#no need for theatrics darling

[slytherin-paramour]

Daddy Rookwood. He's sexy ok!? 👀👀

[pucksandpower]

Black Widow

Toto Wolff x black widow!Reader

Summary: Lewis Hamilton and George Russell are convinced you’re trying to kill their team principal, and, to be fair, you do have a trail of seven dead extremely wealthy husbands behind you … but it’s not what they think, you promise

The soft beep of medical equipment provides a rhythmic backdrop as you sit beside the ornate mahogany bed, your manicured fingers intertwined with those of your latest husband, Reginald Worthington III.

At 89 years old, Reggie, as you affectionately call him, is by far your oldest conquest yet. His wrinkled face, now gaunt from months of illness, still manages a weak smile as he gazes at you.

“My darling,” Reggie wheezes, his voice barely above a whisper, “I hope you know how much joy you’ve brought to these final months of mine.”

You lean in, your silky hair cascading over your shoulder as you press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Oh, Reggie. The pleasure has been all mine.”

It’s not entirely a lie. While you don’t love Reggie — or any of your previous husbands, for that matter — you’ve grown fond of the old codger. He’s certainly been the most amusing of your elderly spouses.

Reggie’s eyes twinkle with mischief, a ghost of the rakish playboy he must have been in his youth. “Now, now, my dear. We both know this has been a mutually beneficial arrangement. But I do hope I’ve provided some entertainment along the way.”

You can’t help but chuckle. “You’ve been a delight, darling. Truly.”

As if on cue, Reggie is seized by a coughing fit. You quickly grab a glass of water from the bedside table, helping him take small sips until the spasms subside. When he catches his breath, he fixes you with a serious look.

“Y/N, there’s something I need to tell you. About the will.”

Your heart skips a beat, but you keep your face carefully neutral. “Reggie, please. We don’t need to discuss such morbid topics.”

He waves a dismissive hand. “Nonsense. We both know why you’re here, and it’s not to admire the wallpaper. Now listen, because this is important.”

You lean in closer, curiosity piqued despite yourself.

Reggie’s voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. “In addition to the usual — the houses, the cars, the offshore accounts — I’m leaving you my stake in the Mercedes Formula 1 team.”

Your eyes widen in genuine surprise. “The racing team? Reggie, I had no idea you were involved with-”

He cuts you off with a wheezy laugh. “Oh, my dear. There’s so much you don’t know about me. Did you think I made my fortune selling denture cream?”

You can’t help but smile. “Well, I did wonder about all those trophies in your study.”

“Remnants of a misspent youth,” Reggie says with a wistful sigh. “But this, this is my crowning achievement. A 33% stake in one of the most successful F1 teams in history.”

Your mind reels at the implications. This is far beyond anything you’d anticipated when you’d set your sights on Reginald Worthington III.

“Reggie, I ... I don’t know what to say.”

He pats your hand affectionately. “You don’t have to say anything, my dear. Just promise me you’ll make the most of it. I’ve always admired your ambition. It reminds me of myself at your age.”

You lean back in your chair, studying the old man before you. In that moment, you feel a surge of genuine affection for him.

“I promise, Reggie. I’ll make you proud.”

He nods, satisfied. “Good. Now, tell me about the others. I want to know how I measure up to my predecessors.”

You laugh, shaking your head in amazement. “Are you sure? It’s quite a list.”

Reggie’s eyes sparkle with interest. “My dear, I’m on my deathbed. Regale me with tales of your conquests.”

With a theatrical sigh, you begin. “Well, if you insist. Let’s see ... first, there was Harold.”

“Ah, the virgin husband,” Reggie interrupts with a knowing nod.

You raise an eyebrow. “And how did you know that?”

He winks. “I have my sources. Go on.”

“Right. Well, Harold was a sweet man. A bit naive, perhaps, but genuinely kind. He left me his tech startup. It wasn’t worth much at the time, but I sold it for a tidy sum a year later.”

Reggie nods approvingly. “Smart move. Who was next?”

“After Harold came George. He was ... intense. A retired army general with a penchant for war stories and expensive scotch. Left me his collection of rare military memorabilia.”

“Fascinating,” Reggie murmurs. “And the others?”

You tick them off on your fingers. “Let’s see ... there was Joaquin, the passionate Spanish chef. He left me his Michelin-starred restaurants. Then came Dmitri, the Russian oligarch. That was ... an experience.”

Reggie chuckles. “I bet it was. What did he leave you?”

“A series of shell companies and a rather gaudy yacht. I sold the yacht, kept the companies.” You pause, lost in thought for a moment. “After Dmitri was William, the British lord. Lovely man, terrible teeth. Left me his crumbling estate and title.”

“So you’re technically a lady now?” Reggie asks, amused.

You nod. “Lady Y/N, at your service. Though I don’t use the title much. It tends to raise questions.”

“Understandable. And the last one before me?”

Your expression softens slightly. “Ah, that was Hiroshi. Japanese tech mogul. Brilliant mind, but so lonely. I think I was the first real companionship he’d had in years.”

Reggie studies you carefully. “You were fond of him.”

You nod, a bit surprised by the lump in your throat. “I was. He ... he understood me, I think. More than the others.”

There’s a moment of silence as Reggie processes this information. Finally, he speaks. “And what did Hiroshi leave you?”

You smile wryly. “His AI research company. It’s been ... interesting, to say the least.”

Reggie nods slowly. “Quite a collection you’ve amassed, my dear. But tell me, what drives you? Surely it’s not just the money.”

You’re taken aback by the question. No one has ever asked you that before. You take a moment to gather your thoughts.

“I suppose ... it’s the challenge of it all. The thrill of reinventing myself with each new husband, of navigating these complex worlds they inhabit. And yes, the wealth is nice, but it’s more about what I can do with it.”

Reggie leans forward, intrigued. “And what is it you want to do?”

You pause, realizing you’ve never really articulated this to anyone before. “I want to make a difference. Real, lasting change. These men, they’ve all built empires in their own ways, but they’ve been limited by their own mortality. I don’t have those limitations yet. I can take what they’ve given me and create something ... more.”

Reggie’s eyes light up with understanding. “Ah, now I see why I was drawn to you. You’re not just a pretty face or a clever mind. You’re a visionary.”

You feel a flush of pride at his words. “I try to be. Each husband has taught me something new, given me tools I never had before. Harold showed me the potential of technology. George taught me strategy. Joaquin, the importance of passion in one’s work. Dmitri, how to navigate the murky waters of international business. William gave me a glimpse into old-world power structures. And Hiroshi ... well, he opened my eyes to the future.”

Reggie nods slowly. “And what have I taught you, I wonder?”

You smile softly. “Patience, Reggie. The long game. And the value of a good sense of humor in the face of adversity.”

He chuckles weakly. “Well, I’m glad I could contribute something to your education. Now, about this F1 team ...”

You lean in, eager to hear more. “Yes?”

“It’s more than just a racing team, you know. It’s a pinnacle of engineering, a testament to human ingenuity and the constant push for improvement. I think you’ll find it fits quite well with your ambitions.”

You nod slowly, mind already racing with possibilities. “I can see that. The technology, the global platform, the prestige ...”

Reggie grins. “Exactly. And who knows? Maybe you’ll find husband number eight in the paddock.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Oh, Reggie. Always thinking ahead, aren’t you?”

He winks. “Someone has to. Now, promise me one thing.”

“Anything,” you say, and you’re surprised to find you mean it.

“When you’re accepting that championship trophy — because I know you will — wear something fabulous. Give those stuffy old men in the paddock something to talk about.”

You can’t help but grin. “Oh, don’t worry. I intend to shake things up a bit.”

Reggie nods approvingly. “That’s my girl. Now, I think I need to rest for a bit. But don’t go far. I want to hear all about your plans for world domination when I wake up.”

As you watch Reggie drift off to sleep, you can’t help but feel a mix of emotions. Sadness at the impending loss of this charming old rogue, excitement at the unexpected opportunity he’s given you, and a renewed sense of purpose.

You glance at your reflection in the ornate mirror across the room. Lady Y/N Y/L/N, soon-to-be racing magnate. It has a nice ring to it.

As you settle back into your chair, you begin to plan your next moves. The motorsport world won’t know what hit it.

***

The sleek boardroom of the Mercedes-AMG Petronas F1 Team headquarters buzzes with hushed conversation. Around the polished mahogany table, team executives and board members huddle in small groups, their voices low and urgent.

Toto catches snippets of conversation as he reviews his notes for the meeting.

“Did you hear? She’s actually coming today,” whispers Bradley, the team’s financial officer.

Sarah, head of marketing, leans in. “I can’t believe Reginald left her his stake. What was he thinking?”

“Probably wasn’t thinking with his head, if you know what I mean,” chuckles Thomas, the technical director.

Toto clears his throat, silencing the gossip. “Let’s keep things professional, shall we? We have important matters to discuss today.”

As if on cue, the boardroom door swings open. The room falls into an immediate, almost eerie silence as you stride in, turning heads with every click of your Manolo Blahnik heels against the polished floor.

Toto finds himself holding his breath, caught off guard by your presence. He’s seen photos, of course, but they didn’t do you justice. Your tailored Armani suit exudes power and confidence, while your eyes scan the room with a shrewd intelligence that sends a shiver down his spine.

You take your seat at the far end of the table, directly opposite Toto. “Good morning, everyone. I hope I’m not late.”

Your voice, smooth as silk with a hint of amusement, breaks the spell. The room erupts into a flurry of awkward greetings and nervous coughs.

Toto clears his throat again, trying to regain control of the situation. “Not at all. We were just about to begin. Welcome, Lady Worthington. We’re honored to have you join us today.”

You smile, a dazzling display that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Please, call me Y/N. We’re all colleagues here, after all.”

Toto nods, fighting to keep his composure. “Of course, Y/N. Shall we begin with the agenda?”

As the meeting progresses, Toto finds himself increasingly distracted. He’s used to being the most commanding presence in any room, but your arrival has shifted the dynamic entirely. Every time you speak, offering insights or asking pointed questions, the rest of the board seems to hold its breath.

“I’ve been reviewing our sustainability initiatives,” you say during a lull in the conversation. “While I applaud our efforts so far, I believe we could be doing more. Formula 1 has an unique platform to drive innovation in green technologies. We should be leading the charge, not just following along.”

Bradley shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “With all due respect, Lady- I mean, Y/N, implementing new sustainability measures could be quite costly. We need to consider the bottom line.”

You lean forward, fixing Bradley with an intense gaze. “And what about the cost of falling behind? Of being seen as out of touch with the concerns of younger fans? Sometimes, you have to spend money to make money.”

Toto finds himself nodding in agreement before he even realizes it. “Y/N raises an excellent point. Perhaps we should form a task force to explore more aggressive sustainability options.”

You flash him a grateful smile, and Toto feels his heart skip a beat. He quickly looks down at his notes, trying to regain his composure.

As the meeting continues, you consistently challenge the status quo, pushing for bolder strategies and innovative approaches. Toto watches in fascination as you deftly navigate the complex dynamics of the board, alternating between charm and steel as the situation demands.

During a discussion about driver development, you interject again. “I’ve been looking into our junior driver program, and I think we’re missing opportunities. We’re too focused on traditional racing backgrounds. What about sim racers? Or scouting karters from developing countries? We could be tapping into a whole new pool of talent.”

Sarah, the marketing head, perks up at this. “That’s ... actually a brilliant idea. It could really broaden our appeal, especially in emerging markets.”

You nod appreciatively. “Exactly. And imagine the stories we could tell. The sim racer who became an F1 champion or the kid from a small village who rose to the top of motorsport. That’s the kind of narrative that builds brand loyalty and inspires the next generation of fans.”

Toto finds himself leaning forward, completely engrossed. “I love this direction. Y/N, would you be willing to work with Sarah to develop a proposal for expanding our driver search?”

“Of course,” you reply with a smile that makes Toto’s pulse quicken. “I’d be delighted.”

As the meeting winds down, Toto realizes that the entire dynamic of the board has shifted. The initial wariness towards you has given way to a mixture of respect and curiosity. Even those who seemed most skeptical at the start are now hanging on your every word.

“Well,” Toto says, glancing at his watch, “I think that concludes our agenda for today. Unless anyone has any other matters to discuss?”

The room is silent for a moment before you speak up. “Actually, if I may, I’d like to address the elephant in the room.”

A tense hush falls over the gathering. Toto holds his breath, unsure of what’s coming next.

You stand, your posture relaxed but commanding. “I’m aware of the rumors and speculation surrounding my ... personal life. I want to assure all of you that my presence here is purely professional. I’m not here to cause drama or upheaval. I’m here because I believe in the potential of this team and this sport. I hope that over time, you’ll come to judge me based on my contributions, not on gossip or hearsay.”

The sincerity in your voice is palpable, and Toto can see the effect it has on the room. Shoulders relax, expressions soften. There’s a collective exhale, as if a weight has been lifted.

“Thank you for your honesty,” Toto says, standing as well. “I think I speak for everyone when I say we look forward to working with you and seeing what fresh perspectives you can bring to the team.”

There’s a murmur of agreement around the table. As the meeting officially adjourns, people begin to gather their things and file out of the room. Toto notices that several board members linger, clearly hoping to have a word with you. He feels an unexpected twinge of jealousy.

Before he can second-guess himself, Toto makes his way around the table to where you’re chatting with Sarah about the junior driver program idea.

“Excuse me,” he says, feeling uncharacteristically nervous. “Y/N, I was wondering if I could have a word?”

You turn to him with a smile that makes his heart race. “Of course. What can I do for you?”

He takes a deep breath, acutely aware of the curious glances from the remaining board members. “I was impressed by your insights today. I think there’s a lot we could discuss further about the future direction of the team. Would you perhaps be interested in continuing this conversation over dinner?”

A hush falls over the remaining occupants of the room. Toto can practically feel the weight of their stares, but he keeps his eyes fixed on you.

You raise an eyebrow, a mix of surprise and amusement playing across your features. “Dinner? My, my, Toto. Aren’t you afraid of me? I do have quite the reputation, you know.”

There’s a challenge in your voice, but also a hint of vulnerability that catches Toto off guard. He realizes that beneath your confident exterior, you’re testing him, gauging his true intentions.

Toto meets your gaze steadily, his voice low but firm. “I don’t put much stock in rumors. I prefer to form my own opinions based on what I see and experience. And what I’ve seen today is a brilliant, passionate individual who could be a tremendous asset to this team. That’s the person I’m interested in getting to know better.”

The room seems to hold its breath, waiting for your response. You study Toto for a long moment, your expression unreadable. Then, slowly, a genuine smile spreads across your face.

“Well, in that case, I’d be delighted to have dinner with you. Shall we say eight o’clock?”

Toto feels a rush of relief and excitement. “Eight o’clock sounds perfect. I know just the place.”

As you gather your things and prepare to leave, Toto can’t help but feel like he’s standing on the precipice of something monumental. He’s built his career on calculated risks, on seeing potential where others see danger. Looking at you, he knows that this might be the biggest gamble of his life.

But as you turn to give him one last smile before exiting the boardroom, Toto is certain of one thing: it’s a risk he’s more than willing to take.

***

The Monaco Grand Prix paddock buzzes with excitement, a hive of activity as teams prepare for the most glamorous race on the Formula 1 calendar. Lewis Hamilton and George Russell huddle in a quiet corner of the Mercedes garage, their voices low and urgent.

“I’m telling you, mate, something’s not right,” George insists, his eyes darting around to ensure they’re not overheard. “Have you seen the way Toto’s been acting lately? It’s like he’s under some kind of spell.”

Lewis nods grimly, his usual pre-race focus replaced by concern. “I know what you mean. Ever since she came into the picture, it’s like he’s a different person. Always distracted, making decisions that don’t quite add up.”

“Exactly!” George exclaims, then quickly lowers his voice again. “And have you noticed how she’s always around now? At every meeting, every strategy session. It’s like she’s trying to learn all our secrets.”

Lewis furrows his brow, deep in thought. “You don’t think ... I mean, surely she wouldn’t actually try to ...”

“Kill him?” George finishes, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know, mate. But look at her track record. Seven husbands, all dead within months of marrying her. And now she’s got her claws into Toto.”

As if summoned by their conversation, you appear at the entrance of the garage, Toto at your side. The team principal’s hand rests comfortably on the small of your back as he leads you through the bustling workspace.

Lewis and George fall silent, watching intently as you make your way towards them. Your designer sundress and oversized sunglasses scream understated elegance, but to the two drivers, you might as well be wearing a black widow’s web.

“Good morning,” Toto calls out cheerfully. “Ready for qualifying?”

Lewis forces a smile, his eyes never leaving you. “Morning, Toto. Yeah, we were just discussing strategy.”

You step forward, flashing a dazzling smile. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything important. I’m still learning all the intricacies of race weekends.”

George clears his throat, trying to keep his voice steady. “Not at all. We were just finishing up.”

Toto beams, looking from you to his drivers with pride. “Isn’t it wonderful having Y/N here? She’s already brought so many fresh ideas to the team. I don’t know how we managed without her.”

You laugh, a sound that sends chills down Lewis and George’s spines. “Oh, darling, you’re exaggerating. I’m sure these boys were doing just fine before I came along.”

As you speak, your hand reaches up to smooth Toto’s collar, a gesture that seems innocent enough but makes both drivers tense.

Lewis clears his throat. “Actually, Toto, could we have a quick word? About the, uh, tire strategy?”

Toto looks surprised but nods. “Of course. Y/N, would you mind giving us a moment?”

“Not at all,” you reply smoothly. “I’ll just go chat with the mechanics. I’m fascinated by all this technology.”

As you saunter away, Lewis and George exchange a meaningful glance. This is their chance.

“Toto,” Lewis begins, choosing his words carefully. “We’re a bit concerned. About you, actually.”

Toto’s brow furrows in confusion. “Concerned? What do you mean?”

George jumps in, his words tumbling out in a rush. “It’s just that ... well, things have been different since you started seeing her. And given her history ...”

“Her history?” Toto repeats, his voice taking on an edge. “What exactly are you implying?”

Lewis takes a deep breath. “Toto, we care about you. And we can’t help but notice that Y/N’s previous partners have all met with ... unfortunate ends.”

For a moment, Toto just stares at them, his expression unreadable. Then, to their surprise, he bursts out laughing.

“Oh, boys,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “I appreciate your concern, truly. But I assure you, it’s misplaced. Y/N has been nothing but a positive influence on both me and the team.”

George persists, his voice urgent. “But Toto, you have to admit, the pattern is alarming. Seven husbands, all dead within months of marriage. And now she’s here, learning all about our team, our strategies ...”

Toto’s amusement fades, replaced by a stern look. “That’s enough. I understand you’re worried, but I won’t have you spreading baseless rumors. Y/N is here because she’s a part-owner of this team and because I invited her. End of discussion.”

As Toto walks away, Lewis and George share a look of dismay.

“He’s in too deep,” Lewis mutters. “We need to do something.”

George nods grimly. “We can’t let her hurt him. Or the team. We need a plan.”

Throughout the day, as qualifying unfolds, Lewis and George find themselves constantly distracted. Every time they catch a glimpse of you in the garage or on the pit wall, their imaginations run wild.

During a brief break between sessions, they overhear a snippet of conversation between you and one of the engineers.

“So, if something were to go wrong with the car during the race,” you’re saying, “what would be the most catastrophic point of failure?”

The engineer launches into a detailed explanation of various mechanical vulnerabilities, unaware of the horrified looks on the drivers’ faces.

“She’s gathering intel,” George whispers to Lewis. “Probably planning some sort of accident for Toto.”

Lewis nods, his jaw set with determination. “We need to warn him again. Make him see reason.”

But their attempts to get Toto alone prove futile. You seem to be constantly by his side, your hand on his arm, whispering in his ear. To an outsider, it might look like the actions of a loving girlfriend, but to Lewis and George, every gesture seems calculated and sinister.

As the day wears on, their paranoia grows. They start seeing threats everywhere. When you hand Toto a bottle of water, they’re convinced it’s poisoned. When you suggest he take a look at something in the back of the garage, they’re sure you’re luring him away to do him harm.

Finally, as the sun begins to set over the Monaco harbor, they decide they can’t wait any longer. They need to confront you directly.

They find you alone in the hospitality area, reviewing some papers. As they approach, you look up with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Lewis, George,” you greet them warmly. “Excellent qualifying today. You must be pleased.”

Lewis takes a deep breath, steeling himself. “Cut the act. We know what you’re up to.”

Your expression doesn’t change, but something flickers in your eyes. “I’m not sure I understand. What exactly am I up to?”

George steps forward, his voice low and intense. “We know about your husbands. All seven of them. And we’re not going to let you add Toto to that list.”

For a moment, you just stare at them, your face unreadable. Then, to their surprise, you burst out laughing.

“Oh,” you chuckle, shaking your head. “Is that what this is all about? You think I’m here to kill Toto?”

Lewis and George exchange confused glances, thrown off by your reaction.

You lean in, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Let me tell you a little secret. Those men? They were all terminally ill when I married them. It was a business arrangement, pure and simple. They got to spend their last months with a young, beautiful wife, and I got their fortunes. No foul play involved.”

The drivers stare at you, speechless. You continue, your tone becoming more serious.

“As for Toto, well, that’s different. For the first time in my life, I’ve found someone I genuinely care for. Someone who sees me for who I am, not just what I can offer. I’m not here to hurt him or the team. I’m here because I want to be part of something meaningful.”

Lewis and George exchange uncertain glances, their convictions shaken.

“But ... all the questions about the car, the team strategies ...” George begins.

You roll your eyes, a hint of amusement in your voice. “I’m a part-owner of this team now, remember? Of course I’m trying to learn everything I can. How else can I contribute?”

As the truth of your words sinks in, Lewis and George begin to feel a creeping sense of embarrassment. They’ve let their imaginations and preconceptions run wild, seeing threats where there were none.

“I ... we ...” Lewis stammers, struggling to find the right words.

You hold up a hand, stopping him. “It’s alright. I understand. My reputation precedes me, and you were just looking out for Toto. I can respect that.”

George rubs the back of his neck, sheepish. “We may have gotten a bit carried away. I’m sorry.”

You smile, and this time it reaches your eyes. “Apology accepted. Now, what do you say we put this behind us and focus on winning tomorrow’s race?”

As if on cue, Toto appears, looking between the three of you with curiosity. “Everything alright here?”

You stand, moving to his side and slipping your arm through his. “Everything’s perfect, darling. In fact, I think Lewis and George were just about to share some ideas they had for the race strategy. Weren’t you, boys?”

Lewis and George nod, grateful for the out you’ve given them. As they launch into a discussion about tire management and overtaking opportunities, they can’t help but marvel at how wrong they’ve been.

Watching you interact with Toto, they see not a black widow spinning her web, but a woman genuinely in love, bringing out the best in their team principal. They realize that sometimes, people can surprise you. And sometimes, the most unexpected additions to a team can be the most valuable.

***

The soft glow of chandeliers bathes the exclusive Monégasque restaurant in warm light, casting elegant shadows across the faces of Monaco’s elite. Grigori Volkov, a grizzled veteran of the Russian underworld, sips his vodka, his weathered face a mask of careful neutrality as he surveys the room.

His eyes narrow as they land on a familiar figure across the crowded dining area. It can’t be, he thinks, leaning forward for a better look. But there’s no mistaking that face, those eyes that have haunted his dreams and nightmares for years.

You.

Grigori watches as you laugh, your hand resting lightly on the arm of a tall, distinguished-looking man. He recognizes him vaguely. But what catches Grigori off guard is the easy intimacy between you, the matching wedding bands glinting in the low light.

For a moment, Grigori considers slipping out unnoticed. But curiosity gets the better of him. He signals the waiter, ordering another round of drinks to be sent to your table.

As the waiter approaches with the drinks, Grigori sees your posture stiffen slightly, your eyes scanning the room until they lock onto his. He raises his glass in a small salute, a wry smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

You lean in, whispering something to Toto. The man looks surprised but nods, and together you make your way towards Grigori’s table.

“Grigori,” you greet him, your voice a mix of warmth and wariness. “It’s been a long time.”

Grigori stands, bowing slightly. “Indeed it has, my dear. You’re looking well. And who might this be?”

Toto extends his hand, his grip firm. “Toto Wolff. And you are?”

“An old friend of your wife’s,” Grigori replies smoothly, noting the flicker of surprise in Toto’s eyes at the word ’wife’. “Grigori Volkov. I knew Y/N back in her Russian days.”

You gesture to the empty chairs. “May we join you?”

Grigori nods, waving expansively. “Please, be my guests.”

As you settle in, Grigori can’t help but study Toto more closely. He’s younger than expected, vital and alert. Not at all what he’d imagined for your latest conquest.

“So, Toto,” Grigori begins, his accent thick with amusement, “how long have you and our dear Y/N been married?”

Toto smiles, his hand finding yours on the table. “Just over two years now. Best decision I ever made.”

Grigori’s eyebrows shoot up. “Two years? My, my. That’s quite impressive.”

You shoot him a warning look, but Toto just looks confused. “I’m not sure I follow. Why is that impressive?”

Grigori chuckles, taking a long sip of his vodka. “Oh, forgive me. I just meant that Y/N here has always been something of a ... how do you say ... free spirit? Never one to be tied down for long.”

You interject quickly, “People change, Grigori. I’ve found what I was looking for.”

Grigori nods, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Indeed they do. And what of your ... other interests? The ones you inherited from dear Dmitri?”

Toto’s brow furrows. “Dmitri? I’m afraid I don’t know much about Y/N’s ex-husbands.”

“Ex-husbands?” Grigori repeats, feigning surprise. “Oh, but Dmitri was special, wasn’t he? After all, not every day one inherits a slice of the Bratva.”

The color drains from Toto’s face as he turns to you. “The Bratva? As in, the Russian mob?”

You sigh, shooting Grigori a glare that could freeze vodka. “It’s complicated, darling. And very much in the past.”

Grigori leans back, thoroughly enjoying the drama unfolding before him. “Oh, come now, Y/N. Surely your husband deserves to know the truth? About your colorful past, your string of deceased husbands, your unexpected rise to power in certain ... shall we say, unofficial circles?”

Toto looks between you and Grigori, his expression a mix of confusion and growing concern. “Y/N, what is he talking about?”

You take a deep breath, squeezing Toto’s hand. “Toto, there are parts of my past I haven’t told you about. Not because I wanted to keep secrets, but because I wanted to leave that life behind.”

Grigori interjects, his voice dripping with false sympathy. “Oh, but my dear, can one ever truly leave such a life behind? Especially when one has risen to such ... prominent positions?”

Toto’s eyes narrow as he looks at Grigori. “And what exactly is your role in all this?”

Grigori smiles, all teeth and no warmth. “Let’s just say I’m an old associate of Dmitri’s. And by extension, of Y/N’s. Though I must admit, I’m surprised to see you still among the living, Mr. Wolff. Our dear Y/N has quite a reputation, you know.”

You slam your hand on the table, your voice low and dangerous. “Enough, Grigori. That’s not who I am anymore.”

Grigori holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Of course, of course. I meant no offense. I’m merely ... surprised. After all, your previous husbands weren’t quite so fortunate. Or so young and vigorous.”

Toto’s jaw clenches, his eyes darting between you and Grigori. “I think it’s time we left.”

As you stand to leave, Grigori calls out, “Oh, but we’ve only just begun to catch up. There’s so much your husband doesn’t know, Y/N. About the power you wield, the empire you inherited. Don’t you think he deserves to know the truth about the woman he married?”

You turn back, your eyes flashing with a mix of anger and something deeper, more dangerous. “The truth, Grigori, is that I left that life behind. I found something real, something worth living for. And if you or anyone else tries to drag me back into that world, you’ll regret it.”

Grigori leans forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Is that a threat, my dear?”

You smile, cold and sharp. “Consider it a friendly warning. From one old friend to another.”

As you and Toto walk away, Grigori can’t help but feel a shiver run down his spine. He’d forgotten, in the years since you’d left Russia, just how formidable you could be.

He watches as you and Toto have an intense, whispered conversation by the exit. To his surprise, instead of storming out, Toto nods, takes your hand, and leads you back to Grigori’s table.

“Mr. Volkov,” Toto says, his voice steady and controlled, “I think it’s time we had an honest conversation. About Y/N’s past, about your ... association, and about how we move forward from here.”

Grigori raises an eyebrow, impressed despite himself. “Well, well. It seems you’ve found yourself a man with a spine, Y/N. Very well, let’s talk.”

As the three of you settle back into your seats, Grigori can’t help but feel a grudging respect for Toto. Most men would have run for the hills by now, but here he is, ready to face the truth head-on.

“So,” Grigori begins, pouring fresh vodka for all of you, “where shall we start? With Dmitri? With the Bratva? Or perhaps with the mysterious deaths of Y/N’s previous husbands?”

Toto takes a sip of vodka, his eyes never leaving Grigori’s. “Let’s start with the truth. All of it.”

You sigh, your hand finding Toto’s under the table. “Alright. Dmitri was my fifth husband. He was a high-ranking member of the Bratva, and when he died, I inherited his position and his connections.”

Grigori nods approvingly. “She’s being modest. Y/N didn’t just inherit Dmitri’s position — she expanded it. Forged new alliances, eliminated rivals. She became a force to be reckoned with in our world.”

Toto looks at you, his expression unreadable. “And the other husbands?”

You meet his gaze steadily. “They were all older men, all terminally ill. It was a business arrangement. They got to spend their last months with a young wife, and I got their fortunes. No foul play, I swear.”

Grigori chuckles. “Oh, come now. There were rumors, whispers of poison, of accidents arranged just so ...”

You whirl on him, your eyes flashing. “Rumors started by people like you. People who couldn’t believe a woman could gain power without resorting to murder.”

Toto squeezes your hand, his voice gentle. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”

You turn back to him, your expression softening. “Because I wanted to leave it all behind. When I met you, I saw a chance at a real life, a real relationship. I didn’t want my past to taint that.”

Grigori watches this exchange with growing fascination. He’s never seen you like this — vulnerable, open, genuinely in love. It’s... unsettling.

“And now?” He asks, unable to keep the curiosity from his voice. “What becomes of your empire, Y/N? Your power? Your connections?”

You straighten, your voice firm. “I’ve been systematically dismantling it all. Using the resources to fund legitimate businesses, charitable foundations. I’m out. For good.”

Grigori leans back, genuinely surprised. “You’re serious, aren’t you? You’re really walking away from it all.”

Toto speaks up, his voice steady. “We’re building something new together. Something honest, something we can be proud of.”

Grigori studies them both for a long moment, then throws back the last of his vodka. “Well, I’ll be damned. You’ve actually done it. You’ve found a way out.”

You nod, a small smile playing at your lips. “I have. And I’d appreciate it if you’d spread the word. Y/N Wolff is retired. Permanently.”

Grigori stands, straightening his jacket. “Consider it done, my dear. But know this — there will always be those who remember who you were, what you were capable of. Be careful.”

As he turns to leave, Toto calls out, “Mr. Volkov?”

Grigori pauses, looking back. “Yes?”

Toto’s voice is calm, but there’s steel beneath the surface. “If anyone from Y/N’s past tries to cause trouble for us, they’ll have to deal with me. And I assure you, I can be just as formidable as my wife when necessary.”

Grigori studies Toto for a moment, then breaks into a broad grin. “I believe you, Mr. Wolff. I really do. Take care of her, won’t you? She’s one of a kind.”

As Grigori walks away, he can’t help but shake his head in amazement. You, the Black Widow of the Bratva, settled down and in love. Will wonders never cease?

He glances back one last time to see you and Toto deep in conversation, your hands intertwined on the table. There’s an openness to your expression that he’s never seen before, a vulnerability that speaks volumes.

For the first time in years, Grigori feels a twinge of envy. Not for your power or your wealth, but for the genuine connection you seem to have found. As he steps out into the cool Monaco night, he wonders if perhaps it’s time for him to consider a change of his own.

After all, if the infamous Y/N can find redemption and true love, maybe there’s hope for an old dog like him yet.

[ellecdc]

Hi 🥺I’m thinking either

“yes the both of you look adorable, but can i please have my clothes back now?”

Or the “do any of the clothes you’re wearing belong to you?”

Or a little combo with rosekiller x reader 🖤

YES

poly!rosekiller x fem!reader who has plenty of clothes of her own [486 words]

CW: somewhat smutty implication at the end but fades to black, fluffffffffff

“Treasure,” Evan could hear Barty start in what he knew to be his ‘I’m pretending to be chiding but actually find all of this rather funny’ voice, “if this is your way of telling us you need more clothes, we're more than happy to buy you more clothes.”

“I don’t need more clothes!” You laughed in response as Evan made his way down the hallway with his morning cup of coffee to see what the two of you were going on about. 

“Well it looks like you had a pretty hard time finding anything of your own to wear today; forgive me for being worried we weren’t spoiling you enough.” 

Evan rounded the corner into the living room to see you lounging on the sofa; one leg tucked under you and the other bent at the knee that your hand was resting on whilst Barty hovered above you with a faux berating look on his face. 

“What’s going on in here?” Evan asked as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head from behind the couch before making his way around it and settling in the space beside you. 

“What’s going on,” Barty started theatrically, causing you to snort - the sound made the very corner of Barty’s lips rise in the ghost of a smirk before he schooled his expression, “is that our darling angel clearly does not have enough of her own things.”

“Is that true, poppet?” Evan asked you as he played into Barty’s little skit. “Do we not spoil you enough?”

“You spoil me fine.” You groaned, laughing when both boys scoffed in offence. “You spoil me plenty - too much!” 

“Then what is the issue?” Evan asked then.

“Look at her!” Barty shouted, gesturing wildly at you with both hands. “Look at her outfit!” 

Evan shifted his weight onto his one hip and turned his body towards you, his arm thrown over the back of the sofa as he scrutinised your form; a surprised laugh bubbling out of him when he realised what Barty’s ‘problem’ was. 

“Poppet,” Evan laughed, “do any of the clothes you’re wearing actually belong to you?” 

Sure enough, you were wearing a pair of Barty’s joggers, his favourite band tee, and one of Evan’s zip up jumpers with the arms folded over an absurd number of times. 

You blinked slightly owlishly at him, answering after a beat of silence. “The knickers are mine.” 

“That’s too many articles of your own clothing, Treasure!” Barty let out with a loud laugh, clearly over pretending to be miffed at the pilfering of his wardrobe. “I’ll have to buy some of my own knickers for you.”

“If it helps, I’m pretty sure you bought these knickers too.” You offered him solemnly, and Evan watched a salacious expression take over Barty’s face he knew was mirrored on his own.

“Is that so?” Evan drawled. “Perhaps you ought to show us, just to confirm.”

[chiliyue-archived]

physical affection

includes; dazai, chūya, ranpo, atsushi

tags; these get just slightly suggestive (but its nothing too much).headcanons + some drabbles & shorts. these r longer than it should be - I got so carried away

I just woke up so if u find mistakes pls let me know :) I'm posting this before I come up with an excuse to delete it altogether

-

—DAZAI

handsy - that's really the only descriptor you need.

honestly, everyone knows you're his partner with how he acts around you; hand on your thigh, waist, shoulder. having to kindly smack him on the back of his head when his hands trailed a little too far-

^ only for him to send you a pout and doe like eyes that fade when you indulge him a kiss. he has zero shame (often at the expense of receiving a sneer from kunikida who had the misfortune of witnessing sometimes. even then, he didn't stop kissing you)

favorite spot is the inside of your palms and knuckles - with a lingering yield on your pulse point. if you ever kiss those areas on him, he'll have cartoon hearts around him & everything

holding his face though? call him your pretty boy or literally anything sappy and he thinks he might just die on the spot.

on the flip side he's also… a bit of a bitch.

traces your bottom lip tauntingly with his thumb, the other is cupping your head to keep your gaze on him. he maintains keen eye contact and relishes in the way you crack while he remains steady.

his mouth is so close that when he speaks, you could feel it vibrate against your lips. but he never closes the distance, he makes you do that instead for teasing benefits :/(if you're shorter than him, it's so over)

revoke his kissing rights and he trails like a lost puppy behind you. " just one, bella?" he whines when you maneuver your head away. it's cute seeing him get all pouty - not so much when his patience runs thin and he takes matters into his own hands

-> caging you in his physique and kissing you hard. fingers calloused are rubbing against your jaw or brushing past your ear to interlock, teasing the surface of the skin as he does so. he enjoys the tremors and shivers it elicits, such reactions becoming burned in the back of his head.

you could barely make a sound with the vigor he expresses his cravings in with your bottom lip becoming captured between his canines

contrary to his theatrical displays, however, i also believe he exhibits a softened demeanor when cherishing you proper (soft dazai agenda)

the tempo of his kisses are slow yet not in accordance with his teasing. while the meandering of his hands grows greedy, when he speaks his voice is reduced to a low whisper, mumbling sweet phrases with each kiss.

✿

dazai wants to blame the bottom of sake for his vermillion flushed cheeks. more alarmingly, he wanted to ignore the way his heart squeezed when you reciprocated the kiss.

" darling," he pulls away, studying your expression. your hair was tousled, a swell blooming on your bottom lip from his recurrent nibbling and ministrations. the moment wasn't perfect, but he could bask in it for a lifetime. " are you getting sleepy?"

the pretty brown eyes you met were half-lidded and blinking. his bangs traced along your forehead from where he hovered, and if you squint, perhaps you would have noticed how the pink of his cheeks deepened the tiniest bit when you laughed at the tickling sensation.

you murmur something intelligible, the words swallowed by his mouth; he shivers when the syllables reverbate against him and the hand at your hip falters slightly. when he reels back, he remains close enough for his forehead to brush yours.

" repeat that, love."

" i said," you mumble, kissing the corner of his mouth. " can we to stay like this forever?"

almost instantaneously his body shakes in anticipation, heart lurching at the sincerity; how can you be so honest to a known liar like him? he slowly nods, his body arching until your chests were touching and breath pricked at your cheek. ever greedily, he seeks out another exchange, this one careful with a lingering touch of desperation.

an "okay" became lost as he gingerly grabs your chin, angling it just the tiniest bit to deepen it. in between the withdrawals and recoil, dazai chooses to ignore the way his breath stills in the pinnacle of moment, made potent when he twines his hand with yours. he provides the appendage a firm squeeze in coordination with the stirring in his chest, your inhales and exhales becoming synchronized.

he can't lie, he's been thinking just as much.

✿

dazai also likes your hands. chances are his are bigger than yours and he finds himself comparing hand sizes with you. his eyes crinkle when your fingers are dwarfed by his.

adjoined limbs are swayed back and forth when you walk together. same applies with intertwined legs, but when he's not busy doing that, he's playing footsie beneath the table.

he needs to be with you whenever he can!! the spot across your table remains permanently empty as he makes a home of sitting as close as possible next to you instead

he can't even be embarrassed with overly sappy displays, not when he's loving it twice as much. " good morning, osamu," you once said, palms cupping his face. he doesn't know if something has ever made his heartbeat spiked as hard as that did. " can I have a kiss?"

if he didn't turn to putty from the request alone, then it was the way you circled your thumbs on his cheekbones when he brushes his lips to yours. tentatively, he curls his hands behind your waist, holding you close before you get too far.

" can i have some more?" his eyes are shimmering in mischief as ever but his skin has progressively grown warmer since you've found him.

dazai is cuddly. getting to hold you close and listen to your heartbeat? yeah, he could die happy right now

unsurprisingly, napping with him is among his favorite passing time activities.

the closest you may get to see a vulnerable side to him is if you card your fingers through his hair. admittedly, he finds it troubling how his built-up walls crumble so easily with a couple of strokes. but the only thing he can focus on now is the sensation of fingers devoid of pain carefully tend through his hair and how warm his chest feels

kisses on the forehead when you're in need of comfort ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

✿

" i'm right here, love." when you glance up at him with red eyes and puffy cheeks he could feel his heart break right into two. even more so when your voice cracks and he tries to hide the way his face drops when it echoes in the somber ambience.

attentively, he cups your cheeks as his lips apply delicate pressure against your forehead. he sighs when he feels your trembling hands subdue and your breathing regulate; its panning against his skin rivaled any other comfort he could ever receive.

" better?" when you nod, he could feel his grin return, just a bit weaker. " today has been hard on you. get some rest."

" can you stay with me?" he already knew the answer in his head but it still makes chest swarm tremendously.

he gives your hand a gentle squeeze, lips brushing your forehead again. " of course."

he wasn't the one needing comfort and yet he still felt a deep-rooted tingle right in his chest when you hugged him closer than usual. he depised the circumstances behind it, but he couldn't deny the way it made his barren chest feel less akin to a husk when you felt so secured against him.

his hands start to comb shrough your hair, watching as the strands bend between his fingers and he ensures to provide your scalp proper attention now and again.

he wasn't sure if he'll be able to sleep, he was more concerned in making sure you did.

he blinks when you move to press your cheek against his chest, right where his heart should be. " thank you," your words were muffled against clothes, sending vibrations along his bones.

" you don't have to thank me." he places a last kiss to your forehead, the longest one of the night. his legs shift to intertwine with yours, listening keenly to the sound of your breath until it slows into an assuaging rhythm.

dazai can't recall the last time he had to take care of someone. it's made apparent as he grapples with uncertainty - almost becoming overwhelming with how powerless he felt in the situation.

though tonight, he was sure to hold you a little tighter.

✿

likewise if you kiss his scars and the skin beneath the bandages, he could feel the breath in his throat still and his heart do cartwheels. it's been so void of human touch for so long and he appreciates the care you exhibit towards something he considers to be ugly.

" all better now!" you punctuated your words with a kiss to the newly coiled cotton on his arms. dazai could do nothing but swallow hard, his "thank you" mumbled under his breath; he didn't like the pain, but it wasn't so awful when you spoiled him like this ♡

neck kisses + scattering the expanse of your throat with baby bruises you can not hide. afterwards, he traces it out with his index finger while he takes in the markings with great interest.

when it starts to fade he gladly renews them

✿

" that tickles," you murmur, voice reduced to a whisper; you couldn't trust yourself, not with dazai scattering kisses along the exposed patches of your neck. the rehearsal of which doesn't falter, even when you tug on his increasingly unruly curls.

" my apologies, 'bella," you wince as he captures a patch of your skin between his teeth. " i think i've found my favorite form of art." he has the gall to feign a tone of sympathy, lips arcuated at the growing disparity.

in addition to the nibbling, his fingers skimmed along your torso, moving in taunting lines he knew ran your sanity thin. dazai knew all the places that made you shiver, it was a piece of information that became abused with the movement of his hands in that moment.

against your rationality, you sunk into his touch, fingers twitching along his roots. it brought a simper you couldn't see but his satisfaction is made apparent when his actions grow sloppy, scattering along the expanse of your throat and meandering along your collarbone.

" you had every chance to leave," he smirks when you don't reply, content with the way your nails briefly printed on him. predictably, he gives another nibble on your skin, tugging back gently. " this might be my favorite spot."

right on the center of your unguarded throat.

" i can't hide those there."

he laughs, breath cascading skin. " that's what i want, darling." he thinks he might lose himself when you bring a particular tug in his hair, a sound akin to a grunt reverberating against your throat.

" you're being mean." dazai makes the mistake of pulling back, gracing him with your disheveled hair, reddened lips and growing streaks of red. already he finds it to be his favorite piece of jewelry.

" don't look so down," he pressed a kiss to one of the blooming blemishes, grinning as it became more pronounced. " you'll get your turn soon."

-

—CHŪYA

he takes his gloves off when he goes to touch your face. he doesn't want the sensation of skin on skin to be hamper by the piece of article.

kisses to your temples & neck are exchanges he shares on the frequent. though depending on the height difference, it may also be a gesture reserved for when you're sitting on his lap or cuddled up into him. head kisses in particular feel appropriate for anything really

as for himself, i'd say he likes to be kiss on the lips(mainly so he can distract from the growing crimson that tickles his forehead)

but it's hard with the handsome face chūya has. his growing pout tells you he's growing impatient when you favor his cheeks, but the hand gripping your sleeves are so counterproductive

" can you do it properly?" he gruffs, brows furrowing that weaken by your persistence. his skin was growing warm from the kisses you spoiled him with but it hardly compares to the proper thing on his lips, aching for the familar sensation almost painfully.

he shivers when you trail to his mouth, just shy of it and his grip tightens. " like this?"

his eyes flutter shut when you close the distance and before he could realize it, his hands began to sift through your hair. " yeah," his exhale was shaky, voice dropping to a low lilt. " don't stop that."

he sleeps with his head buried in your stomach - his nose is brushing against your abdomen with toned arms slithering around you like a form of cocoon

it reaches a peak when you brush your thumb over his scalp, and you can physically note the way the muscles in his body sink. you can't see his face, greeted instead by a cascade of reds; but his lips pull into a grin at the action

it grants you the opportunity to play with his hair. and sometimes, when he wakes up to find the claw clips and cute brooches that push his bangs aside and show off his pretty eyes, he won't be tempted to remove them right away.

✿

he wanted to roll his eyes when he saw you pull out the collection of hair clips, taunting pastels and neons gawking back at him. but he has to admit, he stopped caring the moment you started to play with his strands of hair. the locks weaved through your fingers, silky and soft stirring a form of ease that compels him to remain still. when he did move, it was only in an effort to bring himself closer, almost like snuggling(though he profusely denies it as such and regards you a scoff that doesn't compliment the rest of his actions).

had he not been treading precariously the boundaries of sleep, he may have been able to pick up on the way his heart quickened; a solace riveting up his spine and leaving in the form of a breathy sigh.

he blinks his eyes at you, nose scrunched up when you start mapping out his handsome features with your thumb. " you're getting distracted."

you acknowledge his statement with a coy grin and chūya felt his heart swell even at its simplicity. "i know." you move to press your lips to his forehead; if the smile wasn't enough to dissipate the frown on his face, that was the drug.

a flash of color peeks in the corner of his eye as you draw another clip. " i was just wondering how you would look in pigtails," you joke and chūya could feel his face twist— eye twitching at your jest.

" you're pushing your luck."

" it won't be that bad, chū."

" i could leave right now." his voice was terribly unconvincing when brooches adorned his head.

" you would have left a long time ago." you grin when he doesn't refute you. " just relax."

chūya knows he's defeated when you thumb his scalp again, eyes screwing shut involuntarily. " you're enjoying this too much," he grumbles. he tilts his head to the side, granting you access to his hair, hands falling pilant against your thigh. it bewilders him how much relief washes over him as you start to pry the strands apart again.

you know he's fallen asleep when he stopped replying to your ramblings; his words going from full sentences, to sporadic words and then slurred vowels. when you peek down, he's resting comfortably on your lap, lips slightly parted and allowing light snores to fill the silence.

chūya is far too deep in his subconscious to contemplate anything, but if he could, he thinks he might just get addicted to this.

✿

a clingy drunk. in addition, the alcohol is effective at loosening his tongue, resulting in declarations of his undying love that are muffled when he goes head first into your stomach (≧▽≦)

in lieu of that, he likes to spoon you, with himself being the big spoon. he has his head in the crook of your shoulder, and you feel his inhales and exhales against your skin.

he likes your body heat, it grounds him to earth and coaxes a soft demeanor that he fails at suppressing

thoughtful when it comes to kissing in the public eye. he isn't fond of drawing that form of attention to your relationship, but he isn't opposed to stealing a couple of kisses now and then.

it's fast, it's simple and enough to satiate you and himself. and it's enough to tell onlookers that he's your bf

it that didn't give the memo, its the gloved hand on your waist that spoke to people that you were taken.

though that doesn't stop him from tugging you closer in a spur of his protective tendencies. it's a subconscious act he does when you pass a group of people or when yokohama is notably crowded. it's not merely because he's short and is worried about losing you to the sea of wayfarers(at least thats what he tells you) - rather, it roots from a concern that's only repleted when he knows you're safe

behind close doors, however, his kisses lack patience if the way he's gripping your clothes is anything to go by. and while he demonstrates a growing restlessness, he remains pensive to his own strength and withdraws to give you proper time to catch your breath.

but he knows exactly what to do intensify each one and make your brain go hazy

cupping your cheeks, tilting your head, voice speaking in a meticulous timbre that shakes your skull. you're far too consumed in the kiss to recognize when his free hand has found its way to your back, gliding along the spine before slipping beneath the hem.

his gloves are cold against your skin, mumbling a faint 'sorry' that's nearly swallowed when he brushes his lips to yours for nth time.

the limbs explore along the dips and contours, pinching your sides and smirking into the kiss when you yelp in surprise (inwardly, his heart is beating so fast, he wonders if you could hear it when his chest is pressed against yours.)

without the gloves, his hands are a hint warmer. but even warmer are his cheeks when you press kisses to it. he knits his brows together in an attempt hide how much he likes; ultimately, he betrays himself when he pulls you closer

✿

" what the fuck are you doing," he stammers as you press a kiss to his warm cheeks. despite himself, he makes no effort to move when you brush your lips on the other - even warmer than the neighboring pair.

"kissing you," you hum. "... want me to stop?"

" no." he hates how fast the words left him and he hates how you grin at that. it was just the thing to crumble his resolve - and more specifically, it's just the thing to make him go mellow, subservient to your ministrations with his heart beating erratically - even within the scrutiny of strangers and coworkers.

" give me a warning next time." he wants to frown but the expression dies when you crane your head to make contact wherever you can reach. in reponse, an arm finds purchase on your hip, shuffling you closer until you are nuzzled up to his build.

he wasn't sure what rumors would circulate if people saw him being soft - and frankly, he couldn't bring himself to quite care much about the prospect either; inwardly, he was already missing the rehearsal of your lips on his, a desire not easily quelled and he was far more occupied with fixing that.

you let out a confused hum when he suddenly taps at your cheek indignantly. " well?" a thumb hooks beneath your chin, bringing you just shy of his mouth. "are you going to finish what you started?"

✿

when he's making kissy faces with his partner, it's nobody's business.

if you have dimples, he kisses those, each one before concluding it off with your lips

chūya just likes to be in contact with you in some way really. longing to hold your hand and scribe incoherent phrases on the palm. reflected in the way his feet nudge closer to yours and how he never fails to hold your hand beneath the table. when handing you items, he reveals a form of reluctance when he detaches away.

i really want to say he does that thing where he places his fedora over his chest when he kisses your knuckles. he tries really hard to maintain eye contact, but it falters when you send him a beam that makes his chest ache from beating so fast.

and lastly, he never leaves without getting a goodbye kiss first.

✿

" you're forgetting something." chūya vexed— furrow brows bruising his otherwise neutral expression. he hasn't moved from where he stood, silhouette stilled by the partition with nothing but the perpetual tapping of his foot to remind you of his presence. it took all of your strength to push back your laughter at his childish display.

" i am?" you question with a tilt of your head. the inquiry rewarded you with a huff from the former, lip twisting into a frown. admittedly, he looked cute when grumpy, pretty dark eyes tracking you behind colored bangs.

" my kiss?" an index finger points to his neglected lips, promptly chooses to ignore the red hue that harbored along his cheeks, tickling his forehead tauntingly.

chūya tracks your movements as you stride forward, cupping his cheeks within your palms. he resists the urge to close the distance himself - as alluring as it was - he sought out satisfaction when you comply with a genlte kiss. against his own volition, a breathy and likewise dreamy sigh leaves him, just barely audible by the exchange.

his hands sneak down to rest on your waist, twitching when you press a final peck to his cheek. promptly, you decide not to comment on the way a grin was threatening to crack on his oh so serious face.

" better?"

"very."

-

—RANPO

yk in the movies where the guy picks up the girl and spins her around when they kiss? ranpo wants you to do that with him but he's the girl.

piggyback rides ! except he's the one on your back :/ " to the detective agency, y/n!" he jabs out a lithe finger, his dimple smile steady even when you meet him with a glare over your shoulder. it makes him more eager than anything, face squishing against your cheek as he loops his legs around your waist.

" don't give me that look" he exasperates, a brow quirk at your nonverbal response. " the world's greatest detective can't be in better hands."

" you can get there yourself," you sigh, averting your gaze back in front of you. it was hard to fight against him, his persistence shaping your decision the longer he clinged to you.

" thats the boring alternative. duh," he breathes, nuzzling his cheek against your hair. " you know me better than that. besides, i like it when you hold me."

likes kissing you. he will rope up any excuse to steal a kiss. he finished a piece of paperwork? he deserves a reward. finished eating a cookie? kiss the crumbs off. you have absolutely nothing else to do? well, his lips are right there, give him a smooch <3

his kisses taste sweet, the faint traces of chocolate and jams coating his lips. it won't be too far from him to make you guess the flavor of cake he had that morning, but really you think he's just trying to pull more kisses from you. cause he is

✿

" tastes sweet." ranpo shudders when the words vibrate against his lips, cheeks deepening to a rosy hue but the playful glint in his eye ceases to falter. " banana or strawberry?" you blink, a pensive look comprising your features.

a hand cups the back of your head, bringing you close enough for your lips to hover his, still glossy in faint syrup. " nope~!" his proceeding laugh was cut short as he closed the distance again, the ache to kiss you too profound. and with you seated on his lap, he utilized the given opportunity greedily.

you resist the urge to gasp when his tongue swipes along your lower lip, with it the tinge of a fleeting flavor; you recall watching him eat something sweet and sugary in the morning.

he smiles against your mouth, savoring your reactions and attempting to draw out the kiss. " that's definitely strawberry," you contemplate.

ranpo whines when you withdraw, grip tightening against your hands in a stubborn display - it was perhaps the most desperate response you've gotten from him that evening. " are you lying?" you tease with a knowing look; you don't think you've ever seen him shake his head as vigorously as he did now.

" i think," he brushes the corners of your mouth, fingers settling against your chin. "you'll just have to kiss me until you get it right."

the possibility to ponder a response was stolen from you, swelling lips already chasing your own with renewed zeal. dumbfounded, you were naive to the abandoned slice of shortcake just a couple tables away. but by the time you discover it, your little game would be long forgotten.

✿

his childish demeanor often seeps through into his portrayal of affection, fond of sweeping you off your feet at the displays(and at times quite literally too)

it varies in forms; one day he can slump against you like a koala, grip like a vice. and the next he decides to randomly squish your cheeks and bring a kiss to your puckered lips

" ranpo-?!" you sputter, disoriented from sudden and hasty movement. you recall looking over some documents, the next you were gazing into wide green orbs and a nose bumping yours. a self-satisfied look curls on his face, relishing in the way your face fumes beneath his touch.

" surprise~"

" what was that for?"

" just wanted a kiss." he evades the hand on your cheek in favor of curling your bangs around his finger. " i'll come back for more."

he's shameless, unafraid and bold. perhaps not to a similar depth as dazai, but ranpo yields an unpredictability that easily leaves you mellowing in his ministrations

blows raspberries on your cheeks and palms just to coax a laugh from you. it's a reaction he can't help but mimic too and implores you with a "my turn!" while tapping his cheek expectantly.

has probably nibbled on your cheeks at some point too…. :/

likes to hold your hand, slipping it into space randomly and nonchalantly. he sticky like that; appearing from thin air and finding your hand trapped with his.

even better if you sit on his lap or vice versa

when you sleep, he lays on top of you because he doesn't want you to leave him alone. plus! it provides him the perfect advantage to pepper his lips on your collarbone or other patches of expose skin

goodnight kisses (and nap kisses) are a must and he turns greatly fussy when denied such "necessities" as he puts it

✿

" i'm only going to get a glass of water," you reassure him, sweeping his messy bangs aside to press a kiss to his forehead. the crease between his brows goes slack, but his grip remains fixed; it was late, and the last thing ranpo wanted was for you to leave your spot on the futon. " i promise."

his eyes surveyed your face for an inexplicable answer and the fidgeting of his fingers against your forearms tells you he's hesitant.

a silence shrouds the dorm before he speaks again, voice weakened and resigned - it almost made you want to stay in bed with him, enveloped by the unspoken words and his endless aura of affection. " okay." you trace your finger over his cheek, pallid and smooth beneath the pad - the gesture was persuasive enough for his grip to grow lax. he didn't let you get too far yet however, an outstretched pinky waiting before you. he bestows you a broaden grin when you accept it, pressing a kiss to the tip of the adjoin digits.

he doesn't leave your side even as you fix yourself a glass of water, your shared blanket haphazardly draping his shoulders and trailing behind him. he lingers by your arm even as the facet runs, interrupting his thoughts with tired green blinking in impatience. and he watches you through his bangs as you replenish your thirst, already looping your arm and guiding you back to your futon.

not a second after your head meets the pillow, ranpo wraps himself around you, dawning a smile now that you're back with him. he didn't care if his elbow was probed at an odd angle, he just wanted to be as close to you as possible.

" you can't fall asleep yet!" he whines, pulling on the sleeves of your shirt languidly. " it's only fair if you give me a kiss."

" i gave you one earlier."

his gaze shifted to a mixture of displeasure and yearning, small hands pulling eagerly on the fabrics of your clothes. his pleading green eyes made it hard to resist his demands, obscuring into a candid vulnerability you seemingly wielded over him.

" but," ranpo leans close enough for his nose to brush yours, messy fringe framing his sleepy face. his hands flex around your palms, nails scuff on the contours, voice going so low you almost didn't hear him. " i can't fall asleep without it."

✿

pinches your cheeks when in vie for your attention. in any case, he isn't against stomping his foot and whining as a last resort :<

his pout dissipates when you grant him with a collection of kisses or allow him to sit on your lap, fiddling with the ends of your hair or scribbling random phrases on your thigh that he makes you guess

i wouldn't put it against him to randomly jump into your arms or back. the questioning glances he receives hardly impedes him, instead murmuring an "i miss you," into your shoulder. he quivers in your arms when you comb your fingers through his hair, eyes squeezed shut in an air of bliss.

when it comes to deep embraces, he nestles against you akin to a cat, hands pawing wherever he can reach with greedy intent. and that cloak of his can easily encompass the pair of you, performing as a makeshift den of sorts. it feels like your enclosed own little world with him pressing kisses along your face like a butterfly

ranpo is attentive, all too familiar with your habits including the ones you don't cognitively account for. he notes the way you fidget with your fingers, and increasingly it came to be with his fingers you grew fidgety with. if you have a habit of tugging your sleeve, it's not your sleeve you're tugging on anymore but his instead.

he comes to recognize these patterns and responds in kind either with a squeeze to your clasped hand or tapping against your skin in a form of code.

has love hearts in his eyes when you offer to feed him. if he's feeling kind, he'll reciprocate the gesture, though, often at the expense of getting something he wants.

napkins are overrated, kissing off the crumbs or using his thumb are so much more favorable alternatives to him

" say ah~"

you cocked a brow as sugar became smeared on your lip - hardly helped by the titter coming from him. ranpo's persistence was tenacious and the myriad of his treats proved to be bottomless. you weren't sure how many treats you've been fed at that point but it's evident the former found enjoyment from the coddling as evidence of his dimpled smile.

ranpo offers you another confection, a velvety cookie glazed in congealed frosting. when you indulgently take a bite, the filling melts in your mouth and the taste of vanilla floods your taste buds.

" it's good right?" he gives you a smile as he observes your face, brightening when you react positively. " i got them just for you. i knew they were your favorite."

he suddenly pauses, eyes fixating toward your direction. he pays little heed to the look you send him, not when his gaze centers south; that should have been your first sign to up and leave - you want to blame his bribery of treats for your reason to stay.

" you got crumbs all over your face," he said, eyes squinting. while his tone was gentle with a trace of mirth, the way his eyelashes batted innocently at you alluded otherwise. ranpo always held a resurgent glimmer in his eyes, one that he couldn't blink away easily.

he hastily stops you before you could grab a napkin to dapple it away, residing to instead run his thumb along the corners of your mouth. the deliberate proximity catches you off guard and given how his lips shift into a faint smirk; that was exactly the reaction he was hoping to coax.

" much better," he leans back but not without pressing a peck to your nose first.

he plucks out another cookie - and much to your surprise doesn't eat it down right away. more accurately, he crudely cracks it half, revealing an abundance of sugary filling hidden within the confines. without a hint of hesitation, he dips a finger into the cream frosting and messily swatches it against his mouth.

his dimpled smile doesn't leave him for a second even as he slots in front of you directly. his pink cheeks and light stutter chipped away at his facade but his green eyes and lips pulled into a firm beam remained confident.

you almost detested the way it was infectious otherwise you would have rolled your eyes.

ranpo reached out to cup your cheeks, waiting. " it's only fair you do it back, okay?"

-

—ATSUSHI

he holds a lot of hesitation when it comes to enacting anything physical and it shows.

modest, never performing any actions without your explicit consent. even so he exercises slow movement and allows you the opportunity to withdraw if you so desire.

he follows you around a lot though, seeking comfort from being your presence

it shows in the way he inches himself closer to you when you're in the general vicinity. in the way he glances at you for confirmation before lacing fingers. in the way he scoots his chair to close just so his thigh is just slightly nudging yours.

he questions how you're able to be so composed even with something as minimal as brushing clothed skin because inwardly he's going abrack and he can't focus on anything else

" atsushi are you listening to what i'm saying?" your voice broke him from his stupor, head perking up

in the following moment he could do nothing more than let out a nervous laugh, eyes fluttering in companion of scarlet cheeks. " ye- i… erm.. can you repeat that please?"

actually him -> (〃´𓎟`〃)

his favorite physical attributes about you are your hands, i think! they're so strong, and it fits into his perfectly <3 he can spend an hour just tracing the lines along your palm and appreciating the details

as such he's a hand holder as well. he shyly links his pinky with yours before gradually lacing the rest of the digits. when he looks at the joined limbs, it's like a shot of comfort runs right through him.

✿

you often catch him peering at you in the corner of his eyes, mosaic of yellows and purples squinting in intrigue. presently, his hands go clammy, fidgeting against his pants at a random manner; it was a common gesture of his, one that didn't go by unnoticed by you.

" something wrong?" he eases up a bit at the sound of your sincere tone.

" no, not at all," he gives off a nervous laugh, hand scratching the back of his neck. too far into his nerves, he failed to to recognize how the area became chafed. " i was just wondering," he paused, lips shaped into a bashful smile. " can i… hold your hand?"

atsushi didn’t have a mirror on him but he doesn't doubt that his face can put tomatoes to shame.

fortunately, the stiffened muscles on his back go slack at the giggle you release, a nervous chuckle pouring from himself. the erratic beat of his heart meanwhile, resumed its ricochet against his sternum, blood pounding on the lobe of his ear.

"you don't have to be so hesitant about holding my hand, 'sushi." you accentuated the statement by dipping your palm to take his.

it's evident he takes your words to heart, as next time he wordlessly hooks his index finger with yours before properly weaving the rest of the appendage. it was like a perfect puzzle, he reckoned and he gave his head the faintest tilt to gaze at it.

without realizing it, he rolls his thumb over the knuckles, savoring the exchange and the sensation of your fingertips on his. you haven't even spoken a word and already, his heart fills immensely full.

and if you pay attention, you may even catch him grinning at the presumably courageous gesture he mustered himself to do. his clammy palms tell you he's nervous, but it's hard to resist him when he's genuinely trying so hard.

✿

when he does garner the confidence however, he holds his hand out for everything; helping you out of the car(princess treatment w him tbh!), guiding you to bed when you're really sleepy, or when he just needs to be in some form of contact with you. he may even take it a step and pepper some kisses on the knuckles or rub the joints

moving his hand along your back when you're having a bad day of sorts. he may even resort to drawing shapes or random designs with the back of his nail as he listens to all your troubles

whenever your face scrunches up he kisses the pinched muscle until it goes loose again.

" there's that smile." he pushes aside his diffidence for your sake, cupping your cheeks before pressing kisses along your cheeks.

for himself, he finds a sort of reprieve by lying down on your lap. the moment his head makes contact with your thighs is like instant relaxation for him.

and all he can pay attention to afterwards is the sensation tickling his ribs and the way you mindfully took his roots within your fingers.

he seeks stability in such actions; his deep exhale occupying your dorm and meandering with the dust particles that float around him. he doesn't even realize how he's nuzzling closer into your body, eyes squeezing shut when you favor his scalp for a few seconds.

if he could purr, he would

kissing the tips of your fingers and hugging you from behind ♡

its the best form of affection he could ask for when he comes home groggy and sore from work

✿

" i'm home." exhaustion claws at his voice, movements stiff and sluggish as he strips of his tie and other accessories. his eyes surveyed the area, searching until…

a pop of familiar hues sweep into his vision. it revitalizes just enough energy to sustain a pair of open eyes, belied to the fatigue housed prior.

" welcome home, 'sushi." you greet with a smile he couldn't help but mimic even as the muscles in his body disagreed with it.

your mouth moves to mumble something else, but the words become intelligible to his ears. he was more far more concerned in slumping into the crevice of your shoulder, head falling into familiar position.

" miss you," he murmurs, rubbing his cheek against you, affectionate as ever. his hands wander down to your waist, finding the hemline. perhaps his growing daze subdued his rationality, for his hands slipped beneath, pinky faintly hitting skin.

" let's go." you gently tugged on his arm, intending to guide him to your futon; you only managed a couple steps before his grip went firm. almost uncharacteristically. when you turn your head, your met with a pair of fluttering lashes gazing at you - droopy but in its reflection was an intangible touch of fondness.

" this is fine," he brushes his lips to your cheek. the gesture was sloppy but enough to rekindle a grin on your face. " just want you here."

his finger sprawled against your stomach, heart hastening when you leaned back into him. he took the opportunity to douse himself in your comfort, relishing when you brush your fingers past his ear and scratch along his head.

he feels himself sink more when your nail caught a certain spot, just lateral to his head.

if it weren't for your voice breaking the silence, he would have surely fallen asleep at that moment.

" i'm right here," you murmur. " go ahead and rest." he wasn't sure how those words could weigh heavily on him as it did and also provide him the lull to drift off to sleep. but it didn't matter. the real thing is so much better than he can ever imagine.

✿

when you cuddle together, he prefers to settle with his hand or head where your heart should be. the thumping is so reassuring, especially when his insecurities pipe up. he needs to know you're still there :(

on the days he can't sleep, he finds himself playing with your fingers: gently flexing the joints and counting the knuckles

he's docile at anything routley intimate; fuming a pair of uncomfortably hot cheeks and legs reduced to jelly. his words often come in the form of stutters and slurred syllables, the slightest of touches jolting him.

his actual kisses though are gentle and considerate, favoring areas such as your hands and cheeks.

in contrast, the drawn-out gestures are hesitant at first. when it came to the first kiss, he had to swallow down his nervousness.

" did i do okay?" he inquires, eyeing your countenance. he feels a crash of relief when a grin curves on your lips and in turn he flashes you a dazzling amiable smile.

"good." he nods at that, removing the space again with the intentions of lengthening it and making it better than the last. good was fine, but he wants perfect when it came to you

when atsushi gets a taste of what physical affection can be like; pecks at his face, squeezing your hand and spooning you close - he's hooked. and he wants more, becoming akin to an insatiable pit. and it's profound.

he yearns for more kisses and lingering embraces that set his nerves aflame. he yearns to be closer to you until it was just impossible.

it also spurs a part of him(and in consequence of his ability as well) a yearning to leave some markings along your skin. he tries to be considerate in where he places it, but he himself is awful at hiding his own blemishes.

✿

a shaky expression drops on his face, the faint pink on his cheeks deepening to a cherry blush. he wasn't familiar to having your lips press beneath his chin, outlining the thrum of his throat - you could feel it's cadence whenever he sharply exhales, in pair of his palpitating heart.

even within his daze, atsushi remained cautious to not sink his nails into your shoulders. in comparison, he fails to suppress his shudder when your lips brush against a particular spot, air knocked from his chest.

when you glance up at him, his face contorts into a form of raw desperation, tugging onto your clothes until you were just shy of his mouth. meekly, he tries to not linger his gaze on your lips as you spoke; " is this fine?"

it's like you're teasing him, puffy magenta lips gawking at him and he wants nothing more than to kiss you again.

" it is." from the corner of his eye he could make out the faint reds that probed from his clothes hemline, dotting along his collarbone like swatches of paint. he doesn't think he'll ever grow use to it, filling him with an exhilaration he reasons can't be replicated elsewhere.

" i like it actually." his eyes squeezed shut in an effort to steady the eruption of red on his cheeks but it did little to quell his racing heart when you cupped his face, pressing a kiss to his mouth.

" i'm glad, you look handsome like this."

his smile reaches his eyes. "you look pretty too." his nails dug into his palms in an effort of restraint as he returns the gesture in kind.

-

I was originally hoping to include fyodor but this was so long already. w/ him (& unfinished) it would be 8k words. I rlly want to do version for sigma and akutagawa too. ty boxing fyodor anon 4 enabling my behavior TwT

these have so much room for improvement but I've fiddled around with it sm (๑′°︿°๑). if this doesn't leave the drafts now, it never will. I'll fix mistakes laterrr

taglist; @eynnwwyjth @anqelically @seisitive @iheartpieck @seiiblue @averagebsdwatcher @solandiss @4nthonyyliving @guacamole-roll @sunnyx07

be added or removed here !

[selineram3421]

*watching Hazbin Hotel and sees this deer man kicking his feet* I must have this in a fic!

Lovesick Alastor

Alastor X Reader

Warning ⚠

⚠ The tale of the Radio Demon falling in love. Blood, possessive, obsessive, yandere coded Alastor ⚠

Alastor had felt indifferent to romance for years.

What a silly thing! It was too stupid, dangerous, something that can turn you into a fool and get you killed.

Yes, he stayed cleared of it in life and in Hell.

That is until he got to know you.

You.

A lovely demon that is passionate in everything they do. A strong, powerful, and loving person who can be a bit of a klutz at times.

The first time he met you, you were dancing and singing to a song playing on the phonograph, the vinyl having a very energizing tune.

Rosie had sent him to you to try and start up a deal. You were starting up a shop nearby the colony and needed help getting your footing into the door. Your store was lacking in attention.

The perfect person to get a soul from.

Something held him back though. He just had to get to know the demon that tripped over their feet when spotting him.

"Falling for me already?", he joked.

But it was him who fell first.

You shined so brightly, how could he not?

Instead of having your soul the Radio Demon set out to have your heart.

Rosie was surprised that her friend did not make a deal and questioned him, curious with the change.

"Alastor, you never turn down a deal! Especially when this one is so easy.", she put down her tea cup, setting it down on the saucer.

"It's nothing to be concerned about, really. I just found something better.", he grinned and ate an appetizer.

"Hmm, alright. If you say so.", she let it drop for now.

Alastor paid a visit to your shop everyday.

He helped you renovate, pick out the best products for you to sell, and even had the pleasure to celebrate the first official opening.

Your shop was that of knick-knacks, it had things for customization. Mostly for anniversaries, birthdays, and celebration sorts. Doing things like engraving, embroidery, and carving.

One day you gave him a gift of his own.

"I wanted to thank you for all the help you've given me over the past few months.", you smiled and gently placed a small round box in his hand. "I hope you like it."

"Oh! And what is this?", he said and opened it, hearing music and a small smoke figures rising from the box to dance.

He noticed that the figure looked a lot like him and you, which got his dead heart to skip.

"This is wonderful."

Alastor looked up from the box and saw you beaming with joy.

"I'm so glad you like it!"

"No darling, I love it.", he corrected and took your hand. "If my guess is right, might I have the pleasure of courting you?"

"Only if you are true.", you squeezed his hand.

"Nothing but for you.", he lifted your hand and placed a kiss on your knuckles.

After that he quickly went to Rosie and almost kicked the door down.

"I have news!"

"Don't you kick my door!", his friend walked over to greet him.

The Radio Demon's smile was wide and he had an extra bounce in his step.

"I have news."

"You've said that already.", Rosie guided him over to her office.

After settling in, she sat down and patted the seat next to her. "Now, tell me what's got you so theatrical. Not that you aren't but this is more than usual."

"I can't sit now! I have to prepare!", the red dressed demon exclaimed. "I've begun courting someone and they've already given me a gift. I must return that tenfold! No! A hundred times more! A thousand! Millions!"

Rosie gasped and stood in shock.

"You? In love? I never thought I'd see the day!"

Alastor quickly turned towards the door. "I need to get them flowers!"

The woman quickly put a stop to his rambling.

"Now hold on old boy.", she sat him down. "Have you given thought to what they like the most? Surely you must have more ideas than just the old rose bouquet."

"Of course!", he laughed and pulled out a list from his chest pocket.

Once getting the all clear from his friend, and more ideas for gifts and actions, he took off to get something that would make you happy.

Alastor did everything and more.

Spoiling you with anything you could ever desire. Of course, this also caught the attention of his rival.

"When the fuck did this happen!?", Vox stared at the distorted screen.

It was a picture of the Radio Demon and a lovely looking thing on his arm.

"Don't know but its what Velvette found while scrolling.", Valentino said while cleaning his gun. "They don't look that entertaining."

The next day you found the underling of T.V. Overlord in your shop.

"Hello? Is there something you'd like to place an order on?", you asked walking over.

"Hello! My boss sent me here.", they handed a clipboard to you. "Please sign here for the package."

"Package? I didn't buy anything.", you said confused.

"Something was sent to you from my boss. This is just for confirmation that you received it.", they pushed it closer to you.

"Why?", you looked over the paper, not even taking the clipboard from the demon.

"Please just sign it.", they sighed.

"Dear? What's taking so long?", Alastor walked out of the back room, static growing louder once seeing the demon with the Vox-tech logo on his jacket. "Why are you here?"

"I'm j-just doing my job, sir.", the demon froze.

"Alastor.", you said, quickly getting the deer demon's attention. "I'll handle this. Don't you worry.", you smiled.

"Very well.", he quickly agreed and backed off, glaring at the demon. "Don't let this take long.", he threatened them.

You turned to the demon and smiled.

"I reject it, whatever it is."

Of course Vox wasn't happy with that.

Alastor was pissed.

How dare that piece of technologic crap try and get your attention. You were his, he had your affection first and it would also be your last. You would be with him forever and no one will take you.

So, to make sure this didn't happen again, the smiling demon sent back the Vox-tech worker back in a bloody box.

"Darling~", he hugged you from behind.

Both of you were in the back of your shop again, you were going over your stock.

"Come with me to this hotel I saw on the news. It looks quite entertaining!"

"I'd love to Alastor but you know I have to do my work.", you caressed the side of his face. "I'll let you know when I can visit as soon as I'm done with the set of rings."

"Rings?", he asked.

"Yes, there was this couple celebrating an anniversary and wanted their wedding rings engraved.", you smiled.

"Still together even after death? How romantic.", the deer commented. "I suppose I can wait for a bit longer. Though I do wish you could just drop everything."

"You know I can't.", you laughed and kissed his cheek.

Satisfied for now, the Radio Demon left for the hotel. Of course not everything was a smooth sailing but he managed to get everything settled for you to join him.

And when you did he was ecstatic.

"Darling! I see you finished those rings!", he twirled you in a hug.

"I missed you too love.", you hugged back.

The hazbin crew was shocked seeing him so affectionate with you.

"Who the fuck is this?"

"Oh how rude of me!", Alastor set you down but still held you close. "This is my significant other!"

"The fuck! Is this why you kept saying no to my offers!?", Angel crossed his arms.

"They are not the only reason! You are disgusting!", the deer demon grinned.

"What offers?", you questioned.

"This fellow kept offering to warm my bed dear."

"Oh?"

The room got darker and the walls started to distort.

"Hold on!", a blonde jumped in. "There is no killing guests in the hotel!"

"Charlie! Get away from them!", a white haired woman ran over with a spear.

You rolled your eyes and stopped.

"Sorry.", you smiled. "Didn't mean to scare you, I wouldn't dream of ruining your carpets!"

The two calmed down.

Alastor laughed and pulled you away from the group. "Don't you worry my darling, I made sure to threaten the spider properly. Let me show you around! I have a room set up to your liking."

"What? When did you-?"

"Let's go!", he teleported you with him using his shadows.

Everyone stood confused in the lobby.

"When the fuck did he start dating? How crazy is that demon to accept?"

Meanwhile you and Alastor were in your own little world. He showed you your hotel room and conjured up a door to connect your rooms together.

"If its too much I can get rid of the door.", he said and turned to look back at you. "What do you think?"

"Its very sweet of you.", you yanked him down by his bowtie. "Why didn't you tell me about the first time that spider made a comment like that?", you said in a commanding tone.

Your deer chuckled and kissed you.

"Because I knew that you would get jealous and I love to see you get like this.", he pulled you by the waist and into a dip. "We both know that I'd never accept something like that. Especially if its not you."

"I won't go there.", you moved your hands to hold his face. "I know you don't like things like that."

"I appreciate it my love.", he pulled you back up. "Now, what else would you like to do?"

"They said no killing, right?", you asked.

"Yes, no sinning here in the hotel my dearest.", he went to lie down on your bed.

"I can give him a good scare though.", you smiled and laughed darkly, plotting out a scheme.

Alastor sighed dreamily, kicking his feet back and forth as he watched you set up a plan.

Yes, he had fallen but he doesn't regret it.

Not one bit.

From: Lovesick Alastor Headcanon

~Seline, the person.

Taglist@

@ducky-died-inside @scary-noodlesblog @c4rved-pumpk1n @stolas-thebirb @naelys-the-aster @biromanticboba @kiraisastay @lbcreations-blog @pooplyface1423 @line-viper @+?

ML for Alastor🎙

[e-m-ma-lmfao]

I have a request for Astarion ! What if reader is usually the one being seduced by Astarion (because that's how he is) but reader one day does the very chivalrous hand kissing to Astarion after maybe protecting him from an enemy?

Rizz if you will.

It's Called Chivalry, Darling

pairing : astarion x (gn) reader

summary : astarion makes a point to be chivalrous so you return the favour to distract him from being worried.

warnings :talk about weapons and fighting, reader gets hurt.

a/n: thanks sm for your request :). i tried my hardest to execute this idea, i hope you like it anon :0 (i have not played baldurs gate)

“I think we could stock up there. ” You point to a row of buildings, signs practically unreadable, grabbing the attention of the others in your group. They all hum in agreement before heading off in their own directions. The only store you assume you’ll be needing is a general store, so you head in that direction. 

You reach for the handle but someone else's hand beats you to it, pulling it open for you. Turning to look, you make eye contact with the ever handsome Astarion, smirk tugging at his lips. 

“Why’re you opening the door for me? What do you want?” You point an accusatory finger in his face, causing him to chuckle. His laugh is so soft it almost makes you drop your finger. 

“It’s called chivalry, my dear. You aren’t familiar?” He follows behind you as you enter the store, rolling your eyes at him. The store is mostly empty, besides a few men looking through the wares available. But even with all the open space for him to walk, Astarion seems to tail you as if the store is crowded. 

“Ooh get some more of that stuff, remember you used it on me? It made that cut on my arm feel like nothing.” He points from behind you at a healing balm in a small, glass jar. You stop in your tracks to grab it, causing Astarion to push into your back, and you look back at him with a confused stare. 

“Why’d you stop? ” His brows are furrowed, face close to yours.

“Why are you walking so close to me?”

“I just can’t stand to be far from you, my love,” He places his hand on his chest dramatically, voice incredibly theatrical as if he wasn’t already dramatic enough. You're sure that people in the store are shooting glances your way but, unusually, you can't bring yourself to care.

Not when Astarion is looking down at you with playful eyes and a giddy smile on his face. He looks so sweet like this, so free of worry and attitude, his guard is down. But you can't let him realize your thoughts, so before he could even notice your staring you force your face to remain as stoic as before.

You once again roll your eyes then continue your search for anything the group may need. Once you finish you head towards the door, making a point to open the door for yourself which causes Astarion to grunt in disapproval. 

The group finds each other once more and you head out of town, fully prepared for what might be ahead. At least that's what you think, maybe a stupid thought considering you're never truly safe on this perilous journey.

As you travel along the trail, your group seems to split off into its own smaller groups. Whispering and laughing with eachother, making far too much noise in your opinion. And Astarion, slowly trickling from the front all the way to the back where you're walking, finds his place beside you. 

“Why do you always walk so far towards the back? That’s a dangerous position for someone as small as you, no one to keep you safe from behind.” He chuckles to himself as he notices your brows furrow. 

“There’s nobody to annoy me either.” His hand flys to his chest, pretending to be hurt once more, his pace faltering ever so slightly then catching up with you again. 

“Ouch. How you wound me so with your cold words darling.” 

“Astarion, if you wish to accompany me in the back I’d appreciate if..” Your sentence is cut off with a yelp of surprise as you trip over a dip in the road, stumbling forwards. But you don’t fall very far, Astarion’s hand gripping onto your wrist and pulling you towards him. Your chest hits his, and you take a moment to regain your bearings before taking a step away from him.

He raises your hand, still in his grip, up to his lips and places a gentle kiss on the top of your knuckles, “You must be more careful, darling. Don’t want you getting hurt.” 

You know your face is pink, you can feel it, and the smirk on his face solidifies your worry, but you remain composed and give him a simple nod as you pull your hand away. 

“Shall I hold your hand to ensure you don’t trip again?”

“In your dreams, fangs.” He smiles, it's always so soft during these moments, and the sight alone almost causes you to take back your words and give in to his offer, but you stand your ground and keep your hands close to your hips. Astarion lets out a small laugh at this.

You continue to walk in peaceful silence, Astarion making small quips so the air is never truly silent around you. You've come to realize that Astarion can't stand silence whenever he's around you, and he makes a point to keep the noise level up. But when his tone shifts, and he becomes quieter, you take a peak around. You notice that the group is much closer than before but you don’t mind. Safety in numbers and what not. 

But something feels off. It’s eerily quiet. Not even the whistle of a bird and you swear the wind has stopped entirely. And you think the rest of your group notices as well, perhaps the reason that they had moved closer was so they wouldn’t be caught off guard. Their hands stay on their weapons ready to take them out. 

And then it happens. A group of goblins jump from the surrounding forest and circle around your party. Usually something as small a threat as a goblin would be no problem but in such large numbers they might prove to be a problem. When they initiate a fight, thrusting their blades towards you, you draw your blade. 

Slowly, you pick off goblins, one by one. They’re stronger than you expected and their weapons are much nicer than the ones you had encountered in the past. But you keep your guard up and they’re unable to land a blow on you. It’s when the amount of goblins in front of you is reduced that your guard is let down even the slightest. And your focus shifts. Not the smartest move.

You look around you, realizing that Astarion is no longer by your side.

In your state of distraction, a goblin is able to strike you, leaving a relatively large cut on your arms and cutting the arm of your shirt into a tattered piece. The pain causes you to refocus for a moment, just enough to kill the goblin before you look back towards Astarion.

When your eyes reach his position, your heart drops to your stomach. He is completely surrounded and you're certain that he is unaware just how shitty his situation is. So without a second thought, you leave the goblins in front of you behind, and rush over to him. 

Swinging your blade with as much force as you can muster, you kill the goblins behind him and grab his wrist to pull him out of his unfortunate position. You kill another, after ensuring he is no longer in the way. The two of you pick the goblins off together, standing back to back. And when the fight is over you finally allow yourself a moment to breathe. 

But it doesn’t last long. 

Astarion pushes at your shoulder, causing you to stumble forward, you hardly catch yourself but you do. When you’ve found your footing you straighten up, turning to him with furrowed brows, “What was that for?” 

“Why would you do that?” His tone is so aggressive it catches you off guard, “You could’ve gotten hurt! How could you be so irresponsible? Look at your arm, Gods!"

He holds your arm in his hands, hesitating for a moment before ripping off a piece of his own shirt. Gently, he pushes the arm of your shirt up to uncover your wound and begins to wrap the piece of cloth around the wound with shaky fingers, muttering curse words under his breath.

“You could’ve been killed Astarion! I would’ve gladly gotten hurt in order to prevent that.” You try to keep your cool. The pain is hardly noticeable with the amount of adrenaline pumping through your body. And you honestly find yourself more worried about him being angry with you Obviously, he’s yelling in your face, but it might just be shock getting to him. 

“Why would you do that for me? That is absolutely ridiculous.” He huffs, throwing his hands in the air, then allows them to fall back down to his sides. And an idea suddenly enters you brain. 

Slowly, with caution to not annoy him further, you reach for his still shaky hand. He stares at you, brows furrowed, but he doesn’t pull away. Gently, you place your lips against his bloodied knuckles, making an effort not to hurt his already irritated skin.

“It’s called chivalry, Astarion. You aren’t familiar?” You notice the smallest change in his eyes as they soften, even a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. He isn’t mad, just worried. And you know that all the annoyance has fled his body at your attempt to make fun of him and his flirtatious remarks. Honestly, he's a little flattered you remember what he said, and flustered from you playing his own game against him.

You take a step closer, placing a hand on the side of his face to pull him in closer, to plant a soft kiss to his cheekbone. His curls touch your fingertips, and you take the opportunity to play with his soft hair for a moment. When you pull away, a pink tint lingers on his skin, allowing color to flow on his beautiful face. “You know I don’t want you getting hurt.”

This time he lets out a soft laugh, “That’s enough, darling. I understand what you’re doing, you can stop mocking me.” He turns away from you, but you rush to his side, wrapping your hands around his arms. You lean into him, resting your head near his shoulder as you look up at him.

“Shall I hold onto you so you don’t trip, my dear?” You mock his usual flirty tone, and he pushes your head away gently in an attempt to hide the color rushing to his face, ruffling your hair up.

“What, I'm not allowed to flirt with you but you can do it to me?”

"That's exactly right, my dear."

[ohimsummer]

BAD HABIT ft. BULLY! SATOSUGU

— minors dni, perverted!+bully! satosugu, uh light fluff? (mostly in the bonus?), mostly satoru x reader, fantasizing about smut (gojo), prob inaccurate college rep idc <3, pet names (princess, darling), explicit language, suggestive comments, some recording/photography, one mention of blackmail

summary; suffering exhaustion beneath a pile of college projects and exams wasn’t enough, now you’re stuck tutoring the most annoying men in the world. couldn’t hurt to take a little nap during it

wc 3.1k ??

The last few weeks have been long, nerve-wracking. It seems all your professors have co-conspired together to drop some kind of test or project, all worth a large portion of the grade and all due in the next month. Your nightly 8 hours of sleep have dwindled to a measly four, and of course, to top it all off, now your Bio Chem teacher has donned you the responsibility of tutoring Gojo and Geto indefinitely.

They had to have something to do with this, you just know it. Call it a wild hunch but there’s no way, of all the people in that class, a lot of which have higher grades than yours, that the professor would ask you to tutor Gojo and Geto. Maybe they slipped a few hundreds in the teacher’s hand or appealed to his emotions. Knowing the theatrics of Gojo, he probably gave the man big, puppy-dog eyes and crocodile tears during his fake pleas of ‘please, sir, we really want to pass this class!’.

A light knock on your door drags you out of your thoughts, followed by the familiar voice of a white-haired pest. “Knock, knock!”

You’ve been dreading 5PM since yesterday, the time they, and reluctantly you, had agreed on. Demanding they come to your dorm was akin to putting acid on your tongue, but going over to theirs like Geto’d offered would be like walking into the lion’s den.

They await you within the hall, and Gojo perks up immediately at the sight of you. He unwraps himself from Geto’s shoulders, and your suspicions that they don’t really need your knowledge only grow when you notice they’re both empty-handed, not a book or worksheet or even a flash card in sight. Though you can’t dwell on it for too long as Gojo’s immediately barging into the room.

“Princess, good to see ya!,” comes his boisterous greeting. “Nice place ya got here.” Entwined in his teasing compliment is a conniving tone; Gojo examines the various pink decor of your bedroom. “Should come by more often.”

“Negative.,” you snap with furrowed brows, terse and patience already wearing thin at Geto’s languid pace through the door.

He nears Gojo to study the photo album adorning your tack board, leaving you to prepare by getting out the needed textbooks. You ignore their childish whispers, giggles, points at the various pictures that contain you and your friends, though it causes a bout of unease to settle in your stomach. Hopping onto the tall bed, you scoot until your back’s to the wall, placing down a recently-made stack of notes and the class’s assigned textbooks. It’s a short hunt for the page you desire, somewhere lost in the middle because this professor jumped from subject to subject so often.

You clear your throat to signal it’s time to begin. “Okay. So–“

Already you’re off to a bad start as the textbook disappears from your grasp, now suspended above Gojo’s head, far out of your reach. “This looks super bo-oring!”

You spring away from the sheets, landing with a soft ‘thud’ and instantly move to crush his feet, or kick his knees in, or have him hunched over with a punch to the stomach, but your movements are halted by Geto’s sudden grasp on your waist. Head jerking to the side, you shoot him your deadliest stare, nails steadily sinking into his unfortunately clothed forearms.

“Let go.,” you bark and he doesn’t move a muscle.

“Pft. Aren’t you adorable?,” he murmurs into your neck, tone bathed in condescension. “Just relax, he’s joking.” Against your wriggling and squirming, Geto backsteps to the shiny wooden desk in your room, still clinging to your waist. “Have a seat, it’d do you some good to calm down a little.”

And before you know it, he’s descending into the cool comfort of your chair, dragging you with him to rest in his lap. Gojo slams the book shut and approaches your restrained, restless form, grinning wildly the whole time. He pushes you back to recline atop his friend, thoroughly amused at your continuous flailing. A round of delighted laughter leaves Gojo’s lips, especially at the childish kick of your legs that don’t reach the floor from your position.

“Would you let fucking go of me?,” you huff between grunts, only to be met with Geto’s thoughtful hum.

“I might when you relax.,” he finally speaks.

You twist around in Geto’s lap to jab an enraged finger at his broad chest, a disdainful scowl painted across your features. “Did you two come here to play, or did you come here to learn?”

Gojo reaches out to ruffle your hair, smirking when you slap his hand away. The book precariously wobbling on his fingertips begins to fall, caught by him at the last minute before it hits the floor. “Can’t we do a little bit of both?”

Your toes brush the rug as you scramble forward in Geto’s lap, promptly ignoring the growing hardness you feel on your behind. “If you two aren’t gonna take this seriously then get out of my room.”

Geto chuckles as Gojo heaves out a loud sigh, and holds the textbook out to you. “Fine, jeez, you’re such a little buzzkill.”

You leap up from Geto’s lap and snatch it back. “Shut the hell up and sit down.”

Tension seeps away as they obey without question. Geto claims your swiveling desk chair as Gojo flops down on the huge, pink carpet covering majority of the floor, and you settle back onto the bed, flip again to the designated page and begin going over your plans for today’s tutoring session. You can feel two pairs of eyes burning into you, but opt to just concentrate on dumbing down the material for them.

Gojo zones out immediately as you dive into the information. Ocean blue eyes catch onto the curves and dips of your body and admire the cute loungewear you have on. Snug, white shorts that hug your skin and ride up the crease of your plush thighs. He studies the curve of your ass long enough to realize he can spot pink panties barely showing through the translucent fabric. With the way you’re sitting, knees midway pulled to your chest, Gojo can see the outline of your pussy, and blood rushes to his dick as his mind goes haywire. Gojo visualizes a different scenario, one where he spikes that stupid textbook into the floor and fucks you senseless. He can imagine perfectly the look on your face as he pins you to a mattress, voice wavering through false bravado as you whine through plump lips at him to move. Complaining even though your rounded thighs are rubbing together to ease the ache of your cunt, a damp spot forming in the crotch of your shorts as Gojo peppers kisses along your neck. The view of your beautiful tits with perked nipples rubbing against his chest and driving Gojo insane until he rips the thin layers off, both the panties and shorts together to leave your glistening pussy bare for him, ready to be ravaged and abused by his cock–

“Gojo.” He hears his name, but it’s like someone calling him underwater. “Gojo.”

A sharp kick in the ribs and he’s at full attention. Geto snickers at him, still swiveling back and forward in the leather chair, and Gojo looks over to meet your sharp dagger of a glare over the textbook.

“It’d be nice if you could focus on me and not waste my time.,” you sigh in utter annoyance.

Gojo grins that boyish smile, one that makes you want slap it off his face but maybe also makes your heart stutter a tad. “Oh-ho, babe, I‘m always focused on you.”

His statement brings a warmth to your cheeks, but you’re an expert at pretending around Satoru Gojo. Rolling your eyes, you huff and backtrack on a couple paragraphs in an effort to catch him up. Less distractions for him to latch on to.

“I think I’d focus more if I wasn’t so lonely down here.,” he interrupts to sulk in your direction.

The look you give is like one a mother gives a disobeying child. “Okay? No one told you to sit down there.”

You regret the words as soon as they leave your mouth, especially since Gojo perks up at the sentence. “Oh, inviting me to sit on the throne with you, princess?”

Eyes widening in disbelief, you try to sputter out a ��no!’, but Gojo’s already sprung up and leaping into bed next to you. “No takebacks!”

You frown, brows knitted as he gets a little too comfy, squishing your favorite stuffed animal in his arms and blinking a wide-eyed look at you. Geto eyes you two and continues slow swirls in the chair, getting slightly dizzier with each rotation, but at least he’s actually been taking in the information you’ve explained. Not that he needs your tutoring, he’s up there with you as one of the top students in this particular class. But it’s hard not to read your lips when he’s been shamelessly ogling them the past ten minutes.

Sighing in defeat, you allow Gojo to curl up next to you. It’s easy to feign his attention and he pretends to read over your shoulder, though his mind is anywhere but in this textbook. If anything, this was far worse. Being in such close proximity, your alluring scent threatens to drag him deeper into your space. Instead of focusing on your body or, you know, the material, now all Gojo can concentrate on is pinpointing the ingredients of your shampoo. It’s so familiar, right on the tip of his tongue…vanilla? Maybe, but he can also catch hints of strawberry in there somewhere. Perhaps if he was a little closer…

“Can you back off a little?,” you snap at him. “Damn, you’re almost on top of me.”

Gojo smirks. “I can be actually on top of y-“

“Anyways you two can look over this.,” you ignore his flirtatiousness and stand up to get away from him. “Since you apparently know this more than me. I don’t even get why y’all asked for tutoring if you weren’t gonna listen.”

And before Gojo can object, you teeter towards the edge of the bed, land on the soft rug, and head towards the mini fridge for a much-needed drink of water. It’s bad enough you were asked to tutor them when they clearly don’t care for it, but for them to actually come and then waste your time, too? Egregious. You have half a mind to kick both of them out and tell the professor they don’t need anyone’s damn help, much less yours.

You bend over for a cold water bottle, and in the few seconds it takes you to grab it, you swear you hear the faint sound of a camera click behind you. Quiet noises follow after, almost like they’re trying to have a conversation without you noticing, but it’s silent as you turn around to continue the lesson. They’re so fucking weird. Whatever.

Drawing near the bed, you steady a hand and make ready to hop back into place, only for a strong pair of hands to hoist you up and set you on the edge. You let out a soft ‘oh!’, sincerely taken aback, and turn to look at Gojo, who’s readjusting back into his original spot like nothing has happened.

“What?,” he asks. Something about the nonchalant upturn of his lips is different than his usual smirk. Something more genuine and less smug.

Doubt clouds your vision, tugs the corners of your lips down as you glance between him and Geto, who’s halted his endless chair twirling to give a curious tilt of his head. They eye eachother, and then you again; Geto has the smallest smile, seemingly unassuming but you’re skeptical of it nonetheless.

“Nothing.,” you decide to dismiss it because you’d only be setting yourself up for failure trying to explain why it was a problem. Besides, addressing it would only serve to fuel Gojo’s numerous efforts to throw everything off track. Maybe he was seriously just trying to help. Fine, no big deal.

You awkwardly flounder backwards, making sure to put a few more inches of space between you and Gojo. All to no avail since the second you settle your laptop upon your bare thighs, he instantly closes the gap. The radiating heat of his body sends warmth throughout your skin, exhaustion catching up to pierce through your bones, and you find yourself wanting to swaddle up within blankets and go to sleep.

“The professor has a few study guides on the website.,” you yawn, keys clicking beneath your fingers until the aforementioned pdf file is loading down the screen. “Hundreds of questions but a lot of this stuff will be on the final, so it’d be helpful to study it all.”

Your eyelids flutter, and next is Gojo’s low voice in your ear. “Tired, princess? I thought you were supposed to be teaching us.”

His warm breath raises goosebumps on your skin, and you suddenly notice how cold this room is. “Fuck off.,” you mutter, shortly followed up by both their chuckling.

“Told you to relax.,” Geto voices in the most ‘told ya so’ tone ever. “Get some rest, we can take it from here, and we’ll wake you if we need something.”

It’s a bad idea, you know it’s a bad idea, but…you can’t help succumbing to a little nap. The past several days have worn you thin, and despite not trusting these two to find a drunk in a bar, let alone have unsupervised access to your room, the promise of a little sleep is tempting. You are exhausted so, against your better judgement, you bank on the fact that they have the potential of grown, mature men who won’t get up to something nefarious while you rest your eyes for a little. Surely it couldn’t hurt to put the slightest amount of trust in them, and you allow your vision to fade.

During your catnap, you have the poor luck to dream of school. Studying, finals, projects, classes, anything related to college, you conjured up an even more miserable version of it in your dream state. Though in one dream you cuddle that stuffed animal Satoru grabbed from your bed, so that’s a plus. In the dream it’s warm, snuggly, fuzzy. You smother it in your arms, bury your face into it to inhale the smell of it, a scent you’re infatuated with. You vaguely recognize it in your sleep, it smells so much like…

You awake to the jostling of your shoulders. Someone, two people actually, are talking, maybe to you? What are your whereabouts, actually?

“Ah, there she is!” The familiar voice sounds vague and foggy, loud but far away. “Have a good nap, princess?”

Harsh light beams into your eyes, tampering with the return of your sight. You hover a hand over your forehead to shield your face, peering around in a hope to get your bearings.

“I think she’s still half-asleep.,” another voice whispers, and then says louder, “Take your time, darling.”

Everything is bleary, but you can just make out the details of your room. There’s your fridge over on the opposite wall, the lamp on your desk, speaking of which, who’s in your chair? You start to sit up, wondering in the back of your mind when you laid down to begin with, utterly bewildered when you feel something, a hand, firm and warm on the bare skin of your hip. Pink bedsheets, white dorm walls, your legs, someone else’s legs stretched out beside yours…A chuckle rings somewhere to your right as you gape at these seemingly disembodied legs. Your gaze trails up to see they’re attached to a waist, a chest, a pair of arms, and then your eyes fall on the face.

“G–!”, you hesitate, stumbling backwards away from Gojo who laughs maniacally. “Get off me, Gojo!”

He scoffs, Geto huffs a laugh somewhere in the room. “You were the one laying all up under me, actually.”

“I was not!”

“You so were,” he argues, giddiness in his voice. “You were allll over me, baby. Hugging my arm, rubbing my chest, all of it. Wanna see the video?”

You gasp out, “Vi–? Video?”

Gojo fiddles around on his phone. “Yeah, check it out, sweet cheeks!”

He holds the phone out to you, and a large, empty feeling plummets to the bottom of your stomach. You, spooning him, a betraying smile spread on your lips as you nuzzle Gojo’s chest, completely oblivious to your surroundings. His hand snaked around your waist, fingers occasionally playing with the hem of your shirt or ducking beneath to pinch your hips. You whine when he does so, and in the video you see the stutter of his body, hear traces of his quiet laughter. The phone currently shakes in Gojo’s grasp from his endless giggling.

“Delete it!,” you stammer in complete disbelief. “Pervert!”

“Pervert?,” Gojo repeats your accusation. “You’re the one feeling me up in the video!”

“Get y’all’s asses out of my room!,” you shout at them, leaping to the floor to immediately escort them out. “Both of you, now!”

Gojo glares, huffs, and does his signature pout, all the while Geto chuckles hysterically behind his palm. “How rude of my tutor to kick me out after falling asleep during the session on top of trying to seduce me!”

Geto chimes in before you can tell his friend to shut the fuck up. “Surely you can spare a few minutes to make up for that time?”

“No.,” you say bluntly. “Out.”

You watch in disapproval as they grab their things, foot tapping impatiently the whole time as you hold the door wide open for them to leave through. They take their time, eventually prompting you to just start shoving them out into the hall.

“So, same time tomorrow?,” Geto teases, stumbling through the doorway.

You grimace, giving them both a last push out of your room. “Absolutely not-“

“And get some rest too, while you’re at it.,” Gojo bids you farewell with one last aggravating comment.

“Whatever.,” and you slam the door in their faces, Satoru poking his tongue out at you with a wink.

bonus!

— It’s the early hours of the morning. Geto has long since passed out, but Satoru can’t seem to get a wink of sleep. The video replays in his mind, and he tries desperately to imagine the sensation of your body laying against him. No teasing, no sex, no filthy, perverted thoughts. Just the feeling of your head on his chest again, limbs haphazardly wrapped around him. The even sounds of your breathing, warm breath brushing over his collar. Such an adorable, peaceful look on your face when you’re not glaring at him and spouting insults in a rage. Yeah, he told Geto he was taking pictures and a video as some kind of future blackmail, but, truth be told, Satoru really just wanted them all for himself.

[jeannyjaykaydeh]

Jealous Alastor x Reader

Alastor: Darling. Let's have a chat, please.

Reader: Of course, what's going on?

Alastor sits down on his couch and waits for Reader to sit down next to him: I realise that you are a modern woman who values her independence and freedom very highly and let me tell you that I wholeheartedly support this.

Reader: But?

Alastor sighs: But I'm sorry to have to tell you that it really bothers me when you watch pornography in my room when I'm on air in my radio studio.

Reader confused: Excuse me?

Alastor: Please don't get me wrong, I respect your sexuality, sweetheart, but I wonder why you feel the need to look at that pathetic, sleazy man as soon as I'm gone. Am I not enough for you?

Reader: Alastor... I'm sorry, but I really don't know what you're talking about. I don't watch porn.

Alastor indignantly: Well, please, my dear. What else would you call this vulgar picture show with constantly appearing naked people showing off their liaisons?

Reader in despair: What picture show then???

Alastor becomes slightly theatrical: Do you like this picture box man? Does he look better than me, hmm? It's the red hair, isn't it? Or is it that incomprehensible accent? In case that's what you need and in case you haven't noticed: I also have red hair and am fluent in Louisiana Creole.

Reader: ALASTOR! Now please calm down and then FINALLY tell me what porn and what man you're talking about that I'm supposedly watching in your absence.

Alastor: Don't play clueless here, y/n. You know full well I'm talking about that weird Scottish trash show.

Reader widens her eyes and looks at Alastor in confusion: Tell me, you're not talking about Outlander, are you?

Alastor: If course I am, that's exactly the series I'm talking about.

[cenittxnadir]

Bad communication (Nightcrawler X FemReader)

Everything had gone well on the mission until Kurt's delicate landing in the Blackbird set fire to one of the abandoned barns near the mansion.

Hank was going to kill them.

Someone take away Kurt's permission to pilot ships please.

They were both trying to catch their breath. A couple of seconds more and both of them could have been trapped in the fire, but thanks to Kurt they managed to get out.

"First and last time I leave you behind the wheel Fuzzball" Y/N was leaning against the tree trying to gain posture.

"Look on the bright side, the mission was a success." Kurt's accent sounded thicker due to the lack of air. Y/N was going to say something but a crash interrupted her. The structure of the barn ended up collapsing on the remains of the Blackbird causing a loud noise.

"Let's blame Scott. He always destroys those things"

Kurt just nodded.

Y/N stood up and looked in the direction of the mansion, they were a little far away and they had no other means of transportation than walking, yes, Kurt could teleport them but the boy was exhausted so they had no choice but to walk back to home.

"Well... let's go, Azulito, there's still a long way to go" Y/N began to go down the hill, determined to get home as quickly as possible, Kurt followed closely behind her.

"What did you say? 'Azulito?' Well, my dear Y/N, how kind of you to give me a new nickname!" He smiled, appreciating the affectionate gesture.

"You needed a new nickname, and it suits you perfectly." She just shrugged her shoulders.

Kurt's heart skipped a beat at Y/N's compliment, a warm blush spreading across his cheeks. "Azulito…" he repeated, savoring the sound of his new nickname. "I must admit, it does have a rather charming ring to it." He shot Y/N a gracious smile.

"Thank you, my dear, for bestowing such a delightful moniker upon me. I shall treasure it like a precious gem."

"The pleasure is mine," Y/N responded mockingly, imitating an English accent followed by a small bow straight out of a Jane Austen movie.

Kurt couldn't help but smile at Y/N's attempt at a charming English accent. He laughed softly, completely amused.

"Ah, Y/N, you really have a talent for mimicry!" he exclaimed, playfully feigning fainting. "Your attempts at a stately English accent are quite endearing. Are you preparing to play the role of the damsel in distress, perhaps?"

"I'm not a damsel in distress Kurt, that position is yours. I always end up saving you." She winked at him.

Kurt couldn't help but burst into laughter at Y/N's spirited banter. He feigned a wounded look, placing a hand over his heart.

"Ah, Y/N, your words wound me! To be accused of being the damsel in distress, when I am clearly the suave and debonair hero of our adventures," he protested theatrically.

"I'll have you know, my dear, that I have saved your fair self more times than I can count." He smirked playfully, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes.

She squeezed his cheek lovingly "Of course you're a hero, you're my favorite hero Krut."

A soft chuckle escaped Kurt's lips, his cheeks flushed with warmth from Y/N's affectionate gesture. He leaned a bit closer, his eyes twinkling.

"And you're my favorite damsel, Y/-darling," he replied, emphasizing the newfound nickname with a charming smile. He gently reached out to tuck a lock of hair behind Y/N's ear, his touch tender and reverent. "Your beauty and bravery make me feel like the luckiest hero in all the realms."

Kurt's words made Y/N feel something strange in her heart, she felt a warmth inside her.

She always knew what to say and now it seemed like her brain had short-circuited, she couldn't answer anything and just babbled.

Kurt watched her reaction with a mixture of amusement and affection. He could tell her words had affected her deeply, and he couldn't resist teasing her further. Closing the remaining gap between them, he gently cupped Y/N's chin, his thumb gently tracing her jawline.

"Have I rendered you speechless, my lovely damsel?" he whispered teasingly, his voice dripping with warmth. "I must admit, I rather like this flustered state you've found yourself in. It's quite endearing."

How frustrating it was! She couldn't speak and now Kurt was making fun of her! That little blue goblin was going to pay for it! Without thinking, he grabbed Kurt's tail and gave it a little tug, enough to take him without warning but without hurting him.

Kurt's eyes widened with surprise as Y/N seized his tail and gave it a sudden tug. He let out a sharp squeak, caught off guard by his quick move. His expression shifted from astonishment to playful indignation, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He intended to stumble, clutching at his heart as if wounded.

"Alas, a treacherous trick!" he dramatically declared, his voice laced with mock despair. "My tail has been betrayed by its own damsel in distress!"

"That happens when you make fun of me." She crossed her arms over her chest, feigning indignation while sticking out her tongue.

Kurt couldn't help but burst into laughter at Y/N's feigned indignation. He held his tail protectively, pretending to pout.

"Ah, you've wounded me, my fiery friend. Not only my tail, but my heart too!" He feigned a heartbroken expression, pressing a hand to his chest. "But I must admit, the sound of your laughter and the sight of your adorable teasing make me forgive you easily."

Y/N understood, she liked Kurt but she was too cowardly to do or say anything. So she was only content with their friendship, if that was the only way to have him close to her and to have a space in Kurt's heart.

She loved spending time with him, no matter if it meant getting into trouble or making jokes. She wasn't a fan of making jokes but Kurt loved them and she loved Kurt.

Kurt picked up on Y/N's internal conflict, sensing her unspoken emotions. He understood her feelings all too well, for he harbored a deep affection for her too. Yet, like her, he also hesitated to express his true feelings. He had his own reasons for keeping his emotions in check, fearing that revealing them might jeopardize their dear friendship.

Kurt loved the time they spent together, treasured their laughter and shared adventures. But he also yearned for more, to open his heart and voice the profound feelings that resided within. Yet he, too, was held back by a certain cowardice.

The rest of the way was silent and somewhat tortuous. Y/N wanted to hit her head, she ruined the conversation in just a second and now she didn't know how to continue the conversation, for a moment the floor looked more interesting.

Kurt's lighthearted teasing and laughter faded as he picked up on Y/N's internal turmoil. The silence that settled between them grew increasingly uncomfortable, the weight of unspoken emotions hanging heavily in the air. He glanced at Y/N, noting her distant gaze fixed on the ground.

Curiosity and concern compelled him to break the silence. "Y/N," he began softly, his voice tender and caring. "Is everything alright?"

"Eh?" She looked very distracted. "Yeah, sure, everything's fine." She gave him a small smile. "I'm just a little tired, I guess burning barns by accident is more tiring than it looks."

Kurt's concern deepened as she dismissed her feelings with a small smile. He noticed the tiredness in her eyes and the forced cheerfulness in her voice. He gently placed a hand on her shoulder, his voice soft and soothing.

"You don't look alright, my dear friend. Something seems to be troubling you." He leaned in a bit closer, his eyes filled with genuine warmth. "If there's anything you'd like to talk about, I'm here to listen. I hope you know that you can confide in me."

'Dear friend'. God how she hated that word, she didn't want to be his friend, she wanted to just be his darling! Is it too much to ask!

"Thanks Kurt, but I'm just tired" No Kurt! I'm not okay at all! But she decided to bite the inside of her cheek and continue on her way.

Kurt's eyes softened as he caught the subtle longing in Y/N's eyes, a hint of her true feelings beneath her guarded exterior. He wanted to reassure her, to tell her that she was more than just a friend to him. Yet, the words died on his lips, replaced by a warm smile.

"Alright" he finally replied, his voice tinged with a hint of unspoken affection. "If you ever feel like sharing, know that my ears and heart are always yours."

She truly wished that his heart was only for her, but it seemed like a cruel joke and Kurt didn't even notice it; those words caused her pain rather than encouraging her.

"It's not that big of a deal Kurt, that smoke is already taking effect" She laughed "Maybe a bath will take away the discomfort" she tried to calm him down and evade the situation.

As soon as they arrived at the mansion, Y/N said goodbye to Kurt and practically ran to her room without letting Kurt speak.

Kurt watched her run off to her room, his heart heavy with the unspoken words that lingered between them. He longed to tell her the truth, to reveal the depth of his affection, but as always, he hesitated. Instead, he simply nodded and watched her go.

"See you later," he murmured softly, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness and longing. With a deep sigh, he turned and made his way back to his own room.

On the way to his room Kurt ran into Rogue.

"Wow Fuzzball, what happened to you, why the sad face?"

Kurt turned his head to see Rogue approaching him with a concerned expression. He masked his disappointment and sadness with a small smile, feigning a cheerful tone.

"Oh, Rogue" he greeted her, his voice laced with a hint of forced optimism. "Sad face? Ah, it's nothing. Just tired after a long day of… hero duties." He shrugged nonchalantly, not wanting to burden her with his emotional turmoil.

"Hero duties? What are you talking about?" Rogue approached her brother "I know you very well Kurt Wagner, I know something is not right with you, come on! You know you can tell your sister anything"

Kurt's smile wavered, his facade cracking as Rogue's concern grew. He let out a weary sigh, realizing that his attempt to deceive her had failed.

"Ah, Rogue," he finally conceded. "You know me too well, sister. I… I am burdened with emotions I can't quite understand. Longing, frustration, and a deep ache in my heart. And yet, I fear to voice these feelings, for they may change everything."

Rogue invited Kurt to sit next to her. "Looks like this is going to take some time. Luckily I have all the time in the world for you, Sugar. Come on, tell me what's bothering you."

Kurt complied, taking a seat next to Rogue. He took a deep breath, releasing a weary sigh.

"It's Y/N," he confessed softly. "I find myself deeply in love with her. The warmth of her laughter, the brightness of her smile, it all fills my heart with a longing I cannot deny." He paused, a flicker of fear crossing his features. "But I hesitate to reveal my feelings, fearing the potential consequences on our friendship."

Rogue couldn't hide her happiness and jumped off the couch "Y/N! You like her!? I knew it!"

Kurt's eyes widened in surprise, a mixture of amusement and unease at Rogue's enthusiastic reaction.

"Ah, sister, please control yourself!" He tried to feign a stern tone, though a soft laugh escaped his lips. "But yes, I find myself enamored with Y/N's charm, her kindness, her everything. However, admitting these feelings feels both exciting and terrifying."

His sister approached and took him by the shoulders, practically moving him almost like a rag doll. "She has to know, brother, why haven't you told her?"

Kurt allowed himself to be moved around by his sister, a sheepish smile on his face.

"Well…" he began, his voice soft and pensive. "I've been hesitant, unsure of how she might react. I cherish our friendship above all, and I fear that expressing my feelings might disrupt the delicate balance between us. The thought of jeopardizing what we have is… daunting."

"Are you kidding?! Kurt, she loves you!" Rogue was definitely into this "Everyone knows, she's dying for you!

"That's true," Gambit's voice sounded from the hallway. "Come on man, you have to tell her."

Kurt couldn't help but chuckle at Gambit's interjection, though his eyes widened at Rogue's revelation.

"Everyone knows?" he echoed softly, a flicker of hope mingling with disbelief. "Could it be that Y/N returns my affection? The idea makes my heart swell."

He took a deep breath, his gaze lingering on Gambit's knowing expression. "Perhaps you two are right. I must find the courage to express my feelings to Y/N. But…" A hint of hesitation clouded his eyes.

"No buts" Gambit approached Kurt putting his arm over his shoulder "If you want to have the lady you will have to overcome your fear, do you want her to end up in someone else's arms?"

Kurt's expression darkened at the thought of Y/N being with someone else. A surge of possessive protectiveness welled within him.

"No, I do not," he replied firmly. "I cannot bear the thought of her being with another. I must find the courage to tell her how I feel."

He straightened his shoulders, a newfound determination in his eyes.

His brother-in-law gave him a few small pats on the chest. "Well said, now go get her tiger."

"Do you know where she is now Kurt?" Rogue's voice stopped them "You'll need a plan"

Kurt pondered Rogue's question for a moment. "I believe Y/N went to wash up in her room. She seemed tired and overwhelmed, but I couldn't quite discern the cause of her affliction." He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Perhaps I should take some time to prepare, gather my thoughts and emotions, before I confront her. After all, I want every word to be perfect when I finally confess my feelings to her."

"We'll help you," Gambit offered. "You'll learn from the best teacher."

Rogue punched him in the stomach jokingly.

"I don't think you're the best one for that Sugar, why don't you let me talk to Y/N? We're friends, I can get information about you Kurt"

Kurt grinned at the playful exchange between Gambit and Rogue, appreciating their willingness to help. "Ah, my dear sister, your support means the world to me," he thanked them with a chuckle. "Gambit, while I appreciate the offer to learn from the 'best teacher', I believe that Rogue is the perfect person to gather information about Y/N. Your friendship with her will make it easier, and your understanding of women's hearts is unparalleled."

"Leave it to me, is there anything I should ask specifically?"

Kurt considered the question for a moment, his expression warm.

"First and foremost, find out whether Y/N harbors affections for me. Then, if she does indeed reciprocate my feelings, I want to know how deeply this affection runs, if she would consider a romantic relationship with me." He took a steadying breath, adding with a hopeful gleam in his eyes, "And if she does love me, inquire about her favorite flowers and romantic gestures. I wish to make my declaration of love truly unforgettable."

"Noted" Rogue got up from the chair as she walked out into the hallway "I'm going to go see Y/N, in the meantime you should calm down Kurt, you look worse than a nervous Chihuhua. Everything is going to be fine you'll see. Who knows, maybe Y/N will soon become a my sister in law"

Kurt chuckled softly at Rogue's playful remarks as she left to go find Y/N. He leaned back on the couch, taking a moment to steady his nerves.

"Perhaps she is not far away from the truth," he murmured under his breath, a flicker of anticipation and excitement stirring within him. He couldn't help but hope that Rogue's words would come true, that Y/N would someday become a part of his family. And he was determined to do everything in his power to make it happen.

Rogue arrived at Y/N's room and knocked on the door hoping that she would be in the room, otherwise she would have to look for her in every corner of the mansion.

"Rogue? What happened?" Y/N opened the door, Kurt was indeed right, she had just gotten out of the shower.

"Nothing, I just wanted to talk to you for a while. You know, a girls' night."

"Sounds good" Y/N said with a smile and giving her friend space to enter.

As Rogue entered Y/N's room, a mischievous grin played on her lips. She took in Y/N's appearance, noting the fresh scent of soap clinging to her friend's skin and the way her damp hair clung to her neck.

"Ah, it seems my timing was impeccable," Rogue remarked with a chuckle, closing the door behind her. She took a seat on the edge of Y/N's bed, stretching her legs out comfortably.

"Yes, it's been a while since we've had an afternoon together." Cenitt fell onto her bed next to Rogue. "How have you been? How have things been between you and Gambit?"

Rogue's smile widened knowingly as she reclined on Cenitt's bed. Her friendship with her friend allowed her to feel truly comfortable.

"Ah, Gambit and I are doing just fine," she replied, a spark of mischief in her eyes. "But let's leave aside the talk of my love life for now. I'm more interested in yours, Sugar."

"Mine?" Y/N lifted her upper body carrying her weight on her elbows. She could notice Rogue's mischievous look.

Rogue nodded, her eyes twinkling with intrigue.

"Indeed, yours. I'm curious to know what's been happening in the romantic realm of your life."

She leaned closer, her smirk widening. "Has a certain blue, furry mutant piqued your interest lately?"

"You speak of Beast?" Y/N was pretending not to know what Rogue was talking about. "Don't get me wrong, but don't you think Hank is a little too old for me?" she was trying not to laugh

Rogue chuckled at her friend's attempt to play coy.

"You know very well, Sugar, that Hank is not the object of my curiosity," she teased, her eyes gleaming. "I was referring to a certain mutant with a tail and a penchant for teleporting. A certain Nightcrawler, perhaps?"

"I've never heard of him. Is he new?" She was definitely playing with Rogue, trying to evade reality. She slowly get out of bed with clear intentions to flee.

As Y/N attempted to make her escape, Rogue's reflexes were quick. She darted forward, gently tugging her back onto the bed.

"Oh no, you're not escaping that easily, my dear friend," she teased, pinning Y/N down with a soft but firm hold. "We're going to talk about Kurt and your feelings for him."

Y/N ended up under Rogue, she held her without moving on the mattress "I have nothing to say, you won't make me talk" she tried to squirm.

Rogue kept Y/N pinned with a mischievous grin. "Oh, come now," she teased, her grip tightening. "You don't think I don't know how you look at him? The way your eyes light up whenever he enters the room. The way your breath catches in your throat when he smiles at you. You can fool others, but you can't fool me."

"Am I really that obvious when I see him?"

Rogue nodded, a knowing smirk on her lips.

"Oh Sugar, your feelings for Kurt are written all over your face. It's impossible to miss the way you look at him. Your eyes follow his every move, and your heart skips a beat when he's near."

She released her grip, allowing Y/N to sit up as she continued speaking. "But the real question is, does he know how you feel? Does he know the depth of your affection?"

Y/N looked at Rogue sadly "No, he doesn't know" her voice sounded very sad and almost like a sigh.

Rogue's expression softened at Y/N's answer. "Ah, why haven't you told him how you feel?" she gently asked, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "It's clear to me that your affection for Kurt is genuine. Why the hesitation?"

"Because your brother doesn't love me, at least not that way. I've seen how Kurt treats other people and believe me, there isn't much difference in how he looks at me and how he looks at the rest of the team." She sat up, leaning her back against the headboard while hugging her knees. "He doesn't love me. Rogue."

Rogue gently shook her head, a sympathetic smile playing on her lips. "Sugar, you couldn't be more wrong," she said softly, putting her arm around Y/N in a comforting but firm hold. "Kurt's affection for you is different. There's a warmth, a depth of feeling that he doesn't show towards others. He may not have expressed it yet, but he loves you. I can see it and I know it."

"You're only saying that because you're my friend Rogue, Kurt likes pretty girls like Amanda or Wanda, not simple girls like me. He deserves to be with someone like them."

Rogue's expression turned firm yet compassionate. She gently turned Y/N to face her, holding her friend's gaze earnestly.

"Listen to me, Y/N. You are not 'simple'. You're intelligent, kind, beautiful in your own way. Don't underestimate yourself or underestimate Kurt's capacity to see the beauty within you. And trust me, he does see it. I wouldn't lie to you about something like this."

"How do you know? How do you know he's not lying?" Y/N looked at her eagerly awaiting her response.

Rogue met Y/N's eyes with a steady, sincere expression.

"Because I've seen the way Kurt looks at you when he thinks no one is watching. There's a depth to his gaze, a longing in his expression that he simply can't fake. When he gazes at you, his eyes light up as if he's looking at a treasure he can't quite touch. I've never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you."

"So… do you think I have a chance?" The color seemed to return to Y/N's face. "Do you think Kurt wants to be with me?"

Rogue chuckled softly, a mixture of amusement and affection in her voice. "Sugar, if there's one thing I know for certain, it's that Kurt Wagner would be a fool not to want to be with you. You have a chance, and not just any chance - a great one. Trust me, he's just struggling with his own insecurities, but deep down, he feels the same for you."

"And what should I do?" At one point she felt like she was going to hyperventilate. "What if I tell him and ruin it? You know I get very nervous being with him."

She thought for a moment before agreeing with Rogue. "Yes, you're right. I'm going to tell him." She got up from the bed and walked out the door, leaving Rogue confused by the change in attitude.

Not two seconds passed when Y/N came back through the door.

"I better tell him later"

Rogue got up from the bed and grabbed her by the shoulders. "No, no way. You'll go right now and tell him what you feel." She turned her around as he pushed her toward the door. "The both of you are like a pair of love-struck teenagers."

"Well, tell me what he likes. You're his sister, you know what he likes." Y/N began pacing back and forth in front of her. "Maybe I can prepare his favorite food."

Rogue rubbed her chin thoughtfully, a smirk playing on her lips. "Ah, Kurt has a weakness for good food. He does have a sweet tooth, and anything involving chocolate usually puts a smile on his face." She chuckled softly, then added with a mischievous glint in her eyes, "And speaking of things that make him smile... don't forget, he's a gentleman at heart. Acts of kindness and thoughtfulness mean a lot to him, especially from those he cares about. Just remember, my friend, be yourself, be genuine."

"I'll make Kurt a chocolate cake, maybe I can get a German recipe." Y/N took out his cell phone and started searching for recipes on the internet. "I can get the ingredients and maybe write him a letter. And, Since you're so interested in my romantic life, are you going to help me with the cake" Y/N took Rogue by the hand and together they left the room laughing on their way to the kitchen without seeing that Gambit and Kurt were behind them.

Rogue shared a secret smile with Y/N as they made their way to the kitchen. She had no idea of the duo following behind them. As they entered the kitchen, Kurt and Gambit silently crept closer, their curiosity piqued.

Gambit whispered to Kurt, who seemed on the verge of panicking. "Easy there, mon ami," he said, trying to maintain his cool composure. "Rogue and Y/N don't know we're here. Let's just see what happens, alright?"

Y/N was finishing measuring the flour when someone entered the kitchen and greeted the two girls. He was the new boy, he had not long arrived at the mansion, he began to talk to the girls, paying special attention to Y/N.

"Oh that's not good" Gambit said quietly turning to look at Kurt.

Kurt's eyes widened as he watched the newcomer's attention on Y/N He glanced over at Gambit, a mixture of anger and jealousy evident in his expression.

"No, it's not good," he hissed through clenched teeth. "I know that look. He's eyeing Y/N!"

Y/N didn't realize the boy's intentions and was just being nice to him. She was more interested in the cake for Kurt but Rogue was beginning to doubt the boy's actions. At one point the boy was very close to Y/N.

As the boy came closer to Y/N and leaned in an all too familiar way, Rogue's protective instincts kicked in, her eyes narrowing.

"Hey, buddy, you're getting a bit too close to my friend there," she interjected, her voice tinged with warning. "Maybe dial back the charm a bit."

Rogue's response calmed Kurt but left Y/N confused. "Come on Rogue, he is just being nice, right?" She looked the boy straight in the eyes.

The newcomer, emboldened by Y/N's naive response, smirked and leaned even closer, his intentions becoming quite clear.

"Nah, Rogue's just jealous of our chemistry," he said, his tone oozing with false confidence. "We have a connection, don't we, sweetheart?" He reached out to touch Y/N's hand.

Y/N tensed when she felt the boy's hand on her and it was worse when he pulled her to his side.

and Kurt didn't like that

"Okay, enough. Hit him." Gambit moved from the door, letting Kurt pass.

Kurt, filled with a mix of protectiveness and anger, stormed into the kitchen without hesitation. His gaze landed on the newcomer, and before anyone could utter a word, Kurt's fist flew straight into the boy's face, sending him stumbling back.

"Hands off," Kurt growled, "Y/N is not a toy for you to play with."

"Kurt!" Y/N expected anything but this, she had never seen Kurt so upset, but it didn't stop her from moving away from the boy.

Kurt's eyes met Y/N's, the intensity of his gaze softened as he realized his reaction might have startled her. He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," he muttered, his voice laced with a mix of frustration and regret. "I couldn't stand the thought of that guy touching you or disrespecting you. I acted before I thought."

"Don't worry Kurt, I'm fine" Y/N gave him a small smile to reassure him "Your hand…" She reached out to take his hand in hers but she was shaking.

"I think it's better that we go somewhere else" Rogue was upset.

Kurt's expression softened at Y/N's concern for his hand. He glanced down at his bruised knuckles, a small grimace on his face.

"It's alright, Y/N. Just a bit of bruising," he muttered, his tone a mix of annoyance and resignation.

As Rogue spoke up, Kurt turned his attention to her. Recognizing the tension in her voice, he nodded in agreement.

"Yes, let's leave this place."

Everyone left the kitchen in silence, they chose to go to one of the rooms on the second floor, at that time there was no one in that part. All the way Kurt didn't let go of Y/Ns hand. Once they arrived, Rogue went to the bathroom to look for a first aid kit.

"You have blood on your hand Kurt." Y/N caressed her knuckles.

As Y/N gently caressed his knuckles, Kurt couldn't help but cringe slightly at the sight of the blood.

"Oh, don't worry about that," he muttered, a hint of pain in his voice. "It's nothing serious. These hands have been through worse. A little blood doesn't phase me."

Despite his dismissive words, Kurt secretly appreciated Y/N's concern for his injury.

Y/N took the first aid kit that Rogue brought "Can I?"

I take out a couple of gauze and bandages.

Kurt was going to refuse but out of the corner of his eye he saw Gambit moving for him to accept the offer, giving him a thumbs up.

"This is your chance" Gambit was trying to tell him, Rogue understood what Gambit was implying and followed Gambit's plan.

"We'll go make sure we haven't gotten into trouble."

Kurt hesitated for a moment, feeling slightly self-conscious about the attention. However, taking a deep breath, he decided to accept Y/N's offer. "Well, fine… If you insist," he said with a hint of reluctance, trying to sound indifferent. As he extended his injured hand towards Y/N, he shot a subtle glance at Gambit and Rogue, silently acknowledging their plan.

"Tell me if it hurts." Y/N began to carefully clean Kurt's hand. "Thank you... Kurt"

Kurt watched quietly as Y/N tended to his injured hand with gentle care. He winced slightly as the cloth touched the wounded area, but a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "It's alright," he muttered softly. "I've suffered worse. Besides, I would do it again to keep you away from that disrespectful fool."

"I'm not going to lie to you, that boy scared me a little. I didn't think he would try something like that."

Y/N was finishing cleaning the wound "But I guess I have the best hero on my side"

Kurt smiled slightly at Y/N's words, feeling a mixture of pride and humility in his heart. He could feel a tinge of blush on his cheeks, but he tried to suppress it, keeping a composed expression on his face.

"Ah, you flatter me too much, my dear friend," he replied with a hint of humility. "I'm just doing what any true friend would do. Protecting you from those who don't deserve your kindness."

Y/N couldn't help but feel a pain in her heart when she heard Kurt call her friend. Rogue was wrong, Kurt was just being nice to her.

"Yes… It's good that you're my friend" She said, turning to look at his bandaged hand.

As Y/N grew silent and tears threatened to spill from her eyes, Kurt gently reached out to cup her chin, tilting her face gently to look at him. His gaze held a deep affection and sincerity as he spoke softly.

"Y/N, please don't feel like you have to say anything. I just wanted you to know that my feelings for you run deeper than mere friendship." He spoke with a gentle vulnerability, his words holding a genuine love for her.

"Please stop" Her voice sounded so broken

"Don't play with my feelings Kurt."

Kurt's heart sank as he heard Y/Ns broken voice, her pain evident in her pleading words. "No, no, Y/N." He rushed to reassure her, pulling her into a gentle embrace, "I would never play with your feelings. You mean too much to me for that. My words come from the deepest depths of my heart. I care for you deeply, and my love for you is -"

Y/N looked at Kurt interrupting him "I like you Kurt"

Kurt's heart leaped in his chest as Y/N confessed her feelings for him.

He gently brushed away her tears with his bandaged hand, a tender smile on his face.

"Y/N," he whispered softly, "I feel the same way. My heart has known for a while, and now my mind understands it too. I like you, Y/N… No, it's more than 'like.' "I love you."

"I love you too..." She hugged him "Why you never said anything?"

Kurt wrapped his arms around Y/N, encircling her in a tight hug. As he held her close, he let out a soft chuckle. "I suppose... I was afraid." He admitted quietly, his voice tinged with a mix of vulnerability and contentment. "Afraid of ruining the friendship we had, and of jeopardizing something so precious. But... I can no longer deny the depth of my feelings for you. It's become too powerful to ignore."

"We both think the same thing, I liked you from the first day I met you but I was very afraid to get close and when you offered me your friendship I knew that I didn't want to be far from you, I accepted it but I always wanted to be something more"

Kurt listened intently to Y/Ns words, his heart swelling with a mix of joy and regret. He gently cupped her face between his hands, his touch both tender and filled with passion. "We were both fools," he whispered, a hint of self-deprecation mingling with his affection. "All this time, we've been yearning for something that was right in front of us. But now... now that we've confessed our love, we can finally make up for lost time."

"I would love that" She looked at him lovingly and rested her head on his shoulder.

Kurt's eyes sparkled with affection as Y/N rested her head on his shoulder. Softly wrapping his arm around her, he gently squeezed her closer, relishing the closeness they now shared. "Then it's settled," he whispered, his voice filled with adoration. "From now on, we'll cherish every moment we spend together. No more hiding our feelings or fearing what could have been. We'll love each other openly and passionately, just the way it was always meant to be."

"I told you they ended up together" "We already know that, everyone in the mansion knew it except them" Gambit and Rogue were leaning against the door listening to the conversation between Kurt and Y/N

Kurt's cheeks flushed a deep shade of crimson as he heard Gambit's teasing remark. He had completely forgotten that they were listening in on their heartfelt confessions. With a sheepish grin, Kurt turned his head towards the door, locking eyes with Gambit and Rogue. "Oh, come on," he groaned, a mix of embarrassment and amusement in his voice. "You didn't have to eavesdrop on our private moment, you two."

Gambit chuckled, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Well, what can I say? We couldn't resist witnessing this long-overdue romance unfold." He shared a knowing glance with Rogue, both of them smiling at Kurt and Y/N's newfound relationship.

"Azulito = Bluey in spanish"

[suguru-getos]

୨・┈﹕✦﹕ Kinktober Day 16﹕✦﹕┈・୧

loki x f!reader -> çnç

event masterlist

warnings: çnc themes, slight choking, bondage, cunnilingus, loki being a menace but both the reader & loki break character in the end. mentions of aftercare and sweet fluff‼️

“running will land you in worse situations than this one, pet.” the echoing voice of loki reverberated through the shell of your ear, louder than your panting, your gasping as you tried to clutch onto your failing lungs for air. “how adoring of you to think you can outrun, the god, your god.” loki’s low, mocking chuckle followed soon after.

you were aimlessly running in the asgardian castle corridors, trying with all your heart and soul to escape the ruthlessness of your captor. getting almost dizzy when you forced your feet to take another step, almost falling down if it wasn’t for those metallic ornamented wrists laced with fine asgardian leather grabbing you by the neck. “oh, found you.” he grimly chuckles.

“please— your highness, i will never run again.” you clutched onto his wrist, scratching it up while loki lifted you up forcefully, your legs leaving the ground but you didn’t feel choked. of course— him and his theatrics. “i know you won’t run, little pet. because i will render those legs useless when i’d be done with you.” loki gritted his teeth, baring the green light in his eyes as you got tied up, teleporting to his bedroom and against his mattress. green silk bands tied your wrists and ankles apart, like a starfish.

you tried your best to struggle away, but the tug only got tighter until a painful whimper escaped your parted lips. “submission might aid. i might add.” loki’s words were like a silent warning & also a hint. you may comply and he might be merciful. “please your highness, i beg off you to let me go.” you crooned, glossy eyed.

“oh, darling,” loki feigns pity, and the next moment you find yourself naked in front of his feasting eyes. nipples hardening at the tender touch of colder air and cunt clamping around nothing now that you felt so drastically exposed. your eyed squeezed shut, heat radiating through your cheeks as you turned your head to the side. “you should pray to your god, no? pray to him to be merciful.” loki muses, leaning in and kissing your throbbing clit.

the touch alone sent jolts down your spine and core, pupils widening at his skilled tongue twirling around your needy clit. “you taste sinful.” he smirked, eyes glancing at your furrowed brows. “let me go.” you tried once more, meek whimpers erupting from your pouted lips.

“hmm?” loki contemplated, acting as if he might actually let you go. “alright.” he leaned back, glinting mischievously with a smirk. “if you don’t want me having my way with you, then you don’t cum. after all. it is all but torment to you is it not?” loki emphasises, knowing full well you’d lose yourself and cream the moment he goes hard on your cunt.

you pouted, while that was answer enough, loki still wanted to show you the control he has over you. spreading your cunt lips, he leaned in, taking a shameless sniff of your arousal. “how cute.” he smirked, leaning in and lapping at your juices. fuck— you were feeling so hot and bothered, every single vein in your body feeling the heat of his administrations. you reflexively rutted your hips against him, eager to please yourself over his tongue, eager to cum.

“your highness- AH loki- please- please i’m so close.” it was not before long your body had betrayed you & you were reduced to a mumbling, panting, begging mess. even so, you knew better than to cum without loki’s permission. “go on, little pet.” loki’s thumb ran languid circles onto your clit. “have at it.”

your orgasm tore through your body as you screamed out his name, rabid breathing echoing through the walls of your shared bedroom. “fuck- fuck- can’t can’t.” your moans reduced to pleas again, when loki didn’t want to stop at just one orgasm. “please loki- need a break.” you gasped out, normally you could give him two orgasms without break, but the situation you were in made you a little more sensitive than normal.

“need a break? or want a break, pet?” loki asked once more, a silent nudge for your surity if you wanted him to break his character.

“need a break, loki.” you whimpered back, struggling against the restraints. the use of his first name was signal enough. “alright darling.” he smiled, the restraints gone as he leaned in, kissing you passionately.

“oh what a man you make me to be.” he rolled his eyes when you hug him back, inhaling the comfort of his scent. “it was fun! don’t lie.” you pouted, smiling back when he nuzzled his nose against you.

“you do know that i would never do anything against your will, right princess?” loki reminded you again, while you nodded in approval. “yes, i do.”

“perfect.”

“lifting me off the ground was a bit much.”

“come on, little one, i am known for my theatrics.”

[redvexillum]

Y/N: Ugh! ALASTOR!

Charlie: Should we, uh, maybe step in?

Angel Dust: Nah, let 'em play it out. They need this.

Alastor: [He leisurely trails behind you as you storm off, a mischievous glint in his eyes]

Y/N: [You spin around, glaring at him] Why do you always insist on aggravating me?

Alastor: [He blinks slowly, looking genuinely confused] Isn’t it obvious?

Y/N: Uhm... no?

Angel Dust: Oh damn, it’s happening!

Charlie: [Excitedly squeals] Oh my gosh, I love love confessions!

Alastor: It’s because I…

Angel Dust: [Leans in dramatically] 👀

Alastor: …find you…

Charlie: [Leans in, eyes wide with sparkles and rainbows] 👀🌈

Alastor: …absolutely hilarious! And, darling, you’re positively soothing to my twisted little soul!

Y/N: [You furrow your brows, more confused than ever] What? I... ugh, you know what, never mind. I need to take a walk. Alone. Don’t follow me!

Alastor: [Turning to Charlie and Angel Dust with a grand, theatrical flourish] Well, you heard my dear! Do not follow us!

Your voice echoes from down the hallway: "I said, I want to be alone!"

Alastor's voice follows, bright and playful: "Nonsense! You adore my company! Haha!"

Husk: [Pouring both Charlie and Angel Dust a drink, watching the chaos unfold without missing a beat] Here. Don’t even try to understand them.

Follow Vexi's Alastor Being a Lil Shit for all the latest updates!

[aventurineswife]

can you write how any of the om brothers would react with a bimbo(in a gn way) mc. like they are stunning and so so sweet.. but just so fucking stupid it's honestly astounding .

Obey Me! Brothers with a Thembo!MC

Tags: Lucifer x Reader, Mammon x Reader, Leviathan x Reader, Satan x Reader, Asmodeus x Reader, Beelzebub x Reader, Belphegor x Reader, Thembo!MC/Reader, Fluff, Soft Romance, Comedy, Protective Characters, Domestic Moments, Gentle Teasing, Affectionate Dynamics, Wholesome Vibes, Slice of Life.

[Obey Me! Side Characters ver]

Lucifer

At first, Lucifer is utterly baffled. How can someone so stunning be so naive? He’ll try his best to guide you, carefully explaining things, but after a few blank stares, his frustration will start to show. He’s constantly torn between wanting to help and wondering if you’re messing with him. Eventually, though, he finds your innocence endearing and even refreshing. He’ll start sticking around more, ready to gently steer you away from trouble—often with an exasperated sigh, but always with a soft, knowing smile reserved just for you.

“MC, I asked you to write your name at the top of the form. Not sign it. And why ‘Beautiful Genius’? ... Never mind, just—please, no more surprises, alright?”

Mammon

Mammon is immediately charmed and overwhelmed. He’s head over heels for your sweetness and good nature, but it never ceases to amaze him just how oblivious you are. He’s fiercely protective of you, always standing up for you when others might tease. While he loves bragging about your beauty and kind heart, he conveniently leaves out the moments when he’s had to explain the simplest concepts. Your innocence and cheerful demeanor are his favorite things, and he wouldn’t trade them for anything.

“You really gotta stop givin' stuff away for free, MC! And what’s with buying a lamp for 100,000 Grimm? 'Cause it’s shiny? Come on, you're better than that!"

Leviathan

Levi is completely flustered by your innocence. He’s used to complex strategies and serious gaming, so interacting with you is like trying to explain the basics of a game to a toddler. Despite that, he finds your undivided attention both adorable and overwhelming. Every time you cheer him on—even when he’s just rambling about something nerdy—he melts a little. Your constant sweetness makes him feel warm inside, even if you don't understand half the things he says.

“W-Wait, you’re cheering me on? We’re just in practice mode, MC… No, no need to bring snacks—oh, but you did anyway? Thanks, I guess?”

Satan

At first, Satan tries to keep his composure, despite how shocked he is by your cluelessness. He’ll be patient, explaining things in detail, even as you misunderstand or misinterpret. Instead of getting frustrated, though, he finds your quirks fascinating and kind of endearing. If anyone dares to mock you, (Satan’s wrath is swift and brutal). Over time, he comes to cherish your unique interpretations of things and even looks forward to them.

“MC, Shakespeare isn’t a vegetable… Wait, you want to make a ‘Hamlet salad’? No, that’s not what—oh, you know what? Fine, let’s just read it together.”

Asmodeus

Asmo is completely smitten with you. He’s in awe of your beauty and your adorably naive misunderstandings. Every time you misinterpret something, he finds it endlessly amusing. He’s always showering you with compliments and making sure you feel appreciated. He’s also more than happy to explain anything you don’t understand, often in the most dramatic and theatrical ways. Asmo is incredibly proud of you and loves showing you off—though maybe not when you mistake sunscreen for tea.

“Darling, you’re absolutely stunning, but sunscreen goes on your face, not in your tea. What kind of skincare routine is that?!”

Beelzebub

Beel is the epitome of patience. He loves how sweet and genuine you are, and he’s more than happy to help you out when things go over your head. If you ever get confused or make a mistake, Beel gently explains things without ever getting frustrated. He loves spending time with you, and even when you accidentally order fifty cakes, he’s just happy to be there with you. Honestly, he thinks there’s no such thing as too much cake, especially when it's more for the two of you to share.

“MC, when they asked if you wanted one dozen or two, they meant for you to eat, not order. But hey, no big deal… More for us, right?”

Belphegor

Belphie finds your innocence a little amusing at first. He’s smug about it, especially when you come to him with questions that seem too simple for him to answer. But underneath the teasing, he secretly finds your sweet, untainted view of the world a nice contrast to the chaos around him. He’ll never let anyone else make fun of you, and over time, he actually starts finding your quirks comforting. He’ll tease you about your little missteps, but he can’t help but keep some of your adorable misunderstandings as little mementos.

“MC, you’re seriously searching ‘sheep facts’ for me? Yeah, good luck with that… Wait, you actually did? Hah, fine, I’ll keep this list... it’s cute, okay?”

SOMEONE PLZ REQUEST FOR THE UNDATEABLES!! PLZZ IM BEGGING!! I WANNA WRITE FOR MY PRETTY GOTHIC REAPER WIFE, WANNA WRITE FOR ANGEL HUSBAND WHO LOVES SOLOMON'S COOKING AND THE THAT BARNEY LOOKING AHHH DUDE!!! (JK I LOVE MEPHISTO TOO!!! 🤭💜) 🛐🫣

[lavandulawrites]

Request

Trying to have a romantic date with Mr Reca but he doesn’t stop explaining/complaining about the movie you just saw together.

Little Mister Critique

Mr Reca x reader

I decided to keep this nice and simple as I have a lot of requests I need to finish:) Mr Reca is so fucking underrated it’s absolutely insane. (Let me know if anyone wanna be apart of my taglist).

Masterlist

The restaurants atmosphere was cozy and romantic. Multiple candles were littered around in a fashionable sense. You and your beloved boyfriend was sitting in a both in a private corner on the second floor of the luxurious restaurant. The giant windows looked out over the city. The city lights glittered like the stars in the darl sky. It was truly a breathless sight. The sound of cutlery against porcelain filled sounded like wind chimes.

The men in front of you cut into his lasagna before he brought it to his lips. He chewed with a delighted hum. After swallowing he hummed again “My my, this restaurant truly is delightful, is it not? I think I should make one of the scenes in my new movie take place here…”

You nodded. “Yeah, the food and the atmosphere are truly something” you have the brunette a soft smile. His eyes twinkled like red stars as his lips retuned your smile.

“So what woul-”

“God that movie we just watched was truly a disgrace to the cinematic arts” Reca interrupted you. He shook his head in great disappointment as he recalled the movie.

You raised your brow as you sighed. Here we go again.

“I don’t think it was that bad” you shrugged. “You are overreacting. Now eat your food.”

“Of course it was bad! The cinematography was horrendous, the colours obnoxious, the costumes extremely cheap” he waved his hands in a dramatic manner. “Ugh and don’t even get me started on the acting and script! It should be illegal to produce such garbage. It’s a disgrace to directors and the audience to witness such filth” he scoffed. Reva’s handsome face was twisted in annoyance. “I should have asked for a refund” he muttered under his breath as he took a sip of his red wine.

“Reca” your stern voice broke him out of his theatrics. He swallowed as he glanced down on the plate. He looked like a guilty puppy and you but your tongue as to not laugh out loud.

“You have been complaining about that goddamn movie on the whole way from the cinema and till we got our food. I finally thought you would have gotten it out of your mind when you got your food, but I guess I was wrong” you sighed. “But I do agree with you, it was bad, but don’t let it ruin our date. Okay?” you stroke his hand gently.

His charming smile returned to his lips as he nodded firmly. “You are naturally right, my dear. I shall refrain from talking about that garbage” he lifted his wine glass. Your glasses clicked together. “Let us have a date that even the best romantic films of the cosmos won’t even dream to compare with.”

[moonstruckme]

Sincerely Sappy

summary: Sirius is a big fan of pet names. You're not so keen on them, so he needs to convince you.

Sirius Black x fem! reader ♡ 736 words

You let the steam from the two mugs waft warmly over your face, inhaling the sweet, earthy aroma of the tea. Earl grey for Sirius, jasmine for you. You’re careful not to spill as you carry them to the couch, so careful that when you look up and catch Sirius’s gaze, it sends a tiny frision of surprise through you. 

This thing between you is still new, and the effect he has on you hasn’t ebbed; every time he walks into a room, or looks at you a certain way, or gifts you one of his sweet, slow smiles, it feels like your heart stops and starts again.

Sirius deploys one of those smiles now, reaching up to take his mug, but you move past him to set them both on the coffee table.

“Careful,” you say, turning his handle to face him. “Don’t burn yourself.” 

“Thanks, baby.” Sirius lets his hand brush yours appreciatively as he picks it up.

Baby. You laugh, and it comes out nervous and pitchy. “Ew, don’t call me that.” 

He blinks. “Why not? You don’t like it?”

“It—” It’s not that you don’t like it, necessarily. The endearment sends a buzzing from your core all the way to your fingertips that’s not strictly unpleasant, but… “I’m not a baby.” 

Sirius quirks a brow, blowing pensively on his tea. “You’re my baby, though.” 

You moan, letting your knees come up to your chest and hiding your face in your hands. Sirius’s laughter only worsens the warmth spreading across your face like a blight. 

“Okay, okay,” he relents. “You don’t like it. That’s alright, do you prefer angel?”

You lower one of your hands enough to let him view your disbelieving look. 

“No? How about sweetheart? Princess?” Sirius creeps closer, setting down his mug so he can devote his full attention to your torment. “Honey? Dearest?” He drops his voice when his mouth is nearly touching your ear, so it’s low and soft when he says, “Darling?”

“Sirius!” If you don’t stop him, you worry your pants will turn to ash right there on the couch. 

“C’mon,” he takes your wrists, removing them from your face. “Everyone else gets to call you Y/N. I’ve got an ego to feed, so I need something extra-special, just for me. You gotta give me at least one.”

You must look fairly distraught, because Sirius brings your wrists to his chest, tracing patterns on the backs of your hands soothingly. Even when he’s hellbent on teasing you, he’s unbearably sweet. You sigh. “They all just sound so sappy.” 

Sirius squints at you, the bridge of his nose wrinkling, like you’re silly. “Yeah?” he asks. “What do you call this?” He brings your hands, willing captives, to his face, kissing your knuckles. You can only watch, half wariness and half awe at his affection. You’re unsure if it’s theatrics, or if Sirius is being genuine. He certainly seems genuine, but...but. You can’t handle it. It feels like a farce, a trap, to think that someone could treat you so tenderly. “What do you call that?” He points his chin at the two steaming mugs of tea on the coffee table, and you think of how ridiculously pleased he’d been when you started stocking his favorite earl grey for when he came over. 

Preparing for me to become a regular visitor, are we? He’d teased, but there was sincerity in his smile. That’s really thoughtful of you, love.

He smiles at you now, pulling you gently from your reverie. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I’m feeling rather sappy about you these days. And those feelings require an outlet, so you’re just going to have to get used to it.” 

You roll your eyes, but he’s succeeded in melting you; you’ve got no fight left. “Fine, call me whatever. But love is my favorite.” 

Sirius grins. “I can do that, love.” Your heart lurches almost painfully, but before you can take it back, he adds, “And you can call me whatever you like too, of course.” 

You perk up, biting back a smile at the idea of the mocking he’ll endure from James and Sirius if you call him “babygirl” the next time you’re all together. Sirius must see the mischief in your face, his brows furrowing in concern, but before he can take it back, you beam at him sweetly. 

“Deal.”

[marchsfreakshow]

Familiarities Upon Death [James Patrick March]

Angst

James' relationship with you faded to one resemblancing his relationship with The Countess. He had to indulge in his childish need for you. No matter your reaction. No matter what it took.

James may be a simp but he also likes his murder. You can all blame 'I Love You Like An Alcoholic' for this. Also, possibly my longest fic ever! Go me.

Warnings: dead dove!! descriptions of cuts, James being gross<3

No one's perspective

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

If you had put The Countess and you in a room together, you likely ended up discussing James. She did not love the ghost. She never did. You always did. You forever had his undead heart.

Yet the relationship wavered. It wavered all too similarly. James could feel his heart break again. He couldn't face this. He couldn't. Not again.

How many hearts did he have to leave at your door? How many notes did he have to scribble on his napkins? How many flowers did he have to get Liz or Iris to order for you? How much murder did he have to get through, just to get you? You modern, stubborn, darling, annoying thing!! Were you trying to torture him??

"Darling I have managed to order one of your favourite meals."

"My dear, I noticed this dress on a visitor so I killed her and had the dress washed for you. Please enjoy it."

"My hummingbird, what books do you enjoy nowadays?"

Question after question. Need after need. Physical affection halted. Just holding your fingers. Holding your hand against his lips was all he wanted. It would feed his desperation for you for months. All he wanted was a look. One measly look into your eyes. One small glint of hope that your relationship with the ghost had not fallen into his one with Elizabeth.

He came to accept that he once again had his heart broken. His ghostly void of a heart. Deader inside than it was before.

"James?" Your voice rang. Like a fire stoked after so long of ice. The killer was scrambling at your feet like a clingy puppy. Milking and lapping up the noise of his name leaving your lips. Still as wonderful, still as ethereal as ever. Yet he stayed silent. Don't say anything stupid now James, you'll ruin this opportunity. "Can you murder someone for me?"

"Yes. Yes of course my dear." James's voice was suddenly shaky, standing up and holding your hands to his chest. His free hand around the small of your back, like he had craved to do for so many weeks. "Name who and it will be done."

"Me."

Eye contact like none before. Was what you were asking true? Did you want him to be your murderer? Truly? "D-dear?"

"Kill me, James." You stated. "Whether or not you want theatrics, it's your choice."

There was a stunned silence from the ghost in front of you. For 5 minutes, the silence continued. His response was an uncharacteristic quiet and nervous answer. "Why? Why my dear? Why must you crave death when you are so loved by family outside this drab heap?" Almost rushed, worried. James had never been so rushed with his words. The usually calm, collected man was a mess in front of you. Desperate for you to be living your life. The most odd statement for him to think. What was he thinking? He wanted you with him 24/7, obviously, but you were so accomplished already in life, and offers were at your feet.

Even an offer to still live but have a blood-loving virus instead. She had offered gracefully and didn't expect an answer at once. Gave you time to think. Yet, The Countess waited still. She awaited an answer with lowering patience. Any new day, and she might've killed you herself or turn you anyway. Enjoyed the nectarine that kept you alive. The liquid was a rush of endorphins for the woman.

"Because I don't want that life, James. I need that life like I need a ton of bricks heaping upon me." Your eyes never broke his when you spoke your words calmly, and rationally. "I need you like I need a ton of bricks heaping upon me."

The ghost could only look worried and almost scared at your sentences. What on earth were you saying? What was this nonsense you had drilled into your mind? "...were my gifts not enough my bird? Were the..the.. darling meals I offered not enough?" He stammered his way through the cries. The pleas to keep you alive. Why, any other time you may have offered yourself, James would create a theatre performance out of it. An erotic performance. Looking into your eyes was nothing but a confirmation. "...as you wish my hummingbird." You dropped yourself out of his hold.

Walking yourself into your room. James followed close by, stalking you the way he had in the shadows for weeks on weeks. Your demand was simply insane, and it was nonsense in his head. Possibly the only person he never wanted to murder. He never wanted to lay his blade on your skin in any way. Whether you asked it from him so you could cum or not. That one, singular dress he stole for you, laid on your bed. Bare and blue. The navy glistened still under the barely dim light. Yet you could find his eyes still. "Will...you put the dress on for me my dear?" He asked, hesitantly. Blade twirling his fingers nervously. This was unlike the killer you knew. He was nervous, stammering, fiddling with his weapon. Scared? No, no. Of course, he wasn't scared. Was he?

The rustling of clothes brought him out of raging thoughts. The fabric he had laid bare for you, suddenly clinging to your skin. It still reeked of iron and floral perfume. The unflattering combation wafting into your nose, as it moved with you. "You are stuck in that dress forever when I do this. You understand that my darling?"

"Don't talk down to me. I know what the fuck I'm doing." You seethed back, just wanting this over with. Defiance was never something James took kindly to.

"You, my dear, speak to me like that again, your death will not be quick and simple like you desire."

"Just get it over with James." You snapped. Did you really hate him that much? Did you realise despise the killer so much you didn't want to enjoy this process?

The silence appeared for almost a strangling minute. Strangling for one word from either of you. James dared not speak his plan to you. It would only annoy you further. Only make your desire for a quick death stronger.

Instead, he simply knocked you out. Let you fall to the ground with a hard thump. As much as he loved you, James didn't like people speaking back to him. You were not an exception anymore.

Tying you down to wherever he could, the ropes tight. Tight to squeeze hard at your wrists and ankles. The circulation soon going dead, numbed by fibre keeping you upright. Instead of that dazzling, navy blue dress you wore, you were naked. Left only in whatever underwear you were wearing. A sight to behold. A sight James enjoyed all too much. He would take you now if it weren't for his respect for your body. Tugs at your wrist as you slowly woke from unconsciousness. Dingy dusk meeting your glazed, tired eyes. Blinking and gathering your bearings. Another tug. Wait? What was happening? "James?" You asked hoarse. Squirming in place against the cold metal table. Yeesh! Talk about freezing! "James, what am I doing on here?" You asked again.

Silence still.

Alright, you were starting to get a bit scared now. "J-James?" A wavering voice, a quivering lip. No! Get yourself together! It's simply...a little foreplay...you deluded yourself into thinking. Foreplay. That's all this was.

"I had given you plenty of time my dear." The muffled voice became louder as the steps grew closer. "Theatrics are what I desire from you. Love and obedience. It is a simple request yes?"

A moment of silence between the two of you. He took your silence as the answer.

"It seems even that could not be obtained from you. She has poisoned you against me." Ah, his childishness. Pettiness. The Countess hadn't done anything to you. Not yet anyway. "And the fact you decided to come to me for this murder, only means that I will continue to claim you." His needs to claim and want like a petulant child! It was annoying to no end. Always found yourself on the brink of yelling at the ghost to shut the fuck up for once. You wanted to rip that mask off of James and slice his lips off. Bash his teeth out so he knew how dreadful it was to be silenced. How much it was despised.

You kept your lips shut. You shut yourself up and did not speak another word. Speaking out fear would only encourage James to take his time. It would only increase his lust for your screams. Fuck this. You tugged. You pulled and panted as you struggled. If you didn't know any better, you'd think James was getting hard from this scenario. Loving the way your chest moved as your breathing increased. How shaky your legs were looking. How terrible the grip was your hands had, on nothing. A lulled head as your struggles became useless. Obviously, it was useless. That logic became clear enough within the first few seconds of your attempt to free yourself.

A bittersweet kiss on your quivering lips. Murdering fingers finding your jaw and holding your head up. "Even when you are struggling you are still ethereal my dear." Damn this man to all hell. He was in love and lust and obsession. A disgusting killer who murdered dozens. Still murders dozens. The thought that he carved a soul out of every person who passed him by...just to leave it in your room for your next visit. Deranged and manic. Nothing but pure insanity.

"fuu...fuck you.." Your words were tired, lifeless already.

"I have given you ample opportunities to do so my dear. Yet you never reciprocate."

A harsh silence fell yet again. It lingered in the room for what felt like hours. It stung with every breath leaving your lungs. Harsh and continuing reminders of the predicament you were stuck in. The ghostly killer who loved you so, prepared to torture your unfaint heart. Of course, you were used to grim, unfair and macabre ways of life. No one gets anywhere by playing fair, do they? You certainly didn't. You never played by the rules or played fair with others close by. Ticking and slipping cuts, wages and skin here. There. Everywhere.

However, it seemed all for nought at this point. Only to become an unwilling cherry on top of James' list of loves and lusts. Just where he wanted you.

Your voice was worn eventually. Your shaking had not quit. Your head lulled again. Yet, he was just starting. Cuts that covered your arms. Dripping the blood down the side of your body. Warm red liquid making you shiver and squirm as it slowly eased out of the spliced skin. Such beautiful skin. If only you had loved James back the way he wanted you to. Useless, heavy breaths that never deterred your killer of a lover. His cuts started with a dull, rusty blade. A 'J' on your palms. Jagged and unfit letters now etched into your hand. Swift, sharp gashes in random directions on your forearms, making small cries and screams leave those pretty kissable lips of yours. A quick repeat on your other arm. Oh, it was like a work of art... truly it was. Such decorated arms, bleeding red, never-ending. It might've killed you just then. "Determined to live aren't you?"

"Please... please James. Please. I'll be good, I'll love you the way you want again. Please just stop."

Oh no no no no...no..you sweet thing. That wasn't good enough anymore. Nope. Your sweet sobs and begs wouldn't get you anywhere anymore. Despite how much James wanted to kiss those cuts he made and love you eternally. "You said you wanted to die, and die you shall." His voice was still calm, cool and collected. How could a man like James go from a whining, needy man-child, to a tall-standing, confident killer? Oh right. Because he was obsessed with you. You were all he craved. Now you had ruined it. You didn't love him anymore. And it broke him into more pieces he couldn't pick up. Spending years scraping the bottom of the barrel for affection from James. Yet now, he didn't feel a need for that from you.

The rusty blade teasing your throat, pushing slightly against that pressure point needed. Only for a moment. Breathing heavy and... almost a whine escaping you once it was pulled from your neck. "Desperate for the release death will bring my pet... You are more naïve than I believed."

Large, unkind slashes to your legs. One after the other, never stopping until James was satisfied. He was never satisfied. Your constant, tired and weepy gaze on him. Sniffling nothing as you pouted those spit-covered, pretty red lips of yours. You looked like you were teasing him, not on purpose of course. You were naturally a sobbing, drivelling mess right now. And it could not have pleased your killer more. "Do not look so prettily upon me my dear, you may make me feel bad." He hummed nonchalantly, dragging the tip of the blade up your cervix. One long cut, making a horrible, rusty mark against the underwear you wore. Yet, it still split, and cold, uncaring air was swiftly met.

The cuts to your torso were different. He couldn't do as you probably well pleased, since any cut would mean death. And he wanted to kill you how he killed himself. The sweet slice to your neck. Making blood splatter and splutter down your body, covering James as it sprayed. Convulsing and screams, whimpers escaping you. Your death was approaching faster than expected. And James had decided to once again give you a kiss. Taking his, frankly, attractive, mask off and holding your bloody chin up. Lost eyes not focusing. You were colder. You couldn't tell your surroundings. "I knew you would die beautifully my darling." He faintly whispered. Cold lips meeting fleeting warmth. Oh, he loved kissing you. Even if that kiss was one pressed to your now corpse.

Death was different. It wasn't heaven or hell like Christians described. It wasn't like a waiting room like your parents described. It wasn't like a meeting with a hooded skeleton and a ride to the underworld like your sibling described. It was cold. Silent. Unloved. Black and nothing. It had consumed you whole. Eaten you like a starving man would any bug he could find on the street. Death was uncaring like the living world was. It didn't care what you were in life. An angel to others or a nuisance running amok, you were all consumed. Taken wholly by a void that rarely spat you back out. If it did, you were a ghost. The soul that couldn't be kept down.

The running void consumed you for 10 minutes. 15, tops. James was almost worried you were not about to ghost the place he needed you to call home. He stood and observed. Watched your corpse become cold and rigid. You died so beautifully. All the ghostly killer did was stand and watch. He watched, frozen in place. Was your soul even that upset at the other? Maybe he should weaken himself for your soul to appear. "Dear...you do realise I need you still yes? Come on. I am aware of you.." he urged your stiff body. Minutes passed. The ticking of his internal clock was growing more invasive, more panicky as he had not seen a shift of your soul yet. "This is not a game my pet, come to me. Now."

Your soul appeared eventually. Slumped on your knees by your rotting body. Rubbing your eyes like a sleepy child, before gathering your bearings and looking up at James. Sudden memories hitting your head and a cowering whimper escaping you. He took notice of the noise and looked down at you. Throwing his mask to the side as he scooped your ghost up, and laid you out on the scratchy sheets. Too much movement for someone who just spent 15 minutes in a void. "J-James..stop.." you urged quietly as he placed kisses over you. Over your face, your neck, clavicle. Every single little cut on your body he kissed. It wasn't soothing despite what he thought. It wasn't sweet and loving like he so craved. "Stop!"

His eyes became worried and wide as he pulled himself away from your thigh. "Dear?" The ghost was clingy. Horribly clingy.

"Can you give me like 5 fucking seconds before you try and fuck my ghost?"

"b-but darling-"

"James! Give. Me. A. Fucking moment. Understand me?" He cowered again, scared to lose you again. A nod as a response as James got up and left the room without another word. Instead of walking down to his room and having a drink, he stood patiently outside your door and waited. He would wait for the rest of eternity. If he had to.

Your legs were shaky. You explored yourself in the mirror. Dried blood making your skin tinged a little bit. "god..." The whisper leaving you as your arms were practically wound after wound. Your legs as well. The wounds were a physical reminder of the fact your killer was your lover.

You wanted this. You wanted to die here.

But not like this. Not this way. Not with two 'J' 's on your palms, reminding you of the man outside your door. Blinking, you tore away from the mirror, refusing to face yourself anymore.

There, on the bed, laid your clothes before you died, and the dress you were offered so generously. Either way, you were going commando for the rest of time, and then some, so both options were uncomfortable in some way. A sweater and jeans it was. The clothes rustled as they fit you snugly. "Fuck...fuck!!" Emerged from your lips as you paced around the room. "Ohhhh fuck this. This fucking...shitty...bullshit!!" Every word that left you only served as a reminder that you wanted to die. Needing to remind yourself that you were the one who asked to be killed. Unsatisfied with your life and the people in it.

James decided to step into your room now, clicking his tongue disapprovingly. "I thought I taught you to not swear my dear."

"Fuck you!" You started, immediately getting up in James' face without an issue. Practically stomping around him as the harsh words dug into the soul's head and heart. "Fuck you, you fucking prick. 1920s fucking... serial killer. God, you're so hot you annoy the shit out of me! Seriously, why the fuck did you have to fucking kill me this way you fucker?! I expected one fucking slash to the neck, done deal!!"

The ghost, of course, was used to such theatrics from you and stood patiently. Waiting for you to stop spitting venom onto his feet as you circled him. Your words stopped, and he held you again. James simply took you by your waist, holding you tight against him. His hand on the small of your back, his other hand holding yours. Reminiscent of when you asked him to kill you. Bringing you flush against his chest. The angry mutters became silent sniffles and pathetic tears. Blinking and looking up at the killer you adored, hated.

"I fucking hate you."

"No, you don't hate me."

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

Tags: @babygorewhore / @taintandviolent / @oceanblvd111 / @nahoyasboyfriend / @coentinim / @slutforgarlogan / @briaroftheroses @am3ricanh0rrorwh0re /. @evanpeterspeter / @feefymo / @fear-is-truth / @lacucarachapisser / @marchsfreak / @saintlucretia / @jazz-berry / @t8-ak47

[moonmaiden1996]

Jealous Vampires and Cute Dogs

A sweet little thing I wrote on the train while dreaming of playing Baulder's Gate. Plus we need more Astarion and Scratch stories

The campfire crackled softly, throwing warm light across the small clearing. The stars above twinkled as if in tune with the quiet laughter filling the air. The group had gathered around the large fire after a long day of dispatching goblins from nearby ruins. It was a rare moment of peace, and everyone was taking full advantage of it. The day’s grime had been wiped away, and a sense of camaraderie settled like a blanket over the camp.

Scratch lay sprawled beside you, his fluffy white fur gleaming in the firelight. His tail wagged lazily, stirring up small puffs of dirt every so often as you scratched behind his ears. His contented sighs made you smile.

“You’re such a good boy,” you cooed, your fingers burying themselves in his soft fur. He licked your hand in appreciation, letting out a satisfied huff before rolling onto his back, clearly expecting belly rubs.

Across the fire, Astarion sat rigid, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His pale features were shadowed by the firelight, but his scowl was unmistakable. For the better part of an hour, his crimson eyes had been fixed on you and Scratch. Despite his composed facade, the occasional twitch of his mouth betrayed his mounting irritation.

The rest of the group was absorbed in their own distractions. Gale was recounting a convoluted story about a drunken donkey and an exasperated schoolmistress, his gestures animated and his words slightly slurred from the wine. Karlach was leaning back with a grin, encouraging him with hearty laughs, while Shadowheart rolled her eyes at the tale’s increasing absurdity. You, however, had opted out of the chatter, leaning against a fallen tree with a book you’d scavenged from the ruins, content to let your hand idly rake through Scratch’s fur.

Finally, Astarion could take no more.

“Really, darling?” he drawled, his voice cutting through the campfire’s hum. “You’ve been doting on that mangy mutt for ages. When will it be my turn?”

You blinked up at him, startled out of your thoughts. “What?”

He uncrossed his arms, gesturing dramatically toward Scratch. “You heard me. This… dog has monopolized your attention all evening, and I must say, I’m feeling rather neglected.”

Scratch’s ears perked up at Astarion’s voice, and his tail wagged faster, as if in challenge. Astarion raised a brow, glaring at the dog. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, you glorified rug. You’ve stolen enough of their affections for one night.”

A laugh bubbled up, and you struggled to stifle it. “Astarion, are you… jealous of Scratch?”

He straightened, feigning indignation. “Jealous? Of a dog? Don’t be absurd.”

“Right,” you said, smirking. “That’s why you’ve been glaring at him like he’s your mortal enemy for the past hour.”

Astarion sniffed, brushing invisible dust from his immaculate sleeve. “I merely find the imbalance of attention… unjust.”

The vampire rose with his characteristic dramatic flair, his flowing movements a contrast to the firelight’s warmth. He made his way around the fire until he stood in front of you, his crimson eyes narrowing as he looked down at you. His pouty lips pressed together as if debating whether to continue his complaint.

“Watching you lavish attention on him,” he began, his tone a mix of annoyance and something more tender, “while I sit here, cold and untouched, is nothing short of torture.”

Your lips twitched at his theatrics, and your heart softened. Despite his complaints, there was a vulnerability in his expression, as though he feared admitting the truth of his jealousy would leave him exposed.

“You do realise Scratch doesn’t threaten your place in my life, right?” you said softly.

Astarion’s eyes darted away for a moment, and he cleared his throat. “That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Sighing, you patted the ground beside you. “Come here, then. If you want attention, all you have to do is ask.”

For a moment, Astarion hesitated, the conflict between his pride and his longing clear in the flicker of firelight on his face. But in the end, he gave in, lowering himself to sit beside you with a resigned elegance.

You reached out and placed a hand on his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. “See? Was that so hard?”

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low, teasing murmur. “Only because it’s you, my sweet.”

Just as he was beginning to relax, Scratch, ever the opportunist, wriggled his way into Astarion’s lap. The dog’s happy bark filled the air as he nuzzled his head against the vampire’s chest, his tail wagging with triumphant energy.

Astarion froze, his expression a blend of horror and betrayal. “Oh, no. Absolutely not.”

You burst out laughing as Scratch began licking Astarion’s hand with unrestrained enthusiasm. “Looks like someone’s forgiven you.”

Astarion looked at you, his eyes narrowing in mock outrage. “Forgiven me? I’ve done nothing to deserve this.”

Despite his protests, his hand found its way to Scratch’s ears, giving them an almost imperceptible ruffle. The reluctant smile that tugged at his lips didn’t escape your notice.

“Now I have two of you vying for my attention,” he said dryly, though the amusement in his voice betrayed him. “Whatever shall I do?”

Leaning against him, you gave a warm laugh, resting your head lightly on his shoulder. “Maybe just enjoy it?”

For all his grumbling, Astarion didn’t pull away. Scratch settled happily in his lap, and for a brief moment, even Astarion seemed to relax, his hand falling into an easy rhythm of scratching behind the dog’s ears. The campfire burned steadily, a beacon of light and warmth in the quiet wilderness. Even the unmistakable giggles from the rest of the group did little to disrupted the little trio.

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