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crimsonmochi · 2 days ago

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Disarray ― S. Gojo

Synopsis. Satoru had always been a bit unhinged, but he would never hurt anyone without a reason, right? That went against his philosophy, what he stands for... right?

Pairing. yandere! Satoru Gojo x gn! reader

Content. MDNI, obsessive! gojo, sorcerer! gojo, violence, murder, mentions of blood, gorey descriptions, dead dove: do not eat, traumatized! reader, no gendered pronouns for reader, mentions of therapy, mentions of medication, mentions of non-religious consumption of alcohol, no beta we die like―

Word Count. 1.9k

A/N. idk lol im just yappin luv u all

A vetted machinery, operating on the principles instilled within its very core from the start, killing methodically rather than senselessly. Or rather, he thought he did, but all principles are nearly a facade which are easy to cross. A weapon trying so hard to fit amongst a world incapable of restraining him or withstanding his lethality could only sacrifice so much humanity, could only chip away at his mind for so long.

As he stood over your boyfriend's limp body, the heart which was once beating inside the man's chest obliterated and hollowed out by his disastrous technique, Satoru Gojo felt like a man instead of an artillery. A confiscating rush of force, a surging envy to do what he wanted, was all it took. There was no single individual on this earth capable of holding him accountable for what he had just done, what he had accomplished.

He was an impossible force of nature with the power to force anyone he judged to stand in his way to be met with a fatal outcome if he saw fit.

Of course, Satoru had a justification for this seemingly senseless outburst. He deemed you would never be truly free under the guidance and influence of this pathetic, moronic individual you had the nerve to call your boyfriend. What kind of man screams at their other half for wearing clothes that they chose to purchase with their own money and agency?

A real man would bring the whole world to its knees if it meant that their partner could walk the streets protected from wandering eyes, catcalls and harassment. A skirt would not be a threat to months of work on a relationship but rather an emblem of security. Satoru pitied your now-deceased boyfriend for not bothering to look past his futile insecurities but detested him for making you responsible for his fragile ego.

Crimson blood pooled on the floor, a river of what could have been seeping into the ground and threatening to stain Satoru's pristine white shoes. He took a step backwards, abruptly hit by the cool air whirling past his ears, his focus torn from the lifeless corpse before him.

Satoru could have easily disposed of the body, could have demolished it and let him fade away from the conscience of all sentient life on earth. Though that would have made sense to any other killer person, it would have tainted his process with unnecessary buffering. It served to have the body be found, as it could cast a warning to other specimens eager to get with you, advising them not to get close, and it would save you time worrying about the idiot he took his time to get rid of for you.

And he walked instead of teleporting that night, his anxiety flared up. Would you accept the truth? The reality that the one you said you loved is gone for good? If you pieced it all together, if your mind settled on him as the culprit, would you understand? Would your reasoning match his? Would you smile despite your grief?

Were you just as depraved as him?

You had to be. You were crafted specially for him, a dove waiting to be cradled by his hands, no matter how spoiled and rough they were. Even if his hold stained your pure white feathering.

Annoyed was an understatement when you cried for your murdered partner, your state of shock leaving your chest desperately heaving for a molecule of oxygen as you questioned the reality of the news given to you by his no-good parents. But alas, he forced waves of tenderness through his limbs as he stayed for you, to comfort you. You would understand someday. You would learn to forget him.

Your rehabilitation was slower than the timeframe Satoru anticipated. He could not fathom your sappy attitude towards it all. This was meant to be a gift, a liberation―and yet, your heart was taking it as a living nightmare. As the weeks stretched, his sneers grew bigger, and his scoffs louder. His impatience was never directed at you but rather at the memory of your dead boyfriend simply not fading quick enough.

Satoru's takeaway? He should have killed him sooner.

One could only imagine the state he was in as you told him about a new date you had planned with a nice man from the bakery down the street, wearing a smile on your pretty face that still wore the scars of your depression and exhaustion. Disbelief was one thing; another was pure rage, rage that you did not pick him once again.

But no matter, he understood what he had to do. If you could not get it through your beautiful little head that he was the primary constant in your life, he just had to go ahead and make sure to be the only remaining choice you had left. He needed you to realize the extent of the all-consuming adoration he reserved for you and only you.

Which is precisely why he stalked and killed your date as he commuted to his home, the man's oozing blood reflecting the yellow-toned light of the streetlamps, washed down by the rain into the sewers. Grinning, Satoru took in the disfigured head of the ugly bastard he had rid life from, brains and grey matter pouring out from where he hollowed out, right in the middle of the victim's face.

Except that this repeat offence did not help you see clearer whatsoever. You cried in the shower instead after getting the news, murmuring that perhaps you were simply cursed, one of those horrifying creatures Satoru spoke to you of.

Speak of the devil, he was quick to gather your form in his arms, quick to comfort, despite being the culprit of those atrocities that just seemed to follow you around. He cooed into your ear until you fell asleep, salty, tear-stained cheeks sticking to his cotton shirt. How could you not understand, after all of this, that this is perfectly where you were meant to be?

He made his presence more permanent as he unconventionally moved into your apartment with you by making your meals, taking care of your groceries, watering your plants, doing chores―all under the guise of being simply an overly concerned friend. You poor thing, all these tragedies must be getting to your head, hm? Why else would you see his eyes a bit crueller than before?

It was as if you had lost touch with the ground and the space all at once. Mornings, afternoons, evenings, nights. Weeks, days, hours, minutes, seconds. You felt guilty for even breathing, empty for daring to experience a flicker of anything other than the deep pit those back-to-back losses left in the depths of your heart.

And then, there was Satoru, always at your beck and call, affectionate to no end, revered by patience itself. A saint.

The illusion finally started to end the night you brought back flowers from work. An array of gentians and African lilies peppered with baby's breath in various spaces. You made the mistake of, in an attempt of celebratory happiness, mentioning to Satoru that they were from a coworker, one you had known for quite a few years. A faded smile, a scowl he denied wearing, an accusation, and a few awkward words were enough to leave you both in silence, ruminating.

Satoru did the only thing he knew how to do by this point; he killed. And he killed. And he killed two more whilst he could. He remained kind to you, grateful that you still hadn't pieced that the common denominator was himself, the man who stayed alive through it all.

Explaining this all to your therapist made you feel insane, your own brain trying desperately to catch up with the constant whiplash the death and decay around you inflicted. The medication professionals prescribed was only enough to make the survivor's guilt quiet but not enough to get rid of the urges to end the cycle of massacre.

All the tears, the swirl in your brain of intrusive and impulsive thoughts putting you down, and the never-ending search for clarity led you to familiar vices. One or two nights of too much expensive wine you were gifted long ago, and you were pissed and emotional, letting all your guards down, making decisions you would have never believed yourself capable of making.

One of those decisions was kissing Satoru, tired eyes shut closed as you impulsively gave in to months of loneliness and trauma-bonding.

Reasonably, you panicked. You had now shown interest in a man―surely, in the morning, you'd peek your head from the hallway, look to your couch and see his blood staining the heavyweight cotton. You were a death sentence, after all, a walking grim reaper with too big of a heart and never enough time to say sorry, goodbye. Maybe you wouldn't get to say sorry to Satoru either, right?

And yet, he was content and smiling in the morning, alive and warm to the touch, palpable. For a moment, your heart started beating at a normal rate, as opposed to the uneven tambourine rhythm at which it had been beating before last night. You could touch him; he was there. You could hug him, wrap your arms around him, and he wouldn't vanish.

Satoru was over the moon that you had finally come to your senses. That you had chosen him after the senseless cruelty he had to abide by in order to make this shift happen. It had taken months of tireless efforts to get to his goal, but he had you within his grip.

It took months of reassurance that he was still alive―texts every five minutes, constant physical touch, staring at him and lying by him on the floor―for your anxieties to subside. The emptiness still remained an ache that Satoru himself had caused yet now tried to soothe. He worshipped the ground that you walked on and took care of your every need, and it felt too good to ever question.

His anger, his resentment for those pesky flies orbiting around you and trying to steal you away, finally subsided. He never quite got out of the habit of jumping to murder once an individual dared to show interest in you, but the reminder that you loved him now brought him back to earth. The comfort of knowing that would always be an option, though, was enough to hold him back. For now.

"Do you believe in soulmates?"

As your head whipped up from the wedding planner in your soft hands to look at Satoru, a piece of your hair fell over your face, his careful hand reaching to place it back behind your ear, a gentle grin painted on his face.

"What a question to ask after proposing," you chuckled, the corners of your lips curling up to match his expression. "I mean, a little. At least, after everything."

Your eyes gazed back at the images of flower arrangements. A particular one caught your eye; gentians, African lilies, and baby's breath. You checked the little tick box with the marker attached to the binder on the shiny laminated sheet.

"I guess that's fair."

Hell only stopped once you accepted him to be the one for you.

Soulmates, those words echoed as you pranced down the aisle, looking like heaven itself. Like the dove, Satoru always saw you as. As though he, a curse, a wicked being for utilizing his power for purely selfish gain and the expense of the one he claimed to love, was deserving of this moment.

And as he leaned down to whisper in your ear, hearing those words for the first time, hearing the answer to all of your turmoil, you smiled, worn out.

Relief, at last, to know the truth behind all of your heartache.

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00valentina-writes00 · 2 days ago

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Okay! Maybe a bit of a trauma dump moment but how about ambessa x reader that had a bad relationship with her parents so she isn’t used to affection! Ambessa may be trying to be affectionate with reader but she’s confused on why she’s acting like this! Angst + fluff and EXTRA, EXTRA comfort from ambessa! :3

✞⛧ A Fortress Worth Holding ✞⛧

Warnings: angst (a bit), comfort, mentions of a bad relationships with parents

You’ve never been good at handling affection.

Not because you don’t want it, not because you don’t crave it—just that you never learned how to receive it. Love, in your life, had always been a transaction. A weight with strings attached. Something earned, not freely given.

And yet, here is Ambessa Medarda, a woman of war and strategy, offering it to you without condition.

It confuses you.

She’s never been one to shy away from touch. Not just in the battlefield sense, where her grip is firm, her stance immovable, her presence as commanding as a fortress. But in the quiet moments, when her hand brushes your shoulder as she passes, when she steadies you with a palm against your back, when she lingers just a second longer than necessary with her fingers curled around yours.

You think it’s just a habit at first. That maybe she does this with everyone, that it’s a subtle way to assert control, to remind you of the unspoken power she holds. But then she keeps doing it. In private, where there’s no audience to see it, no strategy to gain from it.

And that’s when the confusion sets in.

Tonight, the room is quiet. It’s late, and she’s seated beside you, her presence grounding but never overbearing. You’re both still, the air between you warm despite the cool night breeze seeping in through the open balcony doors. She’s reading a document—some political matter that you have no business in—but every so often, her eyes flicker toward you. Not in suspicion, nor in calculation. Just… watching.

You don’t know what to do with that.

The feeling of being seen—truly seen—has always left you unsettled. When Ambessa looks at you like that, as if she’s trying to memorize every inch of you, as if she’s trying to learn you in ways that have nothing to do with war or politics, it leaves you feeling exposed. Like she’s waiting for you to react in a way you don’t know how.

“Come here.”

Her voice is low, smooth—an order softened by something gentler.

You hesitate. “Why?”

A smirk pulls at her lips, but her eyes remain patient. “Must I have a reason?”

Yes, you think. Because affection is not freely given. Because love—if that’s what this is—is always a test. A game. A transaction

But Ambessa has never been a woman to play such games.

Still, your muscles stiffen as you move toward her, your steps slow, cautious. She watches the way you approach like she’s observing a caged animal, one that has spent its entire life flinching at outstretched hands.

And when you finally stand before her, unsure of what she expects, she reaches for you.

Her hand is warm, calloused from years of battle, steady in its intention. She grips your wrist first, then slides up, fingers curling gently around your forearm as she tugs you forward.

You tense.

It’s instinct. The way your shoulders rise, the way your breath stutters. You don’t mean to, but your body reacts before your mind can tell it otherwise.

Ambessa notices. She always does.

Her grip loosens immediately, though she doesn’t let you go entirely. Instead, she tilts her head slightly, studying you, that sharp, analytical gaze of hers flickering with something… softer.

“Why do you do that?” she asks.

You swallow, trying to find a way to explain something you barely understand yourself. “Do what?”

Her thumb brushes absentmindedly against your wrist, the motion slow, careful. “Flinch. As if you expect me to hurt you.”

Your chest tightens, a lump forming in your throat. “I don’t,” you murmur. “I just…” You trail off, exhaling sharply. “I don’t know.”

It’s not a lie.

Ambessa watches you for a long moment, then does something that surprises you. She releases your arm and, instead, lifts her hand toward your face.

You freeze.

She hesitates, as if waiting for permission, as if she knows that you are not accustomed to this—this softness, this patience.

And then, when you don’t pull away, she touches you.

A gentle caress. The back of her fingers brushing against your cheek, the warmth of her palm settling at your jaw. It’s not a test. It’s not a demand. It’s just… her. Offering, not taking.

Your breath hitches.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me,” she murmurs.

“I’m not.” The response is automatic. Too fast. Too defensive.

Her gaze sharpens, and you realize she sees right through you. Of course she does. She’s Ambessa Medarda. She could dissect the battlefield in a glance—what makes you think she wouldn’t do the same to you?

“Not of me, then,” she amends, her voice quieter now. “But of this.”

You don’t answer. You don’t know how.

She sighs, the hand on your face shifting slightly, fingers threading into your hair with the same care one might use to tame a restless creature.

“Has no one ever treated you gently before?”

It’s such a simple question. Yet, it feels like it rips you open.

You force out a chuckle, but it’s dry, humorless. “I didn’t think gentle was something I needed.”

Ambessa hums, her thumb tracing slow, soothing circles against your temple. “We don’t always know what we need until it’s given to us.”

That silence falls between you again, but this time, it’s different. You feel… exposed. Not in the way that makes your skin crawl, not in the way that makes you want to run. But in a way that leaves you yearning.

Yearning for something you don’t quite know how to ask for.

“Come here,” she repeats, her voice even softer than before

This time, you don’t hesitate.

You let yourself move forward, let yourself sink into her, let yourself be pulled into the warmth of her embrace. Her arms wrap around you, firm yet careful, and for the first time in a long time—perhaps ever—you don’t brace for the impact.

You just let yourself be held.

And gods, it’s terrifying.

The way your heart clenches, the way your throat tightens, the way your fingers grip onto the fabric of her tunic like she’s the only thing tethering you to the ground.

She doesn’t rush you. She doesn’t speak. She just holds you, letting you adjust, letting you process the unfamiliar comfort that settles over you like a heavy cloak.

“I don’t know how to do this,” you admit after a long while, your voice muffled against her shoulder.

Ambessa’s hand strokes slow patterns down your back, the motion soothing, grounding. “Then let me teach you.”

Your chest tightens again, but this time, it’s not from fear. It’s from something warmer. Something safer.

You close your eyes, your fingers still curled into the fabric of her tunic.

“…Okay.”

Words sit heavy on your tongue, like something you were never meant to say aloud.

But Ambessa waits. Not pressing, not demanding—just giving you the space to speak, should you choose to take it.

You hesitate, staring at where your fingers are still curled into the fabric of her tunic, gripping tight like she might vanish if you let go. You feel foolish, childish even, but she hasn’t pushed you away. She hasn’t made you feel weak for needing this.

And that is what makes you speak.

“I just… I never had this before,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper. You don’t look at her. You can’t. “My parents weren’t… affectionate people.”

Ambessa remains still, listening.

You take a breath, trying to steady yourself. “They loved me, I think. Or at least, they thought they did. But love, to them, was something to be earned. If I did well, if I obeyed, if I lived up to their expectations, then maybe I’d get something. A nod of approval, a ‘good job’ in passing. But that was it.” Your fingers twitch, tightening around her clothing. “I learned quickly that wanting more was a weakness.”

Ambessa exhales slowly, as if weighing your words. “And so you stopped asking.”

You nod. “What was the point? If love was just a reward, then it wasn’t really love, was it?” You scoff lightly, shaking your head. “I used to think… maybe if I was perfect, if I was exactly what they wanted, they’d change. They’d hold me, they’d tell me they were proud, they’d—” Your voice catches, throat tightening against the weight of old wounds. “But they never did.”

The silence that follows is thick, suffocating.

And then—warmth.

Ambessa moves slowly, deliberately, shifting so that her arms tighten around you, her chin resting lightly atop your head. It’s not just a hold; it’s an embrace, firm and steady, as if she’s willing to carry the weight of everything you just said.

Her voice, when it comes, is quiet. “That was their failure, not yours.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. “It doesn’t feel that way.”

“I imagine it wouldn’t.” She strokes your back again, slow and rhythmic, grounding. “But you are not some unworthy thing, starved for affection because you failed to earn it. You were a child.” Her tone sharpens, not at you, but at the thought of anyone treating you otherwise. “And they failed you.”

It’s such a simple thing. But hearing it said aloud—that it wasn’t your fault, that it was them, not you—makes something inside you crack.

“I don’t know how to let people in,” you admit. “Even when I want to.”

Ambessa hums, thoughtful. “It will take time. But you don’t have to figure it out alone.”

You swallow hard. “I don’t want to be like them.”

“You won’t be.”

You finally look up at her, meeting her gaze. “How do you know?”

Her lips quirk into something that’s not quite a smile but holds the same warmth. “Because you care enough to worry about it.” She lifts a hand, cupping your face with the same gentleness that still feels so foreign to you. “Because you are here, trying.”

Your throat tightens again, but it’s different now. The sharp edge of pain dulls into something softer, something bearable

And when she leans down, pressing the faintest of kisses to your forehead, you don’t flinch.

You just let her.

Let yourself have this.

#arcane #arcane x reader #arcane x female reader #arcane x you #arcane x y/n #ambessa x you #ambessa x reader #arcane ambessa #ambessa medarda #ambessa headcanons #ambessa fluff #ambessa angst #ambessa arcane #ambessa medarda x reader #arcane angst #arcane fic #arcane drabbles #arcane imagine #arcane headcanon

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vanillarosekiss · 16 hours ago

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preacher’s daughter!reader x simon riley 📻

part i | part ii | part iii

warnings: is this kind of long? yes i'm sorry but deal with it :b this is an introduction to a new series and !reader that i'm creating for simon... PART TWO WILL CONTAIN SMUT!

(ps. i'm an english student and i love descriptive writing, so am practicing rn! )

The air in the bayou was thick and hot, clinging to your skin, heavy with the scent of cypress and dampening wood. The house you and your father lived in near by, if it could still be considered a house, stood towards the edge of the water, it's bones old and creaking. The porch slumped slightly from the weight of old memories you'd once made in this house, now loosing it's life to the piling dust and neglect.

Whispering themselves into the cracks of creaking wood, secrets of a sheltered life hid themselves deep in the core of the house, suffocated by prayers. As night fell, the smell of rain permeated your bedroom, window open and ushering in as much cool air as possible to calm down the scorching heat accumulated throughout the day. You could hear the porch creak with weight, and the soft squeak of the front door opening, your father welcoming someone in with his low, measured voice.

It was late, and you wore your little white nightgown, just resting at the middle of your thighs, embroidered with a pretty lace pattern. Barefoot against the warped and groaning boards, you walked across your room and leant your head against the cool door, eager to listen to a conversation that wasn't any of your business.

You heard your father, a preacher for the small town you lived in, exchanging words to a stranger who seemed to have a deep and enthralling voice. It excited you, knowing that there was someone else in your house other than the man who had brought you up all these years, teaching you to stay put in the little town and not talk to anyone, let alone strangers. But now, this strange man had entered your home, blessed by your own father's prayers, for what? And so late at night?

After a short while, you heard who you thought was the stranger leave, and close the porch door behind him before getting in his truck and driving off. Apart from the fact that it was your father's truck, and it seemed to be him that was driving it...?

Not a second later, you heard a gentle knock on your bedroom door, before it opened and you saw the man he was talking to. A handsome man, who looked to be in his mid-thirties; he was fresh from a laborious job no doubt, considering his dirtied clothing and harsh boots. The cherry of his cigarette flared brightly before he put it out on the wooden floor, squashing it with his shoe. He watched you with a quiet and unreadable gaze for a moment, dragging over you like he could peel back the layer of skin surrounding you and see what you truly were.

You weren't sure what he was doing here, or what he was looking for.

"Name's Simon" he said plainly, shutting the door with his boot as he walked further into your room.

You daren't say a word, waiting for what he would say next.

"M'not gonna hurt you, precious little thing - you don't gotta be scared"

"Why are you- what are you doing?" you inquired, confused spread across your face.

"I take it your daddy didn't tell you, then?" his voice dropped an octave lower.

"Tell me? Tell me what?"

He saw you as who you were, soft in ways he didn't know how to hold, as pure as you could get. You were untouched, an angel sent to the wrong place.

You swallowed thickly as he came over, hands toying with the hem of your nightgown. You could sense the devil in his eyes, and in his brooding presence there came about a feeling of danger.

Despite this, and God help you, you wanted him to touch you. To take you as his own.

I am so painfully aware this is not going to get any notes but just get ready for part two, trust me...

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#babylove #simon riley #tf 141 #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #preachers daughter #daughter #southern gothic #southern goth aesthetic #southern americana #rural gothic #ethel cain aesthetic #⋆˙⟡ 🍰

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skzdelf · 2 days ago

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Hold my hand | Han Jisung

.ᐟPAIRING: Han Jisung x afab!reader

.ᐟSYNOPSIS: On a crisp autumn day, Jisung and you share a visit to a small vinyl shop that sparks unexpected moments of inspiration.

.ᐟCONTENT: friends to lovers; nonidol!han

.ᐟWORDCOUNT: 1,4k (1469)

He knew a lot about music.

In fact, he knew a lot about everything you could imagine.

And you knew everything about him—his favorite color, his favorite band, his favorite author, the chord he played best, and the ones he struggled with a little more.

You knew how many songs he had poured straight from his heart into the notebook you gave him months ago.

You knew he couldn’t see well without his glasses, and you also knew he didn’t like wearing them—except when he was with you

You spent all your time together at his house, mostly studying.

Study sessions at his place always played out the same way. The two of you would sit at his desk, or sometimes on the floor when the notes took up too much space, with music playing in the background from Han’s massive collection of records and vinyls.

After a while, once the calculations were solved and summaries were written, Han would usually stand up and grab his guitar to clear his mind, as if music and his guitar were his safe haven.

He’d start playing familiar melodies or compose something on the spot. He always looked up from his guitar whenever he thought he had stumbled upon something special, searching for your eyes, as if your approval was the confirmation he needed to trust his creation.

In those moments, the world seemed to stop. The music filled the room, and you could feel the weight of his gaze—expectant, eager for a word or gesture from you to reassure him. Sometimes, you’d nod with a small smile; other times, you’d let out a soft “I like it,” or you’d suggest a minor change, sparking an unmistakable glow in him.

With you, he truly felt heard. You paid attention to every little thing he did or said. You didn’t roll your eyes, even if he asked for the seventh time whether you really thought the lyrics to his song were good.

You didn’t lose your patience when, with wide-eyed enthusiasm, he explained the difference between chords.

For you, Han was your refuge, and his was music.

For Han, music and you were his safe place.

So, what could come from a combination of the things he love most in the world?

The cloudy, cool autumn day was perfect for meeting friends at a cozy café or curling up on the couch with your pets. But here you were.

You and Jisung were strolling through the city streets, the brown and reddish leaves painting the gray, gloomy roads with their vibrant colors.

Han had discovered a small, old vinyl shop online and had spent the entire week insisting that he wanted to go with you as soon as exams were over.

When he spotted the shop less than a block away, Han got excited, grabbing your hand in a quick motion and rushing toward the store. Both of your laughs filled the air with an overwhelming sense of joy.

A hand-painted wooden sign, weathered with age, hung above the entrance and read: “Eternal Melodies.”

Crossing through the door, a soft jingling of bells announced your arrival. The interior was warm and welcoming, lit by dim ceiling lamps that cast a golden glow over the shelves. The floor creaked lightly under your feet.

The walls were lined with shelves that stretched to the ceiling, packed with vinyl records organized by genre and artist.

Han immediately started browsing shelf by shelf while you made your way to the section where your favorite artist was. You searched through the records until you found one you didn’t have and decided to take it.

When you turned back toward Han, you saw him holding three records already. Laughing, you pulled out your phone to snap a candid photo of him.

That same day, after leaving the shop, you headed to Han’s home to listen to the new records.

When the second record finished playing, Jisung stood up and grabbed his guitar, apparently inspired. The sound of his dark boots echoed on the tiled floor.

He sat down on the floor, leaning his back against one of his colorful furniture pieces. Taking his pick between his teeth, he started playing a melody that seemed to be etched into his memory—it wasn’t improvised at all.

When he finished playing, as always, Jisung looked up from his red guitar to meet your eyes, but this time, his gaze was more intense than usual.

As the vibration of the guitar faded, you looked up from your phone, focusing on the boy with glasses.

“What did you think of the melody?” he asked, his cheeks slightly flushed.

“It sounds beautiful, like all the others,” you replied, offering him a warm smile.

“Would you like to hear the lyrics? They’re not finished yet” he asked, a hint of doubt in his voice.

Your eyes lit up with curiosity at his question. You nodded softly, letting the anticipation fill the air.

“Of course, I’d love to hear it” you said, shifting closer to him on the floor, ready for whatever he had to share.

Jisung let out a quiet sigh, as though gathering the courage he needed. His fingers tapped nervously on his red guitar before he began to sing. His voice was soft, a little shaky at first, but with each verse, it grew stronger.

He started singing what you assumed was the chorus of the song from the way the rhythm carried it forward.

“Cause all I want is you, not your tears, until the tears dry up.”

As he sang, his eyes stayed locked on yours, conveying every word with a sincerity that moved you. The song spoke of being there for someone, offering unconditional support, and a promise to never let go of the hand of the one you love, no matter the challenges.

The lyrics reflected the depth of your connection, and you realized this song was his way of expressing feelings that ordinary words could never capture.

“I wanna make you the happiest one, no fear. So baby, hold my hand now” he continued singing, his eyes fixed on you. Even without looking at the chords, he didn’t miss a note, as if he’d memorized it completely.

When he finished singing that small piece of the song he had written, he set his guitar aside and held his hand out to you.

“Baby, hold my hand?” he repeated, this time in a questioning tone, waiting for your response.

You lifted your trembling hand from your lap and placed it in his, resting it on his palm. A beautiful, radiant smile spread across Jisung’s face—the brightest you’d ever seen.

He brought your hand to his lips, gently kissing your knuckles without breaking his gaze.

“It’s called ‘Hold My Hand,’ and I wrote it for you. It’s hard for me to express myself with words, but… I’d like to stay by your side forever” he admitted, his face growing redder by the second as he tried to hide it by clasping his hands together.

You couldn’t believe that the boy who had become your safe place was now in front of you, showing his vulnerability through a song written especially for you. Your heart raced so fast you feared he could hear it, but when he looked at you again, with that mix of nervousness and tenderness, a warm sensation filled you completely.

“Did you really write that for me?” you asked softly, barely believing what you’d just heard. Jisung nodded timidly.

“Yeah… It’s just that, well, you inspire me to feel things I’ve never felt before. You’re my safe place” he admitted, glancing away for a moment before meeting your eyes again.

In that exact moment, between the four walls of his room, you realized there was nothing else in the world you wanted more than to make sure he knew how important he was to you.

“Jisung…” you began, holding his hand tighter, as if you didn’t want him to ever let go. “I… you’re my safe place too. I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but I’m so happy to have you.”

A wide smile spread across his face again. Without thinking much more, he leaned toward you, resting his forehead against yours.

“So, will you stay by my side?” he whispered, his eyes closed and an expression of pure sincerity on his face.

“Forever” you promised firmly, feeling his lips brush softly against yours in a kiss filled with emotions. At that moment, you knew there would never be a safer place in the world than his arms.

It seemed you didn’t know everything about him after all. You didn’t even know how many songs he had written in the notebook you gave him, because you definitely didn’t know this song.

Your new favorite song.

#stray kids #skz #skz fanfic #skz x reader #skz han #han skz #skz han jisung #skz jisung #stray kids x reader #stray kids han #stray kids jisung #stray kids han jisung #han jisung fanfic #han jisung x reader #han jisung fluff #han jisung stray kids #han jisung #han jisung soft hours

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gingernut1314 · 2 days ago

Note

Could you write some luffy dating headcanons?🫶🫶🫶

Dating Luffy would Include...

Content: gender-neutral reader, more love bug Luffy, what I think dating Luffy would be like

Word Count: 700+

A/N: Umm....yesss!!! I'm always so down to write fluffy Luffy things!! If there are any specific dating escapades you'd like me to write about, just let me know! I hope you enjoy!

↞ to One Piece Masterlist | Request Rules | Blog Navigation ↠

Luffy would be the softest, most kind person you’d ever dated

This man is peppering you with kisses every chance he gets

Hugging you every chance he gets

He’s just always finding ways to touch you

He needs to touch you, it’s his love language obvi

If you’re across the ship or somewhere doing something without him, he’s gonna stretch his arm or leg so that he can hold your hand or wrap an ankle around yours

Has close lined about half the crew cause of this

In his need to be close to you, expect to carry him a lot

Cause he’d gonna latch onto your back like some weird backpack

He’ll nuzzle his face in your neck and kiss your skin and tell you all the butterfly-inducing things he thinks of you

Luffy’s gonna say he loves you first

He might even say it way before you two start dating

This guy just loves his friends--you guys are his family

But when you two start dating, you might have to explain that you love him in a different way than you love the crew

Luffy might take a few moments to think this over, but I believe this guy is super emotionally intelligent so he’d know the difference

And he has no problem letting you know he loves you in this different way too

Be ready to be the first person Luffy’s bringing his strange show and tell things too

Whether it’s a stick or a rock or a very creepy crawly bug, he’s gonna shove it way too close to your face and explain with a big old bright smile on his face what it is and how cool it is

Sometimes he’ll find cool gems or treasures and gift them to you

Sometimes, while on an island, he’ll see something that you just need to have

Of course, this man doesn’t have a single berri to his name, but he’ll beg Zoro or Sanji to buy it for him

And if he’s truly desperate, he’ll brave asking Nami for money

He’ll brave anything for you

He’s gonna do anything to see you smile and hear you laugh

He’ll do bad impressions of the crew or tickle you or even draw you something

He thinks you’re the most beautiful person in the world

And he is not shy when it comes to telling you that

He’ll grab hold of your cheeks and tell you over and over till you feel like you might explode from the sweetness of it all

Luffy loves food

He lives and breathes food

Because of this, food, in a none cooking sense, is one of his love languages

Because while he will not share with anyone

You’ll find him not stealing food off your plate once you two start dating

You’ll find him making sure you’ve eaten enough before he vacuums down the rest of the food laid out for you all

If there was something you really were looking forward to eating, and Luffy has it on his plate, he’s gonna let you have a piece

You might even ask Sanji to teach you to cook something simple so you could cook for Luffy

And though Sanji assures you Luffy would beg for boiling water and eat burnt to near charcoal foods, he’ll understand you want it to be nice

Luffy will be brought to tears when you present your meal or snack to him

And he’ll attack you in hugs and kisses

He’ll insist you share the food you made

I think any nicknames he gives you are gonna be food-related

“You’re my little rice ball or meatball”

Might get the occasional Sunshine from him, but he’s coming up with these nicknames on the fly

And there are definitely ones that are better than others, but they are cute all the same

Ever since you two started dating, there hasn’t been a single night you two didn’t sleep in the same hammock

There really was rarely a night you two didn’t sleep together before you made your relationship official

But it’s mandatory now

And you are more than happy to be wrapped up in his strong, stretchy arms

Say goodbye to blankets cause Luffy is your blanket now

#luffy x you #luffy x reader #luffy fic #luffy #monkey d. luffy #monkey d. luffy fic #monkey d. luffy x you #monkey d. luffy x reader #luffy fluff #one piece #one piece fic #opla #opla fic #nami #sanji #straw hat luffy #dividers by bernardsbendystraws #my fics

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nameless-jamie · 11 hours ago

Text

NOT LIKE HIM

Glimpse Into the Future - Jamie Tartt x fem!PA reader

Masterlist

TW: cursing, angst, crying

Y/N woke up to an empty bed.

At first, in the haze of half-sleep, she thought maybe Jamie had just shifted in his sleep, rolling away from her like he sometimes did when he got too warm. But when she reached out, her fingers met nothing but the cool emptiness of the sheets, the space beside her void of his warmth. She frowned, blinking blearily at the clock on the bedside table—3:27 AM—before sitting up and rubbing at her tired eyes.

It wasn’t unusual for Jamie to get up in the middle of the night. He had bouts of restlessness, times when sleep didn’t come easy to him. Sometimes, he’d go downstairs and watch old match replays with the volume barely above a whisper, analyzing every movement, every play, because his mind never truly shut off when it came to football. Other nights, he’d be stretching in the living room, claiming he needed to “stay loose” at all times, even at ungodly hours of the night.

But something about tonight felt different.

There was no sound coming from the TV. No soft grunts of effort from Jamie pushing himself into a stretch that most normal people wouldn’t attempt at this hour. No quiet rustling in the kitchen, no faint hum of a late-night snack being made. Instead, the house was eerily still, a suffocating sort of silence wrapping around her.

Then, she heard it.

A noise so faint she almost missed it—a quiet, choked breath, like someone was desperately trying to keep themselves together and failing.

Her stomach twisted.

Kicking off the covers, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, pulling Jamie’s hoodie over her head before padding out of the room. The floor was cold beneath her bare feet as she moved down the hallway, following the barely-there sound like a thread pulling her forward.

When she reached the staircase, she spotted the faint glow of the living room lamp, its dim light barely spilling into the hallway.

And then she saw him.

Jamie was sitting on the floor, his back pressed against the couch, his knees drawn up, arms resting limply over them. His head was bowed, his hands clenched into the fabric of his sweats, his entire body curled inward like he was trying to make himself as small as possible. His shoulders trembled with each ragged breath he took, and when she stepped closer, she saw the way his jaw was clenched, like he was fighting a losing battle to keep it all in.

Her heart ached at the sight of him like this.

"Jamie?"

The moment the word left her lips, Jamie stiffened.

For a long second, he didn’t move, like he was debating whether or not to acknowledge her. Then, slowly, he swiped at his face with the sleeve of his hoodie, as if he could erase the evidence of whatever storm had overtaken him before looking up at her. His eyes were red-rimmed, lashes wet, and the vulnerability on his face was so raw that it made her chest tighten.

"Hey, love," he murmured, voice rough with exhaustion. "Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you."

Y/N frowned, stepping closer. "What’s wrong?"

"Nothing," Jamie said quickly, sitting up straighter, shoulders pulling back. "Just couldn’t sleep, that’s all. Go back to bed, yeah? You need your rest."

That was when she realized—he wasn’t just trying to be strong for himself.

He was trying to be strong for her.

For their baby.

Her heart clenched at the thought.

"Jamie," she said softly, sitting beside him. "You don’t have to do this."

"Do what?" he asked, still holding onto that fragile mask.

"Act like you’re fine when you’re not," she murmured. "Not with me."

Jamie exhaled sharply, running a hand over his face. "Babe, I just—look, I don’t wanna stress you out, alright? You should be restin’, not worryin’ about—"

Y/N didn’t let him finish.

She reached out, gently pressing her hand to his arm, her touch warm and steady. The second her fingers made contact, Jamie inhaled sharply, his whole body stiffening.

And then, just like that—

He broke.

A choked sound escaped him, and before she could say anything else, he was burying his face in his hands, his breath coming out in harsh, uneven gasps. His whole frame shook as he tried—and failed—to keep it together, and without hesitation, Y/N shifted closer, wrapping her arms around him.

That was all it took.

Jamie collapsed against her, his hands fisting the fabric of her hoodie, gripping it like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the ground. A strangled sob escaped him, muffled against her shoulder.

She held him tighter.

"I—" He cut himself off, swallowed hard, then tried again. "I’m scared."

She frowned. "Scared of what?"

His jaw tightened, his grip on her hand growing just a little stronger.

"I—I don’t wanna be like him," Jamie choked out, voice thick with emotion. "I don’t—I can’t—"

Y/N’s heart ached.

She didn’t have to ask who he meant. He was talking about his dad...

She just ran her fingers through his hair, soft and slow, grounding him. "Jamie, listen to me," she whispered. "You are nothing like him."

Jamie shook his head against her shoulder. "You don’t know that," he rasped. "I’ve got his fuckin’ blood in me, Y/N. What if—what if I end up like him? What if I—" His voice cracked. "What if I mess this up?"

Y/N pulled back just enough to cup his face in her hands, tilting it up so he had no choice but to look at her. His eyes were red-rimmed, filled with so much fear and self-doubt that it made her chest tighten.

"You won’t," she said firmly, her thumbs brushing away the dampness on his cheeks. "Jamie, you are good. And you try so hard. You are not him. I know because I see you, Jamie. Every single day. I see the way you love, the way you care about people. You are kind and thoughtful and so fucking perfect. And you try—every damn day—to be better than what he taught you. That’s who you are."

Jamie swallowed hard, his breath still shaky. "But what if—"

"You won’t," she cut him off, pressing her forehead against his. "Because you choose to be different. Every single day, you choose to be better than what he was. You’re already better than him, Jamie."

Jamie let out a ragged breath, his grip on her hoodie loosening just slightly.

Y/N softened, her fingers tracing soothing patterns against his skin.

"You think I’d have fallen in love with someone like him?" she murmured.

That made Jamie pause.

He let out a shaky, broken laugh, one that still had the remnants of his tears in it. "Dunno," he mumbled. "You are a bit of a bad boy magnet."

Y/N smiled, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his nose. "Yeah, but only the reformed ones."

Jamie huffed, but his body had started to relax, the worst of the storm passing.

Y/N brushed his hair back, her touch gentle. "Come back to bed, we miss you?"

Jamie hesitated, glancing at her stomach, at the tiny life growing inside her. Then, slowly, he nodded.

She led him upstairs, her hand in his, fingers laced together. When they reached the bed, Jamie curled around her, one hand resting over her stomach, his touch tentative but reverent.

"I love you," he murmured, his voice hoarse from crying.

Y/N smiled, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"I love you too," she whispered.

And Jamie, safe in her arms, let himself believe it.

#jamie tartt #ted lasso #ted lasso show #afc richmond #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt imagine #roy kent #PA x Jamie Tartt

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crybaby-bkg · 14 hours ago

Text

Flying the Coop

Gojo and Getou were supposed to love you as much as they loved each other. You even let them turn you into a vampire, so that you could all stay together forever. So why do you still feel like such an outsider?

Warnings: vampirism, human reader turned to a vampire, being referred to as nestling and little one, emotional manipulation, guilt tripping, coercion, cunnilingus, ass play, reader referred to as she/her, double penetration in one hole, cervix fucking, and lots of blood and biting. please let me know if I forgot anything and please enjoy!!

Word Count: 4.8k

Also available on Ao3!

Minors/blank/ageless blogs DNI!

Fuck Gojo Satoru and Getou Suguru. You didn’t need them anymore than they needed you, which wasn’t at all. They might’ve been the oldest vampires in the area, probably on earth, but you didn’t give a single fuck if they were only going to treat you like a pet. Not as an equal, despite your newly turned status, but as something they could gawk at and fuss over before pushing away to the end of the bed. Before you became something to grow tired of, before they fell back into each other, their love centuries older than you could ever comprehend, before you could ever fully mesh into their daily lives.

As a human, you had been drawn to them since you were young and had heard tales of the devils living on the top of the hill. How they never grew old, how some of the townsfolk had gone missing over the years, how they only ever appeared at night, seemingly stepping right out of the shadows. But you weren’t scared of them; you never were.

Although, you do tremble when you go knocking on their door one night, entire body lit up in anxiety and anticipation and worry for whether or not you’ll make it to the next morning. You try to hold your chin up high when the door creaks open ever so slowly—they always had a thing for the dramatics—and find two pairs of curious eyes meeting you on the other side.

You ask to be their familiar, claiming to know what they are, how shitty they are at hiding it since you guys aren’t in the eighteenth century anymore. You fear that you might’ve said too much, become too snippy with such ancient beings, but they only laugh at you. Satoru did, especially, with his alarmingly bright blue eyes and shock of white hair, holding his stomach with his hand as he let out an almost screech of a laugh. Suguru had joined him with a smaller chuckle, shaking his head, his untied hair falling in thick strands across his face.

And without much further preamble, do they let you in. Agree to let you become their familiar, even though they claim to not have had one in centuries, as humans lives are just so unnecessarily short. You should’ve known then that they were up to something, that the plan in the long run was never to keep you as a human pet. No, you were far too interesting, too new, too shiny, too pretty, for them to ever want to let you go.

Five years into being Satoru and Suguru’s familiar, do they turn you into a vampire alongside them. You tell yourself that you wanted the transformation, but you start to think back on the idea now, wonder if it was ever an original thought, question when the idea first popped up on its own without their influence. The idea was always pretty cool to you; you could develop different and unique powers, you would be super fast, have pretty long fangs which was definitely a plus, but—

But you never truly wanted this for yourself, did you? A lonely nobody, exiled from their family for wanting to live with devils, turned away from by the people who used to love you when you were small. And now you had to walk the earth alone for the rest of your days, killing the people who used to look just like you, who you used to share bread with, spill blood together. And now, here you are; stealing it like the air from their lungs, greedy, your belly never truly full, always just on the precipice of starvation.

Suguru says this stage will past eventually, that you’re just a nestling for now, still always hungry, still wanting to feed from its mothers mouth. But you have never known starvation to be so consuming, that all you can think about is filling your mouth with hot blood until it pools from your lips, only to follow the trail with your tongue until there are no traces left.

You never really wanted to be a vampire, did you? You never wanted to live forever, to have to see all of your favorite people die, to learn to love new ones, just for them to leave you as well. You never wanted to hide in the shadows—the sun feels so good on your skin, its warmth, its softness a comfort against flesh that welcomed its heat. You miss the sun. You miss being able to go out during the day and laugh with others that didn’t cower at the mere sight of you.

Satoru says this stage will pass eventually, that you’re just a nestling for now, still always yearning for a life that never served you any good. He tells you that you’ll learn to appreciate your new body, tells you how overrated the sun is, that being able to walk the streets at night without fear is better than any warmth the sun could give you. Besides, he had said, if you need warmth, I know a few ways to heat up the body?

The undead body, you had to remind him, that never once inched up in temperature, that was always just a touch too icy for your liking when you were still human. And now look at you; as cold as them, thirstier than you’ve ever been in your entire life. It was selfish. The entire act of turning you was selfish.

But at least you all could be a couple now, right? At least you would finally be one of them, on their level, despite the seemingly eons amount of distance of age between you and the other immortals? You would finally be more than just a pet, right? Right?

How desperate you were to be right. How terrible that you couldn’t be more wrong.

You were always just a plaything for them. Something they promised held an equal amount of weight in the relationship, but you were nothing more than a shared pup, something for them to love on and fuck and nuzzle against, but never something permeant, something more concrete.

They had laughed at your outburst, only a few weeks after being turned. How your eyes had gone red and you started floating from the floor, your mouth stretched wide and your fangs bared so long. You only looked like a child throwing a temper tantrum, your fangs mere baby teeth that they couldn’t wait to coo over after ripping them from your head.

“Little nestling,” Suguru had cooed, arms stretched open from where he sat on the expansive love seat, a tiny smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. “Stop making such a fuss and come lay down. You’ll tire yourself out much too quickly.”

It was like you were talking to a brick wall, one that only ever viewed you as something tiny and petulant. Like you could be soothed by being cradled, rocked to sleep and easily taken care of, like your outburst and anger was simply a reason of your near constant hunger. Like you were less than them. (But you always have been, haven’t you? You’ve only ever been something so new and fresh and tiny? Never quite equal? Never quite measuring up?)

“Cmon, little one,” Satoru had cooed next, his tone dripping in sarcasm, as he, too, opened his arms in invitation, mocking. “Come lay with mommy and daddy so we can make you feel better.”

You could only stand there, floating back down to the floor as your anger washed away from you. A cold feeling sunk in instead, something detached, something so hurt and broken, that every unnecessary inhale felt like a sharp stab to your lungs. Their bickering about who was mommy and who was daddy fell on deaf ears, your eyes fading back to a normal color as you slowly turn away from them.

They don’t even notice you’re gone, until your scent is only a lingering smell lingering by the front doors that you’ve left open. You hadn’t taken anything but the clothes on your back as you left, both hurt and angry that they didn’t come after you. That they let you wander for weeks and weeks alone.

That was the curse of vampirism, wasn’t it? Needing companionship? Needing someone to be by your side? So why did they need you? Why make you when they already had each for so fucking long—why drag you into their arms, why hold onto you so tight, why—why did they let you go so easily? Why didn’t they fight for you?

No other vampire would care for you as much as they did, not with their scent permanently mingled in with your own. Satoru and Suguru were some of the oldest, most strongest vampires to have ever walked the earth. Every other vampire knew not to fuck with them, nor the things that they staked claim on. It only made immortal life harder.

You were still just a nestling, determined to prove yourself a fledgeling but—but hunting was so hard. You rarely had to do it on your own, always had Satoru catch the humans, Suguru dispose of the body. Now you had to do all of that without getting caught, without making too much of a scene wherever you went. You couldn’t—you couldn’t do it.

Admitting defeat hurt more than you had expected it to, but you couldn’t remember the last time you ate, and you were only growing weaker by the days. Suguru found you, on the verge of being swallowed whole by the sun, laying on their front door steps, hand still posed midair to knock, too weak from hunger to do anything but lay there and die.

Suguru only chuckled at the sight of you. Scooped up your limp body as if you weighed nothing, tutting at you the entire time under his breath, but you could just barely make out his smile.

“Look at what I found decaying by our front door,” Suguru said after climbing the many steps, depositing you on the end of the bed that Satoru laid on, the curtains drawn to swallow the room in darkness. He lays you down gently, his touch cold, your body stiff, your stomach curling in on itself with hunger.

“It took you too long to come home, little one.” Satoru had pouted, slithering down the bed until he hovered above you. He noted your chapped lips and faded eyes, how you kept easing in and out of consciousness. He smiled at the weak sight of you, holding his hand out as Suguru pattered over to the other side of the room, opening up the glass case that held too much blood for only two—three—vampires. Suguru hummed softly to himself as he poured a nice, heavy glass, passing it to Satoru as he sat beside your head, the blue eyed man grinning above you.

“Do you want to feed, little one?” Satoru asks softly when you’re conscious enough to focus on his gaze, having the nerve to look just a tad bit scared, hopeless. You can only pout your lips the way you know he likes, always the one to concede so easily to your wishes. But Suguru tuts from beside you, positioning your head in his lap as he helps you sit up ever so slightly, Satoru pressing the rim of the cup to your lips. But he doesn’t tilt it, keeps the sweet smelling blood so close, yet so far from reach. You’re too weak to grab it for yourself, always so dependent on them, just the way they like it.

“Then you have to promise to never, ever leave us again, little nestling.” Suguru says quietly, but his voice is firm. He holds your jaw tight in his hands, stops you from even getting a drip of blood between the cracks of your lips. He waits until you look up at him, his eyes a deep plum, his mouth set in a thin line.

“Do you promise?” Satoru asks softly, teasing the cup to his own mouth, a threat to take it all away if you don’t comply, conform to their fucked up family where your only role is to always be chosen second.

“I promise.” You croak out, coughing from the dryness of your throat, already starting to fade out of consciousness again from the lack of eating in so long.

“Good,” Suguru hums, finally easing his grip from your jaw to allow Satoru to tip the cup to your mouth. “We’ll make a blood promise then.”

You’re not sure if you hear the last part correctly, too busy wincing at how your fangs burst from your gums, how they bite into the glass cup that Satoru pours into your mouth. You try to sit up on your own, take the cup from him, but Suguru only nestles you into his grip, nuzzling you against his stomach, Satoru holding firm on the cup, controlling just how much you guzzle down second by second.

“Poor little nestling,” Satoru coos with a chuckle. “Couldn’t even hunt on her own for a few weeks. You still can’t even hold your neck up by yourself, little one.” He presses gentle, soft kisses to the roundness of your cheek, watching the way you quickly start to gather your strength with every passing second, every swallow of the thick nectar.

“But that’s okay, right, Satoru?” Comes Suguru’s teasing voice, running a finger down the slope of your neck, holding his palm there to feel the way you swallow. “She’ll never be able to leave us again. Our very own little nestling to take care of.”

“Its time for us to take care of our little one now, don’t you think?” Satoru asks, pulling away the now empty cup, taking in the panting sight of you. You look so much like you did the day you left, all pouty and confused, wanting to be so big and strong on your own, not knowing that the umbilical cord was never actually cut.

When you don’t answer, Satoru tilts your chin up to face him, Suguru dipping his head down to trace the faint lines of blood that escaped from the corners of your mouth with the tip of his tongue. You try to bite back a whimper, feeling much more like prey than you ever have, even when you were still human.

“So weak and depleted.” Suguru hums, pulling you into his lap as he eases both himself and you to lay against the pillows at the top of the bed. He cradles your body against his own, your upper half curled toward him to lap at the blood that coats your teeth, your tiny little fangs. You pull away ever so slightly to watch Satoru crawl up the bed in front of you, akin to a snow leopard, all deadly predator with that glint in his eyes, with the way his smile curls up deviously at the corners.

“What do you think, baby?” Satoru asks, but you’ve never had much choice in this relationship, have you? You nod, only to appease them, but you know they would’ve taken what they wanted anyway, in the end. And what they want—what they’ve wanted from you—was your pleasure. Even if it meant they never got off, even if it meant they would miss out on days and days of sleep just to torture you with their mouths and hands and cocks—its all they’ve ever wanted.

Was it boredom, that had settled into their relationship? Is that why they had changed things up, brought you along with them? To be some plaything? To keep you needy and dependent on them, because what other vampires would worship you the way they did? What other vampires would spoil you? Hunt for you, clean for you, and fuck you nice and heavy after until you were drunk on being full, in more ways than you could count?

So you lay there, and you take it. Let them do whatever they want to you, because they’ve always known whats best for you, more than you ever have for yourself, haven’t they?

Suguru strips off his shirt as Satoru peels your own dirtied and tattered layers from your skin until you’re bared in front of them. Suguru guides your head to his chest, his nipple grazing your mouth as he forces your lips open, prying them apart with thick fingers.

“You’ll need some of my blood, little nestling, to heal even faster.” He tells you, grazing his thumb on your elongated fangs until his skin splits open, dripping a few droplets of crimson into your mouth. “Bite me, right here, and feed.”

You’re too high on the addictive taste of such old, powerful blood to care that he’s directing you to bite him right over his nipple, to suckle from his chest like the babe he’s always looked at you as. You’re too high on the taste of him to care about the sight you make; your head cradled in the thick bicep of his arm, his hair untied and casting a shadow over your face, his thumb caressing your cheek as you suckle around his nipple until his blood leaks from the corners of your mouth.

Satoru only chuckles under his breath at the sight as he settles himself between your thighs, sticky and soft from the aphrodisiac that flows in Suguru’s blood. It was one of the special powers he was gifted after being turned so long ago, a secret that only the two of them share. It makes moments like these all the more intoxicating, knowing that you’ll be begging for both of them in mere minutes.

Satoru bites you without warning, his thicker, longer fangs seemingly touching bone from how deep they reside in your skin. You whimper at the feeling, unable to pull away from Suguru’s chest as you grip the soft locks of Satoru’s hair. He bites from your stomach, to your inner thighs, your mound. His lips pull back from his teeth as he hovers over your swelling clit, in threat, in promise, laughing under his breath when you grip his hair even tighter and cry out around Suguru’s breast.

“I’m only kidding, little one,” Satoru teases, pressing a bloody kiss to your folds, wet and loud and smacking. Your hips jerk slightly in response, body relaxing ever so slowly as you continue to swallow mouthfuls of Suguru’s blood, your head feeling light and heavy as the pleasure overcomes you.

“So sensitive,” Suguru notes as he plucks your nipple from where he cradles you, how you whine in response, how you push your hips toward Satoru’s waiting, red mouth.

He licks you, from your wet little hole to the tip of your clit, and when that isn’t enough, he repositions you until your thighs rest on his shoulders. Your ass doesn’t even touch the bed anymore, and thats the way he likes it, as Satoru carves a path from your rim to the top of your cunt. He licks you like that again and again until you’re dripping, slick and blood sliding from your pelvis to messy onto the old and expensive sheets beneath you.

“Did you miss this, little nestling?” Suguru asks, cupping your cheek so that you could blink up at him through thick, fluttering lashes. Your lips are swollen from how much you’ve drunk from him, mouth red and pretty, draining him so much, but he can’t help but indulge you just a bit more. His baby, his sweet little thing.

“How about this?” Satoru asks when you don’t answer fast enough, sucking your clit into his mouth as if the nub fills the entirety of it. He sucks at your clit the same way you’ve seen him suck Suguru’s cock; like its a mouthful, like the tip of it hits the back of his throat. But the pleasure is too good to complain, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as your hips cant against his face, mouth falling away from Suguru’s tit.

“Yes,” you pant, holding onto Satoru’s hair as he swallows thickly like your clit fills his mouth, holding your hips steady to fuck the throbbing little thing against his thick tongue. “Missed you both so much. S’sorry, I’m so sorry for leaving,” you slur, blood still thick and heavy against your teeth and gums, but they only coo at the desperate sight of you.

“Poor baby,” Suguru mockingly pouts, slipping his fingers into your mouth, coated in his own blood, fucking them down your throat. You can’t stop your gagging, nor does Suguru want you to, his cock throbbing at the way your throat closes around his digits. He fingers your fang as he pulls his own out, gripping it between his forefinger and thumb, a threat.

“You know, bad nestlings usually get their fangs ripped out by their sires when they disobey.” Suguru says softly, so easily, you would’ve thought that he was confessing his undying love to you with that tone. You want to panic, you tell yourself to get up, rip yourself away from them, save yourself, but you feel too good to do anything but lay there. You’re so close to coming; Satoru’s tongue feels so good against your clit, Suguru’s fingers stuff your mouth so good.

“What do you think, Satoru?” He asks, tipping your head back with his grip on your fang, leaning down to ghost his own over the swell of your cheek.

“I’m gonna cum,” you whimper around his finger in your mouth, your voice lost beneath the slurping of Satoru against your clit, the teasing words of Suguru.

“Be nice, Suguru,” the blue eyed man says quickly before attaching himself back to your clit, lashing his tongue against the swollen and fat bud.

“Always so easy and quick to forgive, hmm?” Suguru teases, still not letting go of your fang, still holding you on the precipice of explosion. When he pulls ever so slightly, and when Satoru sucks your clit harshly into his mouth, do you finally tip over the edge. Cum so hard that your entire body spasms, your cries loud and echoing in the quiet house, trembling all over until you suck in a breath that you don’t need.

As you come down from your high, you feel them moving you, rearranging you until you’re nestled between them, Satoru at your front as he kisses you sloppily with wetted lips. Suguru presses open mouthed kisses along your nape and shoulders, biting every so often just to hear you exhale shakily.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble after a few seconds of silence, burying your face in Satoru’s chest. He hums, rubbing at your flank as he positions your thigh to hook over his own, Suguru nuzzling in closer as you feel his cock poke at your inner thigh. You should’ve known that this wasn’t over yet, that they wouldn’t let you off so easily with just one orgasm. It was barely morning yet. For your insolence, you’d be lucky if they let you free anytime in the next month.

“Show us how sorry you are by taking both of us at the same time,” Satoru whispers into your hair, his own cock sliding against Suguru’s as they fight for the space between you. You open your mouth to agree; its nothing new, letting them fuck you at the same time, one in your pussy, the other in your ass. But only then do you realize, that they mean in the same hole at once.

“I-I don’t—”

“I thought you were so remorseful about leaving us all high and dry for so long?” Suguru asks from behind you, sliding his cock between your slick lips.

“I am, but you guys haven’t even prepped me,” you’re cut off again by Satoru this time, who rubs his tip against Suguru’s, your slick the lube for them.

“This new body of yours adjusts and heals so much faster than your old one. Why not try it out now?” He asks, tilting your head up so that you’re fully consumed by his gaze, by the blood that still stains his mouth, the brightness of his eyes in the dark room.

You’re not sure you’re even allowed to say no.

So you let them do whatever they please with you, as you always have, so dependent on their word and how well they’ll take care of you. It hurts, the way they stretch you, both pushing inside of your too small cunt at the same time. You cry out that it won’t fit, that one of them should’ve entered first then the other, that your ass is still an option. But they ignore you, kissing each other over your head, swallowing their own moans and gasps of pleasures as their cocks kiss inside of you, nestled much too close to your cervix.

You feel like your entire lower half is ripping and splitting itself into two from the painful stretch; Satoru’s cock is so long, Suguru’s is so thick. You think you can taste them in the back of your throat when they finally settle both of their cocks inside of you, filling you to the brim. Vampires can’t cry, they can’t breathe, but you take a wet, shuddering inhale as you bury your face into Satoru’s neck, wrapping your arms around him as you struggle to adjust.

But then, Suguru’s bleeding wrist is thrust in front of your face, and your head is so light, you don’t think twice before drinking from him. Letting his essence flow into you, how it suddenly makes the pain subside into something pleasurable, how you suddenly feel like two cocks stuffed in your hole is just enough.

“Fuck me,” you whisper when Suguru gently pries his wrist from your mouth, smearing the still leaking blood against Satoru’s parted lips. He licks them, grinning, giving Suguru a knowing look over your head as they communicate silently.

Satoru moves first, quick and much too harsh if you were still a human. You were sure you’d break if so, with the way his claws dig into your sides and how he pistons his hips much too fast for any regular eye to see. Suguru follows him at his own pace, leisurely, but deep, his tip kissing against your cervix with every thrust, until you’re sure he’s close to fucking into your womb.

The differences of their paces is otherworldly, makes your crying out and moaning a jumbled mess of chords amongst their own noises. Sometimes they’re both inside of you at the same time, their tips fighting to press against your cervix at once, and other times, only Satoru’s tip is inside while Suguru nuzzles deep inside of you. The differences of their sizes makes your head spin, feeling like they’re touching you everywhere, inside and out.

Satoru’s mouth is on yours; Suguru’s stealing you from him, his fangs pressed against your tongue; Satoru reaches around to push a finger inside of your ass with a bloodied and slicked digit; Suguru presses around to rub your clit with thick fingers, stuffing an extra finger in your already full hole just to feel you tighten up around them even more. They’re mean, laughing at your whimpers and cries, using you again and again until you burst around them, squirting all over their cocks, making an even bigger mess on the already ruined sheets.

“Fuck, I missed feeling you cum on our cocks,” Satoru moans, scissoring two fingers inside your ass as Suguru keeps fingering at your clit, making your hips jerk and spasm as you try to claw your way out of their grips.

“Cmon, you got one more in there for us, don’t you, little one?” Suguru teases, laughing when you vigorously shake your head and claw at his arm, drawing more blood to messy the three of you. They don’t take you seriously though, knowing that they’ll force it out of you if need be.

And they do exactly that; fucking you, touching you everywhere, with their mouths, their hands, their cocks, until you cum again, squeezing them so hard that they reach their own peaks. Neither of them pull out, filling you up so thickly with their cum, you think you can taste it in the back of your throat. Your stomach feels heavy, as you imagine it bloating from how much they spill inside of you, both biting at different parts of your body as they spill rope after thick, hot rope of cum inside your aching pussy.

And even then, when you’re spent and aching and tired and dripping with more cum than you thought possible; its not enough. Nothing has ever satisfied them, and you’re not sure if anything ever will. Not until you break for them, just so they could build you back up, put your pieces back together again. Only then are you sure, that you’ll finally be enough for them and their greed.

thank you all so much for reading! likes/reblogs/comments/asks are so greatly appreciated ♥️

#—new treat in the streets! 🍫#gojo treats! 🍬#getou treats! 🍬#stsg treats! 🍬#tw: blood #I feel like I should tag this as pseudo incest lmfao #tw: manipulation #stsg smut

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ferronickel · 2 months ago

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So I uh... had Looking Glasses Parts 1 & 2 printed.

I've always intended to print out the comic, and as I was recently in a position to show it to a number of comics professionals, I thought now was as good a time as any. (Alas, it did not arrive in time for my trip, but it's here now!) It's so cool to be able to hold two years worth of work in my hands, I'm so happy with how it turned out!

I also made some other LG prints! I've really wanted a print of the B-movie poster ever since I made it. I'll have to set up an etsy or something if anyone wants some Looking Glasses art for their walls.

Here's the deal with the book. I printed fifteen copies, ten of which I'd like to give away to readers. I can't sell them, because they're fanfiction, and I can't ethically sell fanfic. Currently my plan is that if you're interested in a copy of the book, please fill out this form. I'll randomly pick from those people and ask that they pay for shipping (because this has already been an absurdly expensive endeavor). If you're sad about missing out on a copy of the book, don't worry, I will be doing a much larger print run when the comic is finished.

Interior shots of the books under the cut

#looking glasses #deltarune #ferrousart #utdr #Some of you already saw these on my stream #but I finally decided how I want to handle distributing these so I figured it was time to post about it #this was a very exciting and frustrating project for me #the printer I used was perhaps the least communicative it is possible to be and getting any information from them was a nightmare #but the product turned out great!#it looks truly lovely and is so cool to hold in your hands

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merlucide · 11 days ago

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BOKUTO.ೃ࿔* who desperately wants you to think he’s cool. He’ll do everything in his power to impress you—oh, your bag is too heavy? No problem! Bo’s got it! aaaand he can carry Akaashi’s bag too! See how strong he is? Isn’t he the coolest?! Wait—hold on, you really think so?

KUROO.ೃ࿔* who loves when you manhandle him. Tug him by his tie, and honey he’s at your mercy. Slide your hands along his neck with that sly smile of yours, and you’ll have him utterly undone. He just has to lean in with a lopsided smirk, hand cupping your jaw, being completely enchanted by you.

TSUKKI.ೃ࿔* who keeps you from wandering aimlessly like a lost puppy. You always ‘turn your brain off’, according to Kei. he’ll firmly place his hand on the top of your head and steer you in the right direction, rolling his eyes and teasing about how you’d be completely and utterly lost without him.

SUNARIN.ೃ࿔* who always, ALWAYS, has to have his hands on you. If you are with in reach he will rest his hands on your hips and tug you against him. If you’re walking around then your fingers will be interlocked. He also likes to put his hand in your back pocket in your jeans

IWAIZUMI.ೃ࿔* who gets genuinely gets flustered every time you compliment him. It could be anything small, like a simple ‘That’s a good color on you’ has him bashfully muttering a small ‘thanks,’ with his cheeks tinged pink. He hates how easily you turn him into a mess—especially when you giggle in realization and lean in to kiss him— Oh he just can’t take it!!

AKAASHI.ೃ࿔* who always walks you to and from your destination, no matter the time, place, or weather. Any time spent with you is spent well. He needs to make sure you get to your destination safely of course! He waits until he absolutely cannot see you anymore before he starts his journey back.

ATSUMU.ೃ࿔* who gives the BEST hugs. You always feel so safe and so loved when his arms are wrapped firmly around your waist. His head tucks into your neck as if he never wants to let go. And when he’s feeling all soft, he’ll cradle your cheek in his hand, his thumb brushing tenderly across your skin as he gazes at you like you hung the stars. Though, that’s just ‘Tsumu’s normal expression when you’re around.

KAGEYAMA.ೃ࿔* who’s always looking for you, even if you’re not there. It’s just a habit of his, probably because his mind is constantly plagued of your smiling face 24/7. The moment he spots you, he’s making a beeline, linking his pinky with yours whispering ‘What took you so long?’.

USHIWAKA.ೃ࿔* who’s the perfect gentleman. He pulls out your chair, walks on the side closest to the road, and never shows up empty-handed, always bringing you a bouquet of roses on every Sunday with a respectful kiss on the hand. Life with ‘Toshi is as easy as breathing.

OIKAWA.ೃ࿔* who can’t help but be ridiculously cheesy, really he can’t! Not when you’re his darling sugarplum and one and only till the end of forever! Reject his dramatic love proclamations? Oh, absolutely not! That’s just who he is, and you’ll have to endure it, sweetheart.

HINATA.ೃ࿔* who always offers piggyback rides when your feet hurt. Don’t underestimate his little body!—he can lift you with ease, carrying you down the street like it’s nothing. Sho’ would insist you get on his back regardless if your feet hurt or not—can you really blame him? Who wouldn’t want a cutie hanging onto them!

KENMA.ೃ࿔* who silently watches you in admiration when you put your makeup on. Sitting on the toilet lid, he holds your makeup bag and hands you your lip gloss before you even ask. He shyly looks away with his cheeks warm and lips pursed together when you ask ‘how do I look?’.

OSAMU.ೃ࿔* who can’t help the loopy grin on his face when you do a little twirl, showing off your new outfit. He could care less about shopping, truly, he hates it. But if it means seeing you all dolled up and happy, he doesn’t mind it one bit.

SAKUSA.ೃ࿔* who pulls you close to him when you are in public spaces. He takes your hands and squirts his Hello Kitty hand sanitizer (The one you got him) into your hands before rubbing his own. Scathingly glares at the man who accidentally bumped into you. He absolutely cannot let you have unwanted contact with strangers! no yucky germs allowed on his baby.

YAMAGUCHI.ೃ࿔* who always firmly holds your hand in crowds. Out in public he’ll hold your hand regardless, but when everyone is packed together his anxiety skyrockets. He’s always nervous of you two being separated in the crowd. He takes the lead to guide you both out of the mingled mess of people, and when it’s over, please give him a forehead kiss—he’s earned it.

TENDOU.ೃ࿔* who takes Shounen Saturdays very seriously. You don’t get to skip it! Not when it’s a sacred tradition of binge-watching both of your favorite shows with sugary snacks! You two are all bundled together on the couch and gasping and giggling at the TV. He refuses to let you watch the next episode without him, Will curse your whole bloodline if you do (affectionate).

HOSHIUMI.ೃ࿔* who might just be the worst person to play board games with. When he’s winning, he’s full of smug trash talk, loudly boasting about his ‘inevitable victory’, but the second he starts losing? ‘This game is rigged!’ ‘you cheated!,’ or ‘this is bullshit!’. It’s even worse better when there’s a bet involved—he’ll do anything to avoid letting you win. That’s how you get him to help you clean most the time hehe.

LEV.ೃ࿔* who clings to you, always. You are concerned for his neck and back for always resting around you in uncomfortable positions, but he never seems to complain. Standing up Lev has his arms around you and head smushed against yours, laying down his long legs wrap around your own and he burrows himself in your warmth. If Lev could have it his way, he would never stop touching you.

AONE.ೃ࿔* who’s a certified purse carrier. you don’t make him— of course not! He insists actually. He could care less about being seen with a hot pink decorated purse slung on his arm, it’s quite the sight. This also goes for shopping of course, Nobu’ just trails behind with arms full of whatever you managed to snag on 50% off.

uhu I wrote some for kyotani+suga+goshiki+etc but I didn’t like them sob sob

lemme know whatcha think! (And if I should do pt2 lolz)

made January 26th 2025

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heyitsoak · 2 months ago

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MOVIE SHADOW X READER HEADCANONS

Gender neutral reader

Just finished watching Sonic 3 and it was awesome!! Haven’t seen anyone written for movie Shadow yet sooo.. 👀

Warnings?: No spoilers for the movie in this! But maybe him being out of character, I haven’t wrote anything in years lol

- I feel like his love languages would be quality time and physical touch, he wouldn’t be used to touch at first but would gradually warm up to it. Definitely wouldn’t be the type to be over the top with public affection. Maybe handholding or a hand on your waist in public, but that’s probably it

- Might would be one to get jealous, needs reassurance that you’re not leaving and that you love him, truly. He’s been through a lot and needs to know that you’re not leaving him too

- Likes looking at the stars with you!! Reminds me of that one meme

“Do u like stars?”

“Ya, they’re cool”

- Likes to watch moves with you too! Just please don’t have him watch movies that have ‘aliens’ that are considered bad guys in it :( Just watch cat videos on YouTube with him, he’d be content with that

- Try and show him video games! He’d be really confused on how the controls work, a lot has changed in fifty years

- I feel like he’d like the game Stray, cause cats!! I feel like he absolutely loves cats. Would also probably like Stardew Valley, Harvest Moon and Animal Crossing. Anything that’s a calm game where you can just do whatever

- Speaking of cats.. he’d love going to a cat cafe with his s/o, would probably want to take them all home afterwards though

- Would end up having a black cat come up to him, rubbing against him and purring. He’d just pick up the cat and ask

“..can we take him home?”

- You can’t say no to Shadow, especially when he’s holding a cat in his hands.. so needless to say, you guys have a new pet now

- But besides cafe dates, just staying at home and cuddling would be perfectly fine with him as a date, anywhere with you, he’s happy

- I feel like he’d genuinely be a really good boyfriend, just takes him time to warm up a bit and get more comfortable with romantic stuff

- And motorcycle rides!! They’d be so fun, but if you get scared if he ever goes too fast, just ask for him to slow down or go a normal speed, he’d probably listen (cause it’s you)

- Gets all blushy and flustered when it comes to physical affection and kisses, he’s not used to it but he loves it

- He’d also like music, specifically older songs. Likes to put vinyls on a record player and dance with you to the song :’)) even if you don’t know how to dance, he’ll try and guide you

Not really sure what else to add here! Hopefully this was good, sorry if it was out of character :’)

I absolutely love Shadow so much, he’s such a cool character and looked so amazing in the movie

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imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul · 7 months ago

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Overprotective- Jacaerys Velaryon

A/N: My thoughts lie only on HOTD, and most of those thoughts are on this PRINCE. I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader Word Count: 3.0k Synopsis: Jace's overprotective nature begins to grate on the reader's nerves as the birth of their first child looms closer.

Legend told that when in the womb, Targaryen babies started out as dragons before transforming into human children. It was nothing more than a silly folktale, your Targaryen family had assured you. But waking up in the dark of night, flinging the covers off of your scorching body, you aren't so sure.

Your nights had been spent like this for nearly two months now. If it wasn't the heat that coated your body, clinging sweat to your brow, it was waking up nearly ever hour to relieve yourself.

The child growing in your stomach was truly a Targaryen - passionate and unyielding.

The first four months of your pregnancy had been wonderful. You had none of the sickness that so many face in the early stages of their maternity. Back then you were often tired, but the child slept whenever you did. And to top it all off, Jace was a perfect husband. He brought you water when you needed it, rubbed your feet when they were aching, and then, you had wanted him constantly, and he had been more than happy to oblige.

But things change quickly during pregnancy, you are coming to understand. Jace wakes up next to you now, sitting up immediately.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

"Nothing," you say, turning to face him. Your bedroom is dark, but even so, you can see the worry in his eyes. "Just too hot."

"Can I do anything for you? Should I call the Maester?"

"No, I'm fine," you say, straining to get out of bed. He supports your back, giving you the extra push to get up. You hate that he has to do this, that he has to push on your sweat drenched back, in order for you to stand.

"Where are you going?" he asks.

"To relieve myself."

"You just got up--"

"I know, Jacaerys," you snap, holding your stomach as you leave the room.

Jace had been wonderful those first few months, when you had been in high spirits. But now, you were in pain constantly, which made you irritable, which made any attempt he made to help you irksome.

When you came back into the room, Jace is still up, his head resting on his pillow. He lifts it a little when you come back in, smiling at you gently. The sheets have been changed - another new routine - but one that doesn't bother you so much. It made a world of difference to lay down in a cool, clean bed after waking in a pool of your own sweat.

"All right?" he asks as you lay down beside him.

"Yes."

"Sure?"

"Yes, why?" you ask, tilting your head up to look at him.

"Because you called me Jacaerys," he says, brushing a stray hair off your brow. "You only do that when you're mad at me." You let out a breath of laughter, but immediately feel like the emotion could change into a sob. Jace must see it, too, because he scoots closer, pulling you into his bare arms.

"Hey," he says, kissing your forehead, "You can call me Jacaerys whenever you like."

"I'm not mad at you," you say, turning into him, so your growing stomach presses into his. "There's just this monster inside of me making me go mad." Jace smiles to himself, nodding his head.

"I know."

"I love you," you say, a hand to his cheek. He leans in to kiss you, his lips cool. When you break apart, you realize the windows are wide open, and while you've been sweating all night, he has to be freezing. You start to say something about it, but he cuts you off.

"I'm fine," he says. "I love you. Please just try to get some sleep."

"Get off me, then," you say, pushing him playfully. He smirks, falling back over to his side, taking your share of the blankets, as well. You lay on your back, and can't help the groan of pain at the pressure the position puts on you. Jace immediately reaches for your hand.

"Jacaerys," you say, squeezing his palm once. He laughs.

"Good night, Y/N."

"Goodnight."

At seven months pregnant, the burning has finally stopped, but you feel weaker still. Every movement puts pain on your back, your shoulders, your feet. You and Jace speak a language that is mostly moans and groans, and not the kind that used to be typical for the two of you.

One morning, when Jace is away at Driftmark, Rhaenyra joins you for breakfast. At the sight of your sovereign, you try to stand, which makes Rhaenyra laugh.

"Don't trouble yourself, Y/N," she says, walking towards you. "I remember when I was your size. Took me all morning just to get out of bed." You give her a tight lipped smile, settling back into the comfy position you had arranged for yourself.

"Thank you, Your Grace."

"How are you feeling?" she asks, pouring herself a cup of tea. She motions to you, but you decline with a shake of your head.

"I'm alright."

"Is she kicking?" she asks, nodding to the hand on your belly.

"Only when I'm trying to sleep," you say with a laugh. "You agree with Jace, then? You think it'll be a girl?"

"The way you're carrying, yes, but one never really can tell. What are you hoping for?" she asks.

"For these next months to pass quickly," you say, straining when a nerve pinches in your side. You adjust your position, and find that Rhaenyra is looking at you with a small, understanding smile. "And of course, for a healthy baby."

"Of course."

"I don't know how you've done this so many times," you say. "Does it get any easier?"

"No," she says simply. You sigh, which makes her smile grow. "How has Jace been?" she asks.

"Very protective," you say, smiling. "Maybe too much so. I feel like if I just breathe wrong he's on alert, worried something has happened." A strange expression passes over Rhaenyra's face - equal parts pride and sorrow.

"I'm afraid Jacaerys has seen more than his fair share of pregnancies gone wrong," she says gently.

"I'm sorry, I know," you say, embarrassment passing through you.

"That's not to say that he isn't overbearing," she adds with a smile. "He's much like his father that way."

"Really?"

"He couldn't always be there," she says, "But when he was, he made up for the time apart with his watch over me." You smile at her as the door opens across the room, and Jace enters.

"You're back early," Rhaenyra says, lifting an eyebrow at him. He smells salty when he leans down to kiss you. He smiles at you, then looks to his mother.

"Thought I might join you for breakfast," he says, sitting next to you. "Besides, I was needed here more than at Driftmark." You exchange a look with Rhaenyra.

"How are you feeling this morning?" he asks you.

"Just fine, Jacaerys," you say, patting his cheek. "You didn't need to cut your visit short."

"Well, there is something I need to do here nonetheless."

"What's that?" you ask.

"It seems Syrax has laid another clutch of eggs. Joff and I are going to retrieve them, and the younger boys are going to help us pick one for the babe," he says, a hand on your stomach. You smile at him, at the gentle caress of his hand. You know he comes from a place of love with his attention.

"Do you want to join us?" he asks.

"I doubt I could make it downstairs, much less down to the Dragonpit."

"We could bring them to you," he says.

"No," you say, "Decide with your brothers. Just pick out a good one." He nods to you, leaning in to kiss your temple.

At the end of breakfast, Jace goes off to the Dragonpit, but only at your insistence. He wanted to walk you back to your chambers, but Rhaenyra assured him she was more than up to the task. Once he was out of sight, she laughed to herself.

"I see what you mean," she says.

Jace returns to your room that night with a shiny, white dragon egg.

Jace's lips are soft on yours. At eight months pregnant, finding moments with him is getting harder every day. He lies next to you, a hand on your stomach, the other cradling the back of your head.

"Y/N," he hums, each word spoken onto your lips, "I want you." You make a sound in your throat, both in agreement and in discomfort. It has been too long since the two of you have been intimate.

"I'm huge," you say.

"You're not and I don't care," he says, his mouth moving across your jaw.

"The last time we did this," you breathe, arching into him when he nips at your earlobe, "We had to stop because you worried you'd hurt the baby."

"I promise I'll relax this time," he says.

"How could you even get to me?" you ask with a laugh. Jace smiles at you as his hand moves from your stomach to your hip, turning you onto your side easily. He presses up behind you, kissing along your neck.

You sigh, relaxing into him. His hand pulls up the skirt of your nightgown, exposing your legs to the cool night air. It has been so long that you know you're ready for him immediately.

"Just tell me if I'm hurting you," he says. You groan, putting a hand to his face to stop him from kissing you more. "Y/N."

"Jace." You scoot away from him, turning slowly to face him.

"I didn't mean anything by it," he says with a sigh.

"How many times have you fucked me in that same position?" you ask. Jace frowns, frustration evident on his face. "Have you ever hurt me?"

"No, but things are different," he says. "What's the harm in asking if you feel okay?"

"It doesn't make me feel desirable," you say, looking up at the ceiling, stupid, frustrating tears forming in your eyes again. Jace sighs and moves to your side, propping himself up on an elbow so you have to look at him.

"Y/N," he says gently. "Of course you are desirable. You are still the most beautiful, incredible woman I know. And it's because you are so incredible that I want to make sure that I don't do anything that puts you in more pain than I know you are already in."

"I promise I will tell you if I am hurting, okay? You don't have to coddle me."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," you say, hand on his cheek to bring his lips to yours. "I'm the bitch for complaining about her kind husband." He laughs and kisses your palm.

"You're not a bitch," he says. You kiss him again. "Now please roll onto your side and let me fuck you." You laugh, doing as he says.

"Of course, My Prince."

Jace is at Dragonstone Castle when you go into labor. He has been anxious for the last month, knowing that any day the baby could arrive. He intended to postpone this meeting with the great houses, but you assured him that the babe would not come today. The only thing that kept him to his promise was the fact that Vermax could bring him back to the Red Keep quickly.

When Joffrey bursts into the room, Jace is immediately on his feet, already fearing the worst.

"What is it?" he asks.

"Y/N has gone into labor."

Jace barely spares a glance at the lords around the table. He urges Joffrey along. His brother had the foresight to request that Vermax be readied for when they arrived upon the shore.

The ride is quick, as he knew it would be, but he still urges Vermax along, wanting and needing to be close to you as soon as he can.

When he gets to the Red Keep, he runs up to your chambers, intending to throw them open and run to your side. Instead, he finds that they are locked. He can hear soft discussion, encouragements, but the loudest sound coming through the door is your screaming.

Joffrey followed him to the door and carefully peels him away. "She's alright," he insists. Jace won't be able to agree until he can see you himself.

Together, they sit outside your door for the next three hours. Joffrey doesn't say much, but when your screaming gets louder, or there seems to be a rise in urgency to the voices inside, he puts a comforting hand on his shoulder.

It seems like ages have passed when the doors finally open.

He doesn't wait to hear what the Maester has to say. He rushes into the room, his eyes going immediately to your bed. Midwives quickly take away bloodied sheets, and when they clear, he sees you. You are drenched in sweat, your hair matted all around you, and he's not sure he's ever seen you look more beautiful.

"Y/N," he says, as if he's looking upon the gods themselves. You look up at him, your face breaking into a smile. He rushes to your side.

"Are you okay?" he asks, taking your face in his hands.

"I'm okay," you say, laying a hand over his. He laughs. It's a result of the built up tension from the hallway, and he can't stop himself. He laughs as he kisses you, over and over. You laugh, too, and he tastes the salt of your tears on your lips.

"What is it?" he asks, quickly studying your face.

"Don't you want to meet him?" you ask.

"Him?" Jace's face falls in awe.

"Him," you say. You look towards one of the midwives and they bring over the smallest bundle Jace has ever seen. He sinks onto the bed beside you as the babe is placed in his arms.

"Hello," he says quietly. You lean onto his shoulder, looking down at your son with a smile on your face.

"Isn't he beautiful?" you ask, your voice a whisper.

"Yes," he says, his heart still thundering from the surprise. "What have you called him?" he asks.

"I assumed we'd discuss that together," you say, "But I was thinking Lucerys, if that'd be alright." Jace has tears of his own in his eyes. He bites back his smile, unable to put into words what the name means to him, what you mean to him. He nods his head.

"Does that sound good to you, Lucerys?" you ask, your finger touching the blanket over the baby's stomach. He starts to move around, crying out just a little. Like you've done it a million times before, you take Lucerys into your arms and shush him gently.

Jace kisses your temple repeatedly, until you laugh. You turn towards him and kiss him fully, passionately.

"I love you so much," he says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

"I love you, too."

You stay in that position for an hour or so, Jace holding you, and you holding Lucerys. Joffrey is the first to meet the future heir to the throne, and he kisses you on the cheek when he learns his nephew's name.

When his mother enters the room, Jace doesn't stand, wanting to keep you in his arms forever. She is all smiles as she leans over your opposite shoulder. You sit up slowly, and Jace's arm around you helps guide you upright.

"Hello, little one," Rhaenyra says, taking the child into her arms. You sigh happily, watching her interact with him. Jace can't keep from kissing your face a few more times. He doesn't think he has ever been this in love with you.

"And what is the name of our little prince?" Rhaenyra asks, looking between the two of you. Jace looks down at you, but you nod your head to him.

"We've decided to name him Lucerys," he says simply. Rhaenyra's expression changes immediately, her eyes welling up with tears of her own. Holding Lucerys in one arm, she leans down to kiss you both.

"A fine name," she says through tears. "You did well," she says, looking at you. You smile back, tears forming again in your own.

After a few moments in her arms, she hands your son back to you, and departs, letting the two of you get acquainted to your new family. Neither of you say much. You just watch Lucerys with rapt attention, counting his fingers, and touching his soft patch of hair.

"He's so beautiful," you say quietly.

"He is."

"I don't think I'm ever going to let him out of my sight," you say, looking up at Jace with a smile. He smiles back, but notices the exhaustion on your face.

"Maybe you can for a little while," he says, "Just to get some rest."

"Still so overprotective," you say with a smirk.

"I've got two to protect now," he says, "So if you could just once let me take care of you without arguing--" You cut him off with a kiss.

"I'll try," you say. "But don't either of you leave this room."

"I don't think you could kick us out if you wanted to."

Jace stands with his son in his arms, watching as you lay down. The midwives come back in to check on you and Lucerys, before leaving the three of you alone for the time.

"It's okay, Y/N," he says lowly, when you still haven't shut your eyes, your gaze locked on the two of them. "We'll be here."

"Promise?"

"I swear it," he says, giving you an easy smile. He watches you close your eyes, and in a few moments, your breath falls into an easy rhythm, just like Lucerys's.

Jace looks down at his son. He doesn't want to disturb his sleep, but he wants to tell him, here and now, that he'll always be overprotective. So he makes the vow to himself, just like the one he made when he married you. He is always going to protect the people he loves, even if it sometimes drives them mad.

#jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon x you #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys velaryon #hotd #hotd imagine #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #jacaerys velaryon imagine #jacaerys velaryon fanfic #jacaerys velaryon fanfiction

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sonolynn · 8 months ago

Text

Forbidden Fruit

summary | Jace didn't want her, but Aemond did.

pairing | Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

tags | 18+ MDNI, Jealously, Aemond yearning, explicit sexual content, mentions of bastards, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, size kink (?), oral f!receiving, Angst if you squint. "Technical" infidelity but is it really if Jace started it? (yes). ooc!Aemond (probably). NOT PROOF READ (its one am, leave me alone).

w.c | 3.8k

note(s) | My first smut fic!! Ah I'm scared...I also think I have a problem with making Aemond want fem!reader when he rightfully can't have her. Also I swear I'm not a Jace hater!! I love Jace, but in this fic specifically I made him long and wish for Baela.

____________________________________________

“Why don’t you marry her then?”

Aegon’s voice was taunting, as if pushing Aemond to say something. Aemond stared down at the cup in front of him; even with a stoic expression, his mannerisms betrayed him. He tapped his finger against the edge of the cup, he picked at the skin around his nails on the opposite hand-all the tell tale signs of thinking, a mind that cannot be stopped.

“Because she is betrothed to Rhaenyra’s bastard.” His voice dripped with malice as he spoke. Aemond hated that Jacerys would inherit the throne enough; What his bastard nephew didn’t need was the girl Aemond had wished for his entire life. Ever since the two of them were children Aemond had a…weird infatuation with her. When he was a boy, he would pick flowers from the garden and he would purposely do good deeds for her, just to have her hug him or smile graciously at him.

But now, everything was different. She was a woman grown, and him a man grown. She was to be engaged to his bastard nephew, and he would have to sit and watch as they shared a kiss, held hands, smiled and danced as newlyweds. He’d have to hold a straight face as the two of them left to Jacerys’ bed chamber, only knowing the connotations that came with what would happen on their wedding night.

Ignoring his brother's tedious rants about hells knows what, Aemond stood from his chair, opting for a walk in the gardens.

____________________________________________

Aemond walked, hands clasped behind his back, and his gaze drifted into nothingness as he walked with just his thoughts, and the cool breeze that accompanied the summer evenings. He tried to distract himself from the thoughts of her, for they were all almost too painful to ever truly think about.

But he couldn’t help himself. He thought of her as a sickness, one that lingered and grew stronger by the day until it fully consumed your every waking moment. He thought of her laugh just as contagious as the plague, her eyes as intoxicating as the finest of wines. He thought her to be a type of sickness, and he so desperately wanted to be affected.

Aemond was never one to smile-one to truly-smile, his half smirks or half smiles were only ever in a sarcastic sense, but for some reason his smiles were real with her. With her he laughed a little more, with her he walked a little faster. He knew it was stupid, perhaps perpetually idiotic-to ever think, let alone long for such a pure and innocent creature.

As Aemond walked, he noticed her sitting by one of the fountains in the garden. She looked breathtaking, he thought to himself. Her hair was down and cascaded down her shoulders, her face was just the perfect amount of shaded with the moon's light. And above all, she held that intoxicating smile that she always held. He never knew why she was always smiling, nor did he wish to find out.

She turned her head, her smile widening at the sight of Aemond.

“Aemond!” Her voice was cheerful, slowly standing as he walked towards her.

“Princess,” Aemond smiled-a half smile-at her as he looked around, then slowly back at her. “It’s quite late. Should you not be in your chambers?”

She always thought the way he cared for her, even if he didn’t show it outright, was extremely enticing. She knew how he was with others, but she knew the differences he had with almost everyone in court-so what made her so different? Why her, the object of the second son's affection.

“Perhaps I do not wish to sleep. Perhaps…I quite like the quietness of the garden.” She smiled innocently, looking back towards the fountain as she started to walk. Aemond knew her well enough to see that this was a quiet plea for him to join her; Because no matter how much she enjoyed the quietness of the garden, she enjoyed it much more when he was with her.

Aemond stared at her, as he often did, but this time, it was different. The stare he held was nothing short of primal. He watched the light in her eyes as she smiled up at him and for some reason, now, he wished to watch as the innocent light in her eyes slowly dwindled as he claimed her.

“Aemond? Is something wrong?” Her voice snapped his thoughts back, if only for a moment. She stopped walking to look up at him and she crossed her arms underneath her chest. His eye trailed down slowly, fixating on the way that her cleavage just slightly out of her dress. He was like a man starved; Clinging to the littlest of details that would make his imagination run wild.

She seemed to notice the way that his eye raked over her chest like a starving man, and her face flushed with embarrassment. She-though subconsciously-reached up to place her arm over her chest, but to her surprise, Aemond gently took her hand, and when she looked up, his one sapphire eye was locked with hers.

“You needn’t cover up. Not around me.” He spoke calmly, though his heart was racing and his head spinning. He let out a shaky breath as he lowered her hand and looked into her eyes.

She watched him carefully, searching his gaze for anything that would betray him. In truth she didn’t know what she was searching for, but she felt as if she should be searching for something.

Aemond lifted a hand, placing the back of his knuckles against her hot cheek. The gesture was gentle, and slow, something he was not known for. His eye slowly trailed down her face, and his eye caught on her lips, his breath heavy as he reached his hand up and gently placed his thumb over her plush bottom lip.

Her eyes followed his, big, and full of longing. She stared at him as his thumb pushed against her lip. She didn’t know exactly what to do; She knew that this moment was intimate, far too intimate to be happening between a betrothed woman and a bachelor. But, the way he gazed at her made her feel hot, and the way he trailed his hand over her face and body made her want to see where this could lead.

His free hand shakily went up to her waist, cupping it firmly as he brought her closer. He leaned forward, just slightly, till his nose was pressed against hers. Her breath hitched, and her eyes instinctively closed. She waited for him to press his lips against hers, to feel his mouth on hers like she had (shamefully) always wished for. But, it never came.

When she opened her eyes again, she saw Aemond breathing heavily, desperately trying to restrain himself. He pulled away slightly, and he shook his head,

“I shouldn’t take advantage of you…not like this.” Though his words held conviction, it seemed his body betrayed him. His hand stayed on her waist, slowly trailing up and cupping her breast in his hand. She gasped softly at the feeling, and his thumb went to her lip again before he connected his lips to hers. She responded immediately, putting her hands on his arms.

He kissed her like he was dying, his body subconsciously reacting more to the kiss then he’d wish it to. He pulled her flush against him, his strong hands coming to cup her face, his shoulders shrugging in a futile attempt to have her closer. He opened his mouth, causing her to gasp at the feeling of his tongue against hers. Her mouth moved with his as if it was known to her; As if this was a dance she had practiced for years to perfect, as if the dance of her lips was a song that Aemond had mastered just for her.

She practically melted in his arms. She had been kissed before; Jace was a good kisser but he was soft, and the kisses were never not chaste. But, kissing Aemond was like walking through fire. Her entire body reacted to the way he clung to her body, how he pulled her impossibly closer. It was like a fire had escaped through his lips and was now coursing through her veins and settling in her abdomen.

Even though she didn’t know exactly what to do, it seemed her body did. Her hands slid down his arms and slowly made their way to his chest as she moaned softly.

The moan grounded him, like he had been falling from the heavens and down to earth. He suddenly pulled away, breathless as he stared down at her. Her eyes opened steadily, and she looked up at him with confusion while a frown graced her kiss swollen lips.

“We shouldn’t have done that.” He spoke breathlessly, his hand still gently stroking her side.

“Maybe not..but it felt good.” Gods, the way she spoke held him in a chokehold. He wished desperately to dive back into her; To drown in her lips and never come up for air, but..

“Not again. You are to be married.” He suddenly pulled away and at the feeling of his hands leaving her body, she frowned deeper.

“Aemond-” “Goodnight, Princess.”

And with that, the prince turned and rushed back into the keep.

____________________________________________

Aemond couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned in bed, picking at his nails, biting his lip-genuinely anything to help stop the incessant thoughts of her lips.

The thoughts started off sweet and innocent. The way she looked up at him as he trailed his thumb over her lip, the way her lips pursed just slightly when he leaned forward.

But then the thoughts got venereal fast. He thought about how he felt to finally kiss her. The way his lips practically burned when they pulled away. He knew that as he gazed at her kiss swollen lips his night would be harbored with thoughts of what they’d look like doing gods knows what else.

His hand slid down underneath the sheets, firmly grasping at his length as he let out a shuddering breath. He hated doing this; Feeling so pent up and so desperate that he had to resort to using himself. But as of right now he couldn’t care less.

He imagined her lips around his cock, her innocent eyes gazing up into his. He’d imagine the way she’d gag around him, how her lips would look kissing the head of his cock.

He groaned at the thought, his head tipping back as he closed his eye and let his thoughts wander more. He’d think about how she’d look with his seed covering her lips and her chin, how she’d moan his name as he devoured her between her legs-

He peaked with a gasp, and a low moan of her name. The minute his orgasm washed over him, and he started to slowly come down, he felt an intense feeling of guilt, shame, but most of all pain.

Guilt and shame because he hated himself for touching himself to someone who couldn’t be his.

Pain because she’d never be his. Pain because he knew that no matter what he did, she’d still be betrothed to Jacerys.

____________________________________________

The next morning, she sat alone at breakfast, supposedly liking it more that way. With her fiance practically ignoring her, and her father too entranced with kissing the king's ass, she learned to enjoy the solitude of just…nothing.

Plus, she always had her thoughts. Even if they were only occupied with Aemond.

She played around with the food on her plate as her mind trailed. She remembered the way he kissed her, how he held her. She felt happy, something she so rarely felt with Jacerys.

She knew how he felt, how he longed for and wished for Baela. She did not blame him, she was beautiful, but she also didn’t feel sad, which, at a point did bother her but, not so much.

At least, not after last night.

She smiled to herself as she thought about the kiss, wishing that he would do it again, longing for the way the heat escalated through her body.

She didn’t register the voice next to her until it spoke her name.

She looked up, surprised. But, when her eyes met with Aemond’s, her heartbeat quickened, and she smiled.

“Aemond.”

“You’re not hungry?”

“What?” “You’re not eating.” “Oh,” Her cheeks flushed red for a reason unbeknownst to her, and with a soft huff, she pushed the plate away, “It seems as though I have lost my appetite.”

Aemond looked concerned at that, and he looked down at her. Despite himself, he found himself worrying yet again for her comfort, her needs.

“Is something the matter?” She shakes her head, but for some reason, Aemond was persistent. “If this is about what happened last night, then I should apologize-”

“Apologize?” She interrupted, sitting up straighter at the mention of the word. “Why?”

“Yes…apologize. Because we should not have done that-”

“But I wanted it to happen.”

Aemomd stopped and he slowly looked towards her. His eye pierced into hers as if to read every thought and emotion that crossed her brain. He just simply couldn’t believe her.

“You shouldn’t say things you do not mean, Princess.”

“You don’t know that I don’t mean it.”

“Princess-”

“Aemond.” She said his name as if to challenge him, and he knew that he truly could never challenge her. He saw it in her eyes, he saw by the way she looked at him and smiled that she wished for him just as he wished for her. But these feelings-these blockages-would only cause unnecessary trouble.

“Please, do not give me a hope that cannot be upheld.” Her heart broke a little at that, and, as he stood to leave, she instinctively stood with him, taking his wrist in her hand as she pulled on his arm. As if the small gesture would stop him from walking, (it did).

“Aemond please..You do not know what I wish for.”

His lip curled down into a small frown as he looked at her. He knew what she felt-at least he thought he did-but even if his suspicions were right, even if she did wish for him like how he longed for her, he couldn’t. He may dislike, perhaps even hate his nephew, but he was better than stealing his fiance.

Right?

“We cannot. To be with you would disgrace your family and the alliance-”

“Fuck the alliance!” She swore, her eyes boring into his as she studied his face. “Fuck the alliances Aemond, I wish for you. Desperately, I wish for you. Jace does not see me like how you do. Jace does not make me feel the way that you do-”

“It does not matter if Jace makes you happy or if he makes you feel desired-” “He does not wish for me as you do!”

“Princess-” “You do not understand! We are speaking of breaking it off. Neither of us wish for this.” Aemond went quiet at this and he sighed heavily, turning his full body towards her. He pried his arm away from her, staring at her incredulously, his body language giving no open window to how he was truly feeling. With no words coming from him, she continued.

“I love you.” At those words Aemond showed his shock. He took a step back from her and he raised an eyebrow.

“You do not mean-”

“Oh for the love of-Yes! I mean it! I love you, Aemond! I love you as if it is breathing! Instinctively, not thinking about it….I love you.”

Aemond couldn’t hold it anymore, he walked to her and gripped her face tightly, her cheeks squishing slightly in his grasp as he smashed his lips against hers. She initially was shocked at the sudden kiss, but she kissed him back fiercely, holding his wrists as she leaned up to kiss him deeper.

He led her back until he pressed her back against the table, holding her thighs as he pushed her onto the table. His body fit perfectly in between her thighs, just like he imagined it would. His hands gripped her thighs, one of his hands traveling up, feeling and savoring the soft skin as he groaned.

She pulled away from the kiss to leave small kisses along his jaw. He bit his lip at the feeling, the action presumably so innocent and so sweet it almost made him chuckle.

He pulled back slightly, his gaze intense and lust filled as his hand trailed underneath her breasts.

“Tell me to stop.” He demanded. His head was spinning with the lust that clouded it. He waited for her to push him away, or to whimper a soft “I do not think myself ready”- But she shook her head, bringing his head back to hers swiftly to connect their lips in another passionate kiss.

He pulled away from the kiss, groaning to himself as he left hot, open mouthed kisses against her jaw and neck. He looked down, his breath heavy as he stared down into her cleavage. He wished for nothing more than to rip her dress open and kiss every inch of her body, but being in the dining room came with its disadvantages. So, he settled for kissing her cleavage, before trailing his lips down the fabric of her dress till he came to her thighs.

Aemond pushed her dress up as far as he could, staring at her the whole time. He slowly pushed her thighs about, giving her time to stop him but she never did. Gently kissing the inner side of her thigh, he tried to reassure her. He could see the uncertainty in her eyes; The way she looked at him with both anxiety and lust. He stared up at her searching for any sign or signal that would make him stop.

“Is this okay?” Once he saw the light nod of her head, he disappeared underneath her dress.

She had never been intimate with a man-courtesy of her father, enforcing the “Women should be pure” melodramatic speech into her head ever since she could stand. She always thought it to be a chore, only having heard stories from unhappy married women who hated their husbands, and much less disliked their children a little less, but this? This was exciting, this felt good.

She placed a hand on his head, moaning his name under her breath as he ate her like a beast. His hands gripped her thighs as if to ground himself-He had tasted women before but for some reason she was so much sweeter, so much more divine. His eyes practically rolled back just from pushing his tongue into her heat, sucking gently on her flit before he pulled away slightly, focusing his attention on her clit as he dipped a finger inside of her.

The sudden stretch made her jump, and gasp loudly. She may have pleasured herself before but it really never felt like what Aemond was doing to her. He eased his finger in slowly, dragging it back out, and then slowly pushing it back in. Hearing the moans that graced her lips, he continued the slow thrust of his finger for a moment before he added another one.

She let out a loud moan, a hand on the back of his head as she pushed his head closer to her heat. She felt him chuckle against her, the vibrations only adding to the pleasure. She moaned loudly, perhaps too loudly for comfort, but Aemond only seemed to want more of those noises to come from her.

He slowly curled his fingers, his mouth praising her clit. The added pressure with the curl of his fingers, and the sucking of her clit made her eyes squeeze shut.

“Oh gods Aemond, I’m going to-” Just as her orgasm was going to consume her, it stopped. With her heavy breathing, and slightly shaky legs, she slowly sat up. Aemond smirked up at her, holding her gaze as he nipped at her inner thighs. “You stopped..”

“Yes. Because if you are going to peak it should be on my cock.”

Her face flushed at the words, and she stared at him with wide eyes as he pulled his trousers down slightly to free his throbbing cock. As their eyes met, he seemed to notice the slight anxiety in her eyes, because he pressed his forehead against hers and lined himself up with her entrance.

“Tell me to stop if it hurts too much.” She nodded in response, and she wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders as he pushed into her. She let out a gasp; The feeling was new, discomfiting but..new. Her face scrunched up at the stretch, and Aemond shushed her quietly as he started to move. After a few thrusts, her body relaxed, and she started to moan his name.

Hearing his name fall from her lips was like a prayer answered, like a lifelong dream he had been waiting for. He grunted as he started to rock his hips back and forth into her slowly. It took everything inside of him to not pound into her, to fuck her like he had fantized about. He wished that her father could see her now, her maidenhood gone and her body fully submitting to the pleasure he so gracefully gave her.

“Aemond..Aemond oh gods-” Her voice broke as he went faster, her moans only getting louder. She tried to wrap her mind around the pleasure he was giving her, the way his hips moved slowly yet deeply, the way the tip of his thick cock rubbed against the spot so deliciously. Her eyebrows furrowed, and she held him close to her.

One of his hands was on her thigh, the other on the table as he thrusted into her, as if holding the edge of the table would stop the creaking sounds, or the way she moaned his name, or how his groans got louder as his climax approached.

White splattered her vision as her orgasm washed over. She cried out his name in pleasure, holding him close as his legs trapped him inside of her. The feeling of her core pulsating and tightening made Aemond’s head spin, and he grunted out a moan of her name as he came himself, spilling his seed inside of her.

As the two sat there, basking in the afterglow of being intimate, neither of them would move for what felt like hours. Even though the position that they were in was compromising, they smiled, and laughed softly at the situation itself.

Once they both got cleaned up-the best they could get cleaned up for just having sex on the dining room table-Aemond took her hand. She smiled softly at Aemond, her heart racing in a new, and exciting way. The two stared at each other for a while, trying to wrap their minds around the fact that now, they could truly be together, or at least, now, they had a hope that they could be together.

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#aemond targaryen #house of the dragon aemond #aemond fluff #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen imagine #team green #aemond smut #smut #hotd smut #hotd fanfic #hotd x reader #hotd imagine #hotd fanfiction #hotd fic #aemond angst

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vampcubus · 9 months ago

Text

𝐊𝐍𝐘 𝐂𝐔𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐂𝐒

:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 : kyojuro rengoku, tengen uzui & wives, poly obamitsu, tanjiro kamado, inosuke hashibira, zenitsu agatsuma.

:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : sfw, gn!reader, big spoon coded reader cus i said so, wholesome fluff, cuddling n snuggling, polyamory (tengen & obamitsu's parts), kamaboko trio aged up as per usual.

𝐊𝐘𝐎𝐉𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐎𝐊𝐔

— A teddy bear in the shape of a man and enthusiastic to be used as one! As a Hashira, Kyojuro is often kept away for days and weeks at a time, so he makes the most of every moment you spend together.

— Kyojuro's not happy unless he's got his arms full of his favorite person, so you can expect him to seek you out the moment he arrives home.

— If you’re a civilian and he finds you in the kitchen, he’ll drape himself over you from behind, nuzzling his face into your neck and lavishing it with smiling kisses, rugged hands settling on your hips.

— Kyojuro wants to be cuddled to sleep and truly can’t bear to be parted from you, no matter how swelteringly hot it gets in the summer months. And if he has obligations, he tries to wake up a little early so he can have a few minutes of cuddle time with you before he’s whisked away. You don’t even have to be awake for it, he just wants to hold you for a little while <3

— He started out as a big spoon but converted into a little spoon when he discovered what it felt like to be properly held. He’s no more content than he is when he’s got his back pressed to your chest and you’ve curled yourself around his broad frame.

— He likes it best when you rub his belly when his eyes are too big for his stomach, always easing a bit of the discomfort <3

— Kyojuro is comfy to lay on, with two perfect pillows for you to rest your head on (his pecs <3). His muscles are quite soft when relaxed, and the way his heart stutters when your cheek rests on it is so cute.

— Kyojuro feels safe in your presence so he’s very prone to falling asleep on your shoulder or with his head in your lap. With his workload and inconsistent sleep schedule, he’s often a cuddle session away from nodding off. Particularly so when you start playing with his flaxen hair, it’s like his off-switch 🤭

— He’s a bit of an oversized lapdog and’ll climb into your lap every chance he gets. As far as he’s concerned, that’s his seat. It looks funny to outsiders if he’s bigger than you, but he hardly cares, all too eager to get all comfy in your lap and tell you about his day.

𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐍 𝐔𝐙𝐔𝐈 & 𝐖𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐒

— Big, tough man too cool to cuddle? No sir. Tengen is a touchy lover and raises a brow when you try to sit anywhere other than his lap, like why aren't you in your assigned seat? 🤨

— Pulls you flush against his side every chance he gets, wrapping a heavy arm around your shoulders. You often get a companion wet kiss to the cheek to boot just to see you scrunch your face up and wipe his spit off your cheek >:(

— His wives are just like him– Suma especially who practically hangs off of you with those big doe eyes, clinging onto your arm during outings as a group. Between Tengen and Suma, your hands will never be lonely and you'll certainly never be cold. Those two are space heaters and can't keep their hands off their partners to save their lives.

— Makio is easily flustered by affection but ultimately craves it, even if getting her to admit it is like pulling teeth. A hopeless romantic at heart <3 She’s a big spoon and overheats easily, so she prefers to linger on the edges of the cuddle piles. She’ll smack your thigh if you move around too much with an annoyed grumble. She can be such a meanie sometimes 😔

— Hinatsuru doesn’t mind holding or being held, she just wants to be close to you. Though generally more soft-spoken than Makio, Tengen, and Suma, her affectionate touch translates her love for her partners so clearly. Often rubs soothing circles over your back, rests a comforting hand on your arm, and pets your hair while you cuddle.

— Tengen likes to talk when you cuddle, prattling on about his or your day while rubbing your side or back mindlessly. Most times, he talks you to sleep or vice versa, considering what a busy guy he is before retirement. Sometimes you’ll get caught up in deep conversations about your past lives, silly theories, or ping-pong flirtatious banter until you can barely keep your eyes open.

— Tengen likes it most when you and the wives crawl right on top of him, all to eager to be living furniture for his beautiful spouses while you all gossip and giggle to each other.

𝐎𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐈 𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 & 𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐈 𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐑𝐎𝐉𝐈

— Dare I say the clingiest partners ever?

— Obanai hesitates where as Mitsuri openly throws herself into your arms at every opportunity. Just be patient and take things slow and he'll follow Mitsuri's example. It’s a subtle shift, maybe he leans his head on your shoulder to test the waters, unable to meet your eyes. He melts if you wrap an arm around his shoulders and rub his arm, eyelids drooping as he relaxes further against you.

— Mitsuri is a cuddle bug in every sense of the word, like a tiny, purring kitty rubbing its body against your legs when you come near. You swear she chirps like one too, especially when her affections are met with a head pat or tender kiss.

— Obanai won’t say it, but he likes it when he’s in the middle, tucked safely between his two favorite people. The three of you spend many long hours this way, just relaxing in each other's embrace before your obligations call you away from the cuddle puddle– with no shortage of complaints from your lovers (Obanai’s longing wistful look as you go is just as painful as Mitsuri’s whines)

— Their clinginess only worsens as your relationship progresses, I’m afraid 💀 Obanai has a death grip comparable to a boa constrictor, especially when he’s in a deep sleep.

— I have a vivid image in my mind of Mitsuri having to use her insane strength to pry his arms off of you and scooch herself in your place so you can pee in the middle of the night, barely able to stifle her giggles. (Obanai is very much this meme)

𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐉𝐈𝐑𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐎

— Touch starved but doesn’t know it, and is also unintentionally touchy. Until he isn’t. Until his touches seem all too intentional, never without meaning.

— Cuddling with you is one of his favorite activities and he’ll even schedule official cuddle time if you let him, so you never go without the comfort of one another’s arms for long. He’ll even decline plans if it’s the wrong time of day…

“Sorry, I’d love to, but it’s almost four and I always cuddle with my partner around that time.”

— And no it’s not negotiable. What if he was late, or missed it and hurt your feelings? No no, he’s far too considerate for that.

— Besides, he misses cuddle time the most when he’s out in the field, miles away from your warm embrace. You can tell he’s missing you in the letters he sends home, commenting about how it “ sure is cold out here,” though the longer he goes without the less subtle he is, rephrasing how he misses you in every paragraph. Can you really blame him? He truly adores you so it’s hard to be away from you :((

— Prefers to be the little spoon but ultimately will be happy no matter how you’re cuddling. (I expand on little spoon Tanjiro in this post <3)

𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐀

— Instinctually touchy and yet so unused to cuddling. Inosuke doesn’t know much about positive affectionate touch so he tends to squirm out of hugs and gets a little anxious when you hold him still too long, much like a dog would. He asks you what you’re doing, voice a little softer than normal, cheeks a little pink beneath his mask.

“Cuddling you?” you reply, equally confused by his reaction as he is to your affection. “Well stop it. It feels weird,” he huffs, and you comply, albeit a bit disheartened. You can’t help but be curious about his rejection, so you push past the sudden awkwardness of the moment to inquire about it. “Feels weird how?” “I don’t know! It just does!” he snaps defensively, a little frustrated, an emotion you can’t help but mirror. But then you relax, reminding yourself to be understanding. It must show on your face though, because he follows you around until he’s sure you aren’t mad at him. Your understanding nature is something he’s still getting used to as well.

— Take it slow with him if you can help it, form positive associations with touch, and then try again another time and he’ll be more receptive <3 REALLY receptive after a while, like before you know it you’ve got a stage 10 clinger on your hands 😭

— Especially if you start sleeping together, cus he likes to cover you with his whole body as his way of protecting you while you’re in a vulnerable state.

— However, he will get bitchy if he catches you taking naps without him there to cuddle up to you. Like just say you don’t love him 😔 You’ll wonder why he’s giving you dirty looks and the cold shoulder all day, yeah it’s cus you didn’t immediately come find him to nap. Traitor.

— He associates cuddling with sleep so he’s prone to nodding off, and if you guide his head to rest on your chest and massage his scalp? He’s dead to the world, snoring and everything.

𝐙𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐒𝐔 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐀

— You cannot pry this man off of you and I mean it. He was clinging to you before you were even an item, often to your leg, your kimono, your hand, wherever he can reach. If you reciprocate once, he’ll keep coming back for more of it. So touch starved it’s pitiable, and he’s smart enough to know that looking pathetic earns him sympathy.

— That said, he’s taken aback if you initiate cuddling, almost unable to fathom being desired. It’s only then that he gets a little shy, chuckling nervously as you take him into your arms. Doesn’t know what to do with himself.

— Zenitsu isn’t picky about how you cuddle, just that you’re touching in every way possible. Tangles his legs with yours, wriggles as close as humanly possible, and holds your clothing in an iron grip.

— Oftentimes he looks so blissed out when he’s wrapped up in your embrace, eyes half-lidded or drooping with sudden sleepiness. You’re just so comfortable, and comforting, and beautiful and aaaa before he knows it he’s muttering all these things to you.

You awaken slowly to a considerable weight on your chest, squinting with your eyes closed you feel around blindly and find the familiar shape of your husband sprawled out on top of you. You sigh, recognizing his snores and a smile tugs at your lips despite it being tough to breathe. Your palm rests on his back, bunching in the thick fabric of his hoari. Your eyes finally crack open, the morning light illuminating your fully-dressed partner. Must’ve been a long night, you mused to yourself, able to picture a half-asleep Zenitsu stumbling into bed so clearly in your mind. Though even his unconscious alter-ego tended to seek you out. You turn, shifting Zenitsu onto his side. He stirs, but only slightly, immediately tucking his head under your chin with a grunt. “Don’t go,” he murmurs in his sleep, most likely to a dream version of you and a fondness warms your chest. “Stay.”

#‧₊🦇˚⊹ ashi writes #kny x reader #demon slayer x reader #kyojuro rengoku x reader #rengoku kyojuro x reader #kyoujurou rengoku x reader #obanai iguro x reader #mitsuri kanroji x reader #tengen uzui x reader #obamitsu x reader #obanai x reader x mitsuri #tanjiro kamado x reader #inosuke hashibira x reader #zenitsu agatsuma x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #gn!reader #gender neutral reader

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estrellami-1 · 2 months ago

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Ok so I saw a post about Steve as a teacher letting his kids control his Spotify which means his Wrapped is All Over The Place but the top artist is Corroded Coffin and Steve finds out from the thank-you video that Eddie is hot. I see it, I love it, it’s inspired.

I’m thinking something… a little different.

“Alright, class!” Steve calls. “Marcus, it’s your turn to choose the music, right?”

“Actually, Mr. H?” Amber pipes up. “Spotify Wrapped came out today!”

Steve blinks. “Spotify… what?”

Marcus is nodding. “Spotify Wrapped! It tallies up what you’ve listened to and gives you stats and stuff. It’s cool!”

“Ah,” Steve says, nodding, squinting at his computer. “And I see that… how?”

There’s a cacophony of noise until Steve holds up a hand. Everyone quiets, and Becky holds her hand up. He nods at her. “It’s at the top,” she says softly. “Where your recently played is.”

He smiles at her. “Thank you, Becky.” He navigates to it, clicking on it and letting the graphic play.

Their genre, apparently, is soft grass indie metal. He’s entirely sure that’s made up. Their top artist, making up sixty-four percent of the music they listened to, is Corroded Coffin.

There’s a video; a little thank-you the band put together. It starts with Eddie up front, as the lead singer. Gareth, Jeff, and Freak are slightly behind him, grinning at the camera. Steve recognizes the background as Jeff’s living room. “Hi!” Eddie starts. “Thanks so much for listening to our music this year.”

“We couldn’t do what we do without you,” Gareth adds on.

“And everything we do is for you!” Jeff says.

“It’s totally metal of you to listen to our music, and we appreciate it!” Freak finishes. They all wave, and the camera cuts off.

Steve is… gobsmacked. He loves his husband, truly, but he looks so uncomfortable, and the way he’s speaking is weirdly stilted. He was not made to stand still.

He shakes his head, knowing he’s about to make Eddie’s year, and blow these kids’ minds.

Eddie had always been more vocal than Steve about coming out, saying fuck it to the consequences. Maybe being gay was accepted in the metal community, but Steve had been too new in his current job to even think about the jeopardy this could put his career in.

But honestly. That video was terrible, and his kids deserve better.

He sighs, raises a hand to get the class’s attention. “I know that was cool,” he chuckles. “But if you can be quiet and patient, I could get you something even cooler.”

“Cooler than a video from Corroded Coffin?” Nick asks.

Steve tilts his head. “Cooler than that video, at least.”

Nick doesn’t look convinced. “Are you sure?”

Steve just smiles. “How about we find out?” He puts a finger to his lips and FaceTimes Eddie.

He makes sure his volume is low, enough so that he even has trouble hearing when Eddie picks up.

“Baby!” Eddie exclaims, then clocks the background and is instantly worried. “Wait, you’re still at work. Are you okay? Is everything okay? Did you hit your head again? Do I need to come get you?”

“Christ, you’re dramatic,” Steve mutters, grinning wide. “I’m fine. I’m with my class, and we just finished looking at our Spotify Wrapped. Guess who our number one artist for the year was.”

Eddie’s eyes sparkle. He grins. Steve nods. “Corroded Coffin,” he confirms, then sighs. “I have to say, though, I was a little disappointed by the video.”

Eddie groans, throwing his head back. Steve gets a great view up his husband’s nose. “I know! I know, it sucked, but the guys were happy with it and it was, like, our eighth go, and-”

“I get it,” Steve promises. “But how would you like to one-up it?”

It takes Eddie a second, but his eyes gleam. “Are you sure? Your career-”

“Is stable enough now,” Steve finishes. “I’m sure. If you are.”

“Fuck,” Eddie mouths, conscientious of Steve’s class. “I love you.”

Steve smiles, blows a kiss to the camera. He gets a smattering of awws from some of his female students.

He figures out how to connect his phone to his computer to the screen, pushes the volume button up, and nods. “Go, Eds.”

Eddie grins and waves at the screen. “Hi, Mr. Harrington’s class! I’ve heard so much about you guys. It’s totally metal that you’re listening to our music—that’s something your teacher neglected to tell me.” He grins at the screen, a private thing for Steve, who dutifully rolls his eyes.

“I hear your music every day, Eds, forgive me if I don’t think anything of it when I hear it here and at home.”

“Mr. H,” Nathan asks in a pseudo-whisper, “how the hell do you know Eddie Munson?”

Eddie bursts out in a laugh. “You must be Nathan,” he says.

Nathan goes white, then pink. “H-hi, Mr. Munson, sir.”

“I think you should be their teacher,” Steve says, grinning first at Eddie, then his class. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard Nathan say sir before.”

Everyone laughs—including Nathan—and Eleanor raises her hand. “How do you know him?”

Steve takes a breath, glances at his phone. Eddie’s smiling patiently at him, and Steve’s own smile grows as he answers her. “I’m his husband,” he tells her.

“Ten years and counting!” Eddie crows. “Though we’ve known each other for… twenty… something.”

Steve chuckles. “Twenty-three, Eds. If you count high school, which I don’t.”

“But I do,” Eddie nods. “Twenty-three years. And counting.”

Steve chuckles again. “And counting,” he agrees.

As his room explodes into noise, he looks back at his phone to find Eddie already looking at him.

That��s the way it goes, he thinks. Eddie saw him the whole time. It took Steve a while to catch up, but now that he has, he’s never been happier.

Twenty-three years and counting, indeed.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #I don’t know what this is #it’s probably terrible #my brain didn’t want to do this #but I made it #starambles

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tojirights · 1 year ago

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bro i’m going absolutely INSANE over alastor 😻😻

so, how about when lucifer comes by the hotel, he subtly flirts w alastors girl. alastor is on the verge of going apeshit and almost leaves charlie fatherless.

instead of murdering anyone, he decides to take his frustrations out on his darling, leaving bite marks and hickies on spots just visible enough for lucifer to notice next time he comes by..

a/n: im OBSESSED 😍😍

alastor immediately recognized lucifer as competition on multiple fronts. obviously, the king of hell was a threat in terms of power level, and alastor hated that. but alastor also quickly hated how charming the devil was.

upon meeting you, lucifer takes your hand and bows, placing a kiss on your hand as well. alastor's eye twitches, watching someone else put their dirty little hands and mouth on what is his. "my, what a pleasure. you're helping charlie? that's lovely! means i'll get to be seeing you around more, huh? she didn't mention such a pretty little thing was her hotel manager." lucifer speaks to you, a cool smirk on his face. he's clearly interested in you, and while alastor can't blame the man, he's seething with rage. clearing his throat, alastor takes a step towards you and reaches a hand out to lucifer in an attempt to shift his attention.

"alastor." he speaks, barely containing the anger in his voice. "it truly is an honor to be meeting you, sir." you raise a brow at the tense interaction going on in front of you but pay it no mind. lucifer gives alastor a tight lipped smile and shakes his hand. "ah, you as well. charlie has talked about you." you notice the way alastor glares at lucifer, yet keeps a smile on his face the entire time. lucifer turns back to you, putting a gloved hand on the small of your back. "now how's about a tour, hm?" he leans into your ear to whisper, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin.

behind you, alastor's horns grow and eyes redden, ready to risk it all in a fight with the devil and take out this whole god damned hotel if it meant lucifer never touched you again. "o-oh um, that's typically done by-" you start, but suddenly, charlie is running down the stairs with a panicked look on her face.

"heeyy dad! let's go this way, towards your room! it's late, you should rest." her smile is clearly fake, and you see her eyes dart from you to alastor and back to you. luckily, alastor reeled in his rage when the princess showed up and was back to his normal self on the surface. you can feel the energy coming from your partner, malicious intent painted all over his aura and you gulp. "al, c'mon... charlie's right."

alastor doesn't speak, but he follows you to your room for the night. the door is barely shut before alastor is lifting your legs and tossing you onto the bed. "care to explain why the fuck that little slimy king of hell was all over you?" he doesn't give you another moment to process before he's tugging your shirt over your head. "it's just harmless, al. you know i don't want anyone but you." you assure him, but alastor's teeth find your neck.

"i may trust you, darling, but i do not trust lucifer." his voice has a low growl to it that ignites your core. "but-" you gasp when alastor's mouth closes on the skin behind your ear, nipping it with sharp teeth. "no, because he and everyone in this place will know who you belong to." you shudder underneath of him, slight tinges of pain shooting down your spine at every nip and pull of your skin. alastor moves down your neck, leaving a trail of angry red and purple spots in his wake.

his tongue circles every bruise in an attempt to soothe your inflamed skin, but the marks just darken by the second. you hands dive into his hair, holding onto the silky strands. you feel alastor's body shudder as you circle the tufts of hair by his ears, making him press his hips to yours. "everyone in hell, my dear, is going to know that you're mine. not a single soul will ever try to touch you again." his breathing hitches, grinding his quickly hardening cock against your leg. you whimper when his teeth latch onto your collarbone, sucking hard and adding another welt to your skin.

"i want him to hear you." he hisses as he tugs your pants down over your ankles. its hasty, the way alastor frees his cock and pushes into your pussy, but you were more than ready for the intrusion. you cry out, suddenly being so, so full and alastor groans. "yes darling, just like that." your legs wrap around his waist, forcing every thrust just a little further until he's pounding at your cervix.

"d-don't stop sir." you gasp, eyes rolling into the back of your head while alastor's mouth latches onto the other side of your neck this time. "who do you being to?" he asks, hot breath fanning your skin. "y-you, alastor!" you whine, flexing your hips up to his in an attempt to build friction. "please, make me cum. only you feel so good." alastor peppers you in soft kisses now, ever grateful that you're willing to entertain the idea of letting lucifer know just who makes you feel like this.

alastor sneaks a hand between your bodies to rub skillful circles around your clit until your legs start shaking. "good, good girl. scream for me." he smirks when your tone shifts and he can tell by how tight you squeeze around his cock. "a-alastor fuck!" your body spasms, waves of pleasure rolling over you as you cum. alastor's orgasm follows shortly after, his teeth finding your skin once more as he spills deep inside of your pussy.

you have a brief moment of embarrassment when you think about just how loud you just were, your hand flying up to your mouth. alastor just laughs, placing a kiss on your forehead. "don't panic, my sweet. i think this little display will prove quite effective in keeping lucifers grubby little hands off of you." alastor pulls out slowly and carries you to a nice warm shower before tucking you in for the night.

---

"jesus christ, did you get into a fuckin' fight with a bear?" angel laughs when you walk into the kitchen the next morning. you were covered in hickeys all the way down your neck, and you were barely walking straight. lucifer refuses to make eye contact with you, especially after alastor walks into the room shortly after. "good morning everyone!" alastor chirps, smirking at lucifer who rolls his eyes and sips his coffee.

"well, there's the bear..." husk mutters, earning a cackle from angel.

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x you #alastor x reader smut #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel smut #alastor smut #alastor imagines #alastor x you smut #hazbin x you #hazbin hotel imagines #hazbin hotel lucifer #alastor hazbin hotel smut #alastor x reader imagines #hazbin hotel alastor smut #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor x reader

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