly he favors you so much

a/n: this is more of a part 1.5 really, as it’s mostly just Alastair’s perspective of what’s going on, but I figured you guys would enjoy this 🍓

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Fluffy red ears twitched back and fourth, listening to the idle and mindless chatter of the hotel inhabitants.

Alastor couldn’t help but feel a certain sense of mirth at the topic of discussion. While he made no attempts to hide his blatant bias, he hadn’t thought he was quite that obvious.

Though a tiny part of him felt a bit smug, especially at the claim of that empty headed serpent. A kiss?

The idea wasn’t unpleasant but he was unfortunately mistaken.

The two of you had never shared such an intimate gesture, much less in the company of others.

No-, he supposed the closest you had ever gotten was a small bump of the nose to one another’s. It wasn’t an inherently romantic gesture on the radio demons part, more instinctual than anything, but he could suppose there had been a certain layer of affection lined in the action nonetheless.

“What do you suppose they’re talking about Al..?”

His ears twitched forward to fully take in the sound of your candied voice.

Alastor didn’t consider himself a fan of sweet things like candy and cakes. But he always seemed to make an exception when it came to you.

“Hm..~ Seems our dear friends are under the impression that you and I are…an item of sorts.” His smile twitched, inching upwards with amusement when he saw the way your eyes widened, a warmth on your cheeks that roused a small huff of pride from his nose.

“Oh…well that doesn’t..upset you?…right?” Your concern is down right precious. So bothered with his comfort that it makes the fabric of his tail coat shift, just briefly.

“Hmm~…perhaps if it were another sinner who they believed I had such relations with. However because it’s you my dear, I can’t seem to find myself bothered by the idea.”

You were far too naive. (Cute). Your sparkly gaze almost made him angry. Like he wanted to squeeze you till it eased the tight sensation in his chest. Though he wouldn’t dare to act on such an impulse. For fear of losing such pleasant company of course.

But he couldn’t stop himself from teasing you. Just a little. “Infact…I’d say I’m rather flattered by the notion~. To think they see me a fit partner for a gem like you.”

That feeling got subsequently stronger as he watched you bury your face into the crook of your shoulder, a shy, perhaps embarrassed smile painting your lips and making a that shifting of his tail coat return. Like those aforementioned sweets had found their way into his system and subsequently thrown him into a vicious sugar rush. His heart was practically bouncing off the walls of his ribcage, though he hadn't the faintest idea why.

“Alastor…” His name was a garbled whine, swatting at him playfully as you returned to dusting the bannister, distracting yourself as he sidled beside you still, ever attendant while his shadow fluttered around, moving glasses and nicknacks for you to dust off. “Are you going to tell them then..?”

“What ever do you mean?”

Your eyes glanced back, lips pursed. “Well…you are going to tell them we’re not together right?”

Well that sounded unpleasant, and his immediate thought had been an internal grimace. But he pondered the thought for a moment, mindful of the eyes on both your backs as he stepped around the side of you, clawed hands dancing across your shoulder and arm thoughtfully.

“Hmm…~..No.”

He paused, ears twitched backwards as his lips connected gently with the skin of your nose, sweet and lingering as he failed to ignore the twitch of his grin at the gasps that echoed behind.

“No fucking way.”

“I say let them wonder..~”

……

Alastor could admit, even by his standards this was a bit mean.

His “loving” gestures had amped up quite a bit the following week at the hotel.

Lingering touches, thoughtful hand placements, small gestures and sweet words. Nothing explicitly romantic…but there was always something implied in his gaze that perhaps even he himself wasn't aware of.

It wasn’t in an intentional effort to lead you on. He was hardly that cruel. But some part of him…found deep satisfaction in watching your eyes shine and your cheeks darken and become hot.

And that itch had only gotten worse too.

Sometimes it was small. An urge to pinch your cheek which he acted on, mindful of his claws in doing so. His ears always twitched at your disgruntled whines, always tuned to your words and noises. Even unintentionally.

There had been one moment when, your silly little self had gotten caught on that same rug, again. Alastor had been on the other side of the room, but the moment your squeak reached his ears, they swiveled back, and a mass of tentacles lurched up from the ground, gently rolling you onto you greet before disappearing like they had never existed.

And Alastor hadn’t even turned around, still idly chatting with the stunned princess who barely hid her ever widening smile.

Husker seemed the most displeased with his current antics. Always preaching to the others that this was a trick. That he was playing with you. Toying with you.

The radio demon wished that was the case now.

Frankly, he wasn’t sure why he was doing it. He knew he favored you above the others. That was natural. Instinctual. Obvious. And while the others reactions, especially those of the spear wielding ex angel and the gambler were fairly amusing, if that had been the soul purpose it was likely he would’ve grown bored by now. And he would’ve stopped.

But it wasn’t. And he hadn’t.

And it was all becoming a bit overwhelming.

Yet you didn’t question it. Sometimes your brow would raise, at a particularly bold gesture or comment sent your way, and yes your eyes would dart around as if to see who was watching. But you never complained. And if he didn’t know any better, he’d say you were enjoying yourself, if the sweetheart smile that graced your lips after each instance was anything to go off.

So Alastor didn’t feel the need to label what he was experiencing or truly ponder why. He was enjoying himself, as were you. To him, nothing needed to be said.

“So are you two bangin or nah?”

Though he supposed not everyone felt the same.

Taglist: @preciousbabypeter @ouroborostheunholy @chirimeimei @shanksstrawhat @for-hearthand-home @random-3455 @ittoehurt @salutations-demonsanddappers

(Anyone who wanted to be tagged and wasn’t, for whatever reason your blogs weren’t showing up,🍓)

[atrwriting]

more, more, more — carmy x reader

carmen berzatto x coworker!reader

listen to me. this man? this man?? so fucking slutty. so fucking slutty i can’t even think straight. i am absolutely AGHAST at how little writing there is of this man online. absolutely OUTRAGEOUS. he looks like that and none of us have done his character justice?? DISGRACEFUL.

i wrote this in direct response to how angry i am at how little there is.

as always, warnings… SMUT!, alcohol consumption, alcohol consumption with sex, smoking, p in v penetration, work relationships, overstimulation, carmen berzatto being an absolute mind blowing fuck on a table i mean in bed

also, minors fuck RIGHT the fuck off

barely edited we die like men

i stole that joke don’t come for me

anyway....

you didn’t really know how it happened.

you were once an unemployed law student, scared of drowning in bills, and eagerly awaiting a call back from anyone that would hire you — when she called.

natalie berzatto.

her voice was warm and comforting on the phone, and very eager to have you come in. she was relaying important information to you on the phone, and while you grabbed bits and pieces, it was hard to focus on anything else besides the sheer excitement of finally having a job. the job would be stressful, sure — but at least you wouldn’t be broke and stressed.

unfortunately, your first couple of shifts were a mess and a half. you took instructions well, and performed well, but in the hospitality business — that means nothing when an oven burner is out, a dishwasher doesn’t show up for a shift, richie starts barking, or when carmen’s upset.

carmen.

fucking carmen.

while soft spoken, there was nothing that could compare to the look of approval in his eye when you had completed a task to his standard. most people would consider the job of a hostess useless, or not a job at all — something to laugh at, but carmen? no. that man took your job very seriously, as he knew what it meant to provide the full experience to the customer.

however, when something was lacking in the kitchen and that experience was interrupted… carmen took the look of approval, almost gratefulness, away and replaced it with something that everyone felt like they had to walk around shards of glass.

when he was angry? oh, fuck… that could ruin anyone’s night.

the worst of it happened when his sister unexpectedly went into labor. two weeks early.

carmen had left the place screaming, and, in the process, had also left his things at the restaurant, including his jacket, wallet, keys, the lot — so to be nice you went to drop it off at his place. worried that he might be at the hospital, you texted him.

you: hey, going out for a drink. saw you forgot your stuff at the restaurant so i grabbed it because you’re otw. you home?

carmen: oh shit thanks. i’m home

so there you stood. at his front door, his stuff in hand.

you quickly adjusted your long hair, worried about your appearance. it was weird to show up to carmen’s place in your regular attire — seeing as though your regular attire on a night with your friends was black flare jeans, a tight black long sleeve v-neck that showed off your cleavage — you were concerned that he might be concerned with who he exactly employed. however, his niece was just born… he had more important things to worry about.

so you knocked.

and barely waited.

carmen was barely at the door a few seconds later before you came face to face with the man who constantly let exhaustion ride on his back.

“you good?” you immediately asked, handing over his stuff.

he nodded. “yeah, uh — thanks.”

“you look like you could use a drink,” you laughed. “want to come with?”

he shook his head, the corners of his lips somewhat curving upwards. “nah. day was hectic. you want one? come in — for a drink?”

you smiled. “i don’t want to intrude, especially after the berzatto family excitement of the day.”

“i owe you,” he sighed. “but don’t let me hold you up if your friends are waiting.”

you smiled. “one drink won’t hurt.”

one drink definitely did not hurt.

drink two and three definitely didn’t, either.

how much carmen made you laugh definitely made your stomach hurt, though. in a good way.

“you’re killing me,” you cackled. “who knew quiet carmen berzatto was such a good host.”

“you can call me carmy, y’know,” he spoke, saying his cigarette before pouring you another drink. “everyone else does.”

you shrugged. “you’re pretty professional in the kitchen. didn’t want to impose.”

“i don’t think you could impose a day in your life,” he chuckled. “i think you’re the only one that knows boundaries in that fuckin’ place.”

“says the mysterious one,” you giggled. “the only reason any of us know your nicknames is because richie likes to share your baby stories.”

“speaking of babies…” he took a drag. “thank you for helping sugar out so much. she told me to tell you how much she appreciates it.”

you shrugged. “‘s nothing.”

“nothing?” he scoffed. “you keep her sane. definitely keep me sane.”

“always got your back, chef,” you giggled.

he smiled, and ashed his cigarette once more. his long, thick fingers stretched around the circumference of his glass. one fingertip tapped against the glass and a few droplets of condensation fell to his countertop.

you were twisted around in your seat to face carmen, eyeing his attractive hands. in your peripheral vision, you saw him lift his head to cock it towards you and stare at you. the longing look sent shivers up your spine, but you gazed at him through your long lashes as you waited for his response.

“you do,” he spoke. “always have. we were lucky to find you. i - i was, i mean.”

“more like i was lucky get a call from natalie,” you laughed. “it’s so hard to find a well paying job nowadays.”

“heard,” he rasped. “you happy at the bear?”

“very,” you replied. “staff keeping you happy, chef?”

he chuckled. “when i’m not made to scream, yeah.”

“that’s fair. we’re lucky to have you.”

there was only so many things you could think of to say to carmen before you began to consider that you were imposing. you slapped your hands against your thighs — a implicit signal it was time for you to go. he led you to the door, where he reached out for your coat. you smiled at him, thanked him for the drink, and slid your arms through the jacket as he held it out for you.

you don’t know what caused you to, maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was you — or maybe it was how good carmen smelled — but you glanced up and over your shoulder at the polite man behind you.

you didn’t have anything to say. frankly, you said something last — it was his turn. however, carmen’s sense of societal expectations started and ended with the door to the kitchen. but there, by his front door? basically holding you by the shoulders, and staring back down at you? he had nothing to say.

however… his eyes could share a thousand things about him. more specifically, emotions. carmen’s eyes showed exhaustion, a bit of dehydration, to keep it a buck, but there was so much intensity in those crystal irises. they were a stunning, clear blue… but with the way carmen was gazing down at you, there appeared to be no clear thought in his head.

and he did nothing.

so you could do nothing.

you found yourself disappointed at his actions, or rather — lack thereof.

you simply smiled, and went to turn away. you reached for his door knob, when you felt the slightest brush of calloused fingers against the skin of your wrist. the feeling shocked you, pricking at your nerves, but you didn’t stop until you felt those fingers enclose around the circumference of your wrist.

like they had with the glass, moments ago.

you turned back, letting your long and thick eyelashes ghost over your line of sight. all you could see was a frozen chef, standing tired, but staring back at you.

when his gaze fell to the floor, you stepped closer. he glanced up.

you felt the heat rise to your cheeks as you softly asked, “what’s up, carmy?”

“first time i had someone over.” his parted lips closed so he could swallow, and his eyes drifted between your lips and the floor. the words were right there, on his tongue. they were so close you could feel them, taste them. he replied, “i, um… don’t want it to end, uh — i guess.”

you smiled and turned around in place, barely inches from his face. his breaths were pushing past his lips in small, light puffs that hit the tip of your chin. it was like he was conscious of everything he was emitting; his vibe, where he was looking, even his fucking exhales. he was cautious and frozen and all you wanted was for him to be relaxed, or as close to, as he was moments ago.

“already drank you out of house and home, carmy. what else you got in mind?”

his eyes widened, but his voice stayed level. “what else i got in mind?”

you hummed in agreement with a coy smile on your face. you folded your lip between your teeth and stepped backwards. carmy glanced at your hips and feet hesitantly, shifting his weight slightly. while his eyes were trained on you, his parted lips quivered slightly which told you that there was still some nervousness lingering in him. with every step you took, carmy took one as well. you kept stepping backwards, and carmy kept stepping forwards, until your back was pressed against the wall.

carmy’s lips weren’t slightly quivering anymore. there was no hesitation in his figure when he leaned down slightly and rested a flat palm against the drywall above your head. his breath was hitting you on both cheeks — as if they weren’t hot enough already. inside you were screaming. you were screaming, and screaming, and screaming and all you wanted to do was grab both sides of his face and smash your lips to his. you wanted to, but you wouldn’t. you wanted to see if he would.

“you know,” you spoke, raising your back. your cold palm pressed against his cheek. it was burning — almost as bad as yours. “even though you’re the boss… never seen you actually taste anything.”

“no?” he rasped. the gruffness in his voice pricked at your cheeks and went straight to your core. “and what do you want me to taste, sweetheart?”

you released your grip from his cheek and brought your hand down to your face. with a manicured nail, you tapped the plumpness of your bottom lip. you stared into his eyes — a dare.

“fuck.”

with his free hand, carmen wrapped your hand in his own and pressed it to the middle of his chest. he held it there, pressed against his heart, and surprisingly it was the exact spot you wanted to hold him. you wanted to hear — no, feel his heart that was beating slightly faster than normal. when carmen finally pressed his chapped lips against yours… you saw stars.

the alcohol coursing through your veins made you melt into the man before you. his hand on the wall slid down until he was rubbing the side of your neck, and then gripping the base of your skull. his fingers, his beautiful, skillful fingers threaded through your hair like it was one of his pieces of art and he was creating something. he twisted your strands until he had your head bent back, practically supported by the heavy palm of his hand. the motion made you gasp into his mouth. carmen swallowed it whole. every. last. bit.

“y’taste so fuckin’ sweet,” he moaned against your lips.

you hummed with him. the warmth of his body engulfed your body into his until the moment started and ended with carmen anthony berzatto. you could taste the liquor on his tongue that danced with your own. with every breath he took, bits of smoke would linger between the two of you. it went straight to your head, swallowing your senses whole. you didn’t know if it was the alcohol, the cigarettes, or carmen himself, but you felt like you were swimming.

“this okay, sweetheart?” he asked, pulling away for a second. a thumb of his stroked the skin of your cheek as he stared at you, waiting for feelings of regret from you. “d-do you want me to stop?”

“please don’t stop, carmy,” you gasped, pulling him back into. “you’re perfect.”

you didn’t expect that would make carmen slide his hands down your body and grasp the back of your thighs. his fingertips pressed into your skin, pulling your legs up and around his waist. you squealed against his teeth and couldn’t believe you had found yourself in this situation.

it’s not that carmen wasn’t handsome, no. the man was drop dead gorgeous in a tortured artist way, and you always had a thing for men that looked like they needed a hug but wouldn’t admit it. but… he was your boss.

what could you do about that? it’s not like you could stop now. even if you had told him to stop, got your shit and left — the damage was done. you both had crossed the boundaries, and you were going to reap what you sewed.

in that case… might as well have a little fun with it.

he had placed you on a neighboring table. his large hands gripped the flesh of your thighs and you couldn’t help but whine into his embrace. his tongue glided over your lips and teeth and with your tongue in the messiest way possible and all you could chant in your head was more, more, more.

and that’s when you found yourself pulling at the bottom of his t-shirt.

he stepped back slightly, throwing his shirt over his head. his swollen lips were parted, and his eyes searched your face. you found your chest rising and falling with anticipation, and realized you should’ve been more concerned with how he was dealing with all of this.

“you okay, carmy?” you whispered.

he nodded, letting a few fingertips of his ghost over the skin of your cheek. his crystal eyes glanced down to your lips.

“we can stop, you know,” you whispered again. “it’s okay.”

he nodded again before dipping his head down to the side of your neck. his plump lips left wet kisses on the sensitive skin and you moaned into the open air. you widened the space between your knees, allowing for carmen to wedge himself between your thighs.

“you’re always talking such good care of me, sweetheart, so good to me,” he rasped against your throat, sucking on the skin. “but all i want to do right now is have my fingers inside you. y’gonna let me?”

“yes, carmy,” you whined. “yes please.”

“such a polite girl f’me.” carmy’s mouth was attacking your throat. moans escaped passed your lips like carmy was squeezing them from you, claiming them. his fingers traveled down the front of your clothes and stopped at the button of your jeans. sliding it open, carmen berzatto slipped his perfect hands into your jeans.

“right there, please,” you gasped once his fingers found your bundle of nerves.

his fingers dipped into your core and spread it all over where you needed him most. warmth began to spread through your hips and your knees widened for him. his drew circles different ways until he noticed that when he drew counterclockwise circles, you bit your lip and your eyes appeared to involuntarily flutter shut. you felt carmy smirk against the skin of your neck.

“what made you this wet, baby?” he hummed, sucking at the base of your throat.

“you, carmy,” you whined. “felt it as soon as i saw you when i first walked in. needed you so badly.”

he smirked again. “so bringing my things wasn’t of the purest intentions?”

heat rose to your cheeks with the sensual actions that were taking place below the belt and carmy’s accusation. you grew worried at what he would say if you said no, that you honestly just wanted to help him out… but if carmy wanted to play like that, you could play.

“n-no,” you whined as the pleasure began to spread throughout your whole body.

carmy was holding you so close to him. it was like he was your support — supporting you through such a physically vulnerable moment. your legs were practically shaking at this point, trying to take everything he was giving you and not start sobbing. you were grabbing at any piece of him you, wanting to kiss him — but he wouldn’t let you. fucking bastard.

“good,” he stated, staring you dead in the eyes. your mouth fell open at his response, a pant pushing passed your lips. “i don’t have the purest of intentions when i do this.”

carmen berzatto slid two long, thick fingers inside you ever so slowly. the motion pulled small moans out of you like you were a pathetic mess of a puddle and the sun rose and set with him. you felt his fingertips press against the upper wall inside you, while another finger worked at your clit, and all you could do was hold onto him tighter.

“it feels so good, carmy,” you whined. “i love your fingers so, so much.”

“yeah, baby?” he breathed against your ear. “you wanna cum f’me?”

“faster, please, i will,” you sobbed. you fucking sobbed as the tapping motion inside you hastened. “oh god — oh my fucking god —“

“that’s it, sweetheart? that’s what you needed?”

“yes, yes — fucking — fuck — yes.”

“f-fuck —“ he groaned broken, incoherent phrases against your throat. his breath was hot and heavy on your skin and all you could think about was how good he felt inside of you, and also how badly you wanted all of him inside you. interrupting your thoughts, he spoke, “show me how good it feels, baby. finish all over my fingers f’me.”

that broke you.

that fucking broke you.

it was like a shock of lightning hit you straight in your core and the power from the strike spread throughout your entire body. every muscle of yours went taut as you arched your chest into carmy’s.

with his expert hands, he fucked you through the orgasm. “that’s it, baby. that’s it. keep cumming for me.”

it was like carmen berzatto knew everything to say to make you shatter. you couldn’t even breathe — all you could do was give into the spreading feeling of bliss and hold your breath while it washed over you. it was wave, after wave, after wave of mind-numbing orgasm and carmen held you through all of it.

“pretty girl.”

“i know, baby. you’re such a sweet girl f’me.”

“that’s it, sweetheart. take it.”

once the waves finished hitting you, your chest was rising and falling heavily. carmen peppered light kisses along your neck, being gentle as to your state, but you were having none of it. you reached for his belt.

“greedy.”

you smiled lazily at him. “any objections, chef?”

he smirked at you, letting his fingers ghost over your sensitive core. a shiver ran up and down your spine at the almost painful action. “be careful — or i’ll make you cum again.”

you knew he wasn’t joking. you let out a slight giggle before you dragged the zipper and his boxers down. freeing his cock, you pumped his shaft.

carmy was once dominantly kissing your neck and whispering mean things in your ear, but now he was using the crook of your neck to support his forehead.

“you have such a pretty cock, carmy,” you whispered in his ear. there was something so comforting about being intimate with a man where you both could be vulnerable, and you weren’t sure if you would ever let it go. you want him everywhere he would let you have him. “i don’t know if i want it in my mouth or inside me more.”

he chuckled at that, crooning back into your embrace when you would touch a very sensitive part of him. “dirty girl — you’re so fuckin’ evil.”

you were worried the friction was becoming too much for him, but you didn’t want to raise your hand to your own lips, so you swiped some of the juices from your core and used it to lubricate the skin of carmy’s cock. it was a quick motion — you didn’t think he’d notice, and plus his eyes were most likely closed.

but when he spoke, you froze.

“do-do that again.” his voice was rough with lust. “do that again for me.”

you were hesitant at first, but you decided to make a show of it. you slowly dragged two fingers up the length of your slit and rubbed a very slow circle around the circumference of your clit. you gasped at the sensitivity, slightly jumping at the touch.

“fuck, that’s hot,” he groaned, breath humid on your neck.

you smirked at his response and reached for his cock. your hand slipped along the smooth skin of his cock, drawing a deep groan from carmen. the poor man was so sensitive — almost aching from what giving everything he had to you previously felt like.

“so big, carmy,” you breathed. “so big and pretty.”

“y’know what would be prettier?” he asked, pressing a kiss to your jaw line. “watching you put it inside you. can you do that, baby?

you smiled at him devilishly. carmy’s hands shoved the rest of your jeans down your legs and flung them somewhere in the room. your pussy was aching — dripping for the man before you. the sensitivity had left you, no longer prickling at your nerve endings. all that was left was the want for more — anything carmy had to give you.

“please,” you whined, rubbing the head of his cock against your glistening folds.

“i love when you beg f’me,” he groaned. “such a good fuckin’ girl.”

both of your lines of sight drifted down to the view of your hips. you both watched in awe as you lined carmy up with your entrance as he pushed his hips towards you.

the throws of passion and want for carmy were intense, sure — but so was the want to enjoy this while he could. he pushed in the tip of his cock, groaning slightly as your tight hole encased him. you whines at the barely filled feeling — so empty, needing more. carmy, however? carmy didn’t care. he wanted to feel every push and pull of your muscles between your hips.

carmy kept his eyes turned down at your pussy and you swallowed more and more of him inside you. he gripped the flesh of your waist, fingertips digging into you. your own hands were splayed our flat against the cool countertop of the table — a direct juxtaposition of the boiling feeling that electrified the top of every inch of your skin. you whined as carmy took his time with his thrusts, pulling back every so often when he felt resistance, and then pushing back in ever so slightly, yet slightly farther, each time.

“please, more,” you gasped, folding your lip between your teeth. “i want all of you.”

“baby isn’t patient, huh?” he asked, continuing with his motions. “gotta have it all, when you want it?”

“i can’t be teased right now,” you sobbed. it was pathetic how needy you were, but fucking christ did it turn carmy on.

“this what you want, baby?” he asked, pushing into you deeper.

your walls were squeezing him like he was the only thing that existed to you. the burn at your entrance was something so bittersweet, something so delicious — you didn’t know how you were going to keep control and make this special for him as well, let alone how you weren’t going to cum right then. but you didn’t care — you didn’t have the strength to care.

“yes, carmy — please,” you begged, bucking your hips into him weakly. “fuck — your cock feels so good.”

“yeah, baby?” he pressed into deeper. “so impatient you can’t handle it slow?”

“i want you to fuck me, carm,” you bit with lust dripping from every word. “fuck me — use me however you want — please.”

fuck.

that set him off.

carmy was a patient and low maintenance man, sure, out of necessity and convenience mostly. however, when he had the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, with a dirty mouth to match, talking back to him, and begging him to be selfish?

fuck patience. fuck ease. and fuck being selfless.

carmen’s grip tightened on your waist, and he pushed the last parts of his cock inside you.

it immediately hit you right where you needed him — that soft, sensitive spot so deep that barely anyone before him could dream of reaching. your walls gripped the smooth skin of his cock and you screamed. you fucking wailed when he finally pounded into you painfully, but so fucking sweetly.

“dirty — fucking — girl,” he grunted, thrusting upwards into your pussy.

there was nothing like the sight of carmy finally taking what he wanted. no expression of shame, or guilt, or hesitation on his face — just a man, slightly bent over before you, inside of you, holding you so close to him because, in that moment, you could give him what he wanted — needed. and, in that moment, all he needed was you.

the side of his face was pressed against yours, breathing heavily into your ear. the few groans he let escape his throat were guttural — almost animalistic. they went straight to your core, practically flooding around his cock. your whines of pleasure forced his hips forward and back faster and harder with each motion. balancing your weight and carmy’s with a firm hand of yours behind you on the table, you clamped your free hand on the back of his neck. you twisted a few stray strands of his hair around your fingers, tugging at them. every thrust caused you to pull his hair, him, closer and harder into you.

“laythefuckdown,” he spat, to your surprise.

the command startled you, sure — but it also made you bite your lip in anticipation. he pressed a wet, heavy kiss to your cheek, throwing butterflies in your lower stomach, as you released him. before you could lay down, he stopped you.

“you want to give me what i want, baby?” he whispered against your lips.

you nodded, gazing at him with dark, lust filled eyes.

“then i want your pussy to finish around my cock,” he stated. “think you can do that f’me?”

“y-yeah,” you replied, shakily, but full of trust.

you laid down and carmy regained his footing at the end of the table, keeping his cock pressed firmly inside you as he stood above you. his cock twitched against your most sensitive spot inside you, and you whined at the new angle. he gripped one of your hips firmly, but let his other hand ghost up your glistening lips.

“such a pretty fucking pussy,” he rasped, gazing at it. “takes my cock so well. but right here…”

he pressed his thumb against your clit.

you would’ve jumped if his hand wasn’t keeping you locked to the table.

“this is what i want,” he spat. “so fucking pretty.”

he began rubbing rough, fast circles on your clit. your legs were shaking from the overstimulation, and you thought you could cry from the sensation. your back arched off the table, and your hands struggled to find something to grip — to balance you as carmy tortured you.

but then his cock started working itself back into you again, hitting that spot that needed him so badly.

“think you can cum like this, baby?” he asked, taunting you. “be a good girl for me, yeah?”

“yes — !” you groaned, reaching for the end of the table with one hand. grabbing it, you tried to steady yourself, but it was no use. not with carmy. “fuck — it’s so much — it’s too much carmy —“

“gonna cum for me, sweetheart?”

you threw your head up to stare at the man. he was rocking into you like that was the only thing he knew, fucking you like it was the only thing he wanted, but there was so much focus on his eyes. so much focus on you.

“gonna give me what i want?”

“yes, yes,” you were nodding your head so pathetically, so sweetly for him. tears were practically threatening to spill over the corners of your eyes, but they glistened at him, and only him, and god did it fuck with him. “please, carmy — let me cum for you.”

“do it,” he ordered. “fuck, baby — cum for me.”

your hips were bucking against his pelvis and his hand, too erratic for him to be precise like he wanted to. you were chasing his fingertips, chasing the orgasm that even in his selfish state he was so generous to give. whines left your throat involuntarily as the intensity in your lower abdomen grew, and grew, and grew. your eyes were screwed shut as you pushed yourself to your elbows, holding yourself up as you couldn’t help but curl into yourself. carmen may have been looking at you, or something else — it didn’t matter. all you saw was the black of your eyelids, until is was white.

white. pure white.

your finger nails dug into the meat of your palms as the heat spread from your womb to the entirety of your body. every nerve ending and hair rose to the highest point of height they could, and you held your breath. the feeling of immense pleasured you washed over you — wave after wave, after wave, after wave. it hit you, it crashed into you, it fucking drowned you — it swallowed you whole until you were gasping for air. your orgasm was violent — practically mine splitting. you were shaking. you were sensitive beyond belief, beyond repair — and the prickling feeling wouldn’t stop. you were gasping for air as you looked down, only to find carmy’s hand still working between your thigh.

still rubbing those fucking circles.

“c-carmy,” you sputtered, tears wet in the corner of your eye. “please — i c-can’t.”

“shhh,” he whispered. “just keep cumming, baby. just keep cumming for me.”

your chest split open at that, throwing you back against the table top. shivers went up and down your spine as you took carmy’s torture.

“that’s it, baby. that’s it.”

his words were music to your ears as you screamed for him.

“ohh, fucking shit — that’s it —“ he hissed. “just like that. take it all for me — oh, fuck.”

you were dazed and confused on carmy’s table, basically seeing stars. absolutely useless, fucked out beyond words. you felt the weight and warmth of carmy’s body lean over, and rest against yours, as his hips sloppily rocked into you.

you wrapped your legs around the middle of carmy’s back, locking him in place. one hand went to clamp on the back of his head, and the other pressed against the side of his cheek.

against his lips, you whispered, “cum for me, carmy, please. i want to feel you inside of me.”

“good — fucking —“ he grunted, pressing his lips to yours in a farm, hard kiss as he shook. carmy’s tongue shoved itself into your mouth, and down your throat. carmy was everywhere — so deep in every part of you. you hummed with each moan of his you swallowed, rocking your hips against his and rocking him through his orgasm. gasps left his lips as he gripped any part of you he could, doing anything he could to hold onto you and keep you in place.

“holy f-fucking shit,” he gasped against your cheek, pressing kisses to your cheek and the length of your neck. “that — that was — it was so —“

“i know,” you spoke, giggling slightly.

carmy laid his head against your collarbone and you weaved his wet curls around your fingers. he rested fully against you, completely relaxed.

“fuck your friends,” he mumbled. “stay here tonight — as long as, um — you want to, that is.”

your giggle hummed in your chest. carmy’s confidence leaving him in the middle of the sentence surprised you slightly, but not enough to leave you unamused. “‘m not imposin’?”

he chuckled at that, and pulled you up from the table and into his arms. "fuck off."

-----

lmk what you think :) love yall -L

[harunayuuka2060]

MC: *walks toward Ruggie, having cornered him in the botanical garden*

Ruggie: ...

Ruggie: *tries to feign ignorance* Why are you looking at me like that? Did I do something wrong?

MC: ...

MC: Isn’t spying on someone considered a wrongful act?

Ruggie: Me? Spying on you? Why would I do that?

Ruggie: We just happened to be in the same space.

MC: ...

MC: *smiles* Are you really going to keep pretending you don’t know anything?

Ruggie: Look. You're the one here who's not making sense. I'm worried about you that's why I followed you here in the botanical garden.

Ruggie: What if you encounter bullies? I’m simply acting out of goodwill.

MC: *moves closer until they are just a few inches apart; looming over him*

Ruggie: *feels intimidated by the noticeable height difference*

MC: ...

MC: *in a soft tone* I appreciate your concern, but I don’t want to impose on you, especially since we’re not familiar with each other.

Ruggie: O-Oh! W-Well! If you say so!

MC: *just about to walk away when something suddenly comes to mind, glances back at him*

MC: It’s nice to meet you, Ruggie Bucchi. I look forward to having a meaningful conversation with you rather than this game of chase.

Ruggie: Huh?

MC: *smiles then walks away*

Ruggie: ...

Ruggie: How—

Ruggie: *back in his dorm, he’s freaking out as he tells Leona about his encounter with MC and how they knew his name*

Ruggie: Isn't that weird?!

Leona: Not really.

Ruggie: ...

Ruggie: Dude, it's weird! They're human with no magic! How could they know my name unless they could read minds?!

Leona: ...

Leona: You said they cornered you in the botanical garden, and that they led you there?

Ruggie: Yes. *frowns*

Leona: ...

Leona: They had you all figured out.

Leona: Though you were at fault for putting your guard down.

Ruggie: Seriously?

Leona: ...

Leona: If they could outsmart Ruggie like that, it means there’s more to them.

Silver: Are we not going to tell Malleus about it?

Sebek: I’m sure that hyena was up to something!

MC: ...

MC: Let’s avoid acting impulsively. We don’t yet know his true motives, and I’d prefer not to worry Dada over something insignificant.

Sebek: But—

MC: I’ll make sure to be cautious.

Silver and Sebek: ...

Silver: We understand.

Sebek: We'll respect your decision, MC-sama!

MC: *is surprised to find teen magazines scattered on the floor of their father’s room*

Malleus: *who appears to be stressed out while Lilia laughs beside him*

MC: ...What's going on?

Lilia: *still laughing* Come here, quick! It's really funny!

MC: ???

Lilia: We overheard a conversation between two Heartslabyul students. They were discussing their crushes, and it turned out they were talking about you. They even started speculating about what your standards might be.

MC: ...

MC: So, what’s the link between that and these teen magazines scattered on the floor?

Lilia: Ah, it’s just that your Dada feels bad for not knowing what you like. He’s also upset because he didn’t find anything he could relate to.

Malleus: I’m sorry, dear. I feel like I’m falling short as a father.

Malleus: I’ve come to realize that I don’t know what you’re interested in when it comes to someone.

MC: ...

MC: I’d be glad to tell you about it, Dada.

Malleus: *brightens up* Really?

Lilia: No, no! I’d advise against that! He’ll use it to turn away your suitors!

Malleus: Forget about what your Pépé said. I’m listening, dear.

MC: *chuckles*

[cheshirebitch]

Alastor with a 1950’s housewife styled reader. When he sees her he doesn’t even understand why she’s in hell in the first place.

!!Mentions of domestic violence!!

She killed her husband for laying a hand on their child. She was slow and methodical with her kill, and when Alastor finds out he becomes enraptured by her. In awe of how proper and kind she is but how devastatingly cruel she can be if the circumstance calls for it.

He finds her duality alluring in a sense, and he’s so curious to see what fresh hell she’d let loose in hell if she decided to unleash herself upon some poor sinners.

This is my first request in a long time and I’m super tired so I hope this makes sense 😅

Oh boy, oh boy, did I love this idea and I hope I did you justice on it :)!

ℂ𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕤𝕪 𝕊𝕖𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕥𝕤

Alastor x Reader

“Alastor, dear, can you do me a favor?” I asked while smoothing my dress out nervously.

“Of course darling! What can I do for you my Angel?” Alastor started calling me that the day he met me. He was adamant that heaven messed up or I was a fallen angel for being too good. Every time he would go on one of his long stipples, I would have to keep my lips tight and calm my beating heart for two reasons. He really was too sweet to me and because I never want anyone to know my ugly truth. Not that I’m ashamed but because I don’t need everyone hunting down the man, especially considering he was alive and well in hell with me. I think he suffered considerably for his actions and I didn’t need the whole hotel, that was supposed to be a walking advertisement about redemption, trying to murder this man. Especially Alastor, he would be completely unforgiving.

He was always so polite when it concerned me and always had a compliment to throw my way.

“Mon Cher, looking elegant as always.”

“Darling, do smile more often. Hell would be much better with your sparkling smile.”

“What’s a looker like you doing at the bar by yourself? Care for company Angel?”

“Mon Cher,

“Would you be so kind to help me make dinner today? I truly didn’t expect the King of Hell to be visiting or I could’ve handled it on my own.” Exasperated that Charlie failed to mention, again, about her fathers visit. I rather not have him thinking an old housewife, such as myself, failed to uphold the standards I was raised with. This place will be spotless and perfect in two hours by my own hand, if Alastor agrees to assist me. I always batted his hands away when he’s tried before, being conditioned that all this work is only my job. My ex husband made sure I learned that too.

“Absolutely! Anything for my sweet Angel! Are you certain there is nothing else I can assist you with? Perhaps some cleaning, laundry, anything?” Alastor was leaning in towards my personal space as I pushed a finger over his massive smile. He truly is a pure gentleman despite his horrific sins he’s committed. Maybe that’s why I’m so attracted to him?

“Oh, no. Just some help in the kitchen will be fine. I just need someone to watch over the meal as it cooks so it doesn’t burn while I clean the rest of this hotel.” I smiled at him as polite as I could while trying not to tremble over the simple act of asking for help. It’s always involuntary when I flinch at a man, so much so that I’ve overheard conversations about it from the group. Charlie and Angel express their concerns to me but the rest just watch with pity in their eyes.

“Angel, certainly there is more I can do?” He gave me his smile still, slightly strained, but concern and a small hint of frustration were in those burgundy eyes. I pretended to think on it before shaking my head.

“That simply won’t do. I will handle all kitchen duties and you can clean. Don’t try to stop me.” Alastor morphed through the shadows as I raced to beat him to the kitchen, only to be met with a locked door. I huffed before giving in, but only because I was on a tight schedule. Fighting with Alastor’s stubbornness was at the bottom of my list and making sure this place was spiffy was at the top. So, I raced around on the lobby floor, cleaning everything and everything. I couldn’t help but notice how Alastor was trying to slyly send his shadow and Niffty to help. Ignoring them on purpose, faking ignorance for his sake, and kept cleaning at my full speed.

By the time I noticed there was nothing left to do, I was out of breath and was done one hour earlier than I thought I would be. That was also considering how I had two extra sets of helping hands plus the fact I didn’t have to check the kitchen at all. I smiled as I panted out, wiping the sweat from my brow. I sauntered into the kitchen, now with unlocked doors, and had my hands on my hips as I watched Alastor finish cooking everything I had laid out. I had a bandana on to keep my hair pulled up and stop the sweat from running down my neck. It was the pretty maroon and black one Alastor gave me the first year I knew him.

“Lovely to see you using the things I get you.” Without even turning around, he knew what I was wearing and didn’t degrade me for not completing these tasks completely on my own or faster. The smile spread on my face as I began to tease back.

“Always lovely to see you cooking. Don’t think I don’t see that tail wagging happily, deer.” I emphasized on his nickname being used more so as what animal he was. His ears twitched as he turned around with a playful grin. My tail whipped around behind me, showing I was teasing him playfully. He leaned closer, invading my personal space again.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Angel. I’m just helping a deer friend out.” He chuckled at his own pun, making me smile and nudge him. This is what normally happens when one of us tells a joke, it turns into a pun war. Right now though, I guess it was deer themed with a hint of good tension between us. He had us switching places, where I was the one with the counter behind me and he with nothing. Walking closer and closer, getting more into eachothers spaces with no complaints. Which of itself, others would find quite odd how Alastor wasn’t upset by myself being this close to him.

“That pun wasn’t one of your best. Dare I say, I wasn’t too fawn of that one.” His smile widened with genuine happiness without anything evil being the cause of it. It really was beautiful. I couldn’t help but morph my smile from a playful one to a genuine smile as well, full of admiration. I could even feel my eyes basically forming heart shapes for him.

“Angel?” His eyes looked relaxed along with his smile, he was still leaning so close to me I could feel his coat tickling my skin.

“Yes, deer?” He smiled more before continuing.

“How are you in Hell? Really?” My smile froze as I panicked slightly. He was someone I could see hunting my ex husband down and brutally killing for what he’s done, especially towards me and my family. My hands moved before I could stop them, gripping his with mine. His eyes looked confused at our hands before looking at me, waiting for what it was.

“Promise me, Al, that you’ll let it go after I tell you.” His eyes searched mine before he sighed out.

“You know I can’t promise that, my Angel.” One of his claws carefully brushed my cheek slowly. He started moving slower with his movements when they were towards me after noticing how I flinched. The bright red claws remained on my face as I looked away, defeated.

“It wasn’t always horrible with him, my late husband and father of my two beautiful girls.” I smiled as I mentioned my children, who have long lived their lives after my death, and both in heaven.

“But after a couple years when my youngest turned four, Paul wasn’t the same. He was laid off from his fancy office job and started drinking when he couldn’t find work. We had to sell our home and move. I started working at a couple diners and cleaning for a couple homes, anything to make the bills.” My smile turned sad as Alastor’s turned strained the second I spoke of alcohol. His grip tightened slightly but never enough to hurt me.

“He would get angry when I came home late, how the house was a mess, when the children got fussy, and just anything that involved work for him. That’s when I got tired and mouthed off.” Alastor’s upper lip curled in disgust at what was about to be spoken next.

“He didn’t like that, slapped me back in place.” Alastor’s eyes squinted.

“I think you’re downplaying it, Angel.” I sheepishly grin, knowing he’s right.

“A little.”

“Tell the truth now, darling.”

“He beat me till I couldn’t stand anymore. I tried fighting back but…” I shook my head and felt my eyes burning.

“I was just a silly housewife.” He took his claw and gently swiped away a fallen tear. It was the only tear I will let fall.

“I only said enough when he went to hit the oldest for trying to pull him off of me.” Tension was rising up my spine and locking my jaw tight. Alastor’s radio static picked up even more the second I spoke that sentence. I could feel his anger radiating from him.

“I hated him for it, so much so I killed him.” I looked up at Alastor right when his eyes dilated, recognizing the shock and admiration that was swirling in his eyes. His smile spread out across his face more as the radio static cut silent, then he spoke without any static in his voice.

“My, my, what have we got here? Dare I say my Angel is really a demon after all?” I could tell he said it with slight humor, still thinking I’m too pure to be in hell.

“I poisoned him for months with rat poisoning in his alcohol. He chose his own death, I just sped it up. Everyone thought he died of alcohol poisoning but it was me. I’d do it again if it meant my kids never had to see that ever again. He could’ve lived if he just chose his family over the alcohol.” I shrugged with no remorse for my actions.

“While he was getting more and more ill, I would watch from the doorway of our bedroom, where he slept. Just holding a kitchen knife and sharpening it, watching him sleep horribly.” Alastor smiled wider, wider than I thought possible really, and dipped me down gracefully. His arm behind my back holding me completely as his other hand delicately glided his ruby claw down my cheek.

“Mon Cher, penser que je ne pourrais pas t'aimer davantage.” **

Alastor was immediately thinking about how he’d worship her forever and was intrigued to see what fresh hell she would unleash by his side with this daunting loyalty and protective spirit. He also took note to pay a visit to dear ol’ Paul, the current bartender that replaced Husk at the casino in town.

** translation - “My dear, to think that I couldn’t love you more.”

(As always, characters belong to their owner and the story belongs to me. If you have any requests or ideas, send them over :)! I will gladly try to write things for my supporters! Thank you for the love and have a great day! <3)

[marvelmusing]

Personal Shopper

from The Darkling Wears Prada AU

Pairing: Aleksander Morozov x Fem!Reader

Summary: In preparation for your honeymoon, you and Aleksander go shopping. Per usual, he has high standards.

Warnings: brief mentions of sex and nudity

My Masterlist

͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

Disgust curls at the corner of Aleksander’s lips, his nostrils flaring as he surveys the luminous rainbow of swim shorts hanging in front of you. For someone whose wardrobe consists of black and white, the options on display feel like an insulting form of colour exposure therapy.

“You could have told me there were no viable options for me here,” he says.

“If you just ignore the brightly coloured ones-”

“A blind person would struggle to ignore those.”

“There’s a navy blue?”

“When have you ever seen me wear navy blue?”

“Almost every man likes navy blue.”

“No, almost every man wears navy blue because he doesn’t understand the concept of dressing himself and thinks he can’t go wrong with blue.”

The manager of the store hovers at a respectable distance - ready to assist but not too overbearing. A group of younger employees have gathered discretely in a corner, talking quietly amongst themselves while shooting furtive glances in your direction.

“What about dark grey?” you suggest, selecting a pair from the rack and offering them for him to examine.

Aleksander takes a long look at them, and sighs.

“Go on,” you say expectantly.

He raises a brow at you, his expression innocent.

“What?”

“From the look on your face, there’s clearly something wrong with them.”

He pauses, regarding you somewhat sheepishly. Glancing down, he looks at his shoes, then back up at the shorts.

“The drawstrings are white.”

“Aleksander-”

“It looks inexpensive!” he defends. You laugh, shaking your head at him.

He watches you glance down at the shorts, eyes fixating on the drawstrings before you sigh and discard them back on the rack.

“Now you’ve said that, I won’t be able to unsee it.”

Aleksander breathes out a soft laugh, curling his arms around your waist to pull you back against his chest as you browse the other items of clothing nearby. He lowers his head down, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he murmurs,

“I’m sorry for being so particular.”

A smile spreads over your lips, as you place your hands on his forearms, keeping him close while you lean back into his body.

“No, you’re not.”

He smiles.

“No, I’m not.”

“The worst part is, you always look good, meaning your fussiness is well-founded.”

He tilts his head at you, lips parted in faux shock.

“Fussiness?”

“Don’t sound so astounded. If I tried to tell anyone at work that you aren’t fussy, I’d be laughed out of the building.”

His eyes wander over the items of clothing in the store, a certain area in particular catching his attention.

“I can think of one instance where I’m not fussy,” he remarks. He feels your head turn, looking in the direction of his gaze.

“If you’re talking about my lingerie, I’d have to disagree.”

He stills, looking down at you in concern.

“Have I ever made you feel uncomf-”

“No, Sasha. Never. It’s just that I can usually tell from your reaction what pieces you like more than others. I could probably guess what your favourite set of mine is.” He nods slightly, encouraging you to state your guess. “The black silk set - the one lined with white lace.”

He tilts his head, humming quietly in contemplation.

“I would consider that one of my favourites. But it isn’t my favourite.”

“What is your favourite then?”

His cheeks flush.

“It isn’t even a matching set,” he admits. “The cream cotton bra, with little purple and blue flowers. And the blue cotton panties with white polka dots.”

A small sound of surprise catches in the back of your throat.

At the beginning of your relationship, you had been shy about showing him the less than perfect parts of you. When you’re at work, everything is perfect - just how Aleksander likes it.

He had caught you by surprise, the first time he saw his favourite ensemble, kissing you in the makeshift office created for him during a photoshoot. As always, you had melted in his arms, kissing him back eagerly. Until he reached for the button at the waistband of your trousers. He stopped the moment he felt you stiffen.

“What’s wrong? Do you want to stop?”

He sees the hesitation on your face and removes his hands from you.

“I didn’t think you’d want this today,” you admit, fidgeting nervously with your hands. “I thought you’d be too busy with the shoot.”

His expression softens, brushing a stray lock of hair away from your cheek. He lets his knuckles linger there.

“What do you mean?”

He feels your cheeks heat beneath his hand, then you say in a near whisper,

“I’m not wearing my nice underwear. They’re just plain cotton, nothing special.”

To this day, Aleksander disagrees wholeheartedly.

“Really?” you state, turning your head to look at him. “That’s your favourite?”

He nods, shrugging slightly.

“I don’t know what it is, it just feels so domestic, seeing you in them.”

He feels your body grow warm in his arms.

After years of seeing you with only perfect makeup and meticulously picked outfits, the sight of you barefaced, wearing one of his old t-shirts and a zip hoodie is one of his favourite daydreams.

Aleksander kisses your cheek.

“You look beautiful in anything - and nothing.”

“Sasha!” you scold him quietly, glancing around to check that no one is close enough to hear him.

He presses his face into the side of yours, lips brushing delicately against your cheekbone as his nose digs into your temple.

“I love you,” he murmurs.

He can feel the blood rushing to your face as you smile.

“I love you too.”

Aleksander smiles softly.

“Which ones do you like best?”

“You want me to pick?”

He breathes out a soft laugh at your widened eyes.

“Marriage is about compromise. They are for our honeymoon after all.”

With mischief curling at your lips, your fingers dance over the bright yellow swim shorts.

“Milaya,” he says warningly. “Don’t be cruel.”

You laugh quietly.

“What about these?”

A subtle summery shade of sky blue, embossed with a small grey logo near the hem of the right leg. Aleksander will admit, they are a nice colour, despite being different from his preferred palette. Not to mention that they will pair well with a few of the shirts already in his wardrobe - though he doubts he will be wearing a shirt at all given the expected heat.

Nevertheless, he feigns a sigh as he takes the swim shorts from you.

“Anything for you, milaya.”

He can’t help but smile when he sees you roll your eyes.

When the two of you finally climb into the back of Aleksander’s car, you’re kissing him senseless. From the moment he mentioned your underwear, you’ve been flustered, taking every opportunity to have your hands on him. Now that you’re alone, you cannot suppress your need.

He can feel your lip gloss smearing over his mouth, sticky and sweet. Aleksander cups your jaw, holding you in place as he works on devouring you.

He feels you frown when your phone buzzes, interrupting your moment. When you make no movement to reach for the device, Aleksander tears his lips from yours momentarily as he peers at the screen.

“What is it?” you ask breathlessly.

Being Aleksander’s assistant means you like to stay well informed on what the press is saying about him. The notification is from your news app.

News Alert: Aleksander Morozov sighted with fiancée.

He smiles.

“Nothing.”

͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt @idaofinfinity @slytherheign @ellooo0ooo @vixenofcourse @dumb-fawkin-bitch @jane-arthur @ilikefictionmen @budugu @watersquirtpewpewboomm @mysweetlittledesire

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[satanghulu]

21 QUESTIONS

✦ PAIRING: satan x g!n reader ✦ SUMMARY: coffee shop au kinda, idk how to summarise this either lmao but its just fluff don't worry ✦ WC: 1.1K

| MASTERLIST

══════════════════

“So where are you from?”

What was supposed to be an innocuous question sent the blond-haired man into a spiral.

“Devildom.”

“What kind of people do you like?”

The washcloth you were using to wipe the coffee mug stopped in its motion as you paused, wondering if it was worth looking up. The man waits for you to answer, casting a shadow in your line of sight. 

Never mind his weird follow-up, what was up with his answer?

“Devildom?”

You pointedly ignored his question, resuming your actions. There were only a couple of things left to do, which was why Satan was following you like a puppy. You meet his gaze as he stares at you with pursed lips.

Thankfully, the morning rush had already subsided leaving only the mess of the counter behind. Thus, leading to this… conversation, you weren’t quite sure how you ended up. You were almost certain that the topic before was your evening plans after the work shift. 

“Er, I mean I was adopted. Never mind me, what are your interests?”

Your hands float in the air, startled by his declaration. With a flex of your finger, you set the clean mug at its allocated place below the counter. You pressed your lips in a tight line.

“Oh, I’m sorry for asking.” 

Your tone was polite in fear of another misstep. You lick the edge of your lips, sniffing at a thought. Satan’s eyes were still on you, piercing and bright. 

Though, how did “getting adopted” end up as “Devildom”? 

Although you had worked a couple of times with Satan, you hadn’t had much of a chance to inquire about his background. Today was a rare occasion to have a conversation that went further than pleasantries considering the usual rush during your scheduled shift.

Going forward, you decided not to ask any more questions regarding families.

“So your interests?” Satan prompted again.

“What is this? 21 questions or something?” You asked wryly, wringing the washcloth dry and turning to hang it on the sink. “I guess the standard things.” 

You weren’t quite sure what to make of his behaviour but it seemed harmless enough. It was also cute to see the frown forming on his face as you continued to avoid his questions.

“Do you want to be more specific?”

His voice rang out from the front as you headed towards the back to unpack the stock that had arrived earlier during the day. Humming an unconscious tune, you squatted down intending to lift the box.

Before you could complete the action, the blond-haired man had already picked up the box and was now awaiting your instructions. You hadn’t even heard him come up behind you. Slightly taken aback, you pointed in the direction of the cabinet situated on the left of the store.

“I guess coffee?”

You watched with a faint sense of amusement as Satan crinkled his eyebrows, decidedly not satisfied with your answer.

“I would guess so since we are working at a coffee shop.”

You nod.

“Okay, then. Well, what about you?” You spun around, looking for the caramel syrup to refill before the second batch of customers came in.

“Well, I like cats.” The blond-haired man tapped you on the shoulder, handing over the bottle to you. You looked up in mild surprise before muttering a thanks. 

“I think everyone working here knows that.”

You had started bringing a lint roller to work because of how often he came covered in fur. As a barista, it was a cleanliness concern. Nowadays, you just leave the lint roller at work so Satan can use it when both of you aren’t scheduled together.

“Yeah, I thought we were stating the obvious.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Fine, my bad. I’ll be more serious with my answer now.”

You dried off your hand with the towel placed near the sink before tugging your apron down as it had crumpled up during your entire stint.

“What kind of mannerisms do you find attractive?”

You let out a snort.

“Geez, you are persistent.”

You squinted at him and paused for a second.

 “Is there a particular answer you want to hear?”

He shrugged, miming a zipping motion and pretending to throw away the key. Satan was great at pushing and pulling with his words, as you have noticed. “I’m just curious.”

“Well, I guess it varies.” You said. A strand of hair had started itching at your nose and your facial expression twisted into a frown. Finally, after refilling the syrup, you set it back on the counter.

“This is getting nowhere.” Satan abruptly says, blocking your path to the counter. He snorts, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Are you free this evening?”

“You weren’t joking.” You huffed out, admittedly not too surprised.

The determined expression on his face was too cute. It makes you want to tease him even more. It didn’t take a genius to find out that Satan had been flirting with you but honestly, you had thought it was just a playful tidbit between coworkers.

“Sure, why not?” You didn’t have to debate too long on an answer. 

Handsome, gentle, and funny. What more could you ask for?

“Great.” You smile at him, standing a step closer.

He wasn’t moving, standing scarily still for some reason. His clear gaze made you feel nervous, but you persisted, tilting your head and waiting for him to continue.

“Would an hour be enough for you to freshen up? We can meet at 7 in front of the subway.”

“Deal.” You nodded. 

Ding!

The sound snapped you out of your reverie, noticing that a customer had come in. For a second, you had completely forgotten about your job. You brushed past Satan, intending to head to the front to serve the customer.

…?

“I’m looking forward to spending the evening with you.”

The blond-haired man had grabbed your hand. He bent down, lifting your hand to press a featherlight kiss to the back of your hand. It was a two-hit combo that went straight to your heart. 

 “I’ll take care of this customer.” 

As the ending move, he leaned forward to brush the stray hair that had been bothering you all this while. You could feel your heart splutter at the motion and instantly felt a blush rising up. 

T-this madman!

You caught sight of a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips before he left and you immediately wanted to cuss him out. However, the heat staying high on your face prevented you from doing so.

Huh.

You brought up your hand for an inspection even though there was no evidence left behind. Curiously, you looked at the spot that he had kissed. 

Satan was much more charming than you had anticipated. You noted dimly.

This could be bad for your heart.

══════════════════

a/n ▸ this fic is brought to you by kelo (@sheepthatgobaa) and I, you can read this post for more information lol but basically it was a "what if?" situation -> what if lucifer sent satan into the human world as punishment and then he started working at a coffee shop and then the dynamics between reader and him and it just spiralled lol. i currently don't have plans for a full fic for this btw... this just gripped me by the throat

[wordsarelife]

DAY 5: CHRISTMAS LOVE

pairing: mattheo riddle x fem!reader

summary: it was no secret that mattheo riddle annoyed the hell out of you, but you did grow concerned when you suddenly didn’t mind it anymore..

warnings: suggestive, mentions of throwing up, but it doesn’t actually happen. apart from that nothing else

notes: i’m so sorry but i lost the original request, so i had to go with the short notes i had made, so i might leave something out! but i think i have the essential part

sorry it took me so long to post but i had to proofread before i could let whatever the fuck this is (🫠) into the world!

you watched the snow fall behind the stained glass window. the library was dimly lit, making it easier for you to see.

you loved this time of year. it was so quiet. especially in hogwarts. most of the student body had gone home for the holidays and you were one of the few people that stayed.

to your luck the biggest nuisance in the world did too. “what are we looking at?” mattheo riddle asked close to your ear.

you shrieked to the side, startled by his sudden appearance.

“what?” he asked “you’re scared of me now?”

you rolled your eyes “scared isn’t the word i would use, more like deeply frustrated” you grabbed the book from the window sill and got up.

“sexually?” he asked, raising his eyebrows

“ugh” you rolled your eyes, walking around him

“hey!” mattheo tried to stand in your way but was unsuccessful “where are you going?”

“somewhere you aren’t”

mattheo followed close behind you. “come on” he said “it’s christmas time! the loveliest time of the year! can’t you knit me a sweater or something?”

you send him a spiteful look.

“a hat?”

“i’m not gonna knit you anything” you halted in your step. taking a quick look at the book in your hand before you held it in his direction. “actually, do you mind bringing this back to where i got it from?”

“do i get mittens?”

“sure” you rolled your eyes and waited until he had walked around the shelf, before you quickly sprinted to the exit.

to your luck, he made it out of the library just a second after.

since he had first noticed how much it annoyed you, mattheo had made it a habit to follow you around the castle. over the time he had become an instant trigger for your headache.

“so what about these mittens huh?”

“riddle, can’t you leave me alone?” at least he was walking not next to you

“you’re the only one in our year i know”

“and?”

“christmas is for friends huh?”

“we’re not friends” you argued, crossing your arms

“we could be” mattheo shrugged. “and then you realize how great i am and give me a blowjob on christmas morning”

“oh because you’re so great i suddenly want to give you a blowjob?” you asked disgusted, while crossing your arms

“there’s no shame in admitting you want to pleasure me”

“eww” you shook your head “do you ever think about anything else but sex?”

“you’re way too hot to not think about sex or you getting on your knees and—“

“alright” you interrupted, raising your arms. but before you could try something else to get him to leave you alone, something helpful entered your field of vision.

you smiled at him, before you walked left.

“no!” mattheo argued “that’s not fair”

you walked into the girls washroom and ignored him. he held the door open.

“you know it violates my principles to go in there”

“i do” you nodded, pretty aware that he wouldn’t be caught dead in there. you weren’t even sure why. mattheo normally wasn’t the guy to follow rules, but he did have a high moral standard considering places like the girls washroom or sleeping quarters.

you smiled mischievously, suddenly thinking about testing him “come in here and i’ll give you the best blowjob of your life”

you weren’t even thinking about ever doing that.

mattheo ignored what you said, even if he did get a little white at your words “you play dirty!” he protested “but okay, you win this time!”

you smiled about the frustration on his face. he had always tried to flirt with you, but it never fazed you, so now you were the impossible challenge for him. and what better time for this than when almost to no students were in hogwarts and school was out.

mattheo found you later in the evening, while you were sitting at the slytherin table, enjoying your meal while reading your book. during the holidays no one could forbid you from doing that.

you had heard him approach from a few feet away. it was like you had developed a special radar for him over the years.

"hello, love" he sat down beside you

"don't call me that" you muttered, without looking up

"what? no flinching?"

"you're not invisible"

"okay then what was that, a few hours ago in the library?" he asked and you could practically feel him raising his eyebrows.

"the library was the last place i expected you to be" you said truthfully

"you were there"

"yes" you nodded and looked up at him "because i thought you'd never be"

mattheo sighed, sliding closer to you. you side eyed him. "come any closer and i'll scream"

“come on, y/n” mattheo said almost sounding friendly. but then there was that smug smile again. “why don’t we call a truce? considering the holiday season?”

“never” you turned the page “can you leave me alone now?”

mattheo began eating peacefully, not even caring what you had said and you just sighed, going back to ignoring him. after you had finished dinner, he followed you again as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

“stop following me” you stopped, turning around to look at him

“i do have the same way, you know?” he came closer to you, leaning down and whispering in your ear “not everything i do is about you, sweetheart” you watched with big eyes how he smirked and then undid his tie with a quick gesture. he winked at you before he continued his way, leaving you standing in the hallway.

you looked after him puzzled. you had not considered that proximity — or how it had made you feel. you almost found it attractive. you couldn’t believe what you were thinking but for a short second you really were attracted to mattheo riddle. of all people.

you tried to take calming breaths, so whatever had happened right now would go away, but it was to no appeal.

of course mattheo had always looked good, even you couldn’t ignore that, but you had never once thought about him as more than a nuisance that got on your last nerve. now you were almost wishing him to be here, pushing you against the wall—

you couldn’t determine what had suddenly come over you. mattheo had done a pretty good job bothering you these past few years and you had always resisted his advances. and now, just half a year before graduation you were getting weak?

you tried shaking your head, to get rid of the thoughts in there. you quickly walked in the direction of the common room.

in your room, you went into the bathroom, taking a cold shower and after that going to bed as quick as possible. you didn’t want to grant your head the time to think about the stupid boy even more.

the next few days were torture for you. you hadn’t had a proper sleep in days, your mind always wandering back to him.

of course mattheo had picked up his usual habit again, finding you whenever you had been able to get rid of him. every word of him made you a bit weaker in the knees and almost give in. but there was that little bit of self worth that kept you from leaping over the table and kissing the smug smile off his face.

right now you were sitting at dinner, not really getting anything down while you slowly turned the pages of your magazine, while mattheo was sitting across from you, talking your ear off.

even if you could act normal with your last bit of strength, you weren’t able to fight his presence anymore. when he was able to find you, you would mostly just give in. and to your horror you had to admit that he wasn’t even as bad as you had thought. even if half the things he said were total nonsense.

you caught yourself losing track of the magazine and actually listening to him. and you didn’t even hate it. he was funny, you had to admit and he was interested in what you had to answer to his questions

“what’s your favorite color?” he asked, just after he had finished a rant about not being allowed to smoke in his dorm, but doing it anyway.

“huh?” you asked

“your favorite color” mattheo smiled and probably for the first time you noticed how beautiful it was. and it seemed genuine.

“green” you shrugged and his smile got impossibly bigger.

“i like green too” he gushed. he looked like a five year old. and to your personal horror you did not find it disgusting, but rather cute and charming. you wanted to throw up, right now, right here.

you got up from the seat abruptly. “i have to go to the bathroom” you said quickly and mattheo looked at you in confusion

“are you alright?” he asked, but you were already walking out the hall in a quick step.

you reached the bathroom and almost stumbled into the stall, falling down on the floor.

“y/n?” a voice from outside the washroom called

“not now, mattheo” you said annoyed. you leaned against the wall, while you began to cry. luckily you didn’t have to throw up. but the feeling didn’t go away.

you didn’t know what was happening to you. you were feeling like you had lost your mind.

“y/n?” mattheo called again, sounding concerned “are you alright?”

“i said not now” you screamed. he was standing in the door, looking at you scared. he looked like he didn’t know what to do. and still he did not set a foot into the room.

“are you crying?” he wondered

“no!” you screamed, while tears were running down your cheeks, very openly falsifying your statement. you quickly wiped them away.

“what’s wrong?”

“everything” you bellowed “and all of it is your fault!”

“my fault?” he asked almost offended “what the fuck are you talking about?”

“i don’t know what you did to make me feel like this, but as soon as find out you’re gonna hope you were never born” you got up walking into his direction, pointing your finger at him accusingly. he was walking backwards until you were both standing in the hall.

“whoa” he raised his hands “i didn’t do anything to you”

“you’re lying” you shook your head “i can’t eat, i can’t sleep. i think about you all the time, without wanting to and i actually listen to what you tell me and the worst thing is that i suddenly don’t hate you anymore. i hated you for the past six years and now i can’t do it anymore? what the fuck is going on mattheo? i feel like i’m losing my mind”

you almost wanted him to find a solution for your problem.

“i don’t know okay?” mattheo said “maybe you’re just in love with me” he joked then, but it smile faded quickly and he got serious. “maybe you are in love with me” he repeated softly.

you send him a spiteful look “i’d rather jump out of the window than be in love with you”

“i’d rather jump out of the window than be in love with you too” he exclaimed. then he paused, until he looked into your eyes, smiling slightly “but i just can’t help it” he whispered

your eyes softened. for the first time in a long time, you believed what he was saying.

“i can’t eat, i can’t sleep” he muttered, gently fixing a strand of your hair “i think about you all the time” he touched your cheek softly “and i actually listen to what you tell me” his fingers grazed your lips. “and i don’t ever want it to stop” his hand touched your neck and your eyes closed on instant.

then he softly kissed you. your hand went to his collar, drawing him closer. you deepened the kiss, while you breathed in his smell. he smelled of nicotine and some sort of perfume that was unfamiliar to you but it could make you recognize him anywhere.

he softly broke the kiss, leaning his forehead against yours. “why does it feel so intense?” you asked “i thought i had to throw up back in there” you pointed behind you.

“i’d say it gets better, but it never does” he shrugged “not even after years”

“years?” you repeated “you felt like this for years?”

“did you think i was following you around because i loved spending my time in the library?”

“i thought you followed me because you just wanted to get in my pants”

“don’t get me wrong, i do want to get into your pants” he smirked “but not only once and i also want to do so much more than just that”

you smiled at him. maybe being in love with someone wasn’t so bad after all. not when it was him.

he smiled back “let’s go back to the common room” he suggested and you nodded. he layed an arm around your shoulder, kissing you on the forehead.

“mattheo?”

“hmm?”

“why didn’t you go in the washroom a few days ago, even though i promised you the best blowjob of your life?” you asked the question in a joking manner, but it really did interest you.

“you didn’t mean it”

“still”

“it’s not respectful” he shrugged “entering a place like that, it’s not okay, even if no one would catch me. even if it would be just the two of us” he said truthfully “but back there? i almost threw all that out of the window, because i thought something was wrong and you needed my help”

you hugged his body closer “thank you” you whispered and he kissed you on the head.

“so.. about those mittens”

you laughed. “merry christmas, matty”

“merry christmas, y/n”

taglist: @twistedhistory @bakingintheshire @mqstermindswift @taygrls @athenalikethegoddess @claradelage @novelizt @ahead-fullofdreams

[hoffmansgirl]

Honestly, I’m getting tired. It’s literally bts pics from a tv show. He’s not even playing Jesus in the show. People are just looking for a reason to hate him at this point and it’s really pathetic. I was not okay with him posing with those guys and I felt like people had a genuine reason to be upset with him, but I also thought double standards were rearing its ugly head again. Let’s get mad at nick for posing with guys dressed as Lyle and Erik but let’s like and repost thirst edits of Nick and Cooper made up of scenes from a show where they play … Lyle and Erik Menendez. People are holding him to a standard that other celebrities aren’t held to. He can’t do anything without people picking him apart and “canceling” him. It’s honestly annoying.

YES YES YES 🗣️ louder for the cunts in the back!

nicholas chavez is not problematic.

so. i actually feel so bad for him because it must be so hard. he's just gotten popular how long ago... a month? two? and people are trying to cancel him so bad.

he can't do ANYTHING without getting hate - first people started bringing up his love life - since when is it anyone's business? calling him a bop, a man whore. people are feeling way too comfortable nowadays.

next ━ "nicholas doesn't support the brothers", "he doesn't give a fuck" ━ how can YOU know that. he doesn't owe anyone a ny thing. he doesn't need to be as vocal as cooper is about it ━ as i wrote in here aaand here. i honestly won't even talk about it anymore after this post because it's fucking annoying.

the picture with the dicks dressed as menendez brothers ━ disgusting. i'm not gonna defend this one because well. he could have refused to take it. he's a grown ass man, for gods sake. although, as i mentioned before, he is HUMAN. he is LEARNING how to be a big star, what he should and should not do. let's not pretend we are all angels, bffr. we all make mistakes, and sometimes we don't even realise we do something that might be considered wrong.

now... the (hot) god damn pictures... can we stop being so sensitive and fucking annoying!!!!!! 😁 i saw that post and thought that he looks so good, the brat dance made me smile sooo much ━ then i saw the comments... he is not. mocking. religion. he is not mocking your beliefs or your god.

"cancelling" an actor for being an... actor is fucking embarrassing. i just have to laugh.

why is everyone so obsessed with this man, with everything he does? why are haters the first ones in his comment section? god, even i am not that fast and i'm fucking obsessed with the guy. come on... people just hate to hate.

and! surprise! he doesn't owe you an apology ━ if you're offended by the pictures ━ because it's just the show. people think he dressed up as jesus for halloween... do your fucking research. read the caption. stop harassing the poor man i swear 😭

in this house we don't hate on nick ━ of course he needs to be held accountable for the menendez brothers picture, no explanation needed ━ but nothing else.

it's kinda funny because my man is just working, being an introvert and people think he's a soulless narcissist.

i guess people just hate rich, popular and hot men that live their best life... i kinda feel sorry for them, ngl.

and one more thing before i finish... nicholas' love life. the insults i've seen online are so concerning. why are people so comfortable to comment on other people's relationships? why do people believe everything they see on tiktok or twitter? calling him a "man whore" is wayyyy too much. like let this man breathe around another woman? or have female friends? god forbid talk to another woman...

i don't want to comment on his girlfriend because... i want need her man, why would i even talk about her 😭 i have my own opinion but lemme just not...

woof woof i'm yapping. but yes anon, i agree with you. 100%.

and finally! if u wanna talk about it (or just talk about nicholas...) then my dms are open!

and remember!!!! to treat people with kindness ♡ 🫧

(celebrities are also people).

[pit-and-the-pen]

Hi! I am so grateful you came across my feed! You also have an incredibly extensive prompt list which is amazing btw. Could I please get a 104 and 75 with Azriel?? I have been wanting to see how they would do with a fairy, considering they are like the opposite of a bat. They’re light and airy, gorgeous wings. Illyrian wings are gorgeous too but in a dark way and I think the contrast is cool without having to make them an angel. Ya know? Thank you if you end up doing it!

Thank you so much and thank you for the request! My prompt list is left over from an event I did when I hit 100 followers and I just kept adding to it. I love the idea of the difference in their wings. Because the books have already explored a few different types of wings and I think fairy wings are absolutely gorgeous.

The reader is half High Fae, half fairy.

Hope you like it! <3

Warning: Unwelcome touching (not by Azriel), Smut (18+), protective Az!!!!

WC: ~1.7k

Divider by @cafekitsune

My  wings had always been something I was immensely proud of, sure they weren’t the stark white feathered covered ones from Day or the gorgeous bat-like wings from the Illyrains but you loved them. Translucent but pink iridescent, the membrane golden in color. Compared to my stature, short by fae standards, they easily were half of my height. 

When I moved from the Spring Court to Night, I remember feeling slightly self-conscious about them. Before the mating bond had snapped, Azriel had spent many nights reassuring me how beautiful he thought they were. How they made me special. I would sniffle into his neck, “But they let everyone know I’m only half High Fae.” He would hold my head in his hands and try not to laugh at the absurd concern. “So is Rhys, so is Cassian. Most High Fae are. That’s not a bad thing.” Light kisses were pressed to my face, “If anything it makes you more special. Something no other High Fae has.” His words calmed my raging mind. Once the mating bond had snapped, he really began to worship them. He was the first person I had let touch them. The both of us learned they truly were as sensitive as his own. It became something he could tease me with, only in the privacy of our bedroom. One touch and I would melt into his touch. 

Now, I stood in the middle of the throne room at Hewn City. Dress in midnight blue, the same exact shade as my mates siphons. The floor length gown is skin tight and the velvet was smooth under my fingers as I tried to smooth it out. 

I fidgeted slightly out of nerves. I had refused the first time Rhys offered to glamour them away, they were too much a part of who I was for me to hide them even in this vile place. But I still felt very exposed around this many unfamiliar faces.

Azriel had stepped away to join the conversation Rhys was currently having with Keir. Placing a small kiss on my temple as he walked away, “Have fun, sweetheart.” I instantly started looking for Mor, desperate for some semblance of comfort.   

I found her on the dance floor. I gave her a low bow, hand extended which she returned with a perfect curtsey. I took her hand and we began to weave through the other couples as we waltzed around the ballroom, her head thrown back with laughter. 

A pair of hands on my hips swept me out of her grasp. I let out a startled cry, expecting to be met with my favorite pair of hazel eyes. The male that had grabbed me was certainly not Azriel nor anyone I noticed. I could smell the faerie wine on his breath as he spoke in my ear, “What pretty wings.” I thanked him, my voice getting stuck like gum in my throat. I tried to pull the unknown male's hands off of my hips, even to just push them up to my waist but he just dug his hands in tighter. I yelped at the pressure and he just gave me a cocky smirk. 

“I know how sensitive Illyrian wings are, and given the shadowslingers scent all over you, I bet you do too,” He laughed at my shocked expression, “I wonder if these are just as sensitive.” By this time, we had stopped dancing. I stood frozen, bile turned my stomach as he reached a grimy hand up to stroke the edge of my wings. His rough touch made me chirp in pain, he had pitched the fragile membrane between his nails and dragged them down. 

He went to repeat the motion again when I felt the heat of him disappear entirely. When I looked around for him, I saw large black wings in front of my face. The male that had been touching me was pinned to the dance floor. Azriel’s heavy boots, holding him there by his neck. The male was desperately clutching at his leg, trying to pull him off. Azriel scoffed.

“Doesn’t feel so good to have someone touch you when you don’t want them to?” He pressed down a little harder, the muscles twitching in his leg. 

“Now, if you ever think about touching my mate, or anyone else, without their expressed interest,” His hand went to rest on truth-teller’s hilt. “You will find yourself without hands.” He lifted his leg off the male's neck and didn’t spare him a glance as he grabbed my hand and started leading me out of the ballroom. 

People jumped out of our way and I didn’t even think of saying anything to him as I felt his fury down the bond. Not at me, never at me. But for not being there to stop the hands I could still feel on my wings. He pulled us into a room, no, a closet, and I could almost make out the shape of him from the light that snuck along the frame. 

“Did he hurt you?” He asked sternly. Fae Lights flickered on, giving the room a soft glow. I shook my head and he let out a heavy exhale. He placed his forehead against mine and we just stood there as both of our breathing evened out

“Az, you didn’t have to do all of that.” I finally spoke blushing, the dim lights of the room doing nothing to protect me from his gaze.

“You don’t understand, I will do anything to protect you.” The solemnity of those words made my heart lurch and heat pool in my stomach. 

“I don’t know whether to be scared or turned on.” His laugh echoed in his chest. 

“Look at my dirty girl,” He started kissing down my neck, “Does seeing me defend you turn you on?” I whimpered when his tongue started following his kisses. 

“I don’t know, you’re the one that dragged me into a literal closet.” He growled lightly. 

“Be nice, sweet girl.” Chiding me, I felt desire and defiance flood my veins. 

“Bite me.”

 “With pleasure.” He all but purred in my ear and he was on me. His lips captured mine. Teeth captured my lower lip when I moaned into his mouth. His tongue explored my mouth, brushing against the roof of my mouth and my legs turned into jelly. He hiked my leg up to rest on his waist, using the hand on my back to stabilize me. Trailing up my leg with his free hand. 

“Fuck” He groaned when he reached the center of my thighs. Blood flowed to my cheeks. I was soaked. He didn’t waste anymore time before he slipped my panties to the side. I cried out as deft fingers found my clit and started rubbing tight, fast circles. 

My hands started to trail down to reach for his waistband but his shadows pinned my arms to my side. 

“Let me make you feel good, my love.” I moaned at his words. My moans instantly broke into a scream as I felt two of his fingers plunge into me. He curled against the rough spot and I panted out his name.  

“Az…Please, I need more.” I begged him. He just started to kiss my neck again, sucking what I knew would be angry bruises. His kisses started to trail lower, his shadows once again helping him as they slid the top of my dress down to expose my breasts. My hands went to his hair as he wrapped his lips around my nipple. Sucking the perfect amount of pressure, mixed with his fingers pistoning in and out of me. I felt myself fall apart under him. My climax racked through me hard, I sagged against his hand still on my back. 

“There you go. Good girl.” He praised me. I expected his hand to pull away but he kept working me through waves of pleasure. I whined, “Too much. Az.” I panted out the words, chest quickly rising and falling as I tried to catch my breath. 

“Can you give me one more?” His kisses started trailing lower and he unwrapped my leg from his waist. I was going to say something but it got lost on my tongue as he started to sink to his knees. He began to trail kisses up my leg as he went to throw my foot over his shoulder. 

He placed one of my hands on his head, my fingers instantly grabbing his soft locks. 

“Hold on princess.” Was the only warning I received before he dove in between my legs. I mewled at the pressure his lips sucked around my clit, still sensitive from my last orgasm. Broken versions of his name left my mouth and I tried to stop my hips from bucking. He used his free hand to guide my hips, letting me ride his face. It didn’t take long for him to have me at the edge. My eyes squeezed shut, white spotting the black behind my eyelids as he gave my clit a soft nip. That was enough to have my orgasm crashing over me. This time, my knees did buckle out from under me but Azriel’s hands were there instantly to hold me up. 

I blinked up at him. He was the picture of male satisfaction as he took in my glassy eyes. I once again went to reach for his pants but he pushed my hands away with a chuckle. 

“Later. I promise.” He said when I pouted at him. “Two isn’t enough for you, sweet girl?” I shook my head and he really laughed at that. He stood back up and smoothed out the lines in his suit. He helped me adjust my dress back into place. My hair was a lost cause, as well as my smudged makeup. He pressed a bruising kiss to my lips and when he pulled away he whispered in my ear

“Now we’re going to go back out there, covered in your scent and maybe that will remind people just exactly who they’re messing with from now on.”

[matchavellichor]

I don't know if you're still taking requests, but if you are, I have this request that would make for some good angst C: Fem MC proclaiming that she'll only date a man who can best her in a duel. And Ominis ends up winning, shocking everyone including MC but she's happy about it. Up to you if smut follows after <3

A/N: I loved this idea, ty for the request! I didn't really make it angsty sorrryyy :c but I hope I compensated with the dominis smut at the end and that you enjoy nonetheless <3

How to Win the Girl

Ominis Gaunt x f!MC - NSFW - Friends to Lovers - 4.9k words - ao3

Part 2

Tags: Pining, Unrequited Love, Jealous Ominis, Dominis, Rough Sex, Classroom Sex

Summary: After hearing her proclaim that she'll only date someone who can beat her in a duel, Ominis grows determined to win her affections by any means necessary.

“I’m a simple man. I’ll snog anything with a decent enough behind.” Sebastian proclaimed matter-of-factly.

She didn’t know how this became the topic of discussion over breakfast at the Great Hall, but she indulged him nonetheless. Ominis seemed completely uninterested in the subject matter, engrossed in a Potions textbook he was currently tracing over diligently with his wand in a last bid attempt to pass the final practical exam.

She cast him a sidelong glance as she cut into her eggs. “I’ll make sure to tell Poppy to keep her mooncalves away from you.” 

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Okay, anything decent and human.” He paused for a moment, contemplating, before he amended. “Actually, no, I did have a little tango with a Centaur some blue moon ago…”

She blinked at him. “You genuinely concern me, you know that?”

“She was cute!” He scoffed defensively. “Excuuuse me for embracing diversity. Pray tell, what are your shining standards, hm?”

She paused for a moment, considering, before she shrugged and took a swig of her pumpkin juice. “He has to beat me in a duel.”

She didn’t notice the way Ominis immediately perked up beside her, unburying his nose from the pages of his book and narrowing his attention on the conversation he had been only half-listening to.

Sebastian snorted. “Ha! Good one. You’ll die alone at that rate. Better start collecting kneazles to keep you company.”

She rolled her eyes. “Just because you’re incompetent with a wand, doesn’t mean every man is, Sebastian.”

“Hey! Incompetent is harsh. I prefer the term mildly handicapped.” He protested. “And just a duel? Like one time?”

“Yup. One duel.”

Sebastian rose resolutely from his seat, slipping from the bench hastily and nearly knocking over several goblets in the process.

“Where on earth are you going?”

“I have to go practice. If I knew a roundabout with the Hero of Hogwarts was on the line I would’ve tried much harder at Crossed Wands.” He gave her a wink.

She grimaced and called out to him as he quickly made his way down the rows of tables towards the exit. “You are excluded from the list of contending bachelors, Sebastian!”

“Square is fair!” He called back and she bit back a laugh at his butchering of the Muggle saying.

Beside her, Ominis looked very much enthralled in the textbook he was only pretending to read, his thoughts instead drifting to other matters. He had spent far too long hopelessly pining for her to not consider the opportunity he was just presented with.

It was no unknown fact that she was notoriously hard to get, and that reality had only served to make him want her even more. It was utter torture.

He was so unused to not getting what he wanted, and the stubborn little witch sitting beside him just so happened to be what he wanted most.

He rose from his seat with much more patience than Sebastian did, though arguably fueled by an even greater determination to finally win her affections.

“Where are you going? I thought we were going to study for Potions together.” She frowned as she watched him slip past her down the Great Hall.

“I’ll make it up to you.”

He made his way to the exit and rushed to the Undercroft in Sebastian’s footsteps, his magic thrumming in his veins with a vibrant, newfound energy.

//

Sebastian crashed into a groaning heap on the stone floor of the Undercroft after the leviosa Ominis had casted wore off after a few seconds.

“Fuck’s sake, Ominis,” he sat up, rubbing his throbbing head. “I thought you said you’d go easy.”

“That was easy.” Ominis crossed his arms, thrumming his fingers impatiently on his forearm as he waited for Sebastian to collect himself and get up again.

He admittedly had been a bit harsher than usual, using this “practice” as an excuse to take out his displeasure and poorly-concealed jealousy in Sebastian trying to win her affections in a duel himself. The mere thought of him anywhere near her had his magic coursing through his wand with an added bite and ferocity that usually wasn’t there.

Sebastian shook the woozy feeling from behind his eyes as he positioned himself in an offensive stance again. The first hex had barely slipped off his tongue before Ominis had a protego up and was veering a counteroffensive stinging jinx towards him.

No matter how fast he cast, the blonde always seemed to be one step ahead, moving lithely around the stone pillars in the Undercroft while Sebastian lept and rolled out of the way of his spells.

It didn’t take long for Sebastian to inevitably cry forfeit, after a barreling confringo missed his head by a few centimeters, singing the tips of his brown locks.

Ominis made his way over and outstretched a hand to help his friend off the ground. The brunette instead took this as an opportunity to tug him to the floor along with him.

He rolled his eyes. “Very mature, Sebastian.”

“Maturity is one of my many attractive qualities, you should know this by now, Ominis.”

“Yes, right there alongside your dueling abilities.” He jeered. “So…where do these duels take place, anyways?”

//

Ominis warily dodged the sounds of hexes and charms as he made his way through the dueling club towards Lucan Brattleby. Approaching the Gryffindor, he placed the few galleons for the entrance fee on the counter in front of him. 

“I’d like to duel, please.”

Lucan eyed him up and down with poorly-concealed disbelief. “You’d like to duel?” 

Ominis’ jaw set. “Did I stutter?” He nodded his head towards where he had heard her engrossed in a duel with a trio of upper-years when he walked in. “And I’d like to duel her.”

Lucan laughed as if the blonde had told a terrific joke, and then when he noticed Ominis had remained completely stoic and unamused, quieted. “Oh, you’re serious?” 

Ominis’ fists tensed at his sides. He was used to being underestimated due to his condition, but it didn’t make the blatant disrespect any less infuriating. “Are you going to let me fight or not?”

“Well, we have a hierarchy here, mate.” Lucan scoffed. “You can’t just walk in and duel someone. Especially not someone her level. You start at the bottom rank and win your way up.”

Ominis was mentally restraining himself from engaging in his own duel with the annoying little prat in front of him when Sebastian made his way over and clapped a hand over the blonde’s shoulders with a grin.

“Come to watch me fight, old pal?” 

Ominis turned and raised an eyebrow and Sebastian winced. “Er…poor choice of words, sorry.”

“I’ve come to participate, actually.” 

Sebastian raised his brows. “Against me? You haven’t battered me to your satisfaction already?” 

“No, not against you, although I’ll admit I’ll never be satisfied with any level of battering I’m allowed to inflict on you.” He nodded his head towards where she was still battling on the mats. “Against her.”

Sebastian’s brows reached his hairline now. “Ominis Gaunt, you little minx.” He butted the blonde’s shoulder playfully. “Trying to conquer her for yourself, eh? How come this is the first I’m hearing about this?”

Ominis rolled his eyes. “Don’t be so crass, Sebastian. I don’t want to conquer her, how antiquated.” He muttered admonishingly. “I want to prove myself to her. But, someone here won’t let me.” He narrowed his eyes at Lucan who had been listening curiously to their conversation. 

Lucan steepled his fingers over his chin contemplatively. “Hold on. You said Ominis Gaunt, right? As in…heir-of-Slytherin, dark-magic, rich-up-the-wazoo, Gaunt?” 

Ominis’s mouth set into a line at his family’s notoriety before giving a reluctant nod.

“I’ll tell you what. Pay triple the entrance fee and I’ll let you jump ahead and get your ass kicked by your little girlfriend.”

Ominis fished out the hefty sum of galleons from his pocket and slammed it on the counter, not pleased, but certainly in no position of loss by the demand. He’d be willing to pay a hundred times the amount if it meant a chance at winning her hand. 

“Pleasure doing business with you.” Lucan greedily pocketed the money before handing the blonde his entrance slip, indicating his place for the duel. “Also, hope you’re aware that no Unforgivables are allow—”

Ominis scowled before yanking the ticket from his hand. “Sod off.”

He cut past the crowd of onlookers and found his place in line by the mats where she was dueling, that same ardent determination making his magic hum in his core as he listened to her cast spell after spell. 

He couldn’t deny he felt a bit nervous about actually being in a battle with her. He had thrown around Sebastian in the Undercroft enough times, but never had he faced an opponent as formidable as her. Every incantation rolled off her tongue with a practiced amount of ease, short and concise, and he didn’t have to see her to know she was barely breaking a sweat as she fought off three foes on her own. 

He would have to be creative if he were going to come out victorious.

When the match was declared a definitive win for her, she made her way off the dueling mats and broke into a smile when she caught sight of Ominis on the outskirts of the crowd.

“Ominis! What’re you doing here?”

He held up his queue slip. “Whatever one normally does at a dueling club.”

The corner of her mouth quirked in subtle amusement. “I’ll be eager to see your skills in the arena.”

“You’ll see them, alright.” He smirked. “We’re up next.”

She was certainly surprised by this revelation, but to his satisfaction, made no doubtful comments about his sparring abilities. Instead, she stretched her shoulders and promptly got back onto the dueling mat, beckoning for him to follow.

“Come on, then. I’ll make this quick for you.”

//

She in fact did not make this quick for him.

She was soon greatly impressed by the realization that Ominis was actually an incredibly talented duelist. 

Sharp and agile, every swish of his wand calculated and precise. She was half-convinced his lack of sight actually led him to have even quicker reflexes than her average opponent, deflecting every single one of her spells with ease. 

Her pleasant curiosity quickly turned into begrudging frustration, though, when they’d been throwing hexes back and forth with no considerable gain made on either of their parts.

Never one to accept a draw, she cast the next spell with a little bit of extra ferocity, determined to at least knock the blonde off his feet and pull this duel that had stretched on for far too long now closer to its end. 

Unfortunately, she underestimated her own strength, and had caught Ominis in an unfortunate blind-spot —pun unintended— flinging him backwards across the arena. He landed with a sickening thud on the floor after colliding with one of the arched pillars in the room.

She winced as she knew that must’ve hurt. Badly. 

Which is why to her concern, and increasing horror, Ominis hadn’t let out even a single whimper of pain. Instead, lying completely motionless and cold, sprawled out on the flagstone floor. 

Her stomach sank.

Immediately, she ran over to him, her wand slipping from her fingers and clattering to the floor as she fought the nauseating dread inside of her at the thought of having seriously hurt him.

Sinking to her knees before him, she immediately took his face in her hands, scouring over him for any signs of serious injuries. 

She had only briefly noticed the slightest quirk of his lips, before she was flipped over onto her back with his wand pressed under her chin, his hips bracketing hers to the floor as he held her down with his weight.

Several emotions passed through her at once. First, the terrified dread dissipated from her system, quickly replaced by molten-hot anger at being so cruelly tricked, which then morphed into something almost akin to admiration for someone actually having gotten the best of her for once.

Strangest of all though, was the budding feeling of something else pulling just below her navel, as she realized just how close they were in this position. His hips pressed flush against hers, his breath ghosting her lips almost imperceptibly. Her entire body warmed.

Ominis held the most self-satisfied smirk she’d ever seen hovering above her, levels of smugness to rival even that of Sebastian’s, as he kept his wand pressed firmly under her chin with one hand and her wrists pinned tightly to the ground in his other.

Finally, she mustered the ability to speak, though her voice regrettably came out a lot more unsteady than intended with the feel of his body on hers making her thoughts hazy. 

“Get—get off me!”

Ominis tsked, shaking his head. “Make me.” He tilted his head and his lips curled at the corners, infuriatingly sly. “Use your wand, go on.”

She struggled against his hand futilely, but quickly realized that even if she was strong enough to free her wrists, she had recklessly abandoned her wand about ten feet away on the floor in her panic. She whined in frustration. 

“Forfeit?”

“No!” She protested, her pride getting the better of her. Though she quickly realized that wandless and pinned underneath a wizard nearly twice her size, she had little leeway in turning around the outcome of this duel.

He raised an eyebrow expectantly as he waited patiently for the little gears in her head to turn and click and realize that she had actually lost.

She had never lost a duel before. 

She expected to feel devastated. To have suffered an agonizing blow to her ego, to feel mortified, something. But instead she could feel nothing but mesmerization as she stared up at Ominis above her, features cool and nonplussed.

He had won. Square is fair.

Finally, she relented and muttered through gritted teeth, “Fine. I lost. Now get off me.”

He grinned as he finally slipped off her, her cheeks proceeding to heat even more at the brief brush of the front of his trousers against hers. As she sat up from the floor, she noticed with even greater embarrassment that the entire club had stopped what they were doing to gawk at them. 

She wanted to sink into the floor and disappear.

Quickly picking up her wand from where it had been discarded on the floor, she cleared her throat and with as much practiced sportsmanship as she could muster, directed a tight, “Good game.” towards Ominis before promptly departing from the hall. 

It wasn’t long before she heard the tell-tale sounds of footsteps tailing her down the corridor. She glanced back to see Ominis jogging to catch up. 

“Where are you going?”

She sighed. “Ominis, if you plan on rubbing it in my face how much of a better duelist you are, I’m really not in the mood.”

“What? I’m by no means better. Honestly, I don’t even come anywhere close.” He settled into pace beside her, his tone sympathetic and understanding. “I just had…stronger motivations.”

She looked up at him curiously and reluctantly decided to indulge him. She crossed her arms and stilled in her tracks, raising an eyebrow inquisitively. “Stronger motivations?”

He nodded. “That’s what it’s really all about, isn’t it?” He stepped closer to her as he continued, “It doesn’t really matter how powerful you are, only what you’re willing to do to win. Willpower supersedes strength by brute force.”

“How ambitious, spoken like a true Slytherin.” She teased with an eye roll. “Tell me, then, what strong motivations are behind Ominis Gaunt’s willpower?”

His lips curled into something almost predatory, and she had never seen him look the way he did now in the dim light of the secluded hallway. Usually so soft-spoken and unimposing, Ominis looked as if he had just won some grand prize she was unaware of. He crowded her against a woven tapestry adorning the wall and her breath caught in her throat.

A sticky-hot warmth seeped through her as she found herself once again pinned under the compelling presence of the blonde in front of her. Her eyes instinctively flitted to his lips, and for some reason she expected him to kiss her then. 

For some reason she wanted him to. 

Instead, he pulled away, slipping his hand into hers and interlacing their fingers. 

“Come on. I’ll show you.”

She found she could do little more but mindlessly obey at the moment. 

//

Ominis couldn’t wipe the smile from his face as he pulled her along down long corridors, leading her to the secluded stretch of empty classrooms in the northern wing of the castle. 

He had never witnessed the hard-headed little witch so incredibly flustered before. It was a terribly addicting feeling. 

And although he usually prided himself on being so decorous and patient, he couldn’t help but throw all caution to the wind as he strode hastily down the halls in an urgent bid to finally get her alone.

His heart thrummed in his chest at the very thought. 

Clicking open the door to an empty classroom with a wordless alohomora, he dragged her inside and pushed her against the door immediately, body pressed flushed to hers.

He half-expected her to hex his bollocks off at his imprudence, but when she did little more than let out a soft squeak of surprise, he leaned into her even further.

“Where’s your wand?”

His lips were so close, she could barely even think straight.

“In — In my pocket.” 

He smiled in satisfaction at the dazedness in her voice, her breath coming out in short little pants against his lips. He slipped his arm down to feel for her pocket and she gasped when she felt his hand grope at her thigh.

“Good,” He murmured when he felt the familiar wood poking through the pocket of her skirt. “If you’d like me to stop, use it. We both know you have no trouble defending yourself.”

Before she could ask stop what, his lips were capturing hers in a suffocating kiss, her words dying on a gasp. 

Even if she did possess the current mental capacities to slip a hand into her pocket and fling him off her, she had no idea why she would ever want to. He felt heavenly.

He groaned into her mouth when she sank into the kiss, slipping a hand to hold her jaw, pressing himself further against her to keep her pinned and still just where he wanted her.

She had never felt so utterly listless and weak. 

Stripped of all reason, a melting puddle of warm sensations as his tongue met hers and explored her mouth in earnest. Her legs had gone limp the moment he had pressed his lips to hers, and she was more than grateful for the way his hips were currently supporting her against the door.

The kiss was far from anything she would’ve expected from the ever-composed and austere Ominis Gaunt. It was messy and lewd, too starved for any sense of decorum, leaving her spit-sticky and aching until she could barely even recall her own name. 

“Fuck,” He whispered, breathless, as he came up for a brief moment of air. He was seemingly just as wrecked as she was, his voice hoarse. “I’ve wanted to taste this pretty little mouth for so, so—”

The whimper she let out as she instinctively pressed her lips back against his was nothing short of pathetic, but Ominis seemed to have adored it if the twitch she felt against her hips was any indicator.

The way he rutted softly against her as he took her lips in kiss after bruising kiss made her head dizzy. Seemingly brought to his limit, he pulled her away from the door in favor of pinning her against one of the empty desks instead, slotting himself in between her legs. 

She gasped when she felt him then, throbbing and strained against his trousers. 

He huffed an amused breath of a laugh. “Feel that?” He nosed at her jaw, inhaling the intoxicating scent of lavender that made him throb even more in his pants. “That’s what you do to me.” 

Her head fell back when his tongue connected with the soft, sensitive skin of her neck, licking a greedy stripe down her throat as if he wanted to sink his teeth into her. 

He felt like a man starved. He was so tired of being patient, of hopelessly longing for her from a distance.

Actually having her there, in his hands, soft and pliable and mewling his name as he peppered her skin in kisses, licks, and love bites, was enough to almost make him lose all sense of self-restraint.

Hell, it was almost enough to make him finish in his trousers he quickly noticed as he drew his hips back with a hiss. He flipped her onto her stomach on the wooden surface before he got ahead of himself.

She gasped from his assertiveness, at just how out of control he seemed, usually so reserved and cautious. That flicker of desire inside of her roared into tumultuous, consuming flames. 

He slipped a hand into her pocket and grabbed her wand, placing it on the desk right above her head in eyesight. 

“What did I say?”

She panted, thoughts hazy, but tried to construct some semblance of a coherent sentence anyway. “If I — I want you to stop, use it.”

“Mhm,” He hummed in approval before pressing a kiss to her temple. “Good girl.”

She preened at the praise, arching back into him, feeling him pressed stiffly against her arse, thick and so incredibly stiff through the fabric of his trousers.

She wanted to burn all her pride and beg him to fuck her, touch her, anything to satiate the unbearable yearning inside.

“Needy little witch,” He grunted as he felt her rub herself back against him. He brought a hand to her hips to still her. “Be patient, hm? I’ve been patient for you, haven’t I?” 

She nodded, forehead falling to lay against the desk as she let his hands explore her, groping the soft flesh in his strong fingers. He leaned over her, his breath warm against the shell of her ear. 

“So fucking patient.” He murmured as he ran his hands down her sides in admiration. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited? How many times I’ve come into my own hand thinking of you bent over for me just like this?” He nipped at her ear, scraping a biting kiss down her jaw until she whined from the sting. His cock ached in his trousers with every little noise she made. 

Unable to bear it any longer, he fisted her skirt in his hands and tugged the fabric over her hips in a single, succinct motion. Her breath hitched in her throat but she made no move for her wand, sitting idly by where her hand was palm down on the surface of the table.

“Gorgeous,” He breathed against her skin, tugging her blouse down one shoulder so his lips could find contact with the sensitive patch of skin there. “So perfect for me.”

His fingers trailed up her thighs and quickly found their way between her legs, rubbing soft, slow swirls over her knickers. The way he had been talking to her, touching her almost reverently, had already left an embarrassingly sticky mess between her thighs.

Ominis groaned as soon as he felt it seeping through the sheer fabric. “I need to be inside of you.” 

He hooked a finger into the hem of her knickers and tugged it down her legs, helping her step out of it before tucking it into his pocket. He pressed against her again and she squirmed from the feeling of the bulk of him against her bare cunt. 

“Look at you. Making such a mess on my trousers.” He ground his hips into her even more as he felt her wetness sully the fabric.

She keened. “Please, Ominis…”

“Please what?” She heard the metal clink of his belt as he began to divest himself behind her and she clenched around nothing in anticipation. 

She tucked her face into her hands, desire sending blood to her cheeks as she finally reduced herself to begging. “Please, please, please fuck me,”

His forehead fell to her shoulder at the sound of her pleading, his grip turning vice-like on her hip. She felt him then, the blunt tip of his cock pressed right against her entrance. 

“This is what you want?”

She nodded fervently, her head fallen lax against the table. He tangled his fingers into her hair and tugged her up until her back was pressed to his chest not letting her hide from him.

“Say it.” He gritted through clenched teeth. “Tell me this is what you want.”

“Please, please, oh Gods, I— I want this, I want this so—”

Her words died on a strangled gasp as he sheathed himself completely inside of her. Her legs went limp, and she would’ve fallen forward if he didn’t snake a hand around her waist to keep her flush to him, her head falling back against his shoulder.

“Always knew you’d have the tightest little cunt.” He pressed a kiss against her warm cheek, his breathing heavy against her skin as he hummed in approval at the feeling of her squeezing him. “Alright? Hurts?”

She shook her head, grinding her hips back against his in a show of just how good it felt. 

He huffed a laugh at her eagerness before easing his own hips back and bringing them back to meet hers again. This time, he let her fall forward onto the desk, her nails digging into the wood as she moaned from the intrusion. He felt so big inside of her, stretching her out so deliciously until she felt full to the brim. 

Her hip bones bit into the desk as his thrusts slowly became more forceful, jolting her and pressing into that sensitive little spot on her walls that made her toes curl. When her wand clattered to the floor following a particularly hard thrust, her lips parted in awe at the wandless bit of magic he used to bring it to his hand and back into her eyesight.

She had never been more attracted to the wizard currently fucking her senseless.

She couldn’t contain the sounds spilling from her mouth as he fucked into the desk, pathetic and utterly depraved noises that seemed to only spur him on even more. His pace grew punishing, pulling similarly debased noises from the back of his throat as he slid in and out of her. 

“Kiss me. Gods, fucking kiss me.” He groaned, taking her jaw in hand and tilting her chin back so he could capture her lips. She moaned into his mouth and he responded in kind, nipping at her bottom lip until she squeaked. He’d never get enough of these noises.

“Perfect. Fucking. Witch.” He grunted, and his voice was low and rough, a wrecked, gravelly mess as he continued to rut harshly inside of her. “Mine now, aren’t you? All mine. Fuck.”

She nodded fervently, feeling inclined to agree to just about anything coming from his mouth when he was pushing her so close to release, building up that aching knot behind her navel and winding it tighter and tighter.

He could feel her walls fluttering around him, feel just how close to the edge she was. Reaching a hand in front of them to rub tight little circles between her legs, he pressed his lips to her ear. 

“That’s it, you’re so close, aren’t you,? I can feel you tightening around me. Be a good girl and come on my cock.” 

The combined feeling of his hand between her thighs, him thrusting so perfectly inside of her, and the filthy things he was whispering in her ears, was enough to push her over the edge.

She came with a sharp cry, her entire body trembling while he continued to fuck her through her climax, falling over the edge along with her. She felt a warmth coat her insides as he pumped inside of her, his face tucked into her neck while he murmured incoherent praises into her skin.

He kissed all over any exposed patch of skin he could find as he tried to regain some semblance of composure, his chest heaving. He mouthed softly at her jaw as he finally pulled out, and she winced at the slight soreness from the abrasion. His brows knit together. 

“Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head, giggling at his sudden concern. “I’m okay.”

He looked unconvinced as he collected her in his arms. “Do you promise?” 

She smiled and leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips. “I’m fine, I promise. Probably won’t be able to walk properly for a few days, but…”

He chuckled. “Well, that won’t do, I have a date planned for us. Will I have to carry you through the castle in my arms? A bit of a forward way to announce our relationship, but I’ll oblige I suppose…”

He made to wrap her legs around his waist and she bat at his arms. “Awfully presumptuous of you to assume we’re in a relationship already, Ominis.” She raised an eyebrow.

He returned the inquisitive look. “I’ve met your terms, haven’t I?”

She sighed and wrapped her arms around his neck, tucking her head against his chest. She couldn’t help the warm, fuzzy feeling she felt deep in her stomach, possibly a side-effect of all the post-orgasm endorphins making her head buzz. Nonetheless, she felt inclined to peck his cheek and concede with a smile.

“Yes. I suppose you have.” 

[drferox]

My MS Diagnosis

So I’m approaching the 2 year mark since my Multiple Sclerosis diagnosis and I thought I’d better document how I got here, because being the patient is a weird experience, especially for a condition that had kind of vague symptoms that needed a fair amount of work up.

My symptoms actually started in early 2020, when I was in the third trimester of pregnancy. The main symptom was mistaken for carpal tunnel syndrome - numbness in my fingers that would progress to increasingly violent pins & needles sensations, that would progress to burning if I tried to push through it. Only this sensation would extend all the way up to my shoulders at times. I stopped performing surgery, because not only was I unsatisfied with my lack of sensation to know what I was doing with my tissue handling, but the pain would get worse quickly in constrictive surgical gloves in the presence of patient warming. So I stopped performing surgery in late pregnancy and was told it would get better a few months after giving birth.

It did not.

So six months after giving birth, finding myself able to use my hands for short periods but still unable to perform surgery to my standard, I went back to complain to the doctor. I also couldn’t play video games properly, my arms would often be numb when I woke up, all the way up to my shoulder, and they were super temperature sensitive. Even hot water from washing dishes would set them off.

They sent me down a carpal tunnel work up - ultrasounds and talking to a neurologist. The short version is they did tell me I had mild carpal tunnel… on one side only.

Which did not make any damn sense considering I had symptoms on both sides all the way up to my shoulder.

The worst neurologist in the world could not explain to me why a mild problem on one wrist was affecting sensation all the way up to the opposite shoulder, and just said ‘it happens sometimes’. Now, I like to think I have a solid understanding of the basics of how a body works, and was really unsatisfied with this answer. They recommended I talk to a surgeon, since I’d already been doing a bunch of physiotherapy, but I decided not to. Surgery could have put my hand in a cast for up to 6 weeks, I had a 6 month old baby to care for at home and a partner who was useless at best, and abusive at worst. I could not afford the time in a cast.

So I went to try something else, visiting an osteopath to see what they could do about my ‘mild’ carpal tunnel, and while I’m there, these headaches I’ve been getting.

She spent a good long while stretching out different muscle groups, and found that certain neck muscle stretches changed the sensations I was getting in my fingertips. So whatever was causing the hand problem was coming from somewhere in the neck, and she recommended I get a CT scan.

Went back to my doctor to get a referral for a CT scan, and explained what was going on. He thought about it for a minute, didn’t voice his concerns, and upgraded it to a neck MRI.

That MRI found a demyelinating lesion in my neck. So went back for a full Central Nervous System scan and found a couple more borderline ones.

That sent me back to a (different) neurologist, had a proper neurological exam that found a few random patches of altered skin sensation in addition to the arm weirdness I had going on. So I was probably a MS case, but not particularly severe as MS goes.

To confirm it I needed a lumbar puncture to look for oligoclonal bands in by CSF. The lumbar puncture was a moderately unpleasant experience which then mandated that I remain lying down for 24 hours so that my spinal fluid didn’t spring a leak. With a baby and a distinctly unhelpful partner, I barely made it to that 24 hours.

And then… I sprung a CSF leak. Which is a jolly weird experience I can tell you.

When your CSF leaks from a lumbar puncture you will feel perfectly fine… when you are lying flat on your back, because your spine flops over the hole and plugs the leak. If you’re upright at all the spine flops away from the hole and it slowly leaks out, and you get more of this weird frontal headache that gets worse the longer you’re upright, standing there talking to the ER admissions nurse. And the info I had explained that it can progress to seizures and similar the worse it gets, but I only got as far as pain and fuzzy vision. I seriously could only be upright for ten minutes without pain, and had to lie down to resolve it.

That required some medicine-that-looks-like-magic to fix, called a blood patch. Doctors took some of my blood, fresh out of the vein, and inserted it into my spine approximately where the leak should be, so that the clot would cover the leaky patch. Self blood magic. It worked brilliantly, about an hour later.

The CSF tap ordeal confirmed the presence of the oligoclonal bands, and then I got stunted into the public health system, in a department specifically geared towards managing Multiple Sclerosis patients. They debated for a little while, at a multidisciplinary meeting, whether I was really MS or a Clinically Isolated Syndrome (which is like Multiple Sclerosis but without the ‘Multiple’ part), but settled on MS. Yes, Tumblr, I was nearly diagnosed with CIS.

The shoe thing took about a year from when I actively complained to doctors, or about 18 months from the first probable symptoms. That’s approximate because some things that were thought to be pregnancy symptoms could have been due to MS, like fatigue and leg weakness. I’m pretty lucky that I’m comfortable in hospitals and with medical procedures, am reasonably medically literate. I think the magic phrase that got things to happen quickly was ‘these symptoms are greatly affecting my ability to do my job’.

I don’t think my MS has progressed since starting the medication (and I’ll talk about the medication in another post). I’ve acquired one additional brain lesion since diagnosis, but I have no clue what physical symptom it’s associated with.

While some symptoms are better, I still cannot perform surgery to the standard or with the endurance that I used to,so I basically don’t any more. I can do about ten minutes, which is enough to bail a new graduate vet out of trouble, but not enough to take over completely for them. I’ve had a few years to think about it but I don’t know what the MS is going to do to my career, only that I can still practice for now.

It’s not great, but it could be a whole lot worse, and that’s how I got here.

[topzsun]

SOMETHING ABOUT YOU

── ♡ KAFKA OGURO

if there was anything that annoyed kafka more than you, it was nosy scandalmongers. unfortunately, he has to deal with both of you, all at once. you, on the other hand, enjoy having fun when the opportunity lands on your lap. unfortunately, you underestimate kafka's ability to worm his way into people's hearts.

The disbelief laugh that leaves you is wobbly and hoarse, and it’s only upon Kafka Oguro’s unimpressed stare that you dutifully shut your mouth.

“You can’t be serious,” You stammer, dropping your flimsy plastic fork into the box of cheesy fries (paid by Kafka, which you now realise was a means to butter you up). The sigh that escapes his lips is heavy and exhausted, and he drops his chin into the palm of his hand.

“Unfortunately not,” He slides his phone across the table, and you look over at the dimly lit screen, choking at the headlines that read.

“Ward 0 mayor rumoured to be in a relationship.”

“CEO of HAMA Tours spotted leaving with mystery lover.”

“Oguro Kafka in committed romance.”

You suck in your teeth sharply, muttering a “yikes” as he draws back his device. Despite your mild pity, your curiosity takes centre stage and you waste no time in interjecting your thoughts within the lull of awkward silence.

“That sucks but… I’m not sure why you invited me here just to tell me this?” You raised a valid question. While the local fast food joint was no fine dining, you and Kafka weren’t exactly friendly enough for him to unload his concerns onto you in a casual setting. He was your quasi-boss! You’d go as far as to believe he didn’t even like you much, considering his austere disposition whenever you entered a room. You probably would have already been packing up your office if it wasn’t for the fact that it was the Chief who had hired you.

Your suspicions about Kafka’s intent began to arise, and you realised too late what was going on when his observant eyes met yours.

“This nonsense began when the Chief and I had gone out for dinner together. Because of my lack of spatial awareness, I wasn’t aware that the lead editor of the famous gossip magazine ‘Paramour Monthly’ had been close by our table…” He fishes for something in his messenger bag, pulling out a rolled-up paper. Vibrant hues of purple and pink flood the parchment, the iconic colour scheme of the magazine, and a blurry photo of two figures is printed on the front page. However, with Momiji’s standard grey jacket and Kafka’s distinct violet hair, it was unmistakable to you that it was them sitting in a booth together.

While usually this type of idle chatter could have gone easily ignored, a magazine as famous as Paramour Monthly could cause enough stir that HAMA Tours’ operations could be disturbed as scandal-mongering fans will hunt for the mystery babe. No doubt this news would be disturbing Momiji as well…

“I don’t have any intent of making the Chief have to deal with this ridiculousness. If I could, I’d take the burden on myself entirely. However, that’s not possible,” He clears his throat, and when he looks you straight in the eye, you realise you have stuck your foot into a quagmire the minute you accepted his invitation.

“I’d like to ask if you can take on the role of being my… secret significant other.”

You drop your milkshake onto the plush vinyl of the sofa.

After having to repeatedly apologise to the flustered and tired staff of the food court, Kafka takes the awkward walk back to the office as an opportunity to elaborate on his new grand plan.

The gist is that for a long-term bonus in your salary, you will be his mystery lover until the excitement dies down, in which you both will fake an amicable separation and continue business as usual. In his own words, you were also his last option, seeing as you were the only one he knew who had no reputation at stake here. Upon the promise of the bribe, you had cheered up significantly to this ordeal. Kafka, on the other hand, was the one who looked the most reproachful.

“Should I call you something trendy like ‘babe’, or would something more traditional like ‘sweetheart’ work better?” You ask, and the look he sends you is scathing.

“None of them,” He answers curtly, and you sigh, disparaged.

“You don’t get how this whole fake dating thing works, do you?” When he meets your inquisitive gaze with a blank stare, that’s all the answer you need. You feel a tickle in your stomach as you puff out your chest exaggeratedly.

“Allow me to give you a crash course on the inner workings of this timeless troupe called—” Your lurch backwards when Kafka closes the entrance door behind him, barely missing your nose by a breath’s hair. All you see is his disappearing back as you yell behind him about how that was no way for him to treat his pseudo-significant other.

(i)

“They’re right,” Momiji says piteously, and Kafka’s shoulders droop in disappointment. “Nobody would believe it if you guys act like that in public.”

The Chief, upon being filled with both gratitude and shame, had offered to lend a helping hand to see this farce to success. Today was the day to discuss the boundaries and codes of conduct necessary to allow the public to believe you two were a professional but loving couple.

(Kafka’s stomach churns at the notion, despite it being his novelty idea.)

“We’re going to have to hold hands and be corny, so you’re going to have to get used to it, Kafka,” You state squarely, and his childhood friend nods in agreement, much to his growing displeasure.

“We’ll eventually have to use pet names.”

“Yup, that’s right!”

“And we might have to kiss and stuff.”

“Exa–Wait, isn’t that a little too far!?” Momiji gapes at you while you, shameless, sit firmly as if you are manning a fort. Kafka sighs.

“Do you see why I’m reluctant?” He points out and this time her tired gaze sweeps over to him.

“Kafka, you’re the one who asked them.”

Perhaps her growing exhaustion at dealing with the both of you got to her because Momiji made a half-hearted excuse of having to check up on EV3NS before swiftly departing the solemn conference room. This leaves you and Kafka at your lonesome, staring each other down with shared annoyance.

“I don’t get it. I’m trying to make this work,” For my salary.

“We don’t need to go overboard in selling the act. I’ll look ridiculous,” In front of Momiji.

After an intense moment of staring each other down, you’re the first to give in.

“Fine. We’ll keep it as down-low as possible, but you have to start being more of a gentleman to me,” You warn, closing the lid of your laptop and grabbing your warming carbonated drink. You are visibly disquieted, much to his confusion, even as you lift your backpack over your shoulders and make your way to the door.

“I don’t understand why you’re disappointed,” Kafka questions behind you, and you pause with your hand situated around the door handle, rooted in place. If Kafka had been any less observant, he would have missed your lips' slight tremble.

“Because you’d be my first boyfriend, even if a fake one,” You quickly shut the door before he could get a word in, the only sound in the room being the quiet whirring of the air conditioner. For the first time, you’re the one who leaves the purple-haired man flustered.

(ii)

Much to your surprise, Kafka lived up to his end of the agreement.

For the past two months, you’ve grown familiar with the feeling of Kafka’s hand around yours, and the scent of peppermint from his minty cologne. While at first, any type of touching had been reserved solely for passing publicists and fans, eventually, you barely realised that you were in the habit of grabbing onto him whenever you were excited or happy. Likewise, it skips your attention how he doesn’t shove you away, or that his eyes soften at the corners whenever you aren’t looking.

He had even begun doing unnecessary things, like texting you ‘good morning’ and ‘goodnight’ despite his packed itinerary, and bringing you thoughtful gifts and souvenirs whenever he left the comfort of HAMA. He had even booked a lavish dinner at a famous restaurant on your birthday, paired with a large bouquet delivered to your room.

There were no cameras, no nosy editors, and no extra eyes to bear witness to his vocal affection. It came with the unsettling realisation and a pounding heart that you liked Kafka, and it brought along a wave of dread and a permanent lump stuck in your throat.

When you start pulling away, you miss the fact that you’re not the only one who has been gutted by new realisations and uncomfortable feelings.

Kafka Oguro, despite his stinging attitude, never truly disliked you. You had annoyed him, sure, and he knows you were purposeful in the way you push buttons. He’s met people like you before, who are terrified of being veracious, that they’d happily play the role of a fool if it meant people laughed with them rather than at them. Thus, he harmonised with you by being your straight man, armed with biting retorts and lacklustre reactions.

Now that he thinks about it, perhaps he’s given you enough reason to believe he held animosity against you. He regrets it enough when you confessed he’d be your first relationship, even if it were only a guise. He had tried his best to make it up to you by masquerading as the ideal boyfriend, letting you hold onto his arm whenever you walked together, and letting you call him by whatever cheesy name that crossed your mind.

Until he realised that he had long since stopped acting. Kafka can’t pinpoint the exact moment when he had begun carefully picking out gifts for you, excited for your reaction, or when his heart began skipping a few beats whenever he spies you in a crowded room. You had a personalised ringtone on his phone. Momiji started pointing out that he doesn’t sit still until you respond to his texts. He had started requesting Sakujiro to reserve the breakfast muffins you like because, by the time you usually arrive at the cafeteria, they are gone. Thoughts of you completely rule his mind, and he’s not stupid enough not to know what this means for him.

In the safety of your respective covers, you and Kafka lay in bed, equally dreading the expiry date of this relationship.

(iii)

You blink, and it is New Year’s Eve.

HAMA Tours’ office is decorated with festive lights, colourful streamers and the wafting smell of delicious food. The ward mayors and employees alike are in higher spirits, exchanging excitable conversation and rambunctious antics. For once, it is you who stands silently amongst the sea of bodies, smiling wildly whenever anyone’s eyes land on you, but there is an unmistakable tremble in your hands that nurse a cup of juice.

Of course, it’s he who notices first, and you barely realise the tug on your arm until your drink is stolen from your hands and you meet the electric stare of Kafka.

“Can I steal you for a moment?” He asks with a small smile, and you smartly nod as you let yourself be drawn along by Kafka’s hand around your wrist. You don’t realise his destination until you are standing beside him as he unlocks the door to the building’s rooftop.

The chilly breeze hits your face, but you count yourself lucky for wearing extra layers. This doesn’t stop Kafka from unwrapping the scarf around his next, gently fixing it over you despite your frequent protests.

“You’ll get sick!” You counter and he doesn’t respond, plopping himself onto a bench decorating the deserted space. He pats the empty spot next to him and you have no choice but to comply with his demands. He tilts his head back and you apprehensively copy him, eyeing the inky sky glowing with starlight. He doesn’t speak, the silence only occasionally interrupted by the muffled noises inside the building and the usual ambience of nighttime city life. When you glance at him from the corner of your eyes, you hate how you can’t decipher the look on his face, regardless of how utterly beautiful you find him under the moonlight.

“Are you going to tell me something cheesy that the moon looks beautiful tonight?” You attempt to tease but lack the usual vibrance in your voice. You know this when Kafka finally turns to look at you, and he doesn’t look pleased.

“Why are you upset?” You reel back at his question, and unconsciously your hands begin to fiddle with the loose threads of your winter coat.

“Why would you think that?” You divert, shifting to create more distance between you and him. This does little to deter him because he leans closer to you with narrowed eyes. It’s how he gets when he realises he’s caught someone hook, line and sinker.

“You’ve been distant. I know you enough to pick up on that,” He hesitates before his fingertips graze yours. It takes all the strength you can muster to ignore his hurt expression when you yank back your hand.

“How much longer are you going to drag this along? It’s been long enough that nobody cares anymore. So why do you—” You descent into stammers, your chest seizing up as you keep your eyes on anywhere but him. “Why do you keep doing romantic things for me? Buying me stuff, always trying to talk to me, always asking how I’m doing… are you really that cruel that you don’t realise what it’s doing to me?”

You drop your face into your hands, feeling tears well up at the corner of your eyes. You couldn’t bear to see the look on Kafka’s face right now. He’s likely disgusted, or angered by you ruining his carefully thought-out efforts in maintaining this guise. Is he going to walk back inside, or tell you it’s over?

You feel warm hands circle your wrist, and you weakly let him tug your hands away from your face. He looks up at you from where he sits crouched on the tiled floor, and you feel your heart lurch in your throat because has Kafka ever looked at you with so much adoration before?

“I don’t want it to end,” He confesses quietly, enough that his voice could be drowned out by the passing wind. He lifts the back of your hand to his lips, pressing a sweet kiss to your knuckles. He smiles up at you, the affection mixed with a hint of mischief when he catches sight of your bewildered visage. “If you’d want me, I’d like to be your boyfriend. Genuinely, this time.”

He’s given no time to react before you throw your arms around him, leaning into him as he falls back on his tailbone. The position is awkward and uncomfortable, but the both of you could care less as his arms envelop your waist and you litter kisses to his face. Fireworks erupt in the sky, colouring the sky with luminescence as he finally seals the deal with his lips pressed against yours.

[mjrtaurus]

Have you considered the comedy potential? Of Dragon and Robin teaming up to pull on of the biggest pranks in history?

And by that I mean they pretend to be father daughter

Cause like the theory is awesome but it’s so much funnier if the whole thing is just them lying

Dragon (known homosexual) - ah yes this is my daughter who I got from a woman I was in a sexual relationship with

Robin (known shitdisturber) - yes it is I his daughter who was produced through sexual intercourse with my female mother.

The whole thing gets way too out of hand during the two year arc and results in one very angry ex warlord kicking down Dragons door.

You’re right, this is so much funnier.

And people believe it because not only do they look similar enough to pull it off, but Robin’s weirdgirl energy and Dragon’s commit to any and all bits energy just. Click. Right into place. No gaps. Seamless.

I’m on Zou Arc right now and Robin is fucking with everyone like “my god, they’re cannibals”. Meanwhile, if he were there, Dragon- 100% running with her shit-stirring because it’s the funniest thing ever- would have gone “can they really be called cannibals since they’re Mink? Or does the term apply to all sapient humanoid species?” Cut to Usopp screaming because if the leader of the Revs (who’s there for whatever reason) is saying that, then it MUST be true!

Except everyone knows he’s bullshitting because everyone knows- including him- that Robin is bullshitting.

And it just kind of happens one day at the end of a discussion, back in her two year stay on Baltigo. Dragon’s been talking with her a lot, getting to know her, making sure she knows that she’s as welcome and accepted among the RA as she is with the Strawhats. The standard practice of “feed the stray cat so they know you’re a nice human and can be trusted”. You know the one.

Just.

A sip from the drink in her hand, like she’s already concocting more schemes.

“I hope you’ll forgive me, but some have been asking me- indirectly at least- if I’m your daughter. And I’ve been telling a few fibs here and there because of it.”

A twitch at the corner of his mouth, like he’s fighting a grin.

“Interesting… What sort of fibs, for the sake of keeping the story straight?”

Full shit-stirrer to shit-stirrer communication. Except it goes a little too well when Robin has reunited with the Strawhats for a while, and Dragon gets a very livid call from his dear and beloved nicotine addicted reptile. Accusing him of… sleeping with a woman? How rude! How unoriginal!

And that’s how Dragon learns that Robin’s been using her talents for fucking with people in a “good and friendly” manner to routinely put Crocodile through the wringer. Untraceable calls in the middle of the night that have the man feeling like he needs to be locked in a padded cell. Seastone muzzle and straitjacket optional.

The sudden shock of that revelation makes Dragon break, and then he’s cackling and wheezing like a madman until even the snail is concerned for his health.

“Wani, are you really that surprised that she would gaslight you for fun?”

“… Fair point…”

Oh, if Robin wasn’t going to get adopted into his dysfunctional garbage fire of a family before, she definitely is now.

[zeroducks-2]

Zero you mentioned hating on people who get prissy about people shipping characters they dont actively ship and it sparked a LONG burning question of mine concerning bias shipping culture in Batfam fandom. Fans who attack and complain and make a big show of hating on ‘batcest’ ships ARE SO DUCKING HYPOCRITICAL OH MY LORD. I don’t understand why it’s considered okay to ship Dick x Barbara or Barbara x Bruce, or Steph x Tim. But seen as a cardinal sin to ship Jason x Dick, or Jason x Tim or Bruce x Dick??? Especially when the only argument antishippers make is ‘that’s gross their brothers/father and son and that’s incest 😤’. I’m sorry? Did you not just post nsfw Dickbabs content? Did DC not make Steph and Tim romantic love interests? Is that not incest too? Considering the fandom classifies all of them as family, and in a lot of fan spaces and fanfics, are they not interacting and being written as a family unit? I see SO many people blog about Bruce seeing Babs as his first daughter, or being making weird headcanons on Bruce and Steph’s relationship and donning it ‘tired uncle!Bruce and weird niece!steph core’. Like you obviously see them connected to Bruce through familial ties, and yet you’re okay with them dating Dick and Tim who are legally adopted by Bruce and who are also known as his sons? The irony. The hypocrisy. The ducking mockery of it all. Personally, I don’t think the issue that antishipper have is the ‘incest’ part but rather the ‘gay’ part of it all. Game of Thrones taught me that the general public actually don’t care about fictional incest between characters as long as it’s not between two male characters. Because lord forbid the’s a couple of queers in media.

I have been talking about this many times and I have no qualms talking about it some more:

✨ IT'S NOT INCEST, YALL JUST HOMOPHOBIC ✨

The whole idea around "batcest" makes no sense. These are people who did not grow up together, aren't related and never even lived under the same roof. Incest is not a spectrum, incest means sexual intercourse with a relative within the prohibited degree of consanguinity, consanguinity means BLOOD RELATIONSHIP, and these people DO NOT HAVE IT.

But even then, they are a bunch of hypocrites because I have not ever seen anyone batting an eye over Dickbabs or Timsteph (or Jaybabs, or Timbabs - yeah depending on the time period or the media, poor Babs has been passed around a lot). Their relationship is the exact same as the boys' when it comes to shared experiences. Steph has even been a Robin. But nobody cares because 1, DC is not pushing the "family rhetoric" with the girls all that much since they treat them as lower importance characters (when they're there at all), and 2, it's not queer relationships.

And this is ultimately what makes me go insane about queer kids parroting anti bullshit. Censorship is the weapon used by bigots to criminalize, punish and ultimately erase queer people from existence, it takes to study queer history for five minutes to understand this. You can see it happening in every fandom space where every type of queer ship gets put through some sort of moral sieve, and they WILL find reasons why it's unethical to ship it. Did you know that now shipping Dick/Wally is problematic because "Wally has a wife" ? So basically they're turning the very reason why fandom was born (exploring something different from the standardized heteronormative/amatonormative way of doing everything when it comes to narrative) into something pRoBLeMaTiC.

And these little fucking idiots keep spouting queerphobic nonsense while feeling morally righteous, not understanding that they are playing the game of the same people who if they could would shoot them in the street for being anything but straight and cis. And I'm not even taking into consideration the amount of harassment that comes from antis who think bullying and suibaiting someone over the perceived honor of fictional characters is okay.

BTW it's working. Just to name one, tumblr is not even doing its little rainbow capitalism number this year, because it's not a good look to be queer friendly anymore. Antis are helping the people who want us dead get to a spot where being anything but "normal" is illegal. When it happens, and if we keep going the way that we are now it will happen, it's going to be their fault too.

[tgmsunmontue]

You need to learn how to fall 5/10

Hangster (and IceMav) - Bradley is too tall to be a naval aviator and instead becomes a sky diver, specialising in spin recovery. He is a civilian contractor to the Air Force and Navy to teach pilots how to survive parachute spins from ejections. A more in-depth version of this post.

PROLOGUE 2003-2006 2007-2010 2011-2015

HEADS UP - I only post Part 4 yesterday so you might have missed it

2016

Prologue Take 2 - 2016 onwards

                “Ice! Do you know a Lieutenant Colonel Sanderson?”

                “That’s an Air Force rank…” Tom mutters, looking up at Bradley who is standing in the door to his office wearing nothing but a pair of basketball shorts. He can see the bruises and scars that Bradley’s acquired in the past and more recently. Sometimes the lack of formality annoys him but also seeing him alive will always outweigh that annoyance as it quickly fades into fondness.

                “I’m aware of that, I just have an email from him asking me to call him to discuss coming and training their Special Forces…”

                “What? Why is the Air Force contacting you?” Tom asks, suddenly concerned.

                “I know it hasn’t escaped your notice, but I am the forerunner expert in FMM, HALO and HAHO practices. As well as standard parachute deployment, spin recovery and the physics of jumping out of planes in general. I know you read my thesis and watched me defend it. I just wanted to know if you maybe put in a good word.”

                “No, I didn’t. Did you want me to? Wait. You’re considering it?”

                “Of course I’m considering it. This is where I can hopefully have some more impact, rather than simply develop training guides.”

                “Would you come and do the same with us?”

                “With the Navy? Of course I would. Going to bug you that the Air Force got in first though huh?”

                It does a little, and he knows Bradley can likely tell from his facial expression.

                “I’m a civilian, I can do both. Hell, toss the Army in the there as well. You know I’ll always be a Navy man at heart.”

…             …             …

                “Dr Bradshaw, nice to meet you. Thank you for agreeing to do this.”

                “Glad to be of service. My step-father is a little piqued that the Air Force jumped the Navy, but have to reward the forward thinking of the Air Force and Army wanting better training for their Special Forces.”

                “Would I know your step-father?”

                “I don’t know. Do you know Admiral Kazansky sir?”

                That gets him a double take and Bradley grins, because taking people by surprise will never get old.

…             …             …

                Pete goes along the first time Bradley teaches at the Pensacola flight school, watches him take the class and some of the aviators are older than him but he commands their respect in the same way Ice does, quiet, confident and simply expects respect. It’s impressive and he messages Ice and tells him that their son is just like him.

                “Captain Mitchell, what are you doing here?”

                “Just here for my son’s first day of class. Not here in any official capacity.”

                “Who is your…”

                “Dr Bradley Bradshaw. You remember Goose? Nick Bradshaw? That’s his boy up there.”

                “You raise him?”

                “Kid pretty much raised himself, but yeah, I tried to be there.”

                “He’s got himself a reputation as a bit of a daredevil, but a very very careful one.”

                “That’d be Ice’s influence,” Pete says, and it’s a slip of the tongue, out before he even realizes that it’s not exactly public knowledge, although it does seem that most people know.

                “Then he’s a lucky young man to have you both.”

                “Thank you sir. We’re very proud of him.”

…             …             …

                Tom hasn’t been this amused in a long time as he listens to Bradley moan about trying to instruct a room full of Mavericks and he wonders if it’s karma re-doubled for the stress Bradley causes Mav with his chosen career path. He’s glad his heart is nice and strong, well aware he’d have likely had many heart attacks between the shit that Mav and Bradley get up to.

…             …             …

                Bradley’s working through a backlog of pilots, the Navy wanting to have everyone retrained and he’s asked to visit Top Gun, train the current class and he agrees readily enough, although both Mav and Ice warn him that they might push him harder than the pilots at flight school and Bradley grimaces. It’ll be fine, he can be out stubborn the best, mainly because he’s got Mav and Ice as parents and if anything else they’ve taught him how to deal with aviators who think they know better than him.

…             …             …

                “Class, this is Dr Bradshaw, one of our civilian contractors. He is an expert on MFF, HALO, HAHO, parachute deployment, spin recovery, landing. Since we employed him our fatalities related to parachute deployment have decreased over fifty-percent. What he teaches you here may save your life.”

                The guy is their age, maybe a little older. Jake lets his eyes travel up and up and fuck the guys legs seem endless, and he towers a good four or five inches at least over everyone else in the room. He can’t know as much as they’re letting on, seems far too young to have earnt the deference he’s receiving from the gathered instructors and brass, who are all also apparently sitting in on the lesson. That’s new.

                “Afternoon everyone. Some of you already know me, and will know what I’m about to say. You can call me Bradley, or Bradshaw. I don’t quite stand on the same ceremony as many of you are used to,” Bradley Bradshaw says, and what a fucking joke of a name. One of the brass hides a laugh as a cough and Jake wonders if they’re being pranked.

                “Now, as to why I’m here? For you it’s primarily ejections. You may be lucky to never experience one. But it’s unlikely. If you’re lucky, your ejection will go flawlessly and you’ll walk away with some bruises and a little whiplash. Less lucky, few broken bones and some scars and unable to fly again. Unlucky, you die. I want to stack the odds in your favor, teach you how to turn those potential breaks into bruises, turn what could kill you into something that you’re able to survive.”

                He goes on into more detail, discusses the freefall simulator they’ll be utilizing and he listens with half an ear while he watches the others paying rapt attention.

                “What makes you qualified to teach us?” Jake asks, hopes his tone doesn’t come off as disparaging, because he genuinely wants to know. They’re the best pilots. Surely there’s someone in one of the services with the same level of expertise.

                “You think you’re the first pilot who thinks they know better than me?”

                “I didn’t say you know better, I asked what makes you qualified,” Jake replies firmly.

                The guy nods then, accepts the interruption.

                “I’ve been flying planes for over twenty years, flying solo since I was sixteen. Jumping out of planes since I was eighteen. Got my license to do tandem jumps when I was twenty-one. I remain the youngest person to become a skydiving instructor. I did my bachelor degree in physics and human performance science, then became quite enamored regarding spin recovery and free fall. I was then approached by the Defense Advanced Research Project Agency about doing my doctorate, specially looking further into MFF, HALO and HAHO and also spin recovery. I’ve been teaching at Pensacola, Corpus Cristi, Kingsville, Fort Bragg among others for the last few years.”

                Holy shit.

                “In addition to that I stay up to date with all the safety and health improvements. Continue to study the physics of spins and calculate the best asymmetry to try and achieve to remove from a spin dependent on a variety of variables. I’ve done over ten thousand jumps, put myself into deliberate spins over and over for the sake of science. And yet I’m standing in front of you today, alive, because I know what I’m talking about. Does that help answer your question Lieutenant?”

                “Yes sir. Thank you. I look forward to hearing what you’ve got to teach us.”

…             …             …

                "Mav, have pilots gotten cockier or am I just getting older?"

                "You're definitely getting older," Mav replies, and he's cackling madly.

                "Seems like a prerequisite for the programme. They know they're good..." Ice provides.

                "Ugh. Whole lotta ego in the current batch."

                "More than normal?"

                "Yeah. Well. One guy in particular. He's fucking insufferable."

                "Name?" Ice asks innocently and Bradley laughs but doesn’t say anything.

…             …             …

                Jake Googles him when he gets back to his lodging, clicks through and watches clip after clip of the guy jumping out of a plane. The freefall and spin-recovery ones are the ones which make his heart lodge somewhere in his throat, although he’s not sure why. It’s not like he’s afraid of heights. The guy is good, which he’d already gathered. There’s one filmed crash which he gets up and walks away from which makes his eyes widen, but he’s… interested. Curious. Definitely wants to know more.

…             …             …

                “Sir, do you know anything about a naval aviator with the last name Bradshaw?” Jake asks.

                “Oh… yes. Very tragic what happened to him.”

                “What was that?”

                “He was killed in a training exercise while at Top Gun.”

                “Oh shit…”

                “Language.”

                “Sorry sir. I just, I’ve been talking with Dr Bradshaw, his son I think?”

                “Ah yes, Bradley. There’s an accomplished young man.”

                Jake guesses all the instructors probably know each other, but there’s still a level of familiarity there which isn’t usually present with other civilian contractors.

…             …             …

                “Lieutenant. Can I help you?”

                “You can call me Jake.”

                “Or I can call you Lieutenant.”

                “Sure thing, I mean, I’ll answer to anything you want to call me.”

                Bradley frowns, because otherwise his eyebrows would be up in his hairline. The man’s got balls, he’ll give him that.

                “Just wanted to see if I could tempt you into having a drink with me…”

                Bradley isn’t stupid, knows that far more than a drink is being offered and while he would have taken him up on it ten, hell, five years ago, he’s not really into the one-night thing anymore.

                “Sorry Lieutenant, this isn’t my home base. Neither is the flight school. I actually live in San Diego. How about if you’re ever in North Island you look me up… then we can talk about that drink.”

                He still gives Jake his number, meaning it about the drink, but it’s as gentle a rejection as he can manage.

PART 6