#killing eve desperate times

[gay-aunt-jackie]

Flirting via postcard because she can't text the woman who launched a federal investigation to find her and sentence her to life in prison

[rafalkbircom]

Help my family evacuate out of Gaza

I'm truly sorry for the hardships you and your family are facing. Your story is heartbreaking, and it's understandable to feel overwhelmed. Here's a short emotional appeal for donations:

Dear friends,

I'm reaching out to you in a time of desperate need. My name is Menna Musa, and I come from Gaza. My life has been shattered by the recent loss of my beloved brothers, Abd and Ahmed, who were killed in front of our house during an attack on our neighborhood. We have been forced to flee to the south, leaving behind everything we had, including our home and our cat.

My surviving brother is still trapped in Gaza with his wife and young children, including my nieces Alma and Dania, who are in urgent need of essentials like milk, diapers, and warm clothes. The situation in Gaza is dire, with bombing, hunger, and fear gripping the region.

I humbly ask for your help to evacuate my brother and his family from Gaza. Each person needs about $5,000 for travel costs, totaling $75,000 for the entire family. Your donation, no matter how small, can make a huge difference in our lives and bring us closer to safety and a brighter future.

Please donate and share our story. Together, we can make a difference.

Thank you for your kindness and generosity.

[wandanatw0rld]

+18 | men & minor denied

beefy!natasha romanoff x pillowprincess!female reader x college!au

warnings: girlxgirl; Natasha being a boxer; rough sex; anal sex; strap on use (r receving); a little bit of praise; fingersucking; brief mention of war; Alexei & Bucky being two assholes; not propfread

b: Natasha's father comes to visit her, but their meeting doesn't go very well, and (un)fortunately for you, you have to pay for her frustration.

I think that's it, have fun ;D

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Okay, I love you too, Mom. Bye" You're sitting on Natasha's bed, notepads and books on every surface, you stop writing and look at the redhair.

"Is everything okay, Nat?" She looks at you, her jaw is clenched, her poor phone pressed against her strong hands, she sits on the edge.

"My dad's coming to visit, he wants to take a tour of Steve's gym," you crawl next to her, taking her hands off her thighs and replacing them with you.

"Is that so bad?" You hold her face, green eyes with a hint of desperation.

"Let's say my dad wanted me to be a doctor and not a boxer," Natasha didn't like to talk about her parents, especially her dad.

Her parents are both from Russia, late Soviet Union, and came to America after the war destroyed their home, the United States seemed to be a place to have a new life with more hopes. Natasha was young and didn't remember much about it, but she remembered the bombs, a whole reason why she hated New Year's Eve.

"Do you want me to be with you?" Natasha seems to consider for a few seconds.

"Are you ready to meet Alexei Romanoff?" She asks you sweetly. "One of the founders of this masterpiece?" Natasha pointed at herself in a very silly way.

"Actually, I am. But let's stop talking about your dad and talk about how much I need you to kiss me".

"I agreed," she says, standing up, you laughing as she holds you, her lips pressed to yours.

...

You were nervous to meet Natasha's father, lost count of the number of times you looked in the mirror, even though the redhead said you looked gorgeous as always. At first, Alexei Romanoff seems really scary with his bear, but he's really an idiot like his daughter. He told jokes, shared stories about Natasha wanting to be a superhero, you kissed her red cheek when the old man made fun of her blue hair.

Now the three of you are in Steve's gym, which he closed just so Natasha could show the place to her dad. But the more you listen to them, the more you're worried about Natasha's well-being.

"You're getting too big, sweetheart. And those tattoos, your mom will lose her mind if she sees you," the redhead breathes out, her patience coming to an end.

"I like my tattoos" You watch them very quietly, the way Natasha squeezes your hand and clenches her jaw makes you worry about her dad. "Dad, please. Look at the size of your belly."

"Your mom likes it".

"I bet she does". Alexei doesn't think it's funny, and you only realize that when he say it to her:

"When are you going to get a real job?" His tone is throaty, sharp as a knife, the same tone Natasha uses when she's stressed.

"This is a real job, Dad. I like working here" Her eyes glow with challenge, one more word and she'll explode.

"Yelena is doing great with me, she's really going to run the business one day".

"Yelena was always looking for your approval." You'd never met Yelena before, but Natasha always talked about the blonde with love and affection.

"Someone has to have it" The silence is heavy, you want to say something, but Natasha could kill her father with her eyes.

"Well, my class is in ten minutes, so... Let me walk you to the exit," Alexei seemed shaken, but he turned to you.

"It was really nice to meet you. When Natasha told me how beautiful you were, I didn't think it would be so much". Natasha doesn't look at either of you.

"Thank you, Mr. Romanoff".

"Please, call me Alexei. You make me feel old".

"You are old." The look in his eyes frightened you.

...

Natasha is taking you home, the fact that she hasn't said a word is worrying.

"See you tomorrow?" You ask and give her a peck on her cheek

"I don't know. I'm busy tomorrow" But she doesn't look at you.

You know what bothers her. Natasha wants her father's approval, all she ever wanted was to make him proud and not being able to do that is killing her. You don't see her the next morning or the day after, so you ask Clint if he knows anything while you both go shopping for baby stuff.

"I don't know, to be honest, she doesn't talk to me" He's looking at the dipers section in the drugstore, you've been helping him for forty minutes now, one of the professors has canceled the class. "I was going to ask her out for a drink, but she didn't answer her phone"

"I'm going to visit her at the gym today after class," you smile sweet at him. "Clint, these are adult dipers".

"God, I'm a terrible dad".

"Don't put too much pressure on yourself, Clint. These are things you can catch up over time.

"Thank you!" You gave his shoulder a good, enthusiastic squeeze.

"I gotta go. I gotta help Wanda with Billy and Tommy."

"Who are they?"

"Her clownfish, but I think one of them is female".

...

The hours seemed to pass so slowly that you didn't notice anything. You left your things in your dorm and hurried to Natasha's work. You entered, the place is quiet, there are a few people working out on headphones. You approach the reception, Bucky, another employee looks at you. You don't like him, the way he provokes Natasha and worse, his jokes towards you, they aren't funny, but it definitely amuses him.

"Hi Bucky, is Natasha here?"

"She asked Steve for a day off, she's at the arena" You turn to leave, but he calls you. "Can I ask you something?"

"Bring it on".

"Why are you with her?" See, not funny. "I mean, I know she's hot and rich, but-."

"I don't think that's any of your business, Bucky."

They march into the arena, loud rock music, The Marvels really hate somebody. Natasha hits the bag with precision, she growls with every punch, it is fucking hot. She doesn't realize you're there until you turn off the music.

"What the fuck!" You wave to her, she takes off her gloves and grabs a bottle of water.

"Hi to you too" You reache her. "I miss you"

"Me too" Her response is somewhat mechanical.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She drinks the water.

"Not really". Getting close to her, analyzing every single detail in her, sweat running down her chest, on her strong arms, the veins on her forearm drive you crazy.

"You're avoiding me, was it something I did?" Natasha keeps not looking at you and starts to get on your nerves.

"Everything's fine" She doesn't add a nickname, which means she's really mad.

There are a few details people need to pay attention to with Natasha Romanoff and you mastered them quite well.

When she's angry, she gets quiet, refuses to look at or talk to anyone, plus she listens to rock music really loud, just like it happened. When she is jealous, especially of Bucky and his aproaches towards you, her voice gets husky and scary, hands on your waist, pulling you close, and when takes you home, she makes sure of making you hers, every inch of your skin belong to her.

She was angry. In this case, angrier than she had ever been.

"Fight with me" Natasha seemed confused.

"I'm not going to fight with you" You take a few steps closer.

"Why not?" You ask, her woody perfume smells so good. "Are you afraid I'll hurt you?" You know you have no chance in a fight, you're smaller than her, in everything. Natasha Romanoff could destroy you with one blow. "Okay then. Bye, Natasha."

"Wait" She holds your wrist, her breathing at a normal pace, she looks at you. Natasha was so angry that she didn't notice that you were wearing her favorite outfit. "I'm sorry about that. Is just... Never mind, I'm fine".

"You're not fine, Nat. Something is bothering you, you can tell me," but she just avoids looking into your eyes. "Is it your dad?" The grip in your wrist had tightened.

"I don't want to talk about him" Natasha looks at your body, you're dressed only for her amusement and it's a waste not to take advantage. "Wait here," she opens the door to the arena.

"What are you doing?" You ask.

"Steve will be using the arena today. I'll open it for him." After that, Natasha grabs her backpack and drags you to Steve's office, then locks you both in.

"Nat-" She presses her mouth against yours, it's rough, your legs go weak. On your tiptoes you grab her face, her lips a little salty, hands on your waist, nails scratching deep into it. You push her onto the table, paper clips, documents, everything goes down. "You have to use me, okay?"

"What?"

"About your dad." Her jaw clenches again. "You can bite me, I don't know, just do whatever you want." With worshipful eyes, Natasha turns your bodies over and places you on the table, your legs wrapped around her waist. "I am all yours".

"You are, detka." Finally, the nickname hits between your thighs. "First I'm going to eat you up and then fuck that pretty pussy of yours," you moan, grabbing her hands and putting them over your mouth, sucking her thumb. "You're so beautiful," she touches your lower lip with her wet thumb.

"Nat..." You move your hips into hers.

"No, Malyshka. You have to stay still." Natasha kissed you as she took off your underwear, lifting your skirt just a little, her fingers dipping into your wetness. "This soaked already?" your nails dipped into her neck "And I'm just getting started" You raised your arms to take off the t-shirt, the fact that you were without a bra pleases her, but then she remembered the asshole at the reception. "I wonder if Bucky knows you're not wearing a bra today.

"No, he didn't look at me today." You know that's a lie. Bucky always looks at you, especially today, he definitely noticed the lack of underwear. You bite your lip, her fingers teasing through your folds.

"I think it's just the opposite, Malyshka," she states, her tone assertive. "When he looks at you, he wants you all for himself." Natasha's lips find a place in your neck, a finger dipping gently into your pussy as her teeth in your shoulder. "He wants to fuck you, but he forgets that I'm the only one who can fuck you."

"Nat, please." Natasha firmly squeezes your neck.

"I'm going to remind him, remind everyone. I am worthy of everything, even you" Her fingers slide over your breasts. "Every inch of you is mine, Detka. Your face, your body, this fucking pretty cunt of yours. I can wait until you come in my mouth." Her teeth clamp down on your right nipple, and she sucks hard. You drop your head back, fingers scratching her neck. It hurts, but you're both enjoying it. Natasha spreads your legs wide, her thumb teasing your clit.

"Nat, easy- oh fuck" She buried her fingers deep into your pussy with no mercy.

"You want me to use you, Malyshka. I will. I'll use every hole in you".

"Mm... So good." Natasha's tongue burns your nipples as she adds a third finger.

"Can it fit one more, Malyshka?" You nod, grabbing her fist that adds the fourth one. "So hungry"

"Nat, take off your... "Mmm... please" The redhead is all smiles now, her pretty girl is so needy. Her thumb throbbs in your clit, and you're desperate. Your breasts are sensetive, but Natasha doesn't seem to be tired of them. She'll never be tired of them. "Fuck!" You pull her close with one of your legs, toes clenching inside your shoes. "Don't stop. Please don't" Natasha releases your breast with a lustful pop, her hand bumping for the last time at your soft spot, and then you melt away at her fingers. "Nat..." You hide your face on her neck.

"Thank you, Malyshka." She kisses your cheek. "I'm sorry for avoiding you these days. I've been overthinking about my dad, but I'm handling it."

"Forget about him. For now, I'm going to come into your mouth" You lick her lips slowly.

"God, you're perfect." She kisses you, hungry, her lips pressed on yours, hands on your breasts. You moan on her mouth, they're so painful. Pushing her, you take off her shirt, throwing it with your clothes. Her breasts are perfect, all sweaty, her tattoos glowing. Your hand lands on her ass, squeezing.

She gets on her knees and puts one of your legs on her shoulder. She can't get enough of your cunt.

"Nat, just fuck me" You demand, she dives into your pussy, and begins to grind her tongue on your clit. "Fuck!" You grab her hair and yank, pulling her closer. You try to close your legs, but she holds them open, her fingers digging into your inner thighs. "God... Shit" she plunges a finger into your cunt. "Mm... Don't" You're trembling, so grab her free hand and put it in your mouth. She's watching everything with adoration, loving the sensations that she causes in you. You're mumbling nonsense, sucking her thumb, and pinching your nipples. "I'm going... Don't stop, Nat. Please, don't... I'm almost" You bite your lips, hands on her head now, her red hair tangled in your fingers, holding her mouth firmly on your pussy, she rasps her teeth in your bud, that's enough to make you come, hard, body shaking, legs like jelly. "You're amazing at this"

"I'm not to blame for your choice in men" You smile, bringing her close to your mouth, tasting you on her. "But I have a surprise for you" You watch her put down the cotton shirt, your mouth getting wet. Nothing compares to the wetness between your legs. Natasha is wearing a pink strap, your favorite. "I was planning to come to your place to use as an apology for my behavior."

"I accept your apology after you fuck me hard"

"I will, Detka" she says, her voice low and seductive. She comes closer, her hands on your ribs, thumbs in both of your nipples. "I'll fuck you so hard that you'll not even walk away from here" She pinches your nipples, her eyes locked on yours. "You want that?" You nod, your lips curling into a slow, sensual smile. "You want that everyone see your trembling walk, especially Bucky."

"Yeah" you say, biting your fingertip.

"Let's arrange that for you" her husky voice commands, sending another wave of pleasure through your body. Natasha pushes her cock inside you, lying down on the desk in a mix of pain and lust, nails scratching her arms. She comes forward, hitting your soft spot, her lips seeking yours. "You're mine. I'm fucking worthy of you. Of anything. This job." She leans her forehead on yours, her growls making you moan loud. "He will see." She's not talking about Bucky. Her hands hold your waist, nails digging into your skin. You're too caught up in the pleasure to feel the pain or the blood from the slightly wound.

"Nat, too much." Her hips don't stop, it hurts, but you're too overwhelmed with lust to care. Then she stops, and you moan in tantrum. Natasha pulls out the strap, and you look at her, confused.

"Turn around".

"I don't-"

"You said I had to use you. I'm using you, Malyshka. Now turn around" You do as she says and turn around. "I've always wanted to know what it's like to fuck your tiny hole" She bends you over the desk, deep inside you regret saying she could use you, but now it doesn't matter. "Don't worry. I'll go real slow, Detka".

"Nat, I've never done this before," you said, holding her wrist and looking up.

"It's okay, we can stop if you don't feel comfortable. I'd never do anything to hurt you." The red hair planted a kiss on your bare shoulder, her hands gently caressing your waist.

"I don't want to stop, I just..." You look into her eyes and you have never trusted her as much as you do now. "I trust you.

"Thank you, Malyshka." You bring her close, kissing her lips, stroking the red hair behind her ears, you feel her positioning the strap on your entrance. You exhale into her mouth as she squeezes a tip, nails digging into her cheek. "Fuck!" She curses, it's fucking painful, no more than the pain you feel on your ass. "You're so fucking tight".

"Nat, I don't think I'm going to-" But then she pulls everything into you, and she starts moving, all you can think is why it's taking you so long to do it. "Fuck!" Your arm encircles her shoulder, she puts one of your legs on the table and spreads it. "Right there, Nat," you feel the plastic going in and out, her hands holding you still, it's fucking good, it burns, but you don't want to stop. "Don't stop, please. Don't stop."

"I'm not going to" And there's the rusky voice, Natasha leads her hand to your clit, touching it very slow, the base of the strap lightly on her clit, then rubbing real rough while she fucks your ass. "You're doing great, pretty girl".

"Mmm... Nat, fuck, please. Faster" Steve's table starts to slide on the floor, more things fall off it. "Almost" Her hips are much faster than you think is possible, you lose control of everything, you start mumbling nonsense again, you don't know what's happening, but you can definitely hear voices coming from the arena, you don't know any of these people, Natasha doesn't seem to care, she's not loud, but she's not quiet either.

"I'm almost there too, detka" You can feel her breasts on your back, her hands pulling your hair to make room for her mouth to find your neck and her teeth dip into it, fingers entering your cunt. You know it's not easy to do it, but Natasha made it seem easy. "Shh Malyska, people will start to hear you," you can't help but moan. You stuffed your mouth with your hand, the teeth go deep. She adds another finger, but then begins to lose frequency, you feel more and more close to the edge. "I'm coming, pretty girl" A few more thrusts and you almost pass out.

Breathes throughout the office, Natasha laid on your back, hands caressing your arms.

"Natasha, are you still there?" It's Bucky. "I didn't see your girlfriend leave. Is she there?"

"Yeah, we're cleaning, Steve asked me to and she's helping me, why?" You only realize what happened when you feel her cock digging into your cunt, a slow moan leaving your lips, it's too sensitive.

"Steve wants to know if you want to join in" Natasha begins to slowly push against your pussy, you want more, you need more, your hands searching for any support.

"Only when I finish cleaning" She kisses your neck, on the mark she made. "No way I'm leaving you for that." She whispers in your ear. Her hips are frenetic. "Can you get that box for me, Detka?" But you don't answer, you can't, it's too good. "You have to say something, Detka".

"T-that o-ne??" Natasha laughs in silence, her smile playful and cocky.

"Okay, I'll tell him." You don't know if Bucky believes that, but it's too good to pay attention.

"You liked that, huh?" She raises her torso, holding your waist, her movements bursting. "Don't try to deny it, Malyshka, I can't keep my cock inside you"

"I like it" She bites your sholders, her tongue burning your skin.

"Malyshka, you're so good to me" Her nails dig into your waist, her hips bump against your butt, the strap gliding smoothly over your wet cunt. "So beautiful accepting everything from me" You feel her front on your back, her teeth biting hard into the skin of your ribs.

Natasha's fingers rub your needy bud.

"Nat... I'm going to... Fuck!" You bite your hand, the small room insanely hot, the voices of people on the other side of the door adding another layer of lust.

"It's okay, pretty girl. You can cum on my cock," the walls are tightening around Natasha's cock, she's gripping your jaw very gently, very different from what her hips are doing, she kisses you. And then you feel the nod in your stomach to undo.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Your teeth mark your hands.

Her hips slowly stop, you feel her heartbeat on your back. She pulls her cock out.

"That was hot." She says, kissing your cheek.

"I don't know if I can walk".

"That's what you wanted," you look at her, almost offended. "I'm joking, Malyshka. We'll have to stay here for a while.

"As if I'm going to leave with all these people".

You watch as Natasha goes to her backpack, grabs a towel, and wraps the strap to clean it later. She picks up your clothes, you can't move, the orgasm has melted your legs.

"Let me help you, Malyshka," Natasha pushes one of your legs through the panties, then the other. "Okay. Do you need help with your shirt?" You nod, you don't need it, but you have a soft spot for her being so sweet and helpful. You raise your hands, she helps you, then she pulls up your skirt, your shoes. "Come here, let's get you somewhere more comfortable" You hold her like a koala while she leads you to a sofa. "I'm going to put my clothes on and then put everything back. You need to rest.

"I want to help you" You try to get up, but your legs are still wobbly.

"It's okay, I can do it myself." She strokes your hair behind your ears.

"Nat, I don't care what your dad thinks. I'm really proud of you and I'm happy to be your girlfriend" The way she smiles at you makes your heart warm and race.

"Thank you, Malyshka. I'm lucky to have you as my girlfriend," you kissed her, your hands pulling her closer, legs around her waist. "Detka, you have to let me go, otherwise we'll have to stay here forever.

"I'll stay." You wanted to tell her that you loved her, but you were too afraid of being rejected or of her not feeling the same, so you backed off, you didn't want to ruin this.

You just didn't know that the redhead felt the same way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[rosettyller]

KILLING EVE

2x04 ● “Desperate Times”

[ghouldtime]

Aquarium Trip with TF141

Because I fish I could go with them lmao, assuming that it's a big group trip

Captain John Price

Ever the leader of the group, he's making sure that everyone is keeping their phone on vibrate or low volume so no one can end up being a straggler who they have to go on a man hunt for

He wants everyone to at least be able to enjoy themselves but he's not going to be chasing them down, desperately trying to find them in the crowd. Just occasionally check your phones and you'll be all set. He's still as observant as always, keeping an eye out and his head in the game, even if he's supposed to be "Relaxing". He's a firm believer in never being too certain or wary

The group trip was more or less mandated as a 'go do things as a group so you can stay sharp, actually use down time, and bond'. Also because Price was needing a break, as much as he said he didn't, and the only way to get him to take it is to force him out of the office

Admittedly he can't be too peeved when the others seem excited (minus Ghost but what can you expect), AND there are a bunch of cute fish and creatures alike to look at

He takes his time with the exhibits - he's stopping to read the cards and identify the fish and other critters. Pair up with him if you want to actually take a breath and enjoy the experience at a reasonable pace

He'll content to just follow in the footsteps of the others and enjoy the day as much as he can, for once, taking it as it is. It's nice to not have to constantly lead or direct when they're fine doing their own thing and he can do his

It's not often he gets any form of time off or relaxation so you bet your ass he's trying his best to do such and make the most of the day he was forced to take. It's a conscious effort, too. He's so used to being in work mode that shutting that off is near impossible

It's why he doesn't go alone and someone is ending up as his buddy. Having someone there to talk can help get him out of his own head and focus on the present moment. You may have to snap him out of it every so often as he keeps thinking too much, it's a habit

Not to mention he likes having somebody there to tell his stories to. Idle chatter helps distract and helps him get closer to those around him. He's well aware he's often work focused so it is quite needed to shift his attention to the human aspect of it. His humanity is often hanging on by a thin thread so doing what he can to reconnect is vital to keep his head screwed on straight and to remind him what he's fighting for

You'll likely end up with him, sitting and watching the ocean tank - full of fish and sharks alike. It's an ever changing environment yet repetitive all the same, it puts him at ease to simply watch. He's quite fond of the stingrays. They remind him of himself :) (as in they can be hidden in plain sight and can kill you in an instant)

Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley

Despite the fact he would rather not be out in public when possible, he didn't exactly protest the idea of the aquarium. Sure, it could be busy but that means he can walk off undetected and hide in whatever dark corner he so pleased until they were done. He was already planning that from the get go

Seeing as his father used animals to psychologically abuse him during his childhood, he's usually quite reluctant to be around them and usually isn't much of a fan. It's not that he hates them, he knows it isn't their fault, he's just... Weary.

He knows that they won't and can't do anything to him, especially behind glass, but there's always that nagging fear and persistent memories that haunt him that urge him to stick to the shadows and wait it out

He has a reason to avoid pretty much every tank. Eels? Like water snakes, too slimy. Jellyfish? Remind him of being stung on a beach off the Gulf of Mexico. Otters? He's sharing with you the unfun otter facts of what messed up animal stuff they do

Yes, he is an utter stick in the mud. He is well aware of that. But the fact that he's even there to begin with is significant progress. It's like voluntary exposure therapy - he's at least trying to work through it, bit by bit. Having the team there helps and they're aware of what is going on, so they simply give him the space he needs to work out his own emotions. No one is there to judge, they're just there to have fun

They all check in on him to see how he's holding up. You're absolutely welcomed to too, or you can spend some time hanging out with him, exchanging terrible fish jokes to help lighten the mood. Just don't expect to go around with him or have him follow through the exhibits

Simon knows he wanted to push past a barrier of some kind aside from simply being there, so he decided to pick a singular exhibit to actually visit on his own - it would be a way for him to reclaim some more autonomy and prove his thoughts and past couldn't get the best of him. Naturally, he picked the shark one

While he's well aware of the danger sharks pose, he's not actually had a bad experience with sharks... Yet. Their reputation is usually a lot worse than they are. Plus, you know exactly what you're getting into when it comes to them. You know what to expect. It's not like they're hiding their teeth or the fact that they're apex predators

He'll sit on a bench pressed to the wall, watching them idly swim about from a safe distance. He never said he was getting close, but watching them and not instantly being flung back to his worser memories is a HUGE step forwards. Instead, he's a bit more surprised at how he can actually enjoy seeing them move. Seeing such powerful creatures there in the flesh is so much greater than how they appear on TV or in books

Not that he'll admit it, but he relates to them. He too is an extraordinary killer, feared by most, yet understood by few. Many judge based on his appearance alone and misassume, when he's simply trying to live his life no matter the hand that's been dealt to him

He wouldn't protest if you sat with him and watched the sharks for a while in silence. For a man who isn't fond of animals, there's no denying the softness in his eyes as they swim past

Sergeant Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

You'll probably actually enjoy hanging around him the most, he's the best buddy to have for trips. He's pretty much following Price if he's not rushing ahead with Soap. He's a bit more mindful in the sense that he will pause and look back, even back tracking to rejoin if they were getting too carried away

He's not the most well versed in all animal facts but he will happily tell you some of what he knows as you pass the exhibits. Did you know most piranhas are actually herbivores? Not the ones you're looking at, those ones are carnivores, but most species are. They're usually quite harmless. Usually. Not during dry season but that's different-

He's quite happy to see a variety of wildlife, from the smallest coral to the hulking fish. He can't say he's exactly used to it or that he's one who keeps an eye out for those things, but it's nice to see. It at least allows him to get a look at things he may otherwise never see or experience

Learning about them is important too because what if he needs it one day in the field??? Being able to identify what's around him, including the animals, can be super helpful. He isn't going snorkeling or to a coral reef any time soon but still, just in case. Gaz is smart, he will ALWAYS take a learning opportunity when he can

He's the one who already has the itinerary for the day with all the shows and educational events, and you BET he is on top of them and is going to go see them all

Please attend with him - he's usually the one picked out of the crowd because he's got the perfect energy. Winning smile? Winning heart? Winning attitude? It's hard NOT to notice him. He already has bad jokes in store and can win over the audience too

You just have to be cool with sitting front row and potentially in the splash zone. He's not sitting in the back, who knows when he gets to do this next? Also, why would you not want to be up close?? You're at an aquarium, there's water, you're going to get wet - that should be PART of the experience

You're both probably going to get a picture with an otter before the day is done

As cool as the other animals are, he's absolutely a fish person. He thinks they're extremely underrated for what they are. There's SO many different kinds of fish and colors too! How can you NOT enjoy that?

He's spending extra time in the coral reef and the fresh water areas because he loves how immersive they are - and just how many fish they have swimming around without many other animals. It is a glimpse into a world we never get to see

He also loves the octopi and squid. Creatures that can camouflage and ambush??? Absolutely wonderful, as far as he's concerned. He loves how intelligent they are too and how underestimated they can be

Stick near him, you won't regret it. He's great company and can happily talk about the different fish all day - and maaaaybe will just revisit a few of the tanks he especially liked (he's already calculating how to get a beta fish by the time you get back)

Sergeant John "Soap" MacTavish

To no one's surprise, he's leading the charge in. He is absolutely EXCITED about this. Cool animals??? A day with people who he cares about????? Sign him up

The group really just loosely follows him to start. He's got a solid game plan and is watching the crowd to see which is the least crowded area so that you can get the best view

Like I said, he's a man with a plan. Gaz might have the itinerary but he's the one scoping out the floor and already trying to figure out the game plan so you can stick together and see what you actually want to see

He naturally has a presence that can make others move out of the way. One look at extremely buff Scottish man who can have the meanest resting bitch face, and they'll move. That's not even including that you're being followed by three other not so short men. At least it makes for great crowd clearance and he knows it - and yes, he's using it to his advantage

Like Gaz, he too is reading the cards and is quite happy to learn about the creatures there. Not as thoroughly as Price, but he's still at least actively reading and trying to note things down in his mind

He's the one who makes the slightly inappropriate comments out of instinct, forgetting that there may be kids nearby. In his defense, he's not used to that - usually it's just adults. But he can't himself from going "Look of the size of that bloody bastard" while pointing at a grouper

His comments make for great banter, usually it's with Gaz - seeing as Ghost disappeared almost the second after they stepped in. "These little shits can function without a brain" - "Oh, so that makes the two of you :)" . It's like that the entire time, just a lot of back and forth - and yes, it's hilarious

He's not rushing through the exhibits but he certainly is sidetracked when there's so many things to look at and see. It's really a matter of what is catching his eye and why - there's so much to do and so many things he didn't know. It's VERY exciting for him in the best way

Whenever there's a creature he particularly admires, he'll actually stop and sketch it out, jotting down some notes about it in the margins of his sketchbook too. He brought a few colored pencils but it's really mostly just plain pencil

He's actually quite a good artist! As long as he has a wee bit of time to get the rough lines down, he can finish it off later really nicely. But he'd prefer to take his time. The aquarium is a great place for him to practice things like plant life and moving creatures

You're welcome to sit beside him and watch as he draws - or better yet, draw with him if you brought a sketchbook of your own. It fills in for some of the quieter time if you're blessed with a calmer exhibit. If you're lucky, he might even draw something so you can color it in as you wait for the group to catch up

Admittedly, he likes the piranhas. They're known and have a fierce reputation for a reason, but he in particular likes the shimmer of their scales and finds them to be under appreciated in that regard. He finds them beautiful and they're a lot more than their teeth alone

Naturally he also likes any otters or mammals too. He'll usually end up entertaining them, especially if they're seals - they're such funny creatures - they remind him of the seals he saw on the coast whenever he visited as a kid

BONUS

König

Seeing he isn't apart of the group, you'd actually run into him in NORMAL civilian style clothes (still wearing a surgical mask, albeit) if you wandered off on your own or got a bit too ahead - leaving the boys behind

Assuming that you don't happen to know him here, but it was at the seahorse tank. With the little seahorses clinging to the bits of plants that they had, here was this big guy with an utterly adoring expression on his face as he stared at them

He nearly jumped out of his skin when you made your appearance and commented about how neat they were

He couldn't help but to agree, they're such fascinating creatures and they're so tiny. It's a wonder how something that's the size of the tip of his finger can live like that

The whole reason he was at the aquarium was because he liked animals - and because his therapist recommended he get a bit more out of his comfort zone to further work on his social anxiety. Getting exposed to new environments at his pace would do him good in the long run. While he's been fine and can absolutely manage, he does want to push himself to come more out of his shell and to be more comfortable in his every day life. Plus, he has only one life, he needs to live it some

He also wasn't used to seeing so many aquatic animals - it would be something different, something that maybe could give him some ideas later down the line for some of his crafts. And it's a good reminder of how vibrant and diverse the world we live in is. It's easy to forget when you're surrounded by blood and gore all the time

Usually, people are quite intimidated by him, so he was surprised that anyone came up and even tried to say anything to him. But talking about seahorses and the other animals here was a LOT easier than talking about himself or anything else he usually had to default to

When you asked if he'd seen the moon jellies or the crabs yet, and he said no, how could you resist showing him right where they are and pointing them out? He'll love them! They're silly little guys like the sea horses

He's admittedly a bit flustered from the attention and having someone actually want to talk to him, but he finds it easier to open up and naturally when you're just... yourself. And clearly quite excited about being there - or more expressive of it than him

You sort of happen to end up walking along with him, chatting about all the different types of animals there are and what you like about them, or making comments about what they're doing and laughing about it

As awkward as he is - he's still got his sense of humor and charm about him underneath that you uncover as you get him to open up, even just a little bit

It's only when he sees your group at a distance and the recognition of who they are dawns on him . He backs away when you wave to them, making the connection. What a terrible coincidence - but the last thing he wants to do is create issues, especially when he's here to enjoy his day - and he's not wanting a fight, not right now. And especially not in civilian gear or in a place where they all can be banned from

(They do not get along in the slightest, trust me, it would not be pretty if they happened to put two and two together. There's not that many Austrians that tall who happen to have scars like he does)

He's back to making excuses as he back pedals trying to get out of sight before any of them see, but not before slipping you his number. After all, it would be such a shame to let such a good connection go to waste :)

[zeezelweazel]

Hope you’re doing good today! I was wondering if you’d be able to a bottom alexia fic pls? They are at a friend/family’s holiday party but alexia is very horny and her and reader end up having multiple quickies around the house

Alexia Putellas| Can't get enough of you|

____________________________________________________

I'm trying to find more fluffy fic ideas but since my brain is empty I'll power through the smut requests first

the people asked for this and I'm not one to say no ;)

(this is very urgently proof read, please let me know if there are any mistakes)

TW: semi public sex, oral, fingering, praise, slight dumbification

____________________________________________________

New years eve was always fun but spaniards know how to throw a proper party. Mapi and Ingrid invited the team over, with loud music and a lot of alcohol the party kicked of immediately.

You know Alexia isn't in the best of places right now, so in your opinion a party would be a great way for her to relax. Apparently that isn't the case because Alexia has been tense from the moment you got to the couple's apartment and despite your efforts she doesn't seem to lighten up.

You're sitting on the couch next to Caro and Frido with Alexia tucked firmly at your side. You didn't know if the others had noticed her behaviour but even if they did, they didn't say anything. Alexia has been squirming from the moment you sat on the couch. After she sighed for the hundredth time you had enough. You kindly smiled at the other women before getting up from your spot at the couch, Alexia's eyes stuck on you.

"Excuse me I have to go to the bathroom, the zipper on this dress is killing me and I need to fix it."

The conversation continued and you turned to Alexia and sent her a pointed look. The blonde took the hint and immediately followed you to the bathroom.

The moment you closed the door you pushed Alexia against it, the captain bitting her lip to containe a whimper. You place your hands on the side of her neck and rub your thumbs over her strong jaw. Alexia gulps and waits for you to say something.

"What's wrong baby?"

Alexia tried really hard not to roll her eyes at your obliviousness but she couldn't. Instead of trying to explain to you what she wants she simply pulled you in for a bruising kiss. You groaned and pushed back against her soft lips quickly taking control of the kiss. You're not oblivious, you understood your girlfriend and her needs perfectly. Alexia was unexplainably horny from the moment you set foot here. You're not one to deny her especially when she has so much pent up frustration. You pull back and Alexia chases after your lips desperately.

"You have to ask for what you want Alexia."

Alexia whines and pulls you back in only for you to harshly push her against the door and lean in to suck bruises on her jaw. Alexia sighed and moaned quietly at the feeling of your teeth against her flesh, her hands coming up to grab your shoulders when you moved lower to her neck. Alexia had a doumbfounded look on her face when you abruptly pulled back. You just chuckled and caressed her cheek in response.

"I won't ask you again, Alexia."

The captain whined in desperation and bit her lip. You raised your eyebrow in challenge.

"I need you to touch me, please." She finally relented with a sigh.

Your reward was immediate as you pushed her further against the door and sunk to your knees. Alexia gulped at the sight and spread her legs. Her short dress gave you easy access and you only needed to tug it a little to expose her ruined underwear.

Alexia was holding her breath, wide eyes full of lust desperately waiting for you to do something. When you pulled down her underwear, exposing her dripping slit, you couldn't help but lick your lips. If there was one thing you wouldn't trade for the world it was this. Bringing your lips forward you placed an opened mouth kiss on Alexia's pussy, pulling back to glare at the blonde when her hips stuttered forward. You wordlessly placed your hand flat on her stomach and pressed hard so her hips stay in place. You surged forward, licking her up with more vigor and urgency, tongue running up the length of her cunt. Alexia did good on her part and kept quiet. Only quiet groans and occasionally whimpers leaving her parted lips. The pressure from your hand on her lower stomach did wonders, only amplifying the pleasure she was already feeling.

You took her clit in your mouth without warning and sucked and Alexia threaded a hand in your hair as mumbled spanish please left her lips. She was close, her hips were straining against your grounding hand and her thighs were clamping against your head. You looked up to see Alexia already looking at you, her teeth biting her lip so hard she almost drew blood. It didn't take long for Alexia to come undone under your tongue. She was left panting against the bathroom door as you washed your face in the sink.

Once you approached her, you tugged her dress back into place and tried to fix her hair to make her look presentable. Alexia came to and was suddenly reminded that you're not alone in your bedroom. She cleared her throat and moved to the bathroom mirror. She looked, freshly fucked, for lack of better wording.

"Come on Ale, they must be wondering were we've been."

You spent approximately another half hour enjoying the party and having fun with your friends before Alexia tugged you away, muttering an excuse that no one really understood. But you did, of course you did when she tugged you urgently into the guest room.

"I guess we're not here to look at the paintings-"

Alexia kissed your lips, clinging into you like you're her lifeline and tugged you towards the bed. You pulled back and she whined and chased after you. You chuckled and patted her cheeks affectionately.

"Why is my girl so needy tonight, hm?"

You received nothing but more whines as Alexia helplessly pawed at your sides. You decided not to tease her more, your hands dipping in her underwear to find her even more wet than she previously was. As if you never satisfied her to begin with. You groaned and immediately pushed two fingers into her gaping hole, moving Alexia to sit on the edge of the bed. Alexia's hand went on your wrist as her eyes rolled back into her head the moment your fingers found that soft spot. She seems to have forgotten were you are, loud moans that you couldn't be bothered to quiet leaving her mouth.

"Is my baby gonna come?"

Alexia nodded and whimpered her hips now rutting against your hand. You noticed the tears pulling in her eyes and smiled, placing a chaste kiss on the edge of her mouth just to see her chase after your lips. The sounds of her loud moans were covering up the squelching of her wet pussy and you grinned as Alexia neared the edge once more. You knew Alexia wasn't going to be quiet when she came so you pulled her in for a deep kiss, your tongue drowning her scream of pleasure.

You hummed when Alexia took your fingers in her mouth abd eagerly cleaned them up. You kissed her on the lips once more and teasingly smirked at her.

After the countdown and a few more drinks you expected your girlfriend to start getting tired but the blonde was anything but. Grinding into you and kissing your neck. You aren't really surprised that Alexia is all needy again, rather it made you unbelievably horny, just how desperate she was for you.

This time it was you who tugged Alexia away from your friends for what you thought will be the last orgasm for tonight. You picked a much more open spot than the ones Alexia previously dragged you to. You couldn't be bothered with secrecy, not when your insides burned for the other woman.

You found a perfect spot on the counter and without wasting a minute you bend her over it. It was easy for your fingers to find her familiar heat from the exposed angle but it wasn't enough. You tugged her dress up once more, exposing the soft flesh of her ass. Your view was obstructed by her underwear but you could still squeeze and slap the tender flesh while your fingers quickly moved inside her.

Alexia was moaning your name, her hands gripping the edge of the counter as she felt her orgasm approaching fast. You knew she wasn't going to last long given the circumstances. All it took was for you to switch the focus on her throbbing clit instead and after only a few rubs on the swollen bud Alexia was clenching hard against your fingers and shaking with the power of her orgasm.

You're impressed by how fast Alexia recovers but then again, you are still in the kitchen of her best friend's house. Alexia smiles at you, appearing positively ruined and you grin back at her. What a way to start the new year.

____________________________________________________

[daycourtofficial]

I got cursed like Eve got bitten - part XVII

Pairing: Azriel x Rhysand's sister!reader | WC: ~900 | Warnings: none

Summary: reports of a rare powered fae popping up in Illyria send Azriel and Rhysand on a journey through the past, unraveling a truth they thought long buried

Previous part | Masterlist

As soon as the two of you had made your way into the palace, you had ripped your hand from his grasp. His heart was beating out of his chest, his shadows swirling and hissing at him to kill Keir on the spot. His blood was boiling in his veins, he felt so hot, so heated, so prepared to slash, to hurt, to maim. He felt feral, as if rational thought was not something he was supposed to possess. 

His head turned quickly, realization blooming inside of him.

Azriel felt the faintest hint of the mating bond in his chest, like the faintest light in a deep cavern, nestled deep inside of his heart.

He felt the flicker.

“What the fuck?” Your ire turned toward him, not letting him relish in the moment of that feeling taking root in his chest once more. “What the fuck was he talking about?”

The shadowsinger just stared at you, unable to think a coherent thought enough to string together a sentence. “Was he right? Did you- have you know who I was this whole time?”

Your voice cracking in desperation spurred Azriel into action. “No, sweetheart-”

“He was wrong?”

He sighed, running a hand along his face. Damn Keir. This was, without a doubt, worse than any scenario he and Rhysand had played out in about you finding out.

“Yes. He’s right.” His voice was resolute while you fumed before him, certain your rage was going to tint your skin red. “You are the Princess of the Night Court, believed to be dead for a century and a half, and you are my mate.”

Something in him could finally breathe, the weight of not telling you heavier on his chest by the day.

“I- You- What?” Maybe now was not the time to tell you everything, but Azriel couldn’t help it. Once the secret was out, everything began spilling from his lips. He couldn’t stop it, even as the confusion on your face slowly crept into his chest, your inability to control your powers evident.

“We were mated for a century when you died. Members of the Spring Court family had killed you and we thought you were dead this whole time when Rhys and I found you a few weeks ago.”

It was agony the way you stared up at him.

“You knew who I was this whole time? I told you about how I didn’t know who I was and you knew and never told me?”

Azriel found it hard to swallow. Rhys, Feyre, and Cassian finally joined the two of you, getting a front row seat to your fight. 

And you weren’t backing down anytime soon.

You swiveled your attention to Rhys as you spoke. “So I’m what - your long lost sister? And my entire family is dead except for you?”

Rhysand winced at the words, but you kept going, your voice rising with each word.

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

Your mind reeled, rubbing your eyes at how jumbled your thoughts were of the memories of the past few weeks. Azriel felt the flashes of emotions in his chest, not sure where the bond ended and your powers began. 

“Was there ever a plan to tell me?”

Your words felt like daggers in Azriel’s chest. While you were occupied with Feyre every morning, Rhys and Azriel spent their time talking to healers, Helion, anyone with access to resources and knowledge they spoke to, hoping to pinpoint a way to heal you. But no one had ever seen anything like this. They had no idea how to approach this. Rhys and Az had even gone to the Dawn Court, meeting with Thesan weekly about you.

“Was I just some problem to be handled? Having to keep a close eye on me in case I told everyone, hm? Getting your wife to meet with me daily out of pity?”

“It wasn’t-”

“How can I trust anything out of your mouth anymore? I- You- you all kept this big thing from me.” Azriel’s shadows were practically screaming in pain with you, their cries filling his ears. He stepped forward, his own eyes full of tears, but you stepped back.

The distance between you two felt like a canyon, as if any attempt at an approach would cause him to fall from perilous heights. “No, no. You don’t- none of you.. I told you all about how lost I was and you all knew why! You didn’t.. You didn’t want to tell me.”

Your chest heaved with the difficulty of getting each word out. Azriel’s chest felt so tight, each breath burning his lungs.

“You all pretended to care about me, but you just- you care about her. The me that’s gone. And what if I never get my memories back? Would you cast me aside, declaring to the world how your mate and sister were dead?”

A scarred hand reached out, but you brushed past him to his brother, who stood behind Azriel and Rhys. Cassian had stayed mostly out of the fight, allowing Rhys and Azriel to take the brunt of your anger.

You looked at Cassian, unwilling to look at Rhys, Az, or Feyre any longer. Your next words made Azriel’s chest cave in.

“Take me home. Please.”

Author’s note: only one more part left 👀👀👀

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx @dee-writes-smut @chairofchaos @thelov3lybookworm @berryzxx @throneofsmut @kennedy-brooke @prythianpages @itsswritten @acotarxreader @milswrites @the-golden-jhope @hannzoaks @secretlyhers @tothestarsandwhateverend @sarawritestories @chxosangxl

Azriel taglist: @brieflyclassymortal @thisiskaylin @magicstrengthandcourage @panther-girl-124 @slytherintaco @userxs-blog @emryb

[spookydrreid]

Let’s Start the New Year Right

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

18+ minors DNI

desc: Spencer and reader get invited to a chill, casual NYE party. But things heat up right at the stroke of midnight.

cw: food mention, Spencer is a little awkward in the beginning, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, semi-public sex (in a bathroom)... Let me know if I missed anything

wc: 1667

...

“I can’t go dressed like this? People will laugh at me.” 

Spencer looks himself over in the mirror for the tenth time, running a hand down his sweatshirt. It was New Years Eve and you two weren’t doing anything too crazy, just spending time at your friend Andies house with a few others. She’d just bought said house and was desperate for you and the rest of your friends to see it. And what better time than New Year's Eve?

“They will not laugh at you. Andie said she wanted everyone to be casual and casual means jeans and sweatshirts,” you called from inside your closet. “And we’ll be out by the fire. You’ll be more comfortable like this. Trust me.” 

You peak around the corner to his portion of the closet, a small smile tugging at your lips. He looks cute, more dressed down than you usually see him. In fact, this is the most you’ve seen him in the past three weeks. Serial killers don’t take breaks, even during the holidays. So off he and the team went to bum-fuck-nowhere Alabama and missed Christmas.

It was disappointing to say the least. 

But it was his job, something he warned you of previously. However, it didn’t mean him missing important days didn’t hurt. But you sucked it up and smiled through it. Plus, it didn’t matter. He was home and he was safe. 

“I do trust you. But I don’t want to be underdressed.” He sighs moving to grab his tennis shoes, sitting on the little poof seat you insisted on buying. (And that he secretly loved. Not that he’d admit it.) 

You pull your hair out of the back of your sweatshirt, smoothing it down and grabbing a warm hat. “You won’t be. This isn’t like Rossi’s where we dress to the nines and get drunk on champagne.” 

You see him grin as he ties his shoes, a small blush rising on his ears. 

“Yeah he was sad we were coming this year. I, however, am excited we aren’t going. I have spent more than enough time with all of them. They’ll survive without me for a night.” 

You giggle, walking towards him and hugging him from behind. “Yes, baby, your friends will survive without you. You’re all mine tonight.” You kiss his cheek before straightening and checking your phone, “we should head out, sweetheart. Andie will be pissed if we’re late.” 

The drive to Andies was short, filled with Spencer's long winded explanation about why you and he bought your house at the ‘most perfect time’. You loved listening to him ramble, even if half the time he spoke gibberish. You were thankful you could google some of the super big words he used. 

The second you’re parked outside the house, big, beautiful and full of holiday cheer, you see Spencer tense. You’d think after six years together, he’d be more calm around your friends. They helped him with the proposal after all and he still has the group chat. The group chat where they send him memes he doesn’t understand. However, no matter the time, he isn’t the most comfortable with anyone but you. And more so in your bedroom. 

You find it… endearing to say the least. 

You reach over and grab his hand, squeezing it three times i am here. “Ready?” 

He squeezes back and nods, “I am… I think.” 

It’s all you need before getting out and never once letting go of Spencer’s hand. 

Andie stands at the door, smile on her face, two glasses of punch in her hands. “There is my best friend and her hot as fuck fiance!”

Spencer practically cringes at her words, never being one who could handle a compliment. Even if he was the most beautiful human you’ve ever seen. 

“Hi! Sorry we’re late. We had a late night. You know how it is, serial killers killing during the holidays. Dr. Reid forever having to save the day.” You pat his chest, looking up at him fondly. 

He loves when you look at him like that, eyes so wide, filled to the brim with love. He kisses your head and 

Andie fake gags, handing you the drinks in her hand. “Yes, yes. Get inside before we let the kitten out and before the cold air comes in.” 

You sip it, the vodka making your chest feel warm. Spencer looks down at the cup before looking back at you, “I can’t drink. Want this?” You nod, taking it and pouring it into your cup. “A-andie do you have water? Bottled? I don’t like sink water and fridge water tastes funny so bottled is better. Even though it’s not good for the environment.

“But it’s not really us that needs to worry. It’s the famous people who really pollute the envi-” 

Andie cuts him off, “Spencie baby, you don’t have to explain this to me. I have plenty of bottled water. Want a cold one or a room temp one?” 

Spencer curls his lips over his teeth, a small blush creeping up his neck, “cold is fine. Thank you, Andie.” 

“You’re welcome sweet thing.” She digs in her fridge and finds the bottle, handing it to him. “Now, time for a tour.” 

… 

It takes a good few minutes for her to show you both around the house, making sure she explains every single detail even down to the persian rug her current boyfriend bought her when he went to visit his mother. 

Spencer, of course, went on and on about this, that and the third. It was cute. 

But soon you were in Spencer's lap, staying warm by a fire and roasting a marshmallow while Spencer got the chocolate and graham crackers ready. You were two drinks and three shots in, happily buzzed but not even close to drunk. 

“You are so hot when you open chocolate. S’anyone ever told you that?” You say it quietly, not wanting to embarrass him in front of anyone. 

He smirks, using the top graham cracker to slide the toasted marshmallow off of the stick and smoosh it between the other cracker and chocolate. “No one has ever told me that. But there is a first for everything.” 

He takes the first bite before handing you the rest. You pout a little and he laughs. “You ate my smore! Not fair.” 

He kisses you, lips brushing over yours gently, “I will make you another when you finish that one.” “What happened to my shy boy? Getting bossy out here.” You smirk, knowing you’re pushing his buttons.

“I didn’t hear you complaining last night when I fucked you into the mattress.” He says right in your ear, nipping at it slightly. 

You shiver, squirming in his lap. “You-you can’t do this to me. We can’t fuck here.” 

He kisses your temple, “there are four bathrooms here. We totally could. They all lock, I made sure.” 

Andie claps her hands, “ten minutes till midnight!” 

Spencer grips your thigh, “what a way to ring in the new year? Me buried inside you.” 

You cross your legs, trying anything to get some friction. 

“They’ll notice, Spence.” You look around, no one is paying attention to you, most of them sucking face with their dates.

“Oh baby, they won’t notice.” 

Before you know it, your pants and underwear are on the bathroom floor, and Spencer's face buried in your cunt. You bite your fist to quiet the moan. For some reason, it was extremely hot getting eaten out with the possibility of someone hearing you. But that didn’t mean you wanted to get caught. 

“So pretty bunny.” He purrs from below you. He pushes two fingers inside you, easily opening you up. He knows your body better than you do, making mental notes of every little moan, gasp, and sigh that leaves your lips. Because of this it isn’t long before he has you falling over the edge, somehow keeping your moans quiet.

“Time,” He asks as he stands, towering over you.

You check your phone with shaky fingers, “11… 11:50” 

Spencer pulls at his belt with fervor, pushing his pants down till they pool at his ankles. “Gotta keep you quiet for another ten minutes.” 

His lips are on yours, swallowing your moans as he pushes all the way inside you. He doesn’t waste time, his hips snapping against yours. His lips travel from your lips and down your neck, moving your sweatshirt to the side to suck hickies where no one can see them. 

‘Just for me,’ he’d always say. ‘Only for me.’ 

“Spencer, please.” How you manage to whisper it is beyond you. But it doesn’t matter with the way he’s moving. 

“Shh… I’ve got you, bunny.” He snaps his hips faster. 

Your second orgasm comes right at 11:58. And it isn’t long before you can hear your friends counting down. 

Ten.

“Fuck bunny. Feel so good.” 

Nine

“S-spencer…” 

Eight

His hand covers your mouth, muffling your growing moans. 

Seven 

“I know you don’t want to get caught.” 

Six 

“‘Specially not so close to midnight. Right?” 

Five 

You shake your head no. Eyes staying locked with his.

Four

A wicked smirk crosses his lips, his confidence growing. 

Three

“S’what I thought.” 

Two 

His thrust grow more and more sloppy and before long his head falls into your shoulder and his orgasm rips through him, spilling inside you. 

One

His kiss is hard, hands on the sides of your face while he makes out with you, riding out the rest of his orgasm. He’s panting as he pulls back, Spencer's forehead resting on yours. 

“Happy New Years, sweet angel.”

...

I hope you enjoyed! This is my first fic in almost a year. Im nervous to say the least lmao. I love you all ❤️

[fazedlight]

“KARA!” Lena screamed. I killed her, Lena grieved.

She didn’t have time to linger as Eve attacked her again, Lena throwing one last punch before she found herself scrambling out of her jet. The explosion killed her, Lena’s mind shouted, thrashing in agony, a litany of damnation that she should never have brought Kara to Kaznia in the first place. It’s all my fault.

But to her astonishment, in the dark, a figure shifted ahead - blonde and burning and bright, and Lena thought for half a second to run back for the fire extinguisher, that Kara might be saved.

But as the figure turned, somehow unaffected by the flames that adorned her like a god, Lena halted. Kara looked concerned, confused. But she didn’t look injured.

Lena’s eyes drifted lower, to the bright S now etched on Kara’s chest, solid blue emerging amidst her burnt clothing. “Kara…”

“Lena,” Kara breathed, reluctance written on her face.

Lena hesitated a moment longer, before taking step after careful step, approaching the reporter as the embers continued to burn across her body. Lena’s hand drifted to the top of the suit’s crest, just below Kara’s neck, where yellow met red. Oh.

It was too much - the whiplash of the explosion, thinking that Lena had carelessly killed her best friend, to realizing that the reporter had once thrown that’s not a great question for a Luthor to ask someone in my family back in her face.

Kara Danvers was her best friend. Did she ever really exist?

“Lena…” Kara whispered again.

Lena dropped her hand, her eyes raised to Kara’s, looking her over again. “Don’t,” she said. Without another word, Lena turned on her heel, and went back to her jet.

-----------

The flight back from Kaznia was longer alone.

Plenty of time for Lena to fume and grieve, for her to rage internally at weathering yet another deceit. Kara Danvers - or whatever the hell she was really called - had used her, betrayed her, spied on her. 

Somewhere in the back of Lena’s mind, there was a different acknowledgment - that her glide ratio in her custom-designed jet was good, but not good enough to reach the Kaznian runway when the engines had failed. That her assumption at the time that mountain updrafts had saved her ran contrary to the now-more-obvious explanation - that the kryptonian had saved her from aviation incidents three times now. 

Lena looked out the side of the window, where dawn was slowly rising. She desperately needed sleep, but was too wired from watching her best friend be blown up - and then revealed to be a traitor - and sleep was just… not going to happen. 

Lena could swear that she was seeing glints of red and blue, just behind her plane, a kryptonian possibly trying to stay out of sight while still being protective. It was infuriating.

-----------

It’s not Kara, Lena’s mind begged, trying to convince herself that the dead kryptonian was the clone she had learned about in Kaznia. It can’t be Kara.

It was with overwhelming horror that Lena watched the footage of Kaznia’s failed invasion, her brother parading around a dead kryptonian in his lexosuit arms, the supposed traitor Supergirl. 

He was a hero. For killing her. It can't be Kara. It can’t it can’t it can’t-

Trying to still her trembling fingers, Lena picked up her phone, trying to figure out what to text, what to say, anything to get a response from the kryptonian that she had shut out. Operating out of instinct more than logic, she pressed Kara’s name to start a call instead, holding it up to her ear, her stomach twisting with nausea.

But luckily, it only took one ring before Lena heard a familiar voice on the other end. “Lena,” Kara said softly

Lena pulled the phone away, and hung up.

-----------

There was no other choice in her mind. Not when Lex had regained legitimacy in the eyes of the country by “saving” it from Supergirl’s attack. Not when Lex sought to commit a secret genocide to solve the energy crisis and be named a hero. Not when Lena was the only person who would know where Lex would go.

Not when all Lena could see was Lex cradling Red Daughter in his arms.

The image was burned into her mind, and all Lena knew was that Kara was next - Lex would not rest until every kryptonian was gone. And Kara would be too kind and noble to seek anything but legal justice. But that wasn’t Lena - it wasn’t Lena when she decided to kill Morgan Edge, it wasn’t Lena when she decided to kidnap her mother from prison and poison her, it wasn’t Lena when she tucked her gun in her belt that morning.

A single bullet to the head, and Lex was gone.

-----------

Kara’s door opened just a few seconds before Lena reached it. Lena supposed Kara could hear her down the hall.

Lena ignored the shock and concern on Kara’s face as she stepped inside, making her way to Kara’s window as Kara closed the door. Truth was, she still couldn’t face Kara at all.

“I’m sorry, Lena,” Kara started. “I tried to save-”

“Don’t,” Lena said.

Kara grew quiet, flanking Lena’s side, joining her as Lena stared out onto the streets below. Lena shifted. “I thought she was you,” Lena said. “When Lex killed her, I thought she was you.”

She could feel Kara shrink, uncertain of what to say, of how to move forward. And maybe Lena didn’t know either. But she could try. If… “Is Kara real?” Lena asked, her voice cracking. “Or just a mask?”

“I’m real,” Kara whispered, prompting Lena to finally turn. And Lena couldn’t help herself, seeking the warmth of Kara’s arms, the kryptonian all too happy to wrap Lena in a tight hug as Lena stepped into it. “I… sometimes I feel more real with you than anyone else.”

Lena swallowed harshly, burying her face into Kara’s shoulder, holding back a tremble. “I want to believe you.”

“I’ll spend a lifetime trying to prove it,” Kara whispered. “If you’ll let me.”

Lena took a slow, trembling breath. “Okay.”

---------------------------------------------------------------

Idea taken from a tweet I saw floating around. If you're interested in a longer season 4 reveal, I also wrote No One and Nothing.

[teamatsumu]

monopoly. (gojo satoru x reader)

summary: it seems this year is going to another lonely christmas for you. until your very intrusive coworker shows up at your door.

word count: 2777

warnings: fem!reader, canon compliant, smut, nsfw, dirty talk, whiny!gojo, desperate!gojo, swearing, unprotected sex.

There isn’t really anything interesting playing on the television. You merely turn it on to add noise to your surroundings. The apartment is way too quiet without it.

The characters on the screen are part of some overly cheesy Christmas movie, and you aren’t invested in them, but it serves as good background noise while you scroll through your phone and munch on some brownies you had bought. You make a mental note to thank Nanami for his recommendation. He really knew his bakeries. The brownies seem to melt in your mouth, still slightly warm and very fudgy.

You tap rapidly on the screen, not even properly focusing on the Instagram stories you were zipping through. It was all the same, people Christmas shopping, or pictures of sunsets, the snow, or coffee cups in people’s hands. Pretty boring stuff. But you don’t really have room to judge when you are sitting at home, alone on Christmas Eve, watching (but not really watching) some nonsensical Christmas movie. At least these people have something worth posting. What the fuck are you doing?

You sigh and switch apps. Instagram is not the place to go to when your life is the way it is. You shake your head and scowl. It isn’t that bad. You are alive, despite working in a field with a scarily high turnover. You have a job, you have good students who are fond of you. Good coworkers, who respect your skill set. You have killed more curses and you can feel yourself getting stronger as time passes. You’re making a real difference. Things are good. You’re good.

Then you glance around your empty apartment and deflate once more.

The sudden, loud banging on your door startles you, nearly making you jump out of your skin. You curse under your breath, annoyed at why anyone would knock like that. What happened to two gentle raps using your knuckles? Why do people have to use their whole fists now?

When you pull open the door, your anger is replaced by confusion, eyes falling on none other than Gojo Satoru.

“Wh-” Your eyebrows furrow. “Gojo-san?”

His resulting grin is huge, his black shades are splattered with droplets that likely started as snowflakes and melted along the way. His hair, white as the snow that coated it, is weighed down a bit as well, damp and unruly from the wind outside. His long, lanky arms are loaded with shopping bags, which he lifts up to bring into your field of vision.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, incredulous.

“I come bearing gifts!” Is his reply, answering and simultaneously not answering your question, in classic Gojo fashion. He rushes inside, pushing past you and into the house. You feel the cold radiating off him, making you shiver and hurriedly close the door after him. Your toes curl in your woolen socks as you watch him tip his own shoes off, arms still loaded with the various bags. The smell of baked goods and cinnamon hits your nose, and you can spot a box poking out from one of the bags, wrapped in gift paper.

You have known Gojo since you were teenagers at Jujutsu Tech. You were a year younger and very naive, while Gojo was already what could be classified as the don of the school. Between the many deaths and losses along the way, you and him were survivors, both now holding teaching positions at the school. Despite all that, you still felt withdrawn from him. He was your senior, and much, much stronger than you. While you two were on good talking terms, maybe even hesitant friends, you wouldn’t say you were particularly close to him.

“Why are you here?” You ask again. “It’s Christmas Eve. Go spend time with your family.”

You follow Gojo as he places everything on your kotatsu before shrugging off his huge black trenchcoat. His sweatshirt underneath is black as well, and you conclude that no one can pull off an all black look quite like him. It all sits so perfectly with his porcelain skin.

Gojo makes a face, sticking out his tongue and making a hurling motion. You suppress a laugh.

“I really don’t want to spend days listening to my father talk about the responsibility of being the Strongest.” He sounds disgusted. You roll your eyes in amusement.

“I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

Gojo takes off his sunglasses, giving you a piercing look. “Trust me, it’s way worse than what you think.”

Your lips twitch and you shake your head, sighing.

“So you’re just going to stay here?” You ask.

Gojo pulls out a long, rectangular box from one of his bags, shaking it at you. It rattles, and your eyes catch the large letters written on it in colorful font. Monopoly.

“Game night.” He declares, placing the box on the kotatsu before sitting down, shoving his long legs under the blanket. You can’t help but grin back at him.

………………….

“This isn’t fair!” Gojo pouts, handing you the last of his paper money. You grin triumphantly at him, taking the money and brandishing it in front of him with flourish.

“It’s more than fair, actually.” You counter. “You owed me rent. It’s rent. Who told you to invest in the water company anyway? It’s rent is so low! Also, I have never seen someone end up in jail this often. You’re really breaking records here.”

Gojo groans, leaning forward and banging his forehead against the table. You giggle, tossing a bite-sized pastry into your mouth, watching as he whines and complains about how you are a merciless landlord and you shouldn’t have built so many hotels on one property.

“Well, there’s no point in playing anymore since you’ve gone bankrupt and all your properties are on mortgage with the bank.” Your words are so gleeful it makes Gojo look up and glare at you. “So I guess I….. win? Congratulations on playing the shortest game of Monopoly known to mankind.”

“I’m gonna flip this board over.” Gojo threatens, and you give him a challenging smile.

“Go ahead.” You goad, making him sigh dramatically and throw his hands up.

“Alright fine, you called my bluff.”

You continue to laugh as you pull your phone out, positioning it above the table and taking a picture of the board, littered with cards, tiny plastic houses, and two half empty cups of coffee on the sides.

Now you have something to post on Instagram story too.

A few hours later, you find yourself on the couch with Gojo, still trying to go through everything edible that he had brought to your house. The TV is on again, but this time Gojo is filling in the terrible movie with commentary of his own, making you giggle and laugh every few minutes. He had truly bought a huge amount of food, but as you see it disappearing little by little, you realize he has more than enough of an appetite to put it all away.

“What is this?” You hold up a small, light brown…. thing. You truly can’t place it. You have never seen anything like it before.

“A salted pastry. Dip it in this.” Gojo holds up a small plastic container with a white sauce of some sort in it. “It’s more of a savory treat than a dessert. But it’s real good.”

You do as he says, dipping the thing into sauce before popping it into your mouth. You mull over the flavor as Gojo watches, before shrugging.

“I don’t care for it.” You declare. “It’s okay. Not anything spectacular.”

“You don’t care for it?” He grins. “Okay, princess.”

You slap his arm, giggling as you chew. He laughs and continues to watch you, squinting.

“Hold on.” A hand comes in contact with your face, fingertip brushing over the corner of your lip and wiping off the sauce. You freeze.

You then watch as Gojo brazenly licks the sauce off his thumb, and you feel your face flame up.

“Gojo-san….”

“Satoru,” He corrects. “Gojo-san makes me feel so old. We’re basically the same age.”

You gulp, remaining silent. The TV fills in the quiet that suddenly falls on the room. You eye the kotatsu, the mess on the floor in front of the couch, Monopoly cards and money still scattered around everywhere. When you look back, you find brilliant blue eyes still staring directly at you.

You bite the inside of your cheek, Gojo reaches out to thumb at the dimple it creates on the skin outside. You let him touch you. Let him lean closer until your breaths are mingling, until his lips are making soft contact with yours.

He tastes like the cinnamon sticks he had been eating, along with something that’s very distinctly him. When his tongue slides into your mouth, you feel yourself stiffen, arching closer to him. Your eyes roll up when the hot muscle glides over your own, and you press closer to his warmth.

His body is lean and firm against you, his arms enveloping you and holding you flush against him. You detest the layers of clothing you are wearing, wanting nothing more than to feel every part of him in direct contact with you. When he tilts his head to slot his lips deeper into yours, deft fingers sliding into your hair and cupping your head from behind, you melt into his embrace.

It feels like hours when he pulls away with a loud, smooching sound, a thin trail of saliva extending between you. He breaks it with a swipe of his tongue, lips twitching up. The action makes your insides clench, your breath catch. And Gojo being Gojo, notices it immediately.

He wastes no time connecting his lips with yours again, and this time, it’s rushed, hasty, almost desperate, as he tilts your head to his liking. His hands wander now, from your waist to your hips, and back until large hands grab and squeeze your ass hard. You moan at the feeling, arching into him more, your own touch running all over his torso. You slide your hands under his sweater, finally making contact with his bare skin.

When your leg is thrown over his waist, you feel the outline of his bulge against your sweatpants, and you can’t stop the little whine from escaping your mouth. Gojo pushes your ass harder into his erection, helping you grind on him. His breath mixes with yours as you both groan at the feeling, and your tug at his hair, soft under your touch.

He is quick to pull back and tug your clothes off, both your sweater and pants removed from your body while you pull his own sweater over his head. His bare skin is a sight to behold, tight cords of muscles flexing under your touch. He is lean, but built, and with his disheveled hair falling over stormy blue eyes, he is a sight to behold. You can feel how wet you are at how incredibly sexy he looks, and you clench again, feeling so unbelievably empty that it makes you whine and your hips jerk up, desperate for contact.

Gojo seems to know exactly the effect he has on you, pushing off his pants until he is left in his boxers. His dick strains against the cloth as he pushes down hard against your panties, grinding on your clit in a way that has you gasping. He pulls back just enough to let his fingertips run over the damp crotch of your panties, before pulling the cloth aside to look at your bare pussy. He groans and bites his lip, running his tongue over the bottom one at the sight. You flush at the wanton look on his face.

“You have no idea how bad I want you.” His voice is much gruffer, breaking at the very end of his sentence. The pad of his thumb runs slowly over your clit, and your mouth drops open.

“You’re so wet already, princess.” He whispers, almost to himself. “Got such a perfect pussy, fuck.”

You whine at his words. “Satoru. Please.”

His eyes dart up, meeting yours. A grin spreads on his face.

“Please what?”

You groan. Now is not the time for him to become an insufferable prick again. You are dripping, walls tightening around nothing, and you want him inside you so bad it makes you ache. Despite the flush on your cheeks, you’re too horny to be embarrassed. So you speak your mind.

“Want your cock, please. Need it. Satoru, I-”

“Fuck, okay.” His thumbs hook in the waistband of his boxers and he tugs them off. His cock springs up, hard as a rock and flushed deep pink. The head is wet with precum, and the sight of it makes your mouth water.

Satoru grabs a hold of it, running the head through your slit, using your juices to slick himself up. You pant in anticipation, legs spread wide to allow him to sink into your tight heat, which he does.

Your mouth drops open as he bullies his way inside, walls separating to make way for him. His cock is long, and reasonably thick, and you struggle to accommodate the intrusion. It results in a delicious burn running through your core, and you revel in the broken groan that emits from Satoru’s lips. He lowers himself to his elbows on either side of your head, jerking forward to bury himself into you to the hilt. You sigh when he is all the way inside, walls spasming like crazy around him.

“Fuck.” He whines. “Fuck. You’re gonna kill me. Got the tightest little hole. You a virgin, baby? Been savin’ it for me?”

You doubt that Satoru is taking his own words seriously. His sentences are getting jumbled, more and more nonsensical as he pulls back and snaps forward again, setting a fast, sloppy pace. He is rutting into you hard and quick, as if he can’t bear to leave your warmth for too long. You let him ramble on in your ear, talking about how good you feel, or how you were made to take his cock, or how he is never gonna fuck another pussy again now that he knows what you feel like. You can’t help how his words turn you on, adding to the sensation of his cock plunging in and out of you with full force now, ramming into you until you are arching into him and cumming hard.

Your legs seize with the force of your orgasm, nails digging into Satoru’s undulating back. He doesn’t stop for even one second, and neither does his mouth. He coos and talks you through your high, praise leaking from his lips without a filter.

“There you go. That’s it, baby. Fuck yeah, cum on my cock. Getting my dick soaking wet, you’re such a good girl, aren’t you? So perfect. Makin’ the prettiest faces-”

Then he is speeding up again, breaths coming heavier and faster, cock fucking into your barely recovering hole until you are on the brink of orgasm again. You can see and feel how his movements grow irregular, beautiful blue eyes nearly crossing as he chases his end.

“Gonna fill you up. Gonna nut in your pussy, baby. Then I’m gonna lick it all out of you until you’re clean and ready to take another load. Ya want that? Want me to dump it all in you?”

And you’re nodding desperately, nearly shrieking when you cum again, pleading and begging for Satoru to fuck his cum into you, giving him the last push he needs until he is releasing inside you, painting your walls white with his load. He groans and whines as he ruts into you, hard and slow, not wanting the orgasm to ever end. His head spins, and he nearly chokes at the feeling of you squeezing every last drop of cum out of him. He can’t remember the last time he came so hard in his life.

You try to blink the tears away from your eyes, vision swimming. A whine escapes from your lips when Satoru pulls his softening dick out of you, pools of his cum leaking out right after. You try to close your legs, give them a little relief from the beating you just took. But two large hands are already on your knees, keeping you spread. Your eyes meet Satoru’s, and you catch the little twinkle in them as he lowers himself until he is eye level with your twitching hole. Your face flushes.

“What did I say, princess? I promised I would clean you up, didn’t I?”

[ashprince-of-bel-air]

The Empress

Next chapter

The afternoon was like any other in Rome, the languid breeze brushing through the city, providing no respite for its inhabitants. In the palace, high on the white marble steps sat two brothers in their thrones, the Emperors of Rome. Caracalla and Geta were not particularly favoured amongst the public, their wrath and cruelty was well known, even amongst the senators who most people assumed would be untouchable. No, they exercised their right to show their power without consequence and they did it well.

There was no love lost between the brothers, both had resented each other’s existence, cursing the other for the simple fact that the throne was now shared between them. Geta in particular hated this, he was the older of the two and felt that he deserved the throne for himself. Besides, Caracalla was immature with his rage, Geta thought. His rage was born out of a childish need to get his own way or to try and prove that he had any semblance of authority, not Geta’s rage though, Geta revelled in his own wrath, he knew his anger caused fear in the senate and he enjoyed knowing that he had that sort of emotional power to him, a power that he would often take advantage of, throwing the odd plate or vase in council meetings to scare the generals and senators in attendance.

Months had passed with Geta sharing his role as Emperor with his brother, it was a situation that was now becoming tiring to him to say the least. He could only think of two ways that would hopefully move the public towards favouring his authority as the sole Emperor. The first option would be to have Caracalla killed, this would definitely cement his claim to the thrown, but fratricide was heavily frowned upon by the Gods, that option was potentially ruled out for now. The other scenario would be to acquire a wife, this situation did not fill him with much joy either, Geta enjoyed his whores as he could ruin them however he pleased, he would have to be gentle with a wife and softness was a weakness to him. Nonetheless, it was the best option he had.

Soon after Geta had decided it was time for him to take a wife the word spread throughout Rome, Geta’s mother was thrilled at the prospect that maybe her son was finally going to calm down and settle with a family, his eyes only rolled at this comment for how naive she was being. The high born houses of Rome heard this summons that the Emperor was seeking a wife of good stock and good breeding and invited them to present a daughter for him to take as wife, many houses declined the invite for fear of what he would do to their beautiful and pure daughters, the refusal of his request would boil Geta’s blood further until the day you accepted his invitation.

It was a warm and boring summers eve when your family heard the news that Geta was looking for a wife, you were draped across a lavish bench in your garden soaking up the sun on your porcelain skin, no matter how much time you spent in the sun you never seemed to be blessed with its gifts of colour. Your father approached and told you of the Emperors summons, you almost leapt out of your relaxed position, begging your father to let you attend the palace and have an audience with Emperor Geta, not one to deny his daughter a request, also hoping to gain the Emperors favour, your father accepted and responded to the invite saying you would attend the palace on the morrow.

Geta had always been a fascination to you, you had attended the gladiator games several times in the last few years, and you would watch him in his podium, that enchanting sneer across his face. His bloodlust and cruelty plagued your mind daily after you first caught sight of him, you are not sure why but his threatening aura and the way he had no regard for human life would stir something inside of you, his unhinged nature called to something inside of you and you desperately wanted to answer it.

Much to your surprise, you were the only one to attend the palace and stand before Geta as a potential bride, you felt his eyes burn into your visage, he was barely trying to hold his anger that your were the only one present as an offering, his anger aroused you, causing a wetness to pool between your thighs as you felt his scorn upon you, trying to ignore the feeling you stood up straight and focused on the here and now, you wanted to be chosen by him. It wasn’t that Geta was offended by your offering, he thought you were incredibly beautiful, and your ivory skin was captivating, the red gown you were dressed in, made him think of blood upon fresh snow which excited him more than he would care to admit. Geta gave a soft nod to one of his guards and they whisked you away to a private room adjoining his in the palace, you tried to turn back to see your father one last time only to see him smiling and bowing before Geta. This was it; you had been chosen as his wife. You now happily let the guards lead you away wherever they were told to take you.

The wedding took place not long after Geta accepted your offering, he had you dressed in crimson red again on the day, the contrast between your pale white skin and blood red cloth was just enrapturing to him, it made him think of how he wanted to sully that beautiful skin of yours, leaving his markings all over your body to make you know that you now belonged to him. Your wedding night came, and you felt yourself slightly disappointed, where was the angry Geta you had fantasised about? You wanted him to fuck you and choke you within an inch of your life, yet here he was snoring away drunk on too much wine, he attempted to grope at you, but he groped at the bedframe instead before falling asleep. No matter, you would get him to ruin you at some point.

Days and weeks passed by as you settled into the role of Empress, you did not have many responsibilities other than to provide Geta with an heir, something you had attempted very enthusiastically over the last few weeks. Most nights Geta would come into your chambers and ‘do his duty’ as was expected of him, these nights were alright, yet you preferred the nights he had been on the war council. He would return to your shared room throwing and shattering vases and glasses against the walls, it was in these nights he would take you roughly, biting and choking you, leaving his markings on your skin for all to see. Seeing Geta so unhinged and his anger at the surface aroused you immensely, those strong hands causing such devastation in your room made you bite your lip and wonder what they could do to you. This fact Geta had noticed after the third time he took you roughly and noticed you had orgasmed intensely, your walls gripping and pulsing around his cock unlike when he normally took you. Surely you didn’t like his wrath right? You were not as bloodthirsty and angry as him?

Geta wanted to test his theory of your arousal after you seemed far too excited when he choked you as he pounded deep into you one night, moaning his name as your arched your body towards him. This Is not what he was used to, and it confused him, why were you not like the others and whimpering before him? This version of you excited him and spurred him on to be rougher each time, and each time he made you cum even harder for him. Geta decided he wanted to take it further and see if your bloodlust really matched his own, to see how much you truly enjoyed his wrath. He would take you to the gladiator games tomorrow.

You were thrilled to be at the games again, the smell of sweat and blood in the air was like a sweet nectar to you, smiling as you took your rightful seat next to your husband. You could feel Caracalla’s hateful gaze upon you, but you did not wish to engage with him, it was not worth indulging the brat. Geta and yourself sit at the edge of the royal balcony, you looked the vison of the Gods Jupiter and Juno, regal and commanding. The crowd chanting your names as they had fully accepted Geta now he had a wife beside him.

The games began. The first one was of no consequence, you rolled your eyes at how little of a contest it was. The day waned on until it came to the main event, you had drunk your fill of wine to combat the hot air, and you now felt a soft buzz, excited for the match ahead. Geta could see the excitement in your eyes at the upcoming match and he smiled, you definitely loved this as much as he did, and he revelled in that knowledge for now. The match was an intense one, one that kept you at the edge of your seat, gripping the fabric of your dress in anxiety, you wanted it to be bloody and they were dancing around rather than showing any action!

Eventually the match ends with no bloody conclusion, you slump back into your chair disappointed, you watch uninterested as the winning gladiator gloats about besting the other one who is laid on the floor exhausted, your eyes roll until you feel a familiar breath on your neck. “Would you like me to kill him my love?” your heart pounds at his whisper and your clench your legs together feeling the hot breath on your neck, you compose yourself ever so slightly.

“My Emperor?” you questioned, a nickname that unbeknownst to you had such an effect on him, you always made him feel like he was in charge, and he loved It.

“Would you like me to spare the loser or let him live?” His lips whisper against your ear as he begins to play with a rouge strand of your hair, twirling it around his fingers and he starts to kiss your neck, eagerly awaiting your answer.

A small moan escapes your lips as his touch” …Kill him…” you sigh and nearly whimper as he lets you go, standing up ready to put his thumb down, signifying death. The signal happens and the loser is killed, Geta turns to look at you with a wicked smile on his face, your thighs now crushing against each other to bring you some relief from the tension building there.

Gods, looking at that beautiful sneer and the way he enjoyed commanding the death of the gladiator, you knew that you were in for a fantastic night with him tonight.

[bloogers-boogers]

Exorcist Lucifer Au

Lucifer doesn't get banished from heaven. But does in Eden.

Adam is banished from Eden but still ascended to heaven.

Both Lucifer and Adam got their heart broken by Lilith who firstly rejected Adam to be her husband and seduced Lucifer to fall in love with her, abandoning Adam and getting Lucifer banished from the garden, eventually she leaves him for Eve who Lucifer caught together making love before trying to offer the apple to Eve. Lucifer in a fit of jealousy and betrayal tricked Adam to eat the apple instead to get even with Eve for stealing his first love. But Adam was pardon for being tricked by a angel (being someone Adam had no choice but to trust, a 'superior'), Lilith and Eve got tossed to hell for disobeying and rejecting their roles and obligations. Lucifer got pardon but was punished with a curse to never experience true love, having no one be able to fall in love with him to prevent further incidents like this to happen again; he was allowed to fall in love but would live knowing it would never be reciprocated which was his punishment.

The exception was Adam who they had not yet know why he is ineffective with the curse, they found no need to worry as they assume the first man would never develop romantic feeling for Lucifer. With time though Lucifer does develop an interest in Adam, not romantically at first, it was more of the need to protect the one thing that could love him freely. Heaven took notice of that.

This gave heaven power over Lucifer: God's perfect and favored angel.

Lucifer did everything to make sure Adam ascended to Heaven, preventing him from sinning too much on earth and giving discreet guidance in form of bird messages to guide Adam to the right path. It was hard work but Lucifer's efforts weren't in vain.

Adam ascended and Lucifer was the first to greet him.

Somehow Lucifer manage to befriend Adam even after everything that happened in Eden. They hangout and talked a lot only when Lucifer wasn't busy with all the amount of duties he had, which was a lot. Normally every a hundred years. He'd do anything to keep in touch with the first man at least through messages, letters or calls and every second with him was worth the wait, Adam genuine love for him gave him hope that someday he will be worthy to get his curse broken and be able to experience what love truly is.

Things take a huge turn though when Sera and the archangels were now forced to take notice of the growing percentage of sinners in hell. They feared the possibility of hell creating a army and become a threat to heaven.

In an act of desperation a seraphim suggested exterminations, Lucifer, who was also in the meeting rejected the idea immediately knowingly Adam would never approve of such thing and would most likely be upset if angels started killing human souls. But he was shut down by all of those who started agreeing it was the best solution for their growing issue. Lucifer sat their speechless and shocked that they would have to resort to this.

He threatened them he would go speak to God if they refused to consider other possible and more peaceful solutions, this of course caused worries to everyone in the room, but they knew God wouldn't believe Lucifer for everything after the Eden incident. So Sera and the archangels pulled a card making Lucifer sit down and take it. They used Adam's safety as a threat to keep Lucifer to back down and simply obey. Which worked.

Out of all angels Lucifer ended up being put in charge of the exorcists. The only two rules they had was that no one was allowed to tell Adam or the winners about the exterminations.

The more work Lucifer was given the more time apart he was from Adam. But every time they did reunite it was magnificent and worthwhile. With each extermination Lucifer became detached from heaven and it's winners, the only thing that kept him away from falling was Adam. Lucifer didn't like sinners but with each time he visited hell during exterminations he became fascinated with the environment and places it had, he liked the hellborns but from a distance. It was all entertainment in his eyes and he loves a good show.

He also was not able to realized that he was repressing deep feelings for the first man. The feeling of guilt, fear, shame and unworthiness of Adam stopped him from ever opening to that possibility. However Adam was very opened in how much he loved Lucifer never verbally affirming it, maybe even clueless about it but with his actions spoke volumes. They both love each other a lot.

But Lucifer knew Adam would be disappointed and heartbroken if the truth reveals about what he did every once a year. He was also pushed into doing a lot of the ugly and dirty shit heaven refuses to do now that the council had him on a leash so he couldn't fight back. Lucifer cannot count how many souls he has taken out, he only knew he was completely bathed in blood, stained forever. And he would still take out if that meant protecting Adam but also keeping his dirty secret from coming out to light.

The years keep going and Lucifer starts giving zero f*cks about killing; murder became fun and a stress reliever, his anger was lashed on the not so 'innocent'. So he kept refusing to feel guilt over it. No one cared of what he felt, no one loved him except one, no one values his work so why care back?

At that point all the angels feared Lucifer's wrath. No longer the cheerful dreamful angel he once was (he was broken, he was different, he no longer belonged), they now knew him as someone very dangerous and cold blooded. The only times you could genuinely see him being his angel self is with Adam. And that was becoming a rarity to see, them together was becoming impossible to happen when Lucifer was overwhelmed with work.

It worsen when Lucifer was stuck having to deal with the knew issue in hand and it was Lilith and Eve's spawn: Charlie First. And the beginning of a new chapter.

[beetlebethwrites]

Surprise! Chapter 4 is here!

Welp, it's been a minute, hasn't it. Working my current job basically killed my creativity for a hot minute and I feel like it's only just come back.

In this update;

An introduction and some work for your Channel.

A drive-through trip.

Eve being an absolute legend of a friend.

I know it's been a long time since my last update and I am desperately hoping that I can work on the next section quicker. I'm super excited to write it!

I hope you've all had a great holiday season and have a Happy New Year with one extra chapter of YLAF 💛

Play The Update

[roosterforme]

Batting Practice Part 8 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: A lazy Sunday at the park with you and Everett has Bradley wondering why he ever thought this wasn’t what he wanted. When work keeps you away from practice during the week, he’s desperate to see you and get you alone for a proper date.

Warnings: Fluff, angst and swearing (eventually 18+)

Length: 3500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun! Batting Practice masterlist.

Bradley texted you on Sunday morning, asking for your address, insisting he come pick you and Everett up. He could have just looked it up in the coaching portal online, but he wanted you to send it to him instead.

When he pulled up in front of your house, he saw Everett come running out the front door. "Hey, kiddo," Bradley called as he got out of the Bronco.

"Coach! I have my glove all ready, and my mom is finishing her makeup, because she said she wants to look nice today!"

Bradley grinned and let Everett take him by the hand. "I kind of think your mom always looks nice," Bradley mumbled, and then there you were, stepping out onto your front porch with a bright smile. 

You were wearing a cropped tee shirt and black leggings, and Bradley's mind took him back to making out with you yesterday. 

"Hi, Coach," you said, wiggling your fingers at him as you walked down the steps.

Suddenly he had no idea what to do. Was he supposed to refrain from calling you Kitten? Did you really expect him to keep his lips away from you right now? 

"I missed you," he told you, and even though he hadn't meant to say it, it was true. 

"I saw you yesterday," you said with a soft laugh. "We spent a lot of time together in the kitchen."

"Not enough."

Bradley noticed Everett was looking between the two of you with curious interest. "Did you really bring Gatorade? Can we ride in your car?" Everett asked. 

"Yeah, I really brought Gatorade. And yes, we can ride in my car."

"We'd have to put the booster seat in the back?" you asked cautiously. 

So Bradley ended up with a car seat in the back of his Bronco, something he never imagined would have ever been happening. And then he drove all three of you to the park. 

When he reached across the seat and let his hand settle on top of yours, you bit your lip, and turned your hand palm side up, lacing your fingers with his.

"Hey, Kitten?" he asked softly as he pulled into the park. You turned to face him right away, your eyes unguarded. "Thanks for letting me do this."

Bradley parked and climbed out of the Bronco before helping you and then Everett out as well.

"Okay, your mom's got a lot to learn today," Bradley told Everett, handing him a bag of gear. "Think we can help her out? She doesn't even know what a catcher's mitt is."

Everett laughed and tossed his head back. "She doesn't know what a slider is either. She just didn't want to tell you that."

"Ev, I'm standing right here," you told your son, running your fingers along his hair. But you were looking at Bradley and smirking. "And I do know what a slider is, because I watched a video on YouTube."

"Aww, come on, Kitten. You're killing me," Bradley said, handing you three bottles of cold Gatorade. "YouTube? You need some first hand experience, and Ev and I are your guys."

-------------------------

You weren't sure how to feel about Bradley calling you Kitten in front of your son, but every time he said it, you felt a little silly. 

"Is this the catcher's mitt?" you asked, picking up a dusty, brown thing and holding it up.

"Sure it. Go ahead and put it on." Bradley said as he got a regular baseball glove on Everett's hand.

You thought it was too big for your hand, but you put it on anyway, waving the mitt at them. "Okay, I'm ready!"

Bradley handed Everett a baseball and jogged over to where you were standing. "Hell no, you're not, Kitten. Gotta protect that pretty face." He bent down and rummaged in the bag a little more, pulling out a weird looking mask and another Phillies cap.

"You're going to make me wear that?" you asked with a smile as he approached you. 

Bradley turned to look over his shoulder to where Everett was tossing the ball into the air and catching it a few feet away. Then he turned back and kissed your lips softly. "Told you I wouldn't let you get hurt. I meant it."

He looked serious now, and you wondered if his words had a dual meaning. 

"Now, let's get this cap on you first," he said, pushing your hair back behind your ears and setting it backwards on your head. "Oh, what do you know... you look cute with a backwards hat, too."

You scrunched up your nose in embarrassment, but he laughed and eased the catcher's mask over your head, securing it in place. "Perfect."

"Ready?" Everett called, starting to sound impatient. Meanwhile you wanted Bradley to keep touching you and telling you about your pretty face. 

"Yeah, kiddo," Bradley called. "Just getting your mom in position." He looked down at you, wrapping both hands around your hips and guiding you back a few steps. 

"Here?" you asked softly when he stopped moving you around. 

"Yep," he whispered, squeezing you through your leggings. "Now, squat down like this." 

You tried to imitate what he was doing, but you were getting distracted by the way his thighs looked as his gym shorts rode up higher on his legs.

"That's good," he told you before he stood up again. "Now do your best to catch them," Bradley said, grabbing a few more balls from his gear bag. "Everett and I will go easy on you. Won't we, kiddo?"

Your heart swelled as you watched Everett grin up at Bradley and laugh. "Yeah, but only at first mom!" he called out to you.

"Oh great, thanks a lot." But they weren't even listening to you. And now you could only focus on Bradley as demonstrated the correct pitching posture a few times for Everett. He was all flexing muscles and rippling biceps, and meanwhile your thighs were already starting to hurt. 

"Here comes your first pitch!" he warned, winding up and sending the baseball directly into the mitt on your hand.

You jumped up in shock, still holding it. "I caught it!"

Everett was cheering, and Bradley winked at you. "Nice one, Kitten."

After you caught a few more and tossed them back, you were feeling so confident. Then you managed to catch most of the pitches that Everett threw as well, even though you had to really reach for some of them. 

"So, which one do you like better? The slider or the curveball?" Bradley asked Everett after a while, and you stood up, barely even able to feel your thighs now. 

"Slider!"

"Me too," Bradley agreed, getting a high five from Everett. "And guess what. That's the harder one to throw, so you're already advanced."

"No way!"

As you watched them interacting with each other, you wished you could have this in your life every Sunday. Maybe a late breakfast after lounging in bed with Bradley while Everett watched cartoons. Some time at the park, and then dinner.

All the things you never quite got to have with Danny felt somehow more attainable with Bradley. Which was really scary to you.

You cleared your throat and tossed the catcher's mitt toward the bag before trying to remove the mask, but Bradley was already on his way over to help you. 

"Will you let Ev and I treat you to some ice cream as a thank you?" 

He swiped his fingers along your jaw when he removed the mask, but he left his backwards hat on your head. "I would love that."

-----------------------

The ice cream shop was packed with people out enjoying the perfect San Diego spring day, but Bradley didn't mind waiting. You were standing in front of him while Everett bounced around a bit and kept asking questions.

"Will you pitch balls with me again?" Everett asked, looking up at Bradley.

"Of course, little man. You've gotta practice if you want to keep getting better." Bradley felt you lean back against him slightly, and he let his hand rest just above your ass. He was stroking the soft skin of your lower back with his thumb and running his fingers along your leggings. You turned and briefly rubbed your cheek against his chest, just like a kitten, and he wrapped his arm around you a little tighter. 

"And can you show me a fastball too? And a changeup?" Everett asked, just before it was time to order.

"Not my strongest pitches, but for you, sure, kiddo. I would love to embarrass myself in front of your mom."

Everett was glancing between the two of you again as you said, "Have you forgotten that I had to watch YouTube videos about pitches? You think I'm going to know the difference?" You were looking up at Bradley and laughing, and he wanted more than anything to kiss you. 

"You looked like a world class catcher today. Could have fooled me, Kitten."

Bradley tried to pay for the three ice cream cones, but you had Everett drag him away to a small bench while you paid. He sat side by side on the bench with Everett, waiting for you. 

"Hey Coach, do you think my mom is pretty?"

Bradley froze with his ice cream cone halfway to his mouth and watched Everett try to eat his strawberry scoop before it melted. 

"I think your mom is beautiful."

"Do you like her? I told you she was cool."

Bradley nodded as he watched you make your way over with your own cone. "She's the coolest, kiddo. Here, make some room for her to sit with us." Bradley picked Everett up with one arm and plopped him down on his thigh, and then you eased into the spot next to him.

"Thanks for the ice cream," Bradley told you softly. 

You grinned at him and Everett on his lap. "Any time you want to treat Ev and I to a day in the park, I'll be more than happy to treat you to some ice cream, Coach."

Bradley finished his cone and then let Everett ask him a bunch of baseball related questions while his strawberry scoop melted. He watched it drip on his jeans, but he didn't really care. 

"Ev, eat faster! It's melting onto Coach," you scolded, jumping up to get some napkins.

Bradley tried to stop you, telling you it would come out in the laundry, but you insisted on wiping up the ice cream which landed basically right where his dick was. So he slid Everett into the spot you vacated while you bent down and tried your best to clean him up.

"Kitten," he rasped. "Please. It's okay." If you kept rubbing him, he was going to get hard. On a bench. In front of your son.

"Are you sure?" you asked, and your hand paused on his thigh as he nodded at you. "Danny would have had a living fit."

Bradley took your hand and rubbed it with his thumb. "Yeah, well, I'm not Danny."

You looked at him as you stood up tall again. "Ain't that the truth," you mumbled, but your eyes stayed on his. 

--------------------------

When Bradley walked you and Everett up to your porch, you watched Ev hug him tight. "See you at practice tomorrow?"

"Yep, see you tomorrow," Bradley replied, messing up his hair before Everett went inside. 

"Thanks for today," you whispered as Bradley's big hands settled on your hips. "That meant a lot to him."

"I had fun," Bradley said with a smile as he pulled you a little closer to him. You let your hands rest on his broad chest, and a little gasp escaped your lips before you were even kissing him. But then you were, and it felt so good. His lips were gentle, and his hands were firm, and your body wanted more.

"Can't wait to see which sexy pantsuit you wear to practice tomorrow, Kitten," he mumbled against your neck, prickling you with his mustache. 

You giggled as his lips made their way down to the top of your shirt. "I'm not going to be there tomorrow."

He paused and asked, "Why not?"

"I have a late meeting. Molly is going to take him to practice. And speaking of Molly..."

"Yeah?" Bradley asked, looking at you with a small grin. "What did your reliable sister who is more than willing to watch Everett for you have to say?"

You started giggling again, and Bradley pulled you so your body was flush with his. You knew you were on your front porch, and you knew Ev could pop back outside at any time. But you let Bradley hold you, because you wanted him to. 

"Molly said she can watch him on Friday night. If you feel like going out?"

"Fuck, yes," he said, kissing your cheek. "I have it all planned. Let me know when to pick you up."

You felt warm inside for the rest of the evening, because Bradley would be yours on Friday night. No sharing him with Everett or Sandra or Coach Bob or the other kids on the team. All yours.

-----------------------

Bradley really missed you at Monday's practice. He had nobody to look at on the bleachers. The few times he glanced over, his heart skipped a beat, because Molly did look quite a bit like you. But then he just sighed in disappointment. 

He did, however, notice that Bob was looking toward your sister with some frequency. That was interesting. He would definitely have to ask Bob about that later on. 

Bradley wasn't even surprised when Bob suddenly joined him to walk Everett and Molly to the parking lot when practice ended. Bradley ended up trailing behind the two of them with Everett on his shoulders, watching them chat the whole way. 

"Hey, Everett," Bradley asked. "Does your Aunt Molly have a boyfriend?"

"Not anymore," Everett replied. "She told me she had to break up with Casey because he was tiny, but I don't really get it because he was really tall."

Bradley had to bite his lip to prevent himself from laughing out loud. "Oh, okay. Poor Casey," Bradley muttered. 

Bradley helped get Everett settled in Molly's car before heading to his Bronco to text you. He noticed that Bob was still hanging out with Molly after he had walked away, and he could occasionally hear Molly's laughter. Lord, she thought he was funny! Hopefully he was bigger than Casey. 

Bradley thought about mentioning Bob and Molly to you, but he thought better of it. 

Kitten, I missed you today. Are you still in your meeting? Are you coming to practice on Thursday?

Bradley watched Molly pull out of the parking lot, waving to Bob as she went. "Bob! Come here!" Bradley called out his open window. He watched his friend turn around and head his way.

"What's up?" Bob asked him, leaning against the side of the Bronco. Bradley just smirked at him, and almost instantly, Bob started blushing. Bradley smirked harder, and Bob adjusted his glasses and rubbed the back of his neck. "I noticed her when she came to practice last time, too. Are you going to make fun of me for having a crush on her?"

Bradley started laughing. "Not at all. She's really nice. And Everett said his Aunt Molly is single."

"Is she really?" Bob asked softly as a grin spread across his face. 

"Yep. The kid is a wealth of information."

Bob just mumbled something and walked away with a wave, leaving Bradley alone as you texted him back.

You sent a selfie of you smiling in what Bradley assumed was your office. He could see your cream colored lace top peeking out of your gray suit coat.

Kitten. I should not find your business attire this sexy, baby.

Once again, instead of responding with text, you send him another photo, one in which you had removed your suit coat. Bradley was staring at your tits straining against your lacy tank top, nipples peaked against the delicate looking fabric. You were smirking at him. 

Fuck, his mind took him to your office, you sitting in your chair with his face buried in your pussy. He'd eat you until you were screaming. 

It's not nice to tease, Kitten.

He was now sitting in the parking lot at the ballfield with an erection, and he wasn't even surprised. He started up the Bronco and drove home where he could take care of himself. 

By Thursday, when he laid eyes on you at tee ball practice, it was like he finally felt his body relax. Everett bounded over to him as usual before going to greet Bob, but Bradley was watching you try to change into your old sneakers while you walked through the grass. You were wearing your tight, black skirt again, and your hair was pulled up off of your neck.

"Jesus," he mumbled before fielding some questions from Sandra and the other moms about the upcoming schedule.

When you were seated on the bleachers, and practice was about to begin, Bradley debated heading your way and giving you a kiss on your cheek, but Bob was already blowing his whistle to start practice. 

Bradley watched you raise your hand from your lap and wiggle your fingers at him, moutching, "Hi, Coach," while you smirked.

Alone. He'd get you alone tomorrow. He loved Everett, but he was antsy to really get to be with you. But he could wait one more day to kiss you and taste your skin. So he just winked and joined Bob near home plate. 

------------------------

Practice was pretty typical on Thursday, except now your body was humming the whole time. You knew exactly what Coach Bradley's lips tasted like. You know how heavy his hands felt on your hips. You knew how he smelled and sounded when he was right in front of you, teasing your body.

"Tara, I can't stop thinking about the swim party last weekend. Both coaches shirtless? A literal dream come true."

"Same. And I'm one thousand percent sure Coach Bradley flirted with me when I was getting a slice of pizza."

You wanted to snort. You were standing five feet away from him the entire time he'd been in the clubhouse getting pizza, and neither of those moms had been anywhere near him. 

But it didn't matter, because as soon as practice ended and you were helping Everett change out of his cleats, Bradley made his way over to both of you, right in front of everyone just like he always did. 

"Nice hustle today, kiddo," he told Everett, earning him a high five. 

You looked up at Bradley over your shoulder as you tucked Everett's cleats into his gear bag. He reached down to help you stand, and his other hand brushed along your butt. 

"I expect a nice hustle out of you tomorrow night," you told him, giggling as his eyes went wide. "It's going to be our first date and all."

He just shook his head, walking up to the parking lot with Everett between you both. "Nope. It's our third," he said.

"What? No, our first!" you insisted, trying to keep the conversation vague for your son's ears. You still weren't convinced that going out with his tee ball coach was your best move, but you couldn't stop yourself now. 

"Snack bar was our first. Now, I wasn't on my best game, but you did come back for round two with baseball in the park."

You were cracking up now. He considered soft pretzels and an outing with Everett to be dates? Oh, you were going to melt. You'd never make it. He was a single mom's dream date.

"So you don't mind that sometimes there's a tagalong?" you ask, nearing your car where it was parked next to his Bronco. 

Bradley opened the back door for Everett, gave him a fit bump and then closed it as Everett got himself buckled in. 

"I don't mind. As long as I can get Kitten alone on occasion. Really want to see your claws again."

You grabbed at his jersey, and Bradley immediately had you pushed back against your car door with his lips on yours. It was broad daylight, there were still some people in the parking lot, and Everett was in the backseat. But Bradley's hands were grabbing at your hips, and you could feel him through his thin athletic shorts as you moaned his name.

"Fuck," he gasped against your lips, kissing you hard one more time. "Get in your car, Kitten. Before I embarrass myself. I'll pick you up tomorrow night."

-------------------------

Kitten and Ev plus Coach. It just makes sense! Fair warning, the next part will be for ages 18+. Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32!

PART 9

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[hellshire-harlot]

Father of Serpents | Albert Wesker x Reader Halloween Special

Taglist: @gothghostiie @weskie @destinationtrekk @nomansgunssmoke

The stone altar beneath you is cold, bitterly so, sapping the warmth from your bare skin.

Despite your best efforts, you can’t escape the cruel fetters keeping you bound. Spread-eagle, chained to the slab of granite, you can’t help but writhe, desperate to evade your inevitable fate. It seems like so long ago that you were snatched from the dim street, dragged to this unknown place of shadows and ominous reliefs carved into the stone walls, thrown in a cell to wait. But it hasn’t even been a day; you’d wager the sun hasn’t even risen yet. After all, what better time to perform a ritual sacrifice than on All Hallow’s Eve?

You know you’re being sacrificed, of course. For what other reason would a cabal of silent, hooded men abduct you, strip you naked, and bathe you in rose-water & honey milk? For what other reason would they drag you sobbing and pleading to a stone altar in the center of a spacious sanctum and tie you to it?

Your chest heaves, your lungs unable to get a full breath between your terrified sobbing. You’ve long since given up pleading for your life. You’d done all you could think of- promised not to tell, offered them your money, and when they ripped off your clothes you did your best to play along, thinking your kidnappers were going to simply fuck you and move on. Nothing so far has worked. None of them has even whispered a word. As they washed you in their ceremonial bath, their hands pouring the water all over you and carding through your hair, they never pulled or groped, only touched to clean you. In the beginning, when you had more energy, you struggled and kicked and hit all you could, and one of them evidently had had enough. He’d struck you, a vicious backhand that left your ears ringing and a cruel mark on your cheek.

For whatever reason, the others seemed angry that he had hit you. They led him away, and one turned your face side to side as if to check the damage. Now that you lay on the frigid stone that grows warmer only because your flesh is bound to it, you understand why they cared at all, and it only makes you weep harder.

They didn’t want their lamb to be bruised before the slaughter. It would ruin the meat, wouldn’t it?

Tears stream down your temples as a handful of the cultists circle you. You rest your head against the small cushion beneath it and bite your lip. You don’t want to give them the satisfaction of your terror, but you can only do so much. Your heart pounds as you scan them for weapons. You expected a sacrificial dagger or ceremonial blade, one designed to rip your heart from your chest or cleave your head from your shoulders. But none of them carry any weapons that you can see. Poison, then? Drowning? Smothering? There are many ways they could kill you that don’t involve marring your skin. Your stomach fills with dread as the visions of yourself vomiting blood, writhing beneath a pillow over your face, thrashing against arms that hold your head underwater, parade before your mind. You can only desperately pray for your death to be swift and painless.

As the cultists form a ring around your prone form, you ball your hands into fists and brace yourself. Throat hoarse from screaming and crying, you nonetheless summon your voice once more, a last, desperate plea for salvation. “Please, don’t hurt me,” you beseech, “I- I don’t want to die. Please.”

None of them respond, or even indicate that they’ve heard you. You close your eyes tight, another despairing sob tearing from your chest. I’m going to die here.

You only open your teary eyes when a voice that is not your own echoes throughout the sanctum. “Hac nocte noctes,” a deep-voiced man intones, the words unknown to you but their meaning ominous all the same. You haven’t heard someone speak other than yourself since this ordeal began, and it startles you. Your eyes snap open and you watch as the cultist who spoke raises his arms in prayer, and you glance to the side, heart stopping as you look upon the tens of cultists who now fill the chamber. All of them bow before the altar, heads lowered in prayer, and echo the mantra started by the man near you. Hac nocte noctes.

Another continues, and you can’t differentiate the voices in your terrified state. “Ad te vocamus” and the acolytes follow as your eyes dart around frightfully. You can’t stifle a nervous whimper. You wish you understood what they’re saying.

Vocate nos Patrem Serpentium

Something about snakes, you think? Are they trying to summon some snake-demon out of myth to swallow you whole?

Sicut serpans caudam suam devorat

Bare, spread open like a flower on the altar, you wish you could cover yourself. You try as best you can, grunting as you struggle against the chains around your ankles, but you can’t hide your flushed crotch from view. You hate the way the attention makes you involuntarily heat up.

Tibi hanc oblationem damus

The air around you feels colder than ever. The meager wetness gathering in your core chills, further sapping your body’s warmth. You can feel eyes all over your bare flesh, but with each cultist’s face hidden, you can’t tell if they’re actually looking at you or not. Do they gaze upon your helpless form with unadulterated lust? Do they long to sink their teeth into you and fuck you until you haven’t the strength to say no any longer? Or do they simply size you up like the butcher does his sow? You wish you could say for sure.

In reditu nihil petimus

Half-heartedly, you wonder what god you’re being offered to. Satan? Baphomet? Leviathan? Cthulhu? Kali? Some nameless, formless entity known only to these gathered men? As you were brought here, you took notice of the carved reliefs on the walls. Even now, they surround you, decorating the stone womb you are trapped within. All of them depict snakes, writhing and coiling in on themselves, devouring their own tails and lashing out at unseen enemies. One relief in the far corner depicts a rat in the process of being swallowed whole by a cobra, only for the cobra to be bitten and mauled by a great bear. Another relief, this one continuing the tale, shows the injured serpent biting its own tail and taking new form as a halo behind a humanoid figure, body undefined, unknowable. Then, the halo-snake rides along the arm of the figure, coiling and constricting the throat of a fox. The final relief you can see from your position shows the fox standing at the figure’s side as the same bear from the first relief, accompanied by a jackal, lunges for them. Behind the silhouettes you can make out etchings of roiling flames.

Such evocative, ominous imagery. You can only assume these people mean to sacrifice you to the serpent in their carvings. Do they believe him to be dead, and your blood will revive him? Is he slumbering, and you’re merely bait to awaken him? So many questions, and with not one of the cultists willing to even acknowledge you, each one will die on your leaden tongue and with your terrified heart.

Serva benedictionem intuitus tui

Somehow, you can sense their mantra is nearing its end. Your breathing speeds up. You still can’t see any of them carrying weapons, or anything at all. Each cultist has his hands raised in the air as if offering something to the sky, empty. You pull against your fetters again, to no avail. Do your family and friends even know you’re gone? Are they looking for you? What will they say when you never come home? Your heart aches to think of it. You hope that these cultists at least let your body be found. You don’t want your loved ones to spend the rest of their lives listening for a heartbeat that no longer exists.

You steel yourself. You will face death with gritted teeth, pursed lips, and stony eyes. You will not grant these lunatics the pleasure of turning you into a damsel.

Vivat Uroboros

Now, that phrase you can understand somewhat. Long live Uroboros. Is that the name of their god? Uroboros? Judging by the imagery of snakes all around you, and the mentions of serpents in the chant, you anticipate being swallowed whole by a leviathan summoned from below, or maybe tossed into a pit of vipers.

What you don’t expect is for a suffocating silence to fall over the sanctum.

It feels wholly unnatural, unearthly. Like there’s a bubble that encases you, preventing you from hearing anything save your own frantic heartbeat. None of the cultists are moving. Your breaths become shallow as you try to understand what’s happening, why the shadows in the corners seem to undulate.

And then you look up.

The eyes, unblinking, burn away your bones, leaving only your soul behind. They’re made of hellfire, with only slivers of onyx to act as pupils. They bore right into your own, and you suddenly find yourself even more paralyzed than you already were.

The silence is broken by something new- a low, droning hum, like the gastric functions of some titanic monster. You watch as the void above you shifts, shimmers like oil, distorts into something new. Tendrils- writhing, black, wet, vile, foreboding -emerge from the infinite pitch and encircle you and the altar you lay on, blocking out the rest of the world with moving, living walls. You can barely breathe as those brimstone eyes continue to appraise you, pupils dilating and shrinking as the seconds pass. They come closer, closer, until you can feel them hovering in the air just above your face. You can’t blink. If you do, you’ll die, you’re sure of it.

A nightmare. That’s what this is. All you need to do is wait it out and you’ll wake up at home, hungover from the party, tangled in your sheets and pillows. All you need to do is wake up.

But then, why does everything feel too real? Why does the oily tentacle that prods under your chin, tilting you up to face the unfathomable being it belongs to, feel so utterly visceral?

The appendage retracts, leaving a faint, sticky residue on your skin. Your head falls back against the cushion, your eyes still trained on the nightmare above you. A voice comes to you, a voice that echoes from the depths of your psyche like the death rattle of a vanquished god. It feels invasive, and yet completely native. It feels unearthly, and yet natural.

Hello.

The voice, deep and cold, is overpowering. You finally capitulate, squeezing your eyes shut against the pounding echo of the single word. Bursts of color flash behind your eyelids as the word reverberates, fades in and out, as if your mind is trying to consume it. It’s horrifying, making your skin crawl and your bones itch, but bound as you are, there is nothing you can do. You feel as though you’re being lobotomized from the inside out, the forbidden knowledge somehow contained within those two benign syllables putting a trepanning tool to the inside of your skull and pounding pounding pounding. The pressure builds, your heart running in circles, thrashing against your screaming ribcage, and stars die in your eyes as the pain crescendos and you feel your skull shattering-

And then you open your eyes. Half-blind with tears, you still recognize the form above you, standing astride your hips on the altar.

A man.

The most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

The shock blasts away all the agony in your mind like a bomb at ground zero. Suddenly you see with perfect clarity, cold calmness draped over you like a paper-thin blanket of hoarfrost. All that is allowed to exist in your newly-cleared mind is the image of him. Tall, with blonde hair slicked back perfectly, not one strand out of place. Pale skin, like bone china, and thin lips, an angular face that simultaneously warns you away, lest you cut yourself on its edge, and beckons you to throw your body into the blade. His eyes, the color of magma, are the only indication that this is the same being that hovered over you moments ago. The same being, now in a new, impossibly-beautiful form. He looks down upon you, eyes harsh and stern but curious. Interested. The midnight leather that covers his body drapes around you, the ends of his long coat transforming into the same tendrils that encased you before. He tilts his head, appraising your naked form.

The same voice that scorched your sanity returns, though its razor edge is dulled. Be calm. It’s a command, one you physically cannot refuse. At the very least, this time it doesn’t crack open your skull and drain from it the fluid within. Like a computer given an executive command, your body instantly obeys. Your heart rate slows, your breathing evens out. You watch as his gaze leaves you, looking out over the prostrate assemblage before him.

It’s the same voice as in your head, but now audible to everyone else, that shatters the silence. “I have yet to be disappointed with your offerings,” he speaks, and he would sound like any other man if not for the way the bones of the earth tremble at his words, “it would be a shame to jeopardize our… relationship now.

“Which is why I can’t help but ask- who among you thought to touch what is mine?” Suddenly the detached cadence of his voice breaks away, revealing the cold, calculated anger beneath. For some reason, be it your exhausted heart or the command he gave you, you don’t feel uncomfortable the way you usually do when so close to such rage. You know it isn’t directed at you, but that hasn’t stopped your anxiety from rearing its ugly head in the past. Somehow, you are utterly calm in the face of the wrath of a god.

There is a pause, long and heavy, that clamps down on the room. For a painful moment, no one moves. Not him, not you, not the cultists around the altar or the assemblage before you. And then, a single figure rises from kneeling to stand tall and stiff among the crowd. Somehow, you know- this is the man who struck you. The bruise on your cheek stings with the echo of his attack.

The deity above you, nameless, hums in unknowable emotion as the perpetrator reveals himself. Like a bolt of black lightning, he thrusts his arm forward, gloved hand splayed out as if reaching for the man. In response, the man convulses, body twitching, doubling over and clutching at his stomach. He remains silent save for a few faint gurgling sounds, pained and sickening. Slowly, the summoned god draws his fingers into a fist.

“I haven’t felt the need to demonstrate what will happen to anyone who thinks they know better than I,” he says conversationally, as though a man isn’t dying in the middle of the room. Some of the cultists surrounding him turn to watch the spectacle, while others remain kneeling, albeit shaking. “But I suppose now is as good a time as ever, hm?” The tendrils that make up his coattails are writhing, charged with vitriolic power, hovering just over you. The sight of the man being tormented makes you sick, and you close your eyes to bite back the bile in your throat.

The voice returns, still gentle in comparison to his introduction, but stern. No, little one. Watch.

You already know you have no choice. Your eyelids open of their own volition, against the signals your brain sends. Now that you’re looking, you can’t tear your eyes away, like a car accident of eldritch proportions. It is nightmarish, and yet, you stand transfixed.

“Let this serve as a lesson to the rest of you,” the unholy being continues, watching with bored eyes as his victim falls to his knees, “this isn’t the most painful way I can kill. Lay hands on what belongs to me, and you will suffer. Am I understood?” In response, the cultists assembled nod their heads vigorously, or else give a terse cry of yes, Serpent-Father. Both reactions serve the same end, and their recipient seems satisfied. “Good,” he concludes with a pleasant tone.

His hand clenches into a fist, and the man’s head explodes into a mass of ravenous black tendrils.

Some of the devotees gasp, others flinch, and some remain still, though clearly at great personal cost. You can’t stop the horrified cry that escapes you, but the command of the voice evidently can. Hush. And your mouth closes.

As the body falls, twitching, to the stone floor, you watch the grotesque spectacle continue, more ebon tendrils eating their way out of the torso and abdomen. They detach from the body, slithering across the floor in unison towards the altar, and you realize they’re not tendrils at all, but snakes. They slide up the altar, over your trembling flesh, and up the legs of the man above you, who welcomes his servants with no issue. They obey their master unerringly, coiling in a braid around his outstretched arm, before becoming one with the shimmering leather itself. They are an extension of him, and so they merge seamlessly. One blink, and they’re gone, leaving behind only their master.

To their credit, the cultists surrounding the altar haven’t strayed from their positions, as much as you imagine they wish to. You look up at him, their patron, this Serpent-Father they’ve served you up to. You wonder if that is his name, or merely a moniker. He glances about the room, surveying the mass of devotees in attendance, and nods.

In response, one of the cultists at the altar begins another chant. The words remain unknown to you, but they set a strange rhythm, one that seems to put your soul into motion. Elsewhere, someone rings out a ceremonial bell, a sepulchral beat to accompany the tuneless song. You can’t help but wonder if this is where you die. If the beautiful, terrifying man above you will be the one to spill your blood, in his own name, and devour your beating heart.

But then, he isn’t above you anymore. He stands at the side of the altar you’re bound to, the other cultists having backed up against the wall with heads lowered in respect. He has free reign to run his gloved fingertips across the stone surface, and across your vulnerable skin. The slow, sensual touch makes you tense, expecting pain where there is none. At the frightened gasp you let out, he tilts his head in amusement.

His voice echoes in your mind again, a baritone murmur that curls against your innermost thoughts. He coils across your deepest self, probing, plucking the synapses of your brain like harpstrings. Each gentle tug coaxes your body into a pliant, heated state. Privately, he speaks to you. My pets gave you quite the scare, didn’t they? He hums, his corporeal hands gliding across the length of your leg, your arm, your side. He touches you with obvious intent, though what that intention is somewhat eludes you still. Are you not a sacrifice? Are you not meant to be killed in his name? Don’t mind all that, dearheart. Set dressing, really. You’re here to give me a different kind of offering.

Slowly, deliberately, he climbs atop the altar and sits astride your hips. He continues his exploration of your body until one gloved hand finds its way to cradle your cheek, an unexpectedly-comforting touch that you can’t help but lean into with a quiet whine. The other trails down, down, until his fingertips caress the sensitive flesh of your cunt. It makes you jolt, which consequently gives him better access to you, and his fingers greedily explore the velvety skin, nerves firing off with sparks of pleasure. As one finger dips inside, coating itself in the slick of your inner walls, you suddenly find yourself understanding the true nature of your predicament. “Oh,” you breathe, any and all confusion draining from you to the beat of the chanting.

You’re not here to give your life. You’re here to give your body. You’re here to fuck a god.

Both inwardly and outwardly, said god chuckles, amused by your wide eyes and heated cheeks. Whatever did you think was going to happen, hm? He asks, despite knowing full well what you expected. Your body responds eagerly to his ministrations, skin heating up, hips bucking against the restraints keeping you prone. You summon your higher brain functions to glare halfheartedly up at him for teasing you, to which he only coos condescendingly. “Did you think I’d eat you or something, little one?” He speaks aloud, voice soft but still cool and dark, “Oh no, nothing so gauche. The only screams that will fill the halls tonight will be of pleasure.”

The line is so cheesy; if an ordinary man used it on you, you’d roll your eyes. But in this place, surrounded by devoted onlookers and helpless before a god, it only makes you keen for more. You arch your back against the stone, meeting the languid thrusts of his fingers with the bucking of your hips. He looks down at you with such unbridled desire that your head spins. Speaking of screaming- he whispers into your head -My name is Wesker. You’re among my acolytes now, you may speak it freely. Don’t be shy.

A second finger, just as deft as the first, finds its way inside of you. It’s so good and yet not nearly enough. You can’t help but writhe beneath the god- Wesker -as he teases you. Your restraints hold fast, chafing against your wrists and ankles, denying you from taking more than what is offered. It’s agonizing, but the pain sears you from the inside out so deliciously. Any modesty lingering within you is burnt away in the wake of his fiery eyes and the horrible pleasure he brings. Your own eyes blown out, misty with tears, you can’t help but stare out at the procession of chanting cultists.

They treat your debauchment as though it’s a sermon. They offer prayers over your escalating moans, and you may be delirious enough to hallucinate but surely you aren’t simply making up the visible tents in some of their robes. The knowledge that they’re aroused simply by watching their god unravel you on his fingers, that they have the discipline to continue their worship regardless, sends a piercing bolt of arousal straight to your pulsing clit.

You can feel your climax sneaking up on you, choking you from behind. “Please,” you gasp, suddenly breathless as you look back to your tormentor, “pl- ah- please, make me cum, ‘m almost- almost there…” it’s as much a prayer as the ones being offered by your voyeurs. You wriggle your torso invitingly, begging him with your body to give you the building ecstasy.

Wesker smiles in satisfaction at the mess he’s made of you. The hand not burying three of its deliciously-long, slender fingers in your sopping cunt comes up, grabs your chin between thumb and forefinger. He drinks in your wrecked expression like the finest liquor. “You can have it, pet,” he coos, lowering his face to hover just over yours, and you’ve never wanted to kiss someone more in your fucking life, “go on. Scream my name while I ruin you.”

And you do. By every strange deity in this cult’s perverted pantheon, you do. Your downright pornographic cry of Wesker echoes through the halls of the sanctum, and the way you can see him shudder at the sound of his own name is what finally tips you over the edge. It’s sinful, the flush that comes to his pale cheeks, but it’s delicious. His being pulses with a surge of power at having his name invoked, especially during such passion as yours. The cultists chant a devoted hymn in unison, voices raised in victory, seemingly empowered by your climax. Your better judgment leaks out of you alongside the juices of your orgasm, pooling in a clear puddle of slick on the granite. Of any fluid from your body to give to Wesker, this is the one you would gleefully offer again.

As you come down from the ravenous high, your wonderfully-foggy mind registers something else prodding at your fluttering hole in replacement of his fingers. It feels hot and hard, and though you can’t crane your head enough to look down and see what it is, you can hedge a bet. The thought of having him fill you, claim you from the inside out, is enough to have you writhing desperately again. You keen pathetically as your chains keep you steadfastly held down, wishing more than ever that they were gone and you could simply wrap your arms and legs around this god and cling to him while he gives you all he has to give. You strain your wrists, your ankles, against the fetters, praying for them to just snap out of existence.

As though sensing your frustration, Wesker leans down, pressing his lips against the side of your head in a strange pantomime of a kiss that leaves your chest feeling unexpectedly fluttery and light. His voice swims in your head. Feeling trapped, are we? He asks rhetorically, the hand not guiding his cock to rest against your winking cunt wrapping around the chain on your right wrist. You nod frantically, babbling out quiet, incomprehensible pleas to be freed. Oh, alright. I know you’ll behave for me. After all, I’m sure you remember what I do to pets I find unsatisfactory.

The small ripple of dread in the pool of hot lust makes you whimper. It’s an unwelcome reminder that though you may be enjoying yourself, you’re not here by choice, and you even have the cold corpse of the man who slapped you to act as visual aid. But you’ll be good. You’ve been good thus far, been sweet and obedient under his ministrations, and you have every intention of continuing that. You’ll be good for him. For Wesker.

With a subtle squeeze, the god in mortal flesh releases your shackled wrist. The chain turns warm, scaly, as do the ones on the rest of your limbs. The newly-transformed snakes, just as vantablack as the ones he summoned to kill the errant cultist, slither away from your wrists and ankles, leaving you blessedly free. They return to their master, merging with his writhing coat, but you don’t care, only concerned with satiating the bottomless lust eating through your core. You take hold of the gloved hand cradling the apple of your cheek, entwining your fingers with his. “Please,” you whisper, summoning your headiest, lustiest voice, “I’m ready. Take me, Serpent-Father.”

The deep, lustful growl Wesker lets out at your usage of the honorific you picked up on from the cultists lets you know you made the right call. You brace your feet against the stone just as he finally enters you, hot cockhead breaching your cunt and stretching you around him. Connected to the divine in a way more literal than most could ever hope for, you moan, utterly lost in the heavy liquid pleasure that fills you. Like molten gold, it keeps you pressed down, prone and pliant for your god, unable to even fathom saying no. A new chant begins, some cultists diverging from the herd in their own hymns and calls of prayer, all to the constant call of the ceremonial bell. It’s overwhelming, and you can’t help but feel the devotion of the assemblage is directed to you as much as it is to Wesker. This feeling, being watched with hungry, obsessive eyes, would normally frighten you. But safe within the solid embrace of your god, spread out for him and him only, it only makes you shudder and clench around him.

Another deep, baritone groan rumbles into you from his chest as he pushes inward, filling you thoroughly and making a pleasant weight in your core. Chancing a look down, you see he’s only about halfway, and your stomach drops out as you realize just how much you have left to take. A firm hand grips your cheeks and forces your head back up to his, though not painfully. “Look at me while I fuck you, little mortal. There is nothing else. Only me.” He orders, and you have no choice but to obey him. The hand not clasped in his and pressed down to the stone slab comes up to press at his back, forcing him closer to you. He chuckles at your insistence, but obliges, leaning in closer until you can feel his hot breath against your face.

The first thrust, once he finally sheathes himself in your cunt, makes you white out in sensation. It isn’t pain, nor pleasure, merely the feeling of being filled so profoundly. But it’s strong enough to leave you gasping for air while your mouth hangs open in a silent scream. The second plants a blooming seed of euphoria deep within you, and the third sees that seed take root and sprout. Wesker lets go of your face, assured of your obedience, and presses the hand instead to your abdomen, where you realize his cock leaves a bulge in your belly. The full-body tremor that shakes you and him both as he presses down, constricting your cunt and his cock in unison, is soul-shattering. The part of your brain not melting out of your ears right now is determined to join this cult after the ritual concludes, if only to experience such glorious sex again. You already know no mortal, man, woman, or otherwise, will ever be able to satisfy you now that you’ve tasted the forbidden fruit. Maybe Eve’s garden was tainted by the serpent, but yours is left bursting with new life by his touch. Your Eden is here, with him and him alone.

The rest of the world fades away, leaving behind only the faint chiming of the bell and the singing of your devotees behind the lewd sounds of leather against flesh. You float in a void of ecstasy in which exists only you and Wesker, you and your god. You cling to his hand like the lifeline it is, being fucked half to death as you are, his inhuman thrusts bullying his cockhead cruelly against your cervix. Never before has anything (or anyone) reached so deep inside you, and you’ve heard it said that having your cervix touched is horrifyingly painful. But all you feel is a profound sense of fullness, near bursting, as he rams against your innermost walls. You half expect him to breach even that and make his home directly in your womb, but thankfully, he doesn’t. Your soul sings out, and Wesker hears it, his presence already entrenched in your mind forever. He pulls the strings of your psyche as though you’re the most beautiful marionette, and he the most perfect puppetmaster. Your body, and all that comes with it, is stripped away, and you feel as if he’s fucking your very soul instead, making his home in the space between your astral projection and the back of your eyes. It’s unreal, unlike anything you’ve felt before, like the protective skin around your clit has been stripped leaving only the bare nerves to be stimulated directly. Without the hindrance of flesh, he drags you upwards to a climax more intense than you could have imagined before.

He holds you there, at the edge of the beautiful abyss, taking his pleasure from you first. Your ecstasy builds, peaks-

And when he brings your entwined hands to his mouth and buries his fangs in the delicate meat of your inner wrist, it crests. Instead of being thrown to the wave, the wave throws itself over you, dwarfing you even as you stand on the mountain of built-up pleasure, washing you away. You hear a high-pitched scream, and barely, you register it as your own. You open your teary eyes, seeing double for a moment as you fall back into your body, and watch as Wesker hungrily sinks his teeth into your wrist. It hurts, yes, and your body jolts at the pain, but it’s quickly washed away by the aftershocks of your orgasm. His eyes never leave yours as he laps at your blood, consuming your life essence while you tremble beneath him in a broken mess of cum and slick. He continues thrusting into you, and you feel his cock twitch, and your own arousal stirs again somehow at the thought of him breeding you, filling you with his seed and making you bear his divine children. All at once, he releases from your wrist, letting out a monumental growl of pleasure as he cums deep within you.

Your body simultaneously feels like it’s completely numb, void of any tactile sensation at all, and also oversensitive to the point of pain. A foreign presence makes itself known in your bloodstream, flowing from your bitten wrist to the rest of you. Somehow, you understand that this is his way of claiming you- marking you. No rival gods, much less mortals, will dare lay their hands on you now.

The exhaustion has caught up to you finally. The room splits into four, your eyes barely able to stay open and your body going completely limp. It’s a little frightening, and you look up at Wesker with fearful eyes, asking for guidance. His hand returns to hold yours, squeezing as if to reassure you. You are mine, he murmurs from within you, there is no turning back now.

His. You are his. Mortal plaything of the Serpent-Father, of Wesker. It should horrify you.

But the thought is comforting enough to make you relax. He brushes gloved fingertips across your eyelids, closing them for you. His voice is the last thing you hear. Sleep, pet.

When you wake, the cold stone beneath you has been replaced by sleek, soft sheets, warmed by your body.

Slowly, delicately, you sit up, taking stock of your body’s condition. You feel fine, well-rested, even. But then the previous night’s events flash before your eyes.

Being tied to a stone altar. A god of unfathomable power taking shape over you. Giving you his name, taking the most beautiful form. Fucking you until you passed out. His teeth in your flesh.

A phantom ache makes itself known in your sex, protesting the rigorous activity of the night. But that’s the least of your concern as you look at your wrist. In place of what should be a healing bite mark, there is a rune.

At least, you think it’s a rune. It’s the color of midnight, pure black, in the shape of a striped 8-sided star, with a snake coiling around it. The mark of Wesker. As you think of his name, an echo of the unrelenting euphoria he showed you last night washes over you. Your face heats up, and you subconsciously rub your thighs together.

There are worse gods to belong to, I guess.

You already know you’re not at home. Your bed isn’t nearly this comfy, nor is it covered in sleek silk sheets. You assume you’re somewhere else in the cultists’ hideout, somewhere offerings such as yourself are left to recuperate from their endeavor. You’re also no longer naked- looking down at yourself, sliding off the smooth fabric, you watch the sheer gown you’re wearing billow out around your legs. Like the bed, it’s black, and you can only assume it’s made of chiffon or gossamer given the weightlessness of the fabric. It hugs your body absolutely perfectly, draping over your skin and leaving your back & shoulders bare. It feels like a dream.

A pair of gloved hands suddenly takes hold of your hips. Gasping, you attempt to turn, only for the grip to tighten, keeping you in place. “Hush,” Wesker speaks, allaying your surprise somewhat, “it’s only me, dearheart.”

His body, hot and firm, presses against your back, possessively looming over you. He kneads your hips idly as you recover from the minor scare. His presence is soothing, reassuring. With his claim on you thoroughly set, you know he will keep you safe, even if it is only to protect his investment. “Where are we?” You ask softly, unsure of how to carry yourself around the god who fucked you so well you converted to his religion.

He hums quietly, hands trailing down to your thighs. “We are in my domain. After the ritual concluded, I brought you back with me. And here you will stay.”

“…what?” You breathe. His domain? As in, his realm of reality? A place outside of the mortal plane as you know it? You’re not meant to be here. You should be home, with your friends and family. You belong back on earth, not as a caged pet to an ancient god. As alluring, as magnetic, as he is, you cannot stay with him.

Wesker laughs, a touch of cruelty entering his voice as he takes in your slight panic. “What, pet, did you think that was a one-and-done affair? That I’d be satisfied with breeding you only once? Think again.” One hand comes up to grasp your face, forcing you to turn towards a large mirror you hadn’t noticed. Your reflection greets you, as does his, looming behind you.

The first thing you notice is the band around your neck. Made of black silver, it circles your neck perfectly, staying in place without being uncomfortably tight or even chafing. A collar, shaped like a snake devouring its own tail. Your collar.

Wesker’s calm voice breaks you from your investigation. “I do hope you like your collar, little one. You won’t be parting with it any time soon.

“It’s as I said- there is no turning back now, my dear. There is nothing else for you. Only me.”

And the rest of existence fades away, leaving only you. Only him.

Only pleasure.

[chaifootsteps]

A summary from someone who was at the premiere:

Hi! I'm the person who was at the premiere and noted how Viv ignored her fans (yes the theater was small looking back on it, this was my first time going to an event like this)

Here are the summaries of the first 3 episodes

Episode 1 The episode starts with an origin story about how the angels created the world and Lucifer was one of them and was very creative and shit. So when the angels made Adam and Lilith (and before you ask yes Hazbin's Adam is the first man, they confirmed it in the episode) and Lilith rebelled she and Lucifer became chums and ended up convicing Eve to eat the fruit, which brought sin into the world and made the angels banish Lucifer and Lilith to hell which made Lucifer sad and lose his spark because he's now surrounded by shitty humans. Lilith meanwhile continued to inspire demons with her singing and because heaven didn't like that they sent the exterminators to make sure demons do not rise up against them. But now it is up to Lucifer's and Lilith's daughter to help sinners.

Then it turns out that this was a book Charlie was reading and Vaggie comes in and comforts her telling her she believes in her. Also it turns out that Charlie has not seen Lilith in 7 years. Vaggie then tells Charlie that Alastor has a surprise and we get to see the ad Alastor made. Turns out that they forced Alastor to make an ad with video (and yes he was upset about it). Big woop the ad sucks cause Alastor insulted people in it. Angel Dust suggests to remake the ad into a fucking porno because of course he does.

Then Charlie gets a call from Lucifer who tells her that Adam wants to meet with her and she sings Happy Day in Hell during her walk to Heaven's HQ thing. Meanwhile Vaggie decides to redo the ad which involves Husk reading off the script and Angel sexually harassing him. Vaggie gets upset and Alastor sees this and promises to make a deal wirh her, he helps her make the ad with a video camera and in return they never make him do shit with video again.

Charlie reaches the Heaven's HQ where she meets Adam who literally talks like Chaz. He swears all the time, talks about sex, and even called himself "the original dick" or something , I dunno I had a stroke. He just spends like an hour or so talking to Charlie about how cool he is, how he had sex with this one chick, ect ect. He's really no different from the average demon. Also he's a hologram and he eats ribs during this. Charlie than finally gets to explain her plan to Adam but he and Lute go "no" because sinners had their chance as humans and Adam likes killing them. He then sings a song which I forgot the lyrics for, and yes the "this shot is EVERYTHING" clip came from that song, and he kicks out Charlie. Oh and the next extermination will be 6 months later because Adam felt like being a dick.

Charlie comes back home all sad and shit and Vaggie tries to cheer her up by showing her the new ad. Until it interrupts and Katie Killjoy announces the news that the next extermination will be in 6 months instead of 12. And yes her voice is literally just Bryce Tankthrust's. The episode ends with Lute showing Adam an image of a decapitated exterminator, and now they want to kill all demons because of the murder of an exterminator.

And that's episode 1

Episode 2 Episode 2 starts out with Charlie realising sinners are freaking the fuck out, and that this 6 month deadline may mean sinners may get desperate to redeem themselves. Also Valentino is constantly DMing Angel because Angel moved out. Then Sir Pentious shows up to fight Alastor again but Alastor kicks his ass.

We then meet the 3 VVVs, and Valentino disemboweled Velvette's model because he's angy Angel moved out, so she calls Vox to calm him down. Vox shows up and calms down Valentino. And bruh, Valentino somehow acts no different from Stella. He's so unthreatening and goofy with how much he acts like a spoiled child who got mad his lolipop got taken away it fucking hurts! During their chat, Valentino mentions to Vox that Angel is not the only patron at the Hazbin Hotel, but Alastor is as well which angers Vox because he thought Alastor was gone when he vanished 7 years ago.... wait-

Alastor defeats Sir Pent by punting him after he rips off a strip from Alastor's jacket. Alastor leaves to get his suit fixed up but not before summoning some monsters to guard the hotel, with whom Angel flirts with because of fucking course he does. Then we get a duet between Alastor and Vox where Alastor basically announces he's back baybee. The three VVVs then try to inflitrate the hotel so Vox they have to hire someone Charlie would not expect as a spy.

Charlie returns with no new patrons until Sir Pent knocks on the door. Vaggie is about to murk him when Charlie decides to give him a chance and welcomes him into the hotel. There she tries to teach Sir Pent how to be good by making him learn about apologizing, so he apologizes to Alastor for ripping his jacket and gives him back the strip he tore off. Alastor responds by burning the strip.

Charlie then does an excersize with the crew where they all introduce themselves, and only Charlie and Sir Pent do it. At some point we get the Roleplaying scene where Sir Pent pretends he is an innocent kid, and Charlie tells him he'll be on his way to redemption in no time, which makes Angel sad for some reason. Angel goes to his room where he scrolls through voice mails Valentino sent him which flip flop between "Angel baybee I'm so sorry" to "Pick up you fucking whore". And the last one is him telling Angel that "there is no hope for you" while red smoke wraps around sad Angel.

Later that night Angel gets up to get a drink of booze when he walks in on Sir Pent putting up a camera from Vox. He confronts Sir Pent and they start fighting. Charlie and Vaggie walk in and Angel reveals what Sir Pent did. At that moment Vox calls Sir Pent and tells him he's a failure who should die because he failed. Sir Pent then bows down to Angel and Vaggie saying he's sorry and they can kill him. They're about to do so when Charlie breaks out into a song how redemption starts with a sorry. They all then go back to bed when Alastor t poses into the room and bullies Vox for a bit before breaking the watch Sir Pent used to have to talk to Vox.

||Also Niffty simped for Sir Pent for a bit because he's a "bad boy", but after he and Charlie sang that song she got upset that he wasn't a bad boy anymore||

And that's ep 2

Episode 3 So episode 3 starts out with it being one week since Sir Pent joined and Vaggie is chewing him out for building weapons and havine egg minions. So she has Alastor take the egg men away. (We also get a scene of Alastor eating a deer carcass for breakfast) Sir Pent also keeps trying to shoot ppl because he doesn't trust anyone.

In response to this Charlie tries to do some trust exercises for the rest of the crew, such as having them say the most intimate things about themselves while also falling down and letting the crew catch them. She tells them how much she loves them and Vaggie catches her. Angel sexually harasses Husk by saying he loves sucking popsicles and then falling in his arms and saying he loves sucking dick too. Sir Pent says he loved his minions and tells ppl not to catch them but they all do anyways. Niffty confesses that she loves killing mama bug infront of their babies so they learn fear. No one catches her but she keeps jumping off the stage over and over. Then Angel suggests another exercise.

Cut back to Alastor and the egg fellows who meet up with Zestial (who also has one of the hottest voices in the show like holy fuck, then again he's voiced by Ozzie's VA). Also people seem to be so scared of Zestial they either run away or the hurt themselves. Alastor and Zestial talk about how Alastor went missing for 7 years and is now working with the princess of hell or sumthin. They end up in a meeting for overlords where Rosie shows up but she says nothing. Also despite Alastor telling the egg sapiens to stay outside one of them ends up following him. Here we meet Carmilla who gathered the overlords to talk about protecting sinners from the extermiation or something. Then Velvette shows up because Vox and Val didn't wanna show up, and she reveals to the overlords a dismembered exorsist head. Then we get a song where Velvette and Carmilla duet and the song kinda slapped? I forgot most of the conversation tho. Then after the song Carmilla tells the Overlords to leave, and Alastor makes the egg man that followed him spy on Carmilla, and it turns out that she's the one that killed the exorsist but I forgot why she keeps it a secret. Also Carmilla and Zestial seem to be a thing. Then she gets a song that's also a duet with Vaggie which I also forgot what it's about.

Speaking of, Angel takes the crew to a BDSM club because of fucking course its a sex joke. Vaggie says no and then takes the crew to a turf war and makes them all fight against other sinners to make them learn how to trust one another??? It some how ends up working btw. Later on after the afromentioned duet Vaggie apologizes to Charlie but she says it's ok since Angel, Sir Pent, Husk, and Niffty seem to be chummy now now that they helped one another in that turf fight. Alastor returns with the eggs and Vaggie allows Sir Pent to have them back. The episode ends with Sir Pent and his eggs going to bed.

And that is the end of my Hazbin screening.