#s like. cards against humanity

[checkadii]

I neeeeeed to game with people moreee but literally all I have is minecraft pressure regretevator l4d2 lethal stardew content warning monster prom(s) and sky maaaaaaan

[ozzgin]

It is the 19th century and you are returning home by ship. Before you embark, you happen to find a glowing shell abandoned by the docks. It seems that the sea creatures are searching for it. Or maybe it's something else they're interested in. content: gender neutral reader, violence, dubious consent, based on Return of the Obra Dinn

January 1802 What's the matter with me, I wonder? As if my luggage wasn't heavy enough already, I had to drag around a big shell of sorts. Found it by the docks while I waited for my ship to arrive. It has a strange glow to it, this shell. Can't quite place it.

January 1802 Cheeky bastards! The seamen are such a flirt. From the moment I stepped onto the main deck, a handful of them haven't dropped the whistles and stares. One of the topmen - I recall he's Scottish? - he's been pestering me about the ship. "I'll show ye around, can't find a better guide," he says. His mates laugh and clap to his petty attempts.

February 1802 Some of the sailors are dying from lung illness. I was on the orlop deck, playing cards with the three Russians, when the surgeon rushed to one of the cabins ahead. "If it was contagious, we'd all have it by now. Damned if I know what it is, or where it comes from," I could hear him groan. I wondered out loud if I might catch it myself, but then I noticed one of 'em rascals trying to cheat the cards. February 1802 I saw it again tonight. Ever since we launched from Falmouth, as soon as the sun sets, there's an eerie glimmer in the distance. It reminds me of this damned shell. Are my eyes playing tricks on me? Oh, the sea is so terrifying in the dark. There's nothing but black stretching all around. My window is low; whenever the waves break against it, the wooden walls let out a groan that awakens me from the deepest slumber. Surgeon gave me pills to sleep. The creaks of the ship sound like a weeping maiden. February 1802 I think the cursed glow is getting closer. I couldn't sleep anymore, so I snuck onto the main deck. Scotsman found me wandering towards the bow, so he quietly hoisted me up by the waist. I thought he'd tell the Captain, but he sat me on the lower rigging, next to him, and we listened to the waves. I was afraid I'd fall off, but he kept a steady hand on me. I wish I could tell him about the light stalking our ship. Would he think I'm mad?

February 1802 Second Mate returned today on a small boat. We heard shouts coming from upstairs, so we rushed to see what was happening. Bosun had his pistol readied next to the Captain, and the sailors lifted the cargo from below. I thought I was dreaming at first. Some creatures, unholy beings, were caught in the net. They had the body of a human, but thick, fish tails covered in spikes. One of the Formosan passengers muttered something in Chinese, and some of the tail spikes suddenly pierced him dead. The old Miss next to me fainted on the spot, and the stewards urged us to leave. Right before I turned, I noticed one of the beasts pointing at me. It had a monstrous grin on its face. Oh, what a sight! The Scotsman guided me away, but I can't forget those eyes. Was it malice? Such an intense stare, burning straight into my soul. Now that I'm writing all this, a memory has come to mind: the creature had the same shell as mine, dangling from its neck.

February 1802 The pills no longer work. I can't rest anymore. Every time I close my eyes, I hear its wretched voice, calling me from the lazarette. That's where they locked those sea monsters. It sings nonsense, blasphemous lies. We're not fated soulmates. I've nothing to do with those devils. I should've never picked up the shell. I can only pray we reach land soon.

March 1802 God, oh God, what disaster has befallen us? I don't have much time. The gun deck is in shambles, more than half the crew dead. Underwater beasts have crawled their way up our ship; strange humans with spears, saddled on top of crabs larger than I've ever seen. The poor midshipman, oh, a young boy! He set himself on fire to stop the nightmarish fiend. Threw the lamp across the floor, and the flames swallowed both of them up. I scrambled up on the main deck, but there was no peace to be found; colossal tentacles sprawled around the ship, pulling the rigging apart, tearing humans like insects. The Captain's wife was struck by a falling pillar, I saw her crumble right before me. Scotsman is still alive, but his arm is missing a good chunk of it. I don't know where to find the surgeon.

March 1803 They left. They took the last boat, I only found out this morning. I tried to join them, but one of the sailors stopped me. "Witch," he shouted at me, "the beast down by the cargo hold screams your name. You must've called it here, brought this curse upon us." I don't know what he's talking about. Tonight I'm going to the lazarette, I can no longer bear the calling. This blasted fiend, oh, he's ruined me. I'll rot on this wreck. Mother, I don't think I'll ever reach the shore.

Your steps are hesitant as you tiptoe your way around the dried blood and debris, until you reach the locked chambers. The door is bent and folded away, as if hit by a great force. You do indeed notice the round prints against the rusty surface: giant suckers from a blasphemous being.

There he is, the wicked varmint who plagues your sleep! A pale creature is propped up, halfway out of the water, welcoming you with a toothy grin. The shell around his neck glows mockingly.

You throw your own shell at him. The small, ivory object rolls with a hollow thud.

"Is this what you wanted, damned monster?"

"Why, what am I to do with two?"

His voice is harsh and deep, rapping against your eardrums, scratching the inside of your head.

"I've been waiting for you. Can't leave this place without my beloved, can I?"

"There you go again with this nonsense. Villain! Drown me if you must, but spare me your deceit."

His smile falters, eyes narrowing in a frown.

"Is that how you find my love? Some petty lie told by a charlatan? Ungrateful brat, who do you think freed you from their shackles? Who do you suspect has summoned the leviathan, from the deepest trenches of the sea, to save your mortal soul?"

"The kraken left with the storm," you counter as the blood drains from your face. Could it be that you were to blame, after all?

"No, it left after the bargain."

He pulls himself up and sits on the edge of his former cage. You observe his features in mild awe: the texture of his skin, the dark locks of hair reaching all the way to the tail, the spikes breaking out of the thick, hard scales.

"What bargain," you ask fearfully.

"The last ones are free to escape, if they leave you to me."

Why, your horrified expression is not quite something he expected. Surely one must feel relief once their freedom has been guaranteed. And not just any kind of freedom - you've been returned to your soulmate.

He's spent weeks chasing the currents, trailing the faint glow in the distance. He hasn't stopped once, tail pushing forward to the promise of a reunion.

Yet, you seem unsure. Perhaps his approach has been too hurried, too nonchalant. You need a little bit of convincing, and he happens to be a master of courting.

His thorax suddenly expands, and you can almost hear the twisting sound of his ribs cracking and breaking under the pressure. A sweet voice rolls out of his mouth, a song you've never heard before. Your heart pounds tremendously, threatening to burst out of your chest, and a foreign panic floods your senses.

Despite your desire to flee, your lids are heavy, eyes slowly closing. Through your lashes, you can discern the beast crawling towards you, the same defiant grin plastered on his face.

It's time for you to come home.

[taintandviolent]

Taco Tuesday ; Gambit x reader!

summary: You live across the hall from Wade Wilson, and one Tuesday, he invites you over for tacos. 🌮 And that’s where you meet him. The Gambit. Post-Void, everyone got out alive and everything is fine. [PART TWO HERE]

word count & w a r n i n g s: 5.4K | smut with very little plot, alcohol mention, slightly drunk (but very consenting) reader, French and typing out accents/dialects, pet names (cher, mon ami, mon coeur, etc.), dirty talk (cos he is a dirty talker, don't argue with me on this), fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, no use of y/n.

a/n: this is based 100% on Deadpool and Wolverine Gambit / Channing's version of Gambit!! sorry for the lack of plot here, he deserves better than this filth, but I am down ASTRONOMICALLY and I needed to get it out. I spent so much time trying to get his accent right, I hope it comes off the way I wanted it to... anyway! i'm not certain if anyone will read this, but if you do - thank you a million times over! as always, requests are open! - banner by @/strangergraphics, and Remy gif by @scintie!

↓ full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

He’s handsome. Like really handsome. 

Your stomach does a flip as he smiles at you, reaching for the bottle of Jack between your legs — wait. Pause. Rewind. How’d we get here?

Living in the same apartment complex as Wade Wilson was a trip. Even more of a trip was living across the hall from him. The things you heard coming from that apartment... nobody would believe you. So, you never told anyone. 

He’s kind. Albeit, zany but kind. Your interactions have been cordial and nauseatingly neighbourly. But on one regular ol' Tuesday afternoon, Wade invited you inside. He said something about having a party later that night, making tacos and being neighborly. He assured you that it wasn't a sex party... which to be honest, you weren't worried about until he'd mentioned it. Against your better judgement though, you'd agreed, and said you'd bring some liquor.

So, that evening, you opened your door, one bottle of Jack tucked under your arm, and another in your left hand. You shut the door to your apartment and walked straight across to your neighbour’s door. Your fist had rapped against the wood only twice before the door swung open, revealing Wade, and a very… strange and very bald looking dog in his arms. 

"Oh, what the fuck?" You asked, looking down at the creature. "I didn't know you had a dog…?"

Wade’s voice rose an octave or two, in a cutesy tone. "She's a new addition, yes she is!" 

"I brought... well, this. Sorry, it was all I had in my cabinets and to be perfectly honest, I wasn't about to go out and spend money on this. I like… barely know you."

"HA! Brutal honesty. We love to hear it." 

Wade took hold of your shoulder and yanked you inside, harsh enough that you made a small sound as he did. He shut the door with his foot, and towed you towards the table, where everyone was gathered. And that was when you first saw him. He wore all black, save for a tan trench coat with a high collar. He lounged casually on one of the dining chairs, playing with a deck of cards. They fluttered from hand to hand effortlessly, and for a moment, you were stuck, mesmerized by the dexterous way he handled them. You weren't sure what was pulling you towards him harder, your heart or your cunt, but you felt an undeniable draw to the man.

Wade's arm wound itself around your shoulders, guiding you around the room to meet each of his friends. At that point, living next to him, mutants were a forced transition. You were used to the concept of them, so meeting a giant silver man, for example, wasn't unexpected. Vanessa was the most normal - you were pretty sure she was human.

Finally, he got to the one you really wanted to meet. The one that your eyes had been darting back and forth to the entire time, the one that when he briefly met your gaze, your heart thudded in your chest. 

"And this... handsome slice of man, is the Gambit. Good luck understanding him, he's a real mouthful."

I’ll bet he is, you thought. 

He pocketed the cards in a quick motion and stood up from his chair. With a syrup-smooth chuckle, the man laughed and said: "You can call me Remy." He did in fact have a thick Cajun accent and spoke quickly – almost too quickly. You blinked once, focusing hard on his words.

"Remy," you repeated finally, before saying your own name and extending your hand. He took it gently and as he shook it, your palm tingled with what felt like electricity.

"Enchanté." (Enchanted)

Your cheeks burned, and you knew they were flushing. You couldn’t control it. "De même..." (Likewise.)

His brows lifted, surprised. "You speak French, mon ami?" (my friend) 

"Heh, uhh... comme un enfant." (Like a child) You chuckled low, averting your eyes for a millisecond. "I took a few years of it in high school and again in college. I’m by no means an expert."

Wade's eyes were wide, flicking back and forth between the two of you. There was obvious chemistry there, and a knowing smirk drew itself across his lips. Abruptly, he yanked one of the bottles of Jack Daniels from beneath your arm, before leaning against the nearby wall.

"Oh, fuck me. You understand Gumbo here? That’s cute. No idea what either of you are saying though, someone forgot to turn the subtitles on. I'll leave you two to get acquainted." Whatever that meant. You scoffed, but turned your attention back to Gambit, looking at him.

“Sit a while, cher.” 

You happily took the chair that he pulled out, not caring that it was facing away from the others, and plopped down onto it, situating the other bottle of Jack between your legs. You gripped the neck of the bottle tightly, and looked at him with a timid, but a come hither sort of smile. After a moment, you twisted the cap off, and flicked it off somewhere to your right. Wade would find it later, or he wouldn’t. You didn’t really care. 

You two talked for hours, most of which consisted of him telling you about the Void, and how hard it had been, while you pretended to comprehend it. Between words, you passed the bottle back and forth, taking mouthfuls, and inadvertently swapping spit as you did. The thought occurred to you about halfway through the conversation, and your stomach tightened. You shook your head lightly and clenched your thighs together, trying to stave off the arousal that was bubbling in your core. 

There we go. That’s better.

He’s handsome. Like really handsome. 

Your stomach does a flip as he smiles at you, reaching for the bottle, which was still situated between your legs. His fingertips just graze the side of your thigh and his eyes flit to yours. He holds his smile, waiting for you to either protest or move the moment forward, and all you can do is gawk, because your cunt starts throbbing. 

As the evening wears on, though cautious, it’s obvious that Remy feels the same pull that you do. He remains cool on the outside, but internally, he was battling the magnetic tugging he felt from you. He couldn't shake it. He’d compliment you, you’d compliment him. At one point, in between sips, you casually drop that you think his accent is hot and he whispers something underneath his breath, something you don’t understand. Before either of you realized it, you had started to lean closer to each other, your faces inches apart, and you felt the warm rush of his breath over your cheeks.

It was as if you both realized it simultaneously. You rear back, an embarrassed expression plastered on your face. Remy clears his throat. His attraction to you was stifling; something that he rarely felt. He was powerless in his want for you, the draw you had was irresistible.

"Maybe we should... uh..." You murmur, looking deep into his eyes. In a room full of people that were starting to fade away the closer you two got to each other, you were thankful you were still sober enough to suggest a different setting. Any longer and you surely would’ve just straddled him and gone to town. 

Remy moves first. 

"We gon' take a walk." He announces to the others, getting to his feet. 

The conversation stops abruptly, silence hanging heavy. You straighten up, trying your best to avert your gaze, but you still see everyone’s reaction. Someone clears their throat and your heart sinks, feeling like you might die on the spot. The one that had been introduced as Logan, gruff looking dude, raises a single brow at you. In true Wade-character, he ugly cackles, shattering the moment. Your shoulders sink, embarrassed, as you head towards the door, doing the proverbial walk of shame. 

Remy meets you at the door and pulls it open, holding it for you. You duck underneath his arm, looking sheepish and as you exit into the hallway, you think you heard Wade mutter something about a fanfiction but Remy yanks the door shut before you can react. 

“You want to… get some air? Or um… I have… well, no I had liquor, but I brought it to Wade’s.” 

He smiles, and looks down at the floor, before lifting his eyes back to you. “We can do whatever you want, chère. You ain’t gon’ catch me complainin’ eitha’ way.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, considering the options. Your heart was hammering in your chest at the prospect of just being near him without the others around. You two had been close to kissing in Wade’s living room, and now, you had the opportunity to continue that… or take a walk. The latter seemed less appealing. 

“Y’know what, why don’t we… just…” You take a few steps backwards, jerking your head towards your front door. Concerningly, you had forgotten to lock your door. However, it allows you to open it quickly, and walk backwards into the apartment. Gambit follows you in, his attention never leaving you. 

"You sure 'bout dis, mon ami? I can walk away righ' now." His words land heavy, a promise behind them. He was a gentleman at heart, you could tell. Fortunately for him, you were very sure, and wanted every inch of him.

Mon ami - something that in the few hours you'd spent with him, he'd called you often. Among other things. Mon ami meant my friend, but you knew you two weren't just friends. You saw how he acted with others, and the comments he made. Sure, he had a quick wit and a mouth on him, but the flirting... god, the flirting.

He stands in the doorway, his shoulders filling the frame. Silently, you nod and take another step back, giving him some room to enter. He takes one wide step towards you, leaving the door open behind him. He reaches for your hip, and you immediately take to playing with his large hands. Delicately, you pay attention to each long digit, trailing your middle finger along the knuckles, and up and down the length of them. You dip into the spaces between, your fingers barely ghosting over the webbing. 

Was that a shiver? Your eyes flit to his, searching them for a hint.

"You sure do know how to make a man feel good." 

Your heart flutters at his words. With his accent, even the simplest of things sounded charming. At least to you. You felt that he could ask if you wanted coffee or how the weather was and you'd be twirling your hair around your finger like a desperate schoolgirl. Embarrassing. 

You’re about to respond and defend yourself by saying that all you had done was play with his hands, which was hardly considered foreplay, but his fingers come up underneath your chin, gently closing your mouth with a dull click of your teeth. He tilts it upwards to an angle where he could easily kiss you. And kiss you, he does. 

It was the kind of kiss that makes your knees buckle, sends a violent shudder from the nape of your neck down to the base of your spine. It’s the kind of kiss that needs to come with a warning; Danger: Will Result In Sex. As his lips move against yours, you feel the urgency of his need, of his want, and hum into his lips. Remy takes that as a green light and deepens the kiss, moving his body so that it’s pressing flush against yours. The action leaves you immediately breathless and in response, you break the kiss, tucking your chin to your chest. Your hand finds his torso, pressing hard against the muscles underneath the shirt.  

"Ah, don't you be actin' shy now. You been teasin' me for hours."

“I have not!”

“You think I didn’t notice all ‘dem touches an’ looks you were givin’ me? I may ‘ave been born at night, but I wasn’t born last night.” 

He had you there. You couldn’t deny that, at all. Even if you’d wanted to. Which, part of you did. Part of you was very nervous, standing before this very handsome man, with the taste of his mouth still lingering on your lips but another part of you, the louder one, was delighted that he’d noticed. Furthermore, that he’d enjoyed them enough to come to your room.

You lift your hand behind him, pushing the door shut with a harsh shove. With a twist of your fingers, you activate the locking mechanism, sliding the deadbolt into place. Gambit chuckles, grinning down at you. Your heart leaps into your throat, but you press on bravely, lacing your arms around his neck. They trail down the front of his body, feeling the muscles as they twitch with each ragged breath. 

He quirks a brow as if to ask, 'Oh, really?' You simply smirk back at him. The contact is electric, and you find yourself resisting the urge to grind against him immediately. Instead, you focus on his hands again, bringing one of them up to your lips. You press a delicate kiss on the pads, before slipping one into your mouth and sucking gently. Remy makes a deep, husky sound in his throat, and brings his other hand to your hip, where he pulls you roughly against him.

For a man that uses his hands often, the sensations are high. The way your mouth envelops his finger, your tongue writhing around the digit had his jaw clenching, muscles fluttering on the side of his face. When you draw his finger into the confines of your throat, deep-throating it, his eyes roll back in pleasure. He pulls his hand back, shaking it off as if the inside of your mouth was hot to the touch.

"Woo, you nasty, huh? Nevah’ woulda' guessed... you been actin' like a good little girl 'uhround me." 

After that, it all happened very quickly. Gambit takes a step and connects his lips with yours again, pushing them into you in an act of desperation. Without breaking the kiss, he shrugs out of his jacket, tossing it onto a nearby surface. You push against him until his back hits the door with a heavy thud, definitely loud enough for any innocent bystanders to hear. Your fingers undo the button of your jeans, breaking the kiss for only a second to slide them down your legs. 

Once you return to his waiting mouth, the kiss deepens and the coil in your stomach winds tighter, claiming your body in a deep, fiery arousal. His big arms wrap around you, enveloping you in a heated embrace. Just for a moment, it’s tender — but shortly after, his hands drop to your ass, fingers slipping underneath the band of fabric to take greedy fistfuls of each cheek. 

Your hands find their way to his shoulders, gripping the roundness of them to use as leverage. Letting out a little hum, you sweep your hips across his groin, pressing tightly against him. His eyes drift shut, head bumping against the door as he leaned it back, a low growl coming from his throat. Keeping at it, you grind your hips against him, feeling the outline of his length as it hardens.

“You be drivin’ Remy crazy, grindin’ on me like ‘dat.”

“That’s the intention….” You stand on your tiptoes to pepper kisses on his lips, your warm breath fanning over his face, smelling faintly of Jack Daniels. Remy trails his hand carefully up your rib cage until he gets to the side of your breast, where he quickly slips around to the front, his large hand cupping the fullness of it outside of your shirt. Your reaction is visceral; your breath hisses through your teeth at the sensitivity. 

Remy laughs again and with his free hand, pulls your hips back to his. Swiftly, he spins you around, pinning you between his body and the hard surface of the door. He presses himself tightly against you, shifting slightly so that his thigh was between your legs. The sensation of something that close to your core is dangerous and brings a weak, mewling whimper from your mouth.

“We gon’ have ourselves some fun.” His voice is low, tinged with a new sort of lustful tone that you hadn't heard before. Your mind is spinning, growing dizzy with lust. The alcohol had certainly helped your nerves, you were never usually this brazen. Your core burns with desire at his words, silently begging for everything he was about to give you. His lips hover just over yours; you can feel his breath on your skin and the heat that radiates off his body as it presses into yours.

"Oh my god," you whisper into his mouth. "Fuck..."

His teeth nip at your bottom lip before he captures your mouth in a heated, passionate kiss again. His tongue explores the inside, swirling along your own wet muscle. With every passing second, your heart beats faster and his hands grip your hips tighter, thumbs massaging the flesh above your jeans.

“Wrap ‘dem legs around me, mon coeur.” (My heart) Remy’s voice is husky with want; amongst his playful, lilted tone, a possessiveness lingered, and the thought sends a chill down your spine. He nods once, encouraging you into his waiting arms. You jump up, and he catches you effortlessly, gripping your thighs tight and hoisting you up into his grasp. Feeling secure, you wrap both legs around his waist and encircle his neck with your arms. Your gaze meets his and you can see the wanton need mirrored in his own eyes, darkened with desire.

Remy's smirk is dripping with confidence. Your body's response to him was causing his ego to swell within his chest, and his cock to swell within his pants. He leans in close, his lips against your ear, nipping at the lobe softly before pulling back slightly. In one fluid movement, his hips buck up against your center, teasing you over the layers of clothing. You let out a moan, throwing your head back against the door.

He thrusts up into you again, chuckling low against your ear. The hard line of his cock grinds against you, making you stutter out expletives as it presses against you with a needy demand. 

"You like 'dat, cher? Talk t' me..."

You nod, swallowing and wetting your throat. "Y-yeah, fuck... I do... need you – it – so bad."

“Whaddya’ need?”

“N-need you… so bad.” 

“You can do betta’. Tell Remy what you need...” 

He presses you harder against the door, your back sliding against the wood as he kisses a trail down from your mouth to your shoulder, sucking and biting with all the right intensities. As his hips grind against yours, you feel the damp fabric slide across your cunt, alerting you to just how wet he’d made you. Fuck. 

“Need… need you to fuck me. Hard. Need to feel you everywhere.”  

A few hours ago, you’d agreed to Taco Tuesday at Wade’s. Now, you were getting dry humped by a really hot Cajun guy and moaning into the curve between his neck and his shoulder. You were positive that if someone opened their door, they’d hear you. Somewhere in your brain, the thought should have been moderately embarrassing, but you were far too invested in Remy to care. 

Without warning, Gambit lifts you away from the door and carries you to the nearby couch. He never breaks the kiss, still feverishly claiming your mouth as he moves. Your back hits the cushions and before you can process it, his body weight is on top of you. He slots himself in between your legs, and his hard-on bumps into your stomach as his hips rut against you, finding some relief in the friction. But not enough. 

Remy’s hand finds the hem of your shirt, lifting it just enough to allow his fingers underneath the fabric. You bite down on the pillow of your bottom lip and push your hips up into his. Thick, strong digits sweep across your skin, leaving a burning trail of fire in their wake. Every touch brings your temperature up, and it isn’t long before your entire body is consumed in flames. You sigh contentedly, arching up into his touch. 

Abruptly, Remy straightens up, crosses his arms over his torso and pulls his shirt over his head, revealing his tan skin and bulky muscles. His stocky stature makes your tummy clench with anticipation. He was fit, as you assumed, but that didn’t stop your jaw from falling open at the sight. 

“Wow,” you finally choke.

Remy grins. “You like what you see?” 

You nod furiously, hands snapping to his toned abdomen. He’s warm and his skin is soft, begging to be touched. The muscles flex underneath your fingers as you trace a long stripe from his belly button to his collarbone. Your hands claw at his shoulder, attempting to pull him back down on you, but he resists. 

He spoke with a playfulness, almost a sort of pleading. His thumbs flicks at the hem of your shirt. “Ah, c’mon, ‘dat ain’t fair. Enlève-tout toi, huh?” (Take it all off.)

You thought you understood, but if you didn’t, it didn’t matter. Remy was quick to translate his words, busy undressing you, pulling your worn t-shirt over your head, and reaching around your back to unclasp your bra. Most men would’ve fumbled with the clasp, but not him. His adept fingers make quick work of it, allowing your breasts to fall free. He throws your bra somewhere behind him. 

“Hooo, cher…!” His eyes light up at the visual and you feel heat blooming on your cheeks again, half expecting him to make a lewd comment. Instead, his hands cup your tits, kneading the soft plumpness like dough, thumbs grazing the nipples. He exhales through his mouth, jerking his head to the side. 

Finally, he kisses you again. It’s wet and sloppy and his mouth is consuming you, tasting you hungrily. His hips are still moving, sweeping into yours with a calculated precision. You try to spread your legs but the back of the couch thwarts your attempt. He notices this, watching as you struggle with the space. 

“You got a bed?” He asked in between smearing kisses along your neck and collarbone. 

“Yeah-yeah…. Down the hall.” 

“Remy be needin’ more room for what he wanna’ do t’you.”

His weight is suddenly gone from you, an unwelcome sensation, even though you know he’s about to carry you wedding-style down the hallway. He bends down, one arm sliding underneath your neck, the other in the crook behind your knees. For the second time that night, he lifts you into his arms.

You rest your cheek against his warm pectoral muscle, rocking back and forth, as he walks you both down the dark hallway. The only light in the room comes from the window, the city outside alive and humming. Carefully, Remy sets you down on the bed, unmade from this morning, your dark gray sheets cool to the touch. 

In nothing but your underwear, which at this point, are damp to the touch, you’re left feeling very exposed. But you can’t muster up any shame, not when he’s looking at you with such hunger, such want. Your tummy feels tight, and the feeling gets worse when Remy’s hands drop to his waist, unzipping and unbuttoning his pants. They fall loose at the waist, and he shucks them down the rest of the way, leaving him in nothing but a pair of deep purple boxers. Your eyes swing heavy to the outline that’s now presented to you. 

Oh my god. 

Your breath hitches in your throat. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise; Remy was a big guy, and that proved true downstairs, too. You can barely pull your eyes away from it, but you begrudgingly rip them away, to look up into his gaze. 

“Please,” you beg. “You’re too far away…” Your cunt is aching and nothing but him, his hands, his dick, will sate her. 

He leans forward, flattening both hands on the mattress and walks them back until his face is in front of yours. He sweeps you into another kiss and your heart races. His hands are perfectly positioned on either side of your hips, you feel them graze the flesh. His finger hooks around the elastic of your panties, twisting it around his pointer finger and gradually, he tugs them down over the curve of your hip.

You nod lazily against his mouth, as you feel the warmth of his hand near your core. Your legs drop apart, knees touching the mattress as you allow him access. One hand sweeps across your inner thighs, stroking them, while the other palms your soft mound. His other hand comes to pause at your knee, and pushes his weight into it softly, forcing you to stay spread-eagle for him. No way you could’ve done this on the sofa. 

There’s no hesitation in the way he fingers you; sweeping up through your slick folds, smearing your arousal around until she’s coated in it, splaying your pretty, wet cunt apart with his fingers, looking upon it hungrily. He knows what he’s doing, and how to do it right. You briefly wonder if that’s another mutant power he has… though being an expert at fingering someone seems outlandish. But he’s just so good at it. His middle finger barely touches you, circling the bundle of nerves delicately. Your back arches up towards him, a desperate groan vibrating your vocal chords. Delighted by your reaction, his finger flicks upwards at your swollen, sensitive clit, making your body literally quiver. 

“Uhugh – god…. Shit, oh my god.” 

He continues like this for several minutes, until your cunt is blazing hot and clenching with every moan you give. 

By the time he presses one finger inside, you’re teetering on the edge of an orgasm and your voice fills the room with needy, desperate sounds. You let out a shrill whine, and he slips in another finger, feeling the stretch of muscle as he does. His heart is pounding in his chest, overcome with lust. The way you sound, the way your body is moving and writhing on the bed, he can’t wait to sink himself into you. 

Amidst a laugh, he says: “People gon’ think we up in here watchin’ porn.”

Did he just insinuate that you sounded like a pornstar? You lifted your head, wearily, to look at him. Your chest heaves with each breath as you try to formulate a snarky remark to no avail. He looked so good – well, always – but he looked particularly good on top of you, his bright eyes lust blown and hungry. 

“We’re… we’re… porn… it’s…  oh god.” 

He shushes you. “You just lay back and keep moanin’.” 

Defeated, you huff and your head hits the sheets again, but not before you catch a glimpse of the way the muscles in his forearm ripple as it pumps back and forth into your cunt. You can’t help but moan at the sight, feeling a shockwave rupture your core. Your hips meet his fingers, rutting and writhing against the mattress in a needy rhythm.

Your first orgasm claims your body before you can stop it. You’re clenching around his fingers as they move, crooking upwards into your sensitive spots. Your slick coats his fingers and when Gambit pulls his hand back, thick, clear strands string from between them. He smiles down at you. 

Remy raises himself to his knees. “Turn ‘round…” 

You flip over and back yourself towards him, thinking that he’s going to go at it doggy-style, but to your surprise, he pulls you upright, pressing your back against his chest. His dick is hot between your legs, and when he reaches down to line it up, you let your head loll back against his shoulder. Gambit’s mouth finds the side of your neck, streaking it with wet, suckling kisses. He was taking his time with you, savouring you and you hum happily through closed lips, reaching behind you to thread your fingers through his hair.

“Fuck, you feel so good…” Instinctively, your hips undulate and his cock slips between your folds. Remy’s hips buck once, letting out a groan that comes from somewhere deep. 

“You ready, cher?” He asks, sweeping your hair away from your neck. You nod furiously. You’ve been ready – you were ready the moment you laid eyes on him.

Remy reaches down to sweep his fingers along your entrance briefly, before gripping himself and guiding the head of his cock into the slit. You keen at the feeling of his velvet-soft head pressing into your entrance, warm pre-cum leaking from the slit. He murmurs words of encouragement into your ear as you feel his hips press against your ass, urging his thick, veiny shaft inside your cunt. He does it gently, allowing you time to adjust to the girth, but the sting still makes you cry out. “Fffuck!”

He begins to thrust his hips shallowly, your cunt stretching around his cock. The feeling is all-consuming, and your body feels heavy in his grasp. One hand is gripping your waist tightly, the other, fingers splayed out on your stomach just above your cunt. There’s a pressure building in your cunt, and each thrust magnifies it. The sting of his cock fades to an ache, then to a dull throbbing that makes you want more and you lean forward slightly and press your ass into the curves of his hips, meeting his thrusts. 

“Mm, ‘dat’s it, cher…” His voice is hot on your skin. 

His thrusts get deeper, but there’s a lingering tension in his body that makes you feel like he’s not getting what he wants. You’re right; all at once, Remy pulls his cock from you and switches positions. 

You’re suddenly on your back, looking up at him as he looms over you, all muscle. His cockhead nudges your entrance again, but doesn’t penetrate. 

“Say my name, cher… I needa’ hear it leave ‘dat pretty mouth.” 

“Which one? Gambit? Or Remy?” You ask, breathlessly.

The way his eyes rolled back at the second option told you everything you needed to know. A smirk twisted your lips cruelly and you lifted your body slightly, just enough for your mouth to reach his ear. You moan his name over and over again, knowing full well the effect it’s having on the mutant man.

“Remy, Remy, Remy….” Your tone is high-pitched and whiny, but he seems to enjoy the lewdness of it all. He bucks his hips hard into you, and the fullness reaches an all-time high as he bottoms out, his pelvis hitting yours with a slap.

“Huhhh—!” You gasp, breathing ragged. “Fuck!”

“Gonna’ make you cum so hard you ain’t gon’ walk right for days.” His voice is low and filthy and leaves a stain on your mind. Your cunt clenches around him possessively, pulling him somehow deeper inside of you. 

As your head bangs into your headboard, the tip of his cock bumps your cervix over and over again, and your jaw goes slack, literally fucked silent. Remy hears the thudding of your skull and puts a hand between it and the wood, but he doesn’t stop his relentless, deep thrusting. 

The pleasure reaches a peak and your nails dig into his back, leaving crescent moon shaped indentations on his golden skin. Remy’s groaning loud into your ear as he cums, muttering in an almost incoherent melange of French and English. His accent is somehow heavier, and you can barely make out the words as he’s saying them into your skin. It doesn’t matter though, because you feel how full you are, and Remy’s hot, white completion is leaking out the sides and staining your sheets. 

He stays like that for a moment, hovering on top of you. His cock softens inside, completely spent and eventually, he slips it out, rolling over onto your bed.

“Ah, joi de vivre, huh.” (the joy of life), he says drowsily.

You laugh, and nestle underneath his arm, in the space he’s left for you. 

If you had your way, you’d do it all over again. 

Though he doesn’t say it, so would he. 

[auroralwriting]

poker face

spencer reid x fem!bau!reader

spencer and you go to the casino to find the unsub. you think he looks pretty hot playing poker.

word count: 2.0k

warnings: making out, gambling, poker face spencer aghhh

"Forensics got a fingerprint match on the last victim. Eddie Langdon. We're looking into him." You said as you walked back into the office that held some of your team members.

Hotch came in behind you, "Hey, any luck?" Emily asked.

"No, they don't want to allocate agency funds for the buy-in. I'm still working on it." Hotch replied, looking down to his phone as he got back on another call.

Rossi chuckled, "Well, I can't imagine why not. We're only asking for fifty thousand bucks of taxpayer money so that FBI agents can play Texas hold 'em."

Emily eyed Rossi, "Hey, what about you?"

"What about me? What?"

"You could stake us the buy-in." Emily smirked.

Spencer sat down next to you, "Yeah, you're a best-selling author."

You nodded enthusiastically, "Don't forget a best-selling author and longtime FBI agent. You could loan us the money, or something."

"No," Rossi shook his head.

"Why not?" Emily frowned.

"One, it's against regulations, and I'd like to hold on to this job for a little while longer." Rossi began.

Under your breath, you muttered, "It's just a little violation, 's all."

Rossi just rolled his eyes at your comment. "And two, I prefer to spend my money on actual things, like single-malt scotch, a fine cigar, beautiful artwork."

"Poker chips are things!" JJ replied quickly with a smile.

Rossi just scoffed as Spencer spoke up again. "Maybe just think of it as like a new experience. I mean, at your age, how often does that happen?" Oh, no he didn't.

"At my what?" Rossi slowly turned his head to Spencer who just gulped and awkwardly looked away.

"Rossi, this may be our only chance to get this guy." You said slowly. "They government isn't going to give us the money. You're our only way to catch this killer. Please?" You paused for a moment. "And if it helps, you can just write a new book to get some more cha-ching."

Rossi sighed, "All right, fine. But I'm ignoring that last comment. I'm a decent poker player, but I can't promise that I can stay in the game long enough to--"

"You know what?" Emily interrupted. "I bet you're a great poker player, but what if we sent in Reid?"

"I am banned from casinos in Las Vegas, Laughlin, and Parump because of my card-counting ability." Spencer commented as if it was the most casual thing in the whole world.

You raised your hand slightly, "Why did I not know this sooner?"

"Look, I know I'm not a genius like the boy wonder here, but poker is not Blackjack." Rossi argued. "It's about bluffing, reading human nature, head games. It's not math."

That's when Spencer stood up, "That's not entirely accurate. There actually is a mathematical equation for knowing when to raise and when to fold. If P represents the size of the pot at the time of play, then P times N minus one, with N representing the estimated number of players in the final round of betting--"

"Okay! Fine, I surrender!" Rossi cut Spencer off quickly. "Just try not to lose all my money. Actually, you know what?" Rossi quickly spoke your name. "Take her with you, I don't want you losing all my money and if she needs to interrupt the game, then so be it."

Your eyes widened, "Rossi, I've never stepped foot into a casino in my life."

"You'll be fine!" Rossi waved it off as Spencer gave you a comforting look.

Oh, this was not what you expected at all.

Spencer and you had to get checked by security with the handheld metal detectors. Yours didn't go off, but Spencer's did. He played it off as just a pen. Thank god they accepted that.

The two of you walked in. For someone who stared at dead bodies and killers all day, this was the most nerve wracking thing you'd experienced in a while. It also didn't help that Hotch decided you and Spencer were to play a couple when you had such a big crush on him.

"Hey," Spencer muttered, "It's okay."

"Just nervous," You replied under your breath. The two of you made your way to the bar. Spencer got himself a drink, and you got some champagne. "Is it really just math?"

Spencer nodded, "Math, and a little bit of luck."

The moment you felt Spencer take your hand, you tried to pull away. "Spencer, what about germs--"

"I don't mind your germs, you're my friend. Plus, we have a part to play, remember?" Spencer muttered, locking his fingers between yours. Your heart pounded as you did the same.

"I'll observe as you play," You muttered, remembering the list of things you needed to look for to find the unsub. "I know you don't need it, but good luck."

Spencer smiled at you, the comment being just so sweet and innocent. "Thank you." You looked so nervous, so out of place. It made Spencer notice you more.

Spencer had taken a seat at a table, which you stood behind him, leaning over his shoulder. Your hands rested on the back of the chair. So far, no one caught your eye, until one man at another table did. Casually, you poked Spencer and he caught onto your stare.

"You know, would it be all right if I sat at table two instead of four? I have a pre-glaucoma condition and the light's kind of bothering my eyes." Spencer called over the employee, who took him to the desired table.

The men didn't just eye Spencer as he sat down, you noticed they eyed you too. Defensively, you wrapped your arms around Spencer's neck from behind. "Ah, I'm calling." One of the men said."

"I'll raise." One guy said. You stared at him, noticing his red eyes. Weird. "Eight thousand."

"Eight thousand.. That's, uh, fifty-six months wages for the average person in Bangladesh." Spencer commented casually. In reply, you giggled and played with some of hair, pushing it out of his face. Spencer hoped you didn't feel his face turn hot under your fingers. "Uh, kind of makes you think, doesn't it?"

"Hey, it's eight thou to you." One guy remarked. "Now, are you in or are you out?"

Spencer sighed, "I.. am in. And I raise."

"Three raise? That's too rich for my blood." The guy sighed. One man, the one who raised before Spencer, bored holes into him.

"Are you in, sir?" Spencer asked.

"I'll call."

"Call?"

Spencer flipped his cards, "Straight."

Based on everyone's reactions and Spencer's coy face, straight was a very good thing. Playing the act, you kissed Spencer's forehead and squealed lightly, deciding to stroke his cheek for a moment. "A gut shot straight draw? Are you kidding me?"

"That is just-- that is nuts."

It was no wonder Spencer was banned from casinos. Spencer's poker face was good. He simply just covered his mouth after a moment and stared, watching everyone's reactions. His hand slowly ran down to his chin, and in that moment, it did it for you. Sure, Spencer was your cute little nerd, but he'd never been so hot to you.

You noticed next to the man who was staring, he had an eight ball keychain. "Hey, mind if I look at this?" You asked, reaching for it.

The man was quick to grab your hand hard. Spencer jumped into action, pulling you from him.

"Hey. What's the problem, sir?" An employee asked.

"She's reaching for my chips!"

"I'm not even in the game," You remarked.

The employee grabbed your arms, "You need to come with me."

If Spencer's eyes could've gotten any wider, they would've popped out of his head. "Hey! Don't manhandle her! She can walk, let go!" Spencer ripped the mans arms off of you and pulled you into his chest. "Come on, love. Let's just go."

Spencer's words caused your chest to tingle as he guided you away. You watched as he clicked the call-device, it lit up red. The look on the mans face, your unsub, was clear. He knew.

You met up with the team as you were lead out the doors, "They're FBI agents," Hotch informed the guard.

"There he goes, plaid shirt, baseball hat." Spencer pointed.

After searching the whole casino, the unsub made a break for it. His name was Curtis Banks. You and Spencer were sent to his house to see if he was there. After a quick search, it was clear he wasn't there.

"Hey Hotch, he isn't here. There's a foreclosure sign in the lawn." You informed your chief.

"All right, you and Reid stay there in case he comes back." Hotch hung up the phone.

You shrugged to Spencer, "And we wait."

After a beat of silence, Spencer turned to you. "At the casino, you couldn't keep your hands off of me after I won." Spencer said out of nowhere. "Your physical proximity was close, you frequently stared at me--"

"I was playing my part," You argued.

"Yeah, too well." Spencer pointed out. "Were you checking me out?"

Heat rose to your cheeks, "No. Why would I do that?"

"Look at me and say it," Spencer demanded, but his tone wasn't harsh. It was simply just firm. "You won't look at me."

Slowly, you turned to look at Spencer, "I wasn't checking you out."

"You can't look me in the eyes. You've never not looked me in the eyes." Spencer continued.

"Stop profiling me," You tried to end the discussion. It was clear Spencer had caught you. You weren't interested in being turned down, especially when you were in some sort of steak-out with the genius.

Spencer frowned, "I'm not profiling you. I'm just telling you as it is."

"That's what profiling is," You countered. "We don't need to have this conversation. Was I checking you out? Yes, I was. Is that what you wanted me to say? That you looked so damn hot winning thousands of dollars with your best poker face while you let me all over you?"

Spencer said your name, but you kept rambling. It took him grabbing your chin and forcing your face closer to his to make you stop. "You think I'm hot?"

"Yeah," You stuttered. "Yeah, I do."

Slowly, Spencer trailed his finger over your bottom lip. "I always thought you were the most gorgeous girl I'd ever seen."

"Where's this confidence coming from?" You asked.

Spencer shrugged, "Gamblers frequently experience a phenomenon called the 'winning high,' it releases dopamine and adrenaline, making gamblers do riskier things than they'd normally do."

"You gonna use that high to kiss me?" Your voice was a mere mutter. Your lips were just grazing Spencers.

"Is that what you want?" Spencer lowly asked.

"What do you think?" You retorted.

Spencer's lips slammed onto your own, harder than you expected. His large hand had the back of your neck, and he pulled you impossibly closer. It was hot, just how you wanted it. Flimsily, Spencer reached to the bottom of his seat to scoot it back. His hands went to your hips, guiding you to move across the seats to his lap.

"You know, we're still on the lookout." You mumbled, pressing another kiss to the genius's lips.

"They haven't called us yet." Spencer challenged, hand running down your back to your waist.

Slowly, Spencer's hand began to creep up your shirt, just to your navel-level. His kisses descended to your neck, pressing opened mouth, warm kisses to your skin.

"Spence," You whined, grabbing his hair to push him closer. He sighed in reply.

You both jolted when your phone began to ring. You grabbed it quickly, "What?"

"Ooh, someone's frisky." Derek teased over the phone. "We got the guy. You two are all good to head back."

"Thanks, Morgan. See you back there." You hung up the phone, tossing it back to to your seat. "Looks like we have to wrap this up."

Spencer smirked, "We fly back in the morning. We'll find some time soon."

Spencer's words weren't a tease, they were a promise.

[undeadmagick]

Broke Boy Guide to Altar Offerings

Hey! Are you broke but still wanna offer something up to the gods? Don't worry! (So am i) So here's a guide of things that are either free, low cost or that you probably already own to slap onto those altars. Mind you: These are mainly modern offerings that I attribute to these different classification of gods. I'll likely update as time goes on with other classifications :)

General Offerings to Deities:

random flowers from outside

random sticks from outside

hand written letters/prayers

plushies of the animals they're connected to

raw/cooked meats as "sacrifices"

drawn symbols

Art/Creative Deities:

symbol painted bottle caps

pens/pencils/markers

old sketchbooks

stickers/prints

origami

comic books

figurines

Death Deities:

bones or meat from your meals

dirt from a dead plant

dying flowers

skull imagery

coins or other gifts for those passing

photo/belongings of your late loved ones

Familial/Household/Protector of Children Deities:

photobooth photos

jewelry gifted from family

baby teeth from your children

breast milk

old baby shoes

framed photo of family

cookies/bread

homecooked meals

Fire Deities:

birthday candles

charcoal discs

burnt herbs

alcohol

incense

tobacco

matchbox/lighter

Healing Deities:

your current medications

bandaids

water

skincare

vitamin gummies

spell jar in an empty pill bottle

Knowledge/Wisdom Deities:

old books & textbooks

pens/pencils

mini chess pieces

written down philosophical quotes

good test scores/report cards/degrees

Love/Lust Deities:

origami 3D hearts

chapsticks

unused makeup

love letters to deities

love letters about S/O or crush

current perfume/cologne

current lotions

apples

Nature Deities:

plants dedicated to them

herbal tea packets

feathers

milk

fruits/vegetables

spells using recycled materials (toilet paper rolls, etc.)

bread

acorns

Sea Deities:

beach sand

shells

sea water

tiny sea animal figurines

shared fish dinners

makeshift spell jar using a shell

Trickster Deities:

laffy taffy joke wrappers

cards against humanity packs

other comedy card games

[pookieace]

HAND HOLDING WITH THE GENSHIN MEN

contains : fem!reader, smut (yeah this is smutty not soft sry not sry <3 lmaooo), mentions of cervix fucking, size kink, tummy bulges, breeding / impregnation kink, creampies woohoo, oooh the praise in this has me going a lil insane tbh, some degradation too, lots of oral, fingering, soft doms *sniffles* my weakness. includes scenarios for zhongli, kaeya, dain, tighnari, xiao and childe. this is not proof read at all, please ignore any mistakes i will not be fixing them cause i'm lazy :D

i thought about this scenario with xiao and then i spiralled from there. sorry not sorry i needed to get this out of my system actually... i am so unwell bye. likes / reblogs are appreciated and feedback is always welcomed <3 minors dni !!

zhongli : oh he is so big. listen, everythingggggggg about him is big okay, he's literally a dragon like? his hands? big. height? bIG. cock(s)? BIIIIG and he thrives off being big. sinks his cock into you while being in a half dragon form just because his dick is bigger than his human form. golden horns on top of his head, the colour of his skin changing from his normal pale one to somewhat mixed. hues of black, orange, yellow and golden the further you travel down his body. his hands and fingers are slightly longer in this form. nails coloured black, almost resembling claws. he enjoys this form because it lets him keep his human-ness but it also embraces his past. his favourite form when you two get intimate because he wants to see your cunt struggle to take him. "there you go darling, takin' me in so well." he'd whisper as his tip pushes past your entrance, thumb rubbing against your clit. "loosen up for me, that's it." as your cunt begins to flutter around himjdhfhf aaaaa don't even get me started on the bulge he'd make in your tummy :( it's inevitable. he's just so damn big.

favourite position is you on your back, couple of pillows under your body and him holding your waist to raise your lower half off the bed, claws digging into the flesh of your waist as your cunt clenches around his cock. it's only when he's bottomed out and you're bucking your hips to signal him to move that he'd lace his fingers with yours. pins them above your head. have i mentioned zhongli's big? he's so big that he only really requires one hand to have both your wrists in his hold. daddy zhongli is so strong too, doesn't matter how much you move or thrash around when he fucks you, trying to get your wrists out of his hold so you can just touch him, he doesn't budge. waits for you to really beg, tears in your eyes as you sob out "please, please, please" will he soften up. intertwines his fingers with yours as he rocks his hips slower, but sooo deep. leans over to place a kiss to the top of your head while you thank him for letting go, and he does that every time when you two hold hands :( he's so <3 mm yeah best daddy me thinks.

kaeya : this man,, lord kayea is a wild card in my very humble opinion. he's a tease, we all know this. but i think sex to him is so intimate, especially when it's with someone he would give his heart to on a silver platter. he's like the perfect mix of tease and praise and degradation and somehow giving you what you need all at the same time? idk, just listen okay. the word tease might as well just be kaeya's middle name, he's just that good at it. he likes to hear you beg, plays dumb too. "hmm? my sweet little thing, you're so quiet. what did you say, i'm afraid i missed it." all the while he is knuckle deep into your cunt, fingers curling up juuuust right so they nudge your spot. but only just. he knows your body so well it's almost annoying. the curl of his fingers isn't enough to give you proper satisfaction but it is enough to have you crave for more. enough to make you gasp and buck your hips to try and get the satisfaction you need. "ah ah ah, don't be like that. i can't reward you if you're being a needy slut for me darling. use your words." starts withdrawing his fingers and ultimately you need to grab a hold of his wrist and b e g for him not to do that, beg for his touch. it makes his head go a little dizzy if i'm being honest. "there you go. that wasn't so hard now, was it?" and he gives you what you've been needing :( slender, pretty fingers pushing deeper into you till he physically can't anymore. letting them curl against your spongy spot and making you cum with a cry of his name liiike he thrives off teasing you and giving you what you want.

puts his dirty fingers in your mouth while he kisses your stomach, slowly kissing his way up your body (he is a romantic man after all) and makes sure to give your tits a squeeze too. grabs a hold of your chin to make you look at him as you let go of his fingers with a little pop and presses his lips to yours. it's a little messy, slippery and sloppy but you can feel how in love he is with you. spreads your thighs apart so he can press his hard on against your cunt while you kiss, tangles his fingers with yours while he ruts against your centre like he has all the time in the world :(( he takes it sooo slow, grinding against your cunt, the fabric of his boxers rubbing your clit so nicely, his lips against yours, giving your hands a little squeeze as you fiddle around with the elastic on his boxers. he just holds his body weight up with one hand, the other still tangled up with your fingers as you pull down the material just enough to have his cock out and while he fills you up nicely, he just tightens his hold on your hand cause you feel so tight around him every damn time <33

dainsleif : starting this off by saying he is SO touch starved. honorary member of the touched starved crew. he still gets so shy when he sees you naked in front of him no matter how long it's been. dain might look rough and tough on the outside, but he is so soft for you. he adores kisses your body. your lips? he kiss. your cheek? he kiss. top of your head or your nose? he kiss. inside of your wrist where he can get a slight wiff of your perfume? he kiss. but his favourite you may ask? his favourite type (aside from your lips) of kiss is when you're laid out on the bed. where he's between your legs and he's lifting your shirt off, placing kisses along your tummy, the valley of your breasts, then a gentle kiss underneath your earlobe before he's tossing your shirt to the side and making his way down your body again. this time, he places kisses to both your ankles once your pants are off, kissing up both your legs and your thighs. the last kiss he places is to your clit before his thumb presses against your nub, gentle circular motions that already have you seeing stars. dain rests his head against your thigh as he teases and rubs your clit over and over, watching how your hole clenches around nothing.

"always so pretty for me, aren't you?" another soft kiss to your upper thighs that have you wanting to shut your legs at how sensitive you feel. "keep 'em open, that's it. there you go." he'd say, your trembling thighs spreading once again. he's not the best with words of affection but he'll be damned if he doesn't praise you, let you know how pretty you are. how good you are for him. and when your hands clutch his hair and the bedsheets the closer you get to your orgasm, he'd bring the one that was holding the bedsheets closer to his mouth – dain places a kiss to your wrist, to the tips of your fingers before he slides his fingers against it and lets you grip it. he enjoys holding your hand so much while he does this, i cannot stress that enough. he likes it when you feel real. and it's only then, will he place his mouth on your cunt, letting his tongue tease your folds and dipping into your hole to really get a taste of you. feeling a sense of pride when you gasp and whimper out his name, tightening your hold on his hand as the other one still in his hair, buries his face deeper into your pussy.

tighnari : furry king he's so cute, sighs. like kaeya, sex for him is very very intimate with someone he loves. it's not about getting off, it's more so about the gentle touches, the praises that come from both your lips and his, it's about the way you two latch onto each other when you make love and he will die on that hill. yes every now and then, his animalistic urges take over and it is about a quick fuck but more often than not, he likes to explore your body. he loves it when you're straddling him. his favourite thing to do is feel you up while the both of you kiss. even though tighnari takes it slow, his movements almost feel rushed, desperate to have your clothes off. but it's the gentle kind of desperate, you know? where he wants you to be naked so he can appreciate every dip and every curve on your body without any flimsy layers of clothing in the way. hearts in his eyes even though it's the nth time he's seen you naked. you're wearing nothing, seated on his lap while his eyes dart all over your body, never really able to linger on one part for too long. admires how out of breath you are just from a make-out, lips slightly swollen and pinker than usual. continues to place kisses against your jawline to your neck as his hands grope your hips and thighs, eventually one hand inching closer and closer to your heat, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you feel the pad of his thumb finally brush against your clit. "feels good?" he'd mumble against your skin, ears twitching with excitement every time you let out more content noises followed by a soft "yes."

tighnari's good with his fingers, great in fact. he pays attention to your body, listening to every noise and taking mental note of how your body squirms in his hold as he touches you – he's so good that your hands don't really know where they should go. sometimes digging into the skin of his shoulders or his biceps. sometimes when he hasn't riled you up to where the only replies he wets are broken whimpers, they're in tighnari's hair, patting just behind his ears which has him rutting his hips against you, or sometimes they're just tangled in his locks tightly as you need to feel something to ground you. but tighari's favourite is when you plead him for his hand. the little taps against his bicep or wrist make his heart melt, followed by the "hold me, please." it almost makes the animal in him want to manhandle you, toss you on the bed and pin you there while his cock is hitting your cervix and you can't do anything but lay there and just take it. but the rational part of him tells him no. the rational part of him brings your hand to his lips, places a kiss to each and every one of your knuckles before lacing his fingers with yours, all while his other hand is buried knuckle deep in your cunt and being soaked with your juices.

xiao : he is very very very desperate with how he holds your hands. it's more so to remind himself that you're there with him, that you're real. he's a very passionate lover, how could he not be after eons and eons of thinking he's alone? of eons and eons of being alone. he's also a honorary member of the touched starved crew god he is so DJKFDHJGKD i'm so in love w him <333 he just wants to please you okay? like. all the time. every day. whenever you ask him or hint at it, he's ready to give you anything you want. he would do aaaaaanything for you to be honest. he's not very good with words, he knows he's terrible with words. but what he lacks vocally, he makes up for it with his actions instead. slow, but deliberate. almost like he's forgotten all those little stripes and freckles on your skin even though he's been memorising every dip and every mark whenever you two get intimate. gentle, barely there touches while he takes your clothes off, ghosts his fingertips over your pussy and breasts at first. likes it when you inhale sharply but he does give in. he's not much of a tease like kaeya is, gives in so quick. "'m gettin' there. just wait." he'd grumble, but there's no bite behind it all all. places a kiss to your hip bone before he spreads your legs and laps your cunt like a starved man. he's so good with his tongue, i can't stress that enough. another man who makes sure you've came on his tongue or fingers before he thinks about fucking you. the thing about xiao is, he gets pussy drunk so quick, and so very easily. the second he hears you let out a sigh of satisfaction after his mouth is on you, he's gone.

he's soo gone. xiao is an adepti, he's much stronger than humans. it's super easy for him to hold your body down with his hands, whether they be on you waists or even hooked around your thighs, he's not moving his mouth off you until he feels your hole clenching and gushing. or unless you're trying to pry his head off cause you "wan' be filled, please xiao!" flips you onto your back and makes sure your face is pressed into the mattress and your ass is up ohh my goddjghf yeah,, fucks you like that actually, he's pussy drunk. let him bury his cock in your cunt any way he wants plssss. he may not be long, but fuck is he thick. makes you clench the bedsheets while your noises are muffled out by the bed but :( xiao needs to hear you – tugs your back flush against his chest, makes his cock go even deeper in you that you're going dizzy and you're even more dizzier when you feel his fingers on your clit aaaa. firm believer xiao uses one hand too rub your clit while the other turns your head towards him so he can kiss you :(( he loves kissing you so much when you're fucking, tries to kiss you every time before you cum on his cock. it's so romantic for him. feels you cum around his cock and he's trying to hold back a groan but but but that's when he moves his hand that was on your clit to hold yours :( still kissing you too till he orgasms and spills his cum deeep in you and makes out with you for a couple of minutes. doesn't really care how sloppy it is, he just likes kissing you while you hold hands like that :((

childe : listen... childe is actually so romantic (we'll get there soon) i dunno about you. hand holding is his middle name, it's true i've seen the birth certificate. a romantic, mean perv is the best way to describe him. such a tease too. he won't give you what you need till he sees tears in your eyes or you actually start crying. he's kinda mean about it too. gets you sooo close to an orgasm only to just rip it away. "nawww, you cryin sweets?" and proceeds to lick your tears away. "don't cry, you pretty thing. gonna give you what you need, 'kay? just lay back f'me. there you go." smiles darkly when you listen to him again and lay your body flat against the bed again while shaking. and he just keeps doing that until you're full blow sobbing. "aj– ha– 'jax! please.. can' take it a'more... need to c-cum please." and watches you grip his wrists while you cry. it sets him off. he loves that you can get so pathetic for him :( some days when he's made you cry by not letting you cum, his favourite this is having you on top. just to add a little bit more humiliation into the mix. lays down first and gets all comfy without telling you what he's doing and just pats his lap. "not gonna get over here? thought you wanted to cum." has you scrambling over and once you're straddling him he'd put his hands on your thighs and just stroke them since they're shaking so much. but gives them a little slap, just enough for there to be a sound but not enough to hurt when he feels you try to lift your hips to take his cock in "relax baby. didn't i say i'm gonna give you what you need?" hhhh and when your thighs have calmed down and he's made your lips all swollen from kissing you so much will he lift your hips for you, letting you guide his cock into your hole and gives you time to get used to the stretch when he's bottomed out.

while you're taking your time and breathing whilst trying to hold back the orgasm that's approaching once being filled up, he'd let his fingertips trail up your arm, hand cupping the side of your face and rubbing his thumb along your lash line to gather the tears that haven't fallen yet and makes you suck the saltiness away from his thumb... and that makes his cock twitch in you. doesn't let you move though, wants to see how ruined you look before he's even fucked you right. and once he's admired you enough he'd go "c'mere sweets." and proceeds to hold out his hand for you. coos at how your hand is sooo tiny in his though. and he lets his other arm wrap your lower back, essentially he has you resting your head against his tits while you two hold hands. it's gentle, a contrast to how he was being mean to you earlier. as you grind on his cock and the little tufts of hair on his lower tummy make you cum around his cock, he brings your intertwined hands to his mouth and places a kiss to the back of your hand and bucks his hips up into your pussy to get to his high. but the thing is, once ajax feels soft like this, he'd just keep you above him, kiss you and keep holding your hands till he's hard again and fuck you till your lower halves are all messy and sticky.

[circeyoru]

The Only Reason _ Part 3

[Yandere!Sung Jinwoo x Worker!Reader - Mana Chaos AU]

Part 1 — Part 2 — Part 3 (here) — Part 4

“Sung Jinwoo is an S-Rank Hunter…”

“Another one…”

“It’s been 2 years since Cha Hae-In too.”

Nowadays, the emergence of an S-Rank Hunter and some A-Rank Hunters was like a demon had crawled out of hell and into the human world to cause destruction. Strong Hunters were seen and painted as a double-edged sword. On one hand, they could bring about peace to normal—non-awakened—individuals by closing gates and raiding dungeons. On the other hand, they could bring about destruction in their wake due to <Outrage> and the innocence would be harmed. 

Protocols like an awakened Hunter must report to the EMI instead of the Hunter Association because they have to keep track of stronger Hunters. Hunters must continuously measure their mana levels in case of a reawakening into a higher rank. It was unavoidable, no matter which country, because they prioritized ordinary people more. 

Perhaps the only place where EMI regulations can’t touch is America. After what Thomas Andre had done, he singlehandedly protected his fellow Hunters and announced to the EMI that they couldn’t have their way with people who worked to protect them from the dangers known as gates and dungeons. There were some Hunters that escaped to America to join Thomas and his stance, there were also some that were unluckily caught by the EMI, and some that didn’t do anything. Such is the sway of a National Level Hunter. 

Unlike Thomas, who had no weaknesses to use against, Jinwoo was different. His family, his mother and younger sister, were dependent on the society and their system. So, against his better judgement, Jinwoo bowed to the whims of the EMI and was taken in as SM-10. 

In the facility, he underwent several tests to draw a profile for him since he was fundamentally different from his E-Rank file. Anyone could see at a glance. Jinwoo kept his cards hidden because the more capable he was, the greater the danger his loved ones would be in. He was doing everything for his family. Upon capture, he was promised that his family would receive financial support so long as he behaved himself. 

A cowardly but effective threat and compromise that he agreed. 

Still, he hated the people who worked in this accursed building. All those labourers who hid behind a mask and voice changer donned uniforms that displayed their station. Throughout his days, he observed a few groups of workers. 

First was the type that he frequently came into contact with: Guard. As their station name, they guarded things, from equipment to rooms and even Hunter cells. They were the ones that handled conflict and violence, even the heavy lifting, if any. Those who were higher ranked were called Warden; however, he only saw them during his testing sessions when they were making his profile. They all wear black masks—Warden’s mask is black with a white scratch mark over the right eyehole—and black soldier uniforms.

Second was the type that constantly changes to the point he doesn’t even keep track of: Supervisor. Contrary to their high-standing title, they do the smallest and most insignificant tasks, like delivering supplies, checking Hunter cells, and being an owl so passing messages. They were low-ranking workers that most wouldn’t bat an eye to if gone. Perhaps that’s why they have a grey uniform and a grey mask. Their code went as high as the hundreds, going to the thousands. 

Third was the type that he hated most: Investigator or Researcher. They were the ones who administered the tests and punishments to the Hunters, and they monitored them inside their cell. Under their glances, a Hunter is reduced to a mere lab rat. They were individuals connected to the EMI but needed to be more important to make a—any—difference in the building. However, they were respected in some sense because some did aim for the betterment of the Hunters staying in the building. They wear a white mask with a mocking grin and a white uniform, complete with a lab coat.

Last was the type that intrigued him the most: Personnel. Though their code suggests they have people in the hundreds, there was actually only a handful of them in the building. The highest number he saw was 12. They were the ones with the most authority and well-respected individuals among the other groups, their work and station varied from individual to individual. They were the ones that stayed in the building the longest, and a new Personnel would only join their ranks if they carried confidential information about the EMI. 

One would notice there doesn’t seem to be a highest position or individual, but the Personnel were the ones who acted as the say of the facility. None had absolute power to keep each other in check, and in case a threat was targeted, if one fell, the other would continue in the other’s place. The smaller the number, the bigger their authority, it seems. 

Personnel 001 was once his observer during the tests, when he could let loose. After all the observation and boredom, Jinwoo accidentally killed them and was quickly restrained. He paid close attention to what happened. Would another observe him? Would there be a new Personnel in their ranks? What would happen?

Turns out, you happened.

Personnel’s clothing is ever-changing. They have free reign over what they want to wear; needless to say, they have no uniform. They only have to wear a lab coat over their usual outfits, and that’s it. One could mistake them for Investigators, but the distinct code would be shown on their coat at the area over their heart. They have a white mask with reflective black glasses covering their eyeholes. 

Yet when you came in, you were void of that mask that hides one’s expression and face. Still, your poker face was impressive. You appeared expressionless and reminded him of a doll. You neither introduced yourself nor showcased your station, different from Personnel 001, who was practically shouting at him that they were the ones in power in this facility. At first glance, he knew you were different from all the rest. 

“You’re hiding your cards. SM-10.” Your words held knowledge and confidence, stating a fact rather than questioning him. Your arm hugged a black clipboard with a small stack of papers clipped while your other hand held a pen. If you weren’t wearing a lab coat, you’d appear like a strict teacher or lab researcher.

He couldn’t help but let a smile spread over his lips, “What makes you think that?”

“You’re holding back.” You turned to the Guards stationed within the cell to leave you alone. Yes, a Personnel has the authority to be alone with a Hunter, but if it were a Supervisor, they must be with at least two to three Guards. “You killed Personnel 001, why? Be honest.”

There was a shine in your eyes that he noticed. He couldn’t tell what it was, though he wanted to be coy. “You’re not the only ones observing. Why not make it mutual?”

That was his first meeting with you. 

With his Shadows, he watched you and your daily activities. You were practically glued to your work; you came to work early but left late. You have a good relationship with the other coworkers, and most respect you, evident by the nodding heads you receive in the hallways. You also seem to care for Hunters in their cells, inspecting the cell quality and making things more bearable for Hunters like him. 

Thanks to him, more and better changes happened after Personnel 001 was removed. By then, he figured out that whether it was a company setting or a guild setting, 001 was the guild master, and you were the vice master. Once 001 was gone, you had more authority and implemented changes, of course, with the agreement of your other Personnel co-workers. 

In that case, that makes you a lot more interesting. You realized his strength and power, you wanted an improved and more sophisticated place for Hunter, different from how the facility was supposed to be, and you have been treating everyone human. 

Jinwoo concluded that he wanted to stay and get closer to you. With you in charge, his family was practically safe as well. He’ll stay and protect your spot at the top. Yet why were you pushing him away? It infuriated him. Still, he was thankful for the other Personnels’ fear over setting an S-Rank loose in public that he could prove to you how wrong you were to fight for his release.

While showing his point, he reduced the Personnel to perhaps 6 remaining—that already includes you. From 12 to 6, he cut off 4, and then there was 001 as well, so one Personnel died through other means. Either way, he made his point.

You were the only Personnel he liked and could resolve his <Outrage>.

That already bound you to him, and none would harm you unless they wanted the country to fall to ruins. 

The two of you share secrets, and slowly, he got you to open up, showing only him a side of you that you hide behind an invisible mask. You’re the only one for him, he’ll make it so that he’s the only one for you. 

He realized that his emotions and feelings for you turned a bit twisted over time. That Guard 149 that stared at you a little too long? Their leg was somehow caught between the double doors, so they can’t work here anymore, right? That Investigator 083 that was standing so close to you that your arms were touching? An experiment backfired and their arms were amputated. Another Guard that is coded 761 was asking you out? They got into a car accident and died. 

Jinwoo was careful. You never pointed fingers at him nor suspected it was him at all. You were very naive and innocent; he loves that about you. You care for your workers, yet at the same time, you also don’t. He got his answer when he finally communicated with the other S-Rank Hunters during the end of the Jeju Raid.

“Personnel 002? Oh, I’d say that person cares about Hunters more.”

“Haha, Personnel 002 has been very accommodating, unlike the other ones.”

“You can’t compare Personnel 002 with the others, it’s not a fair comparison.”

“I always enjoy my time with Personnel 002.”

“You’re lucky SM-10, I wish I could have Personnel 002 come to my place often.”

The other S-Rank Hunters only had good things to say about you. As expected, you were biased against Hunters and silently helped them more. Though, he was more enraptured to hear you giving him special care and attention. In private, his smile grew wide as he chuckled to himself. “Ah… You’ll be the death of me… Personnel 002.”

Note: Ta da! Part 3's out and this is Jinwoo's side of the story, if it wasn't obvious to you!! A bit of boring history, but it's what it is~ Hope you guys liked this one!

Circe Y.

My Works: MASTERLIST

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@stupendouspizzacomputer @xiannars @skylar896 @forbidden-sunlight @waka-babe @soft-dots @iamapotatoe @hvnweeps @amayakurusu13

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

wake up and smell the ozone, guys

[ Sebek and internalized racism / Sebek and his place in the Diasomnia found family / Sebek and his capacity to love / Sebek and the love of literature ]

wake up Wake Up WAKE UP

DO YOU REALIZE WHAT'S GOING ON??? ? ? ?? ? ? ? ? ? ? BECAUSE I'LL TELL YOU, I'LL TELL YOIU WHAT 'S GOING O N

Do you remember... Lilia's farewell party????? In 7-34, he takes us aside and says this: "Then if you truly wish to repay me, would you indulge a little request of mine? There's a freshman in our dorm, Sebek Zigvolt... It's been half a year since he started here, but I have yet to see him make any friends in the freshmen class. [...] I wouldn't ask [you to be friends with him]. Just... If you notice he's ever stuck at some point during your time here... I would ask that you card soldiers give him a little nudge."

When Sebek runs over shortly after with berry juice for Lilia, Lilia invites him to toast with his fellow first years (Ortho included): "These people will be your rivals and classmates until you graduate. You should take this chance to bond with some students from other dorms."

Of course, Sebek adamantly refuses to do so at that point in the story. "While I appreciate your consideration, I haven't the slightest intention of being friendly with these shallow people. [...] I already have more than enough training partners between Silver and our fellow Diasomnia students. Feeble humans are naught by deadweight! There's no need to be chummy with them!"

We are now well into book 7's Heartslabyul update and it is only now that I realize WE'RE FULFILLING LILIA'S REQUEST FROM ALL THE WAY BACK THEN IN 7-34.

Firstly, Sebek is already having his entire worldview shaken because he is exposed to the terror hie liege, his idol, Malleus, has brought about. The person he dedicated his life to and worked so hard to better himself for is misusing his powers to force his will upon others, including his own retainers. And then Sebek is given a taste of his own medicine when he meets a younger version of his grandfather in Lilia's dream. Baur calls his own grandson "human" and acts suspiciously towards him because of Sebek's race (refusing to trust him, refusing to eat food he prepared, etc.). Sebek, who is hateful and others non-fae, is now the one receiving hate and being othered by the grandfather that he loves and admires. He is experiencing the discomfort with being the target of the behaviors that he himself engages in irl. These two events are challenging Sebek's beliefs and how he sees the world. He's being forced to recognize that Malleus isn't perfect, and how it feels to be persecuted and rejected on the basis of one's race.

Sebek is taken aback by the attitude of dream!Baur and doesn't exactly know how to react (though he continues to act in ways to try and earn his grandfather's praise). Silver has to intervene and remind Sebek that, in real life, Baur doesn't despise him and to not let this get to him--but it's clear that this experience still bothers Sebek, as he grumpily responds with the usual DONT BELITTLE ME, OF COURSE I KNOW THAT tsundere response. Many of the other events Sebek experiences in Lilia's dream also call into question the nature of racial relationships, and, at times, puts Sebek in the shoes of the one defending the partnership between humans and fae. For example, some Silver Owls demand to know why we're siding with the fae, and Sebek declares back that whether human or fae, it doesn't matter because at the end of the day, they fight against those with bad intentions.

When we finally transition into the dream hopping segment of book 7, I noticed that Sebek has very targeted interactions with specifically the first-year characters--the very same group that Lilia asked to help him out if he ever gets stuck. For example:

Sebek spends a prolonged period of time in Lilia's dream with Silver (a human he does like), Yuu, and Grim (two newcomers that he has to get adjusted to). Together with them, he unravels an unspoken about part of his country's history. It's kind of like traumabonding/j

Sebek relies on the technomantic support of Idia and especially Ortho (who helps them navigate to new dreams in combination with Silver's UM). He has to acknowledge that this is a specialty of Ignihyde and not something that he, a student of Diasomnia and a first year, could achieve on his own. It humbles Sebek and forces him to depend on others instead of trying to brute force the task by himself. He's physically INCAPABLE of doing so.

In Epel's dream, he appears very tall and muscular. However, Sebek chides Epel and recalls that, at Lilia's farewell party, Epel was praising Lilia because although Lilia has a similarly small stature, he never once failed to be at Malleus's side. Back then, Lilia had told Epel that physical prowess has nothing to do with a mage's strength. Later on, Sebek even praises Epel's style of fighting despite Epel being a first year. Moreover, Epel has a 70-80% success rate at casting his UM--which shocks Sebek, who has not yet mastered his own. Here, he is learning that humans that present as small and weak can actually be formidable fighters with skill that surpasses his own. This is notable because Sebek often pushes himself to train hard physically and mentally to be the best possible retainer and may have insecurities about being a magical late bloomer.

In Jack's dream, Sebek makes a big fuss about the injustices Diasomnia suffered back in book 2 due to Savanaclaw's nasty plot. He makes it clear that he won't forgive them even now--but then Jack says it's understandable given that his dorm members were playing so dirty. Sebek expresses surprise that "there are people like Jack" in Savanaclaw. He's acknowledging that even in a dormitory that Sebek had previously pegged as all underhanded ruffians, there are people who have a moral compass and go against the grain. After all, Jack was the whistleblower in that incident and still to this day realizes their actions were wrong. This shows Sebek that not all members belonging to a group are the same.

In Deuce's dream, Sebek and Deuce bond over books. Deuce shares happy memories that he has with a popular children's book from the Queendom, and this inspires Sebek to want to read the book irl. He also suggests that Deuce pick out or recommend a book for Yuu and Grim, which is similar to what Sebek does for his own loved ones (like Silver). Here, he is sharing his interests with a non-fae in a sort of cultural exchange.

So if that's the case... I’m anticipating an interaction between Sebek and Ace that brings this full circle in Ace’s dream 👁️ or at least before the end of book 7!! I'll be keeping my eyes peeled for that!

I know I've critiqued the pacing of book 7 a lot (particularly when it comes to the dream segments), but I find it really ironic that, of all characters, Sebek is the one with the most spread-out character arc... Lilia's and Silver's arcs were mainly crammed into Lilia's dream, we haven't seen Malleus for several tends of chapters now (so he only ends up being present in the beginning and end of the book), and then you have Sebek pacing himself in this marathon 🤡 even though Sebek is also the one in Diasomnia that's the most in a rush to "grow up" and "be better" (so much so that even his UM is associated with wanting to quickly rush to someone and/or to be immediately stronger).

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Ghost w/ a Zombie! S/O

Warnings: Suggestive Content, Descriptions of Smut, Ghost Losing His Mind, Implied Unprotected Sex, Parasitism, Angst, Hurt No Comfort, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except You.

We’ve all heard of Zombie! Ghost with a human companion, but consider the inverse: human! Ghost who is afflicted with a human s/o who has the virus.

He keeps you locked up in his basement, coming to feed you any meat he can find. Anything to stave off your inevitable rot.

Simon sits with you, talks with you, tries to remind you of who he is – who you were.

Sometimes, he’s sure he can see the glimmer of recognition in your eyes. Others, he’s almost certain he’s lost you entirely.

There are times where he misses your touch, your gasps, the way you would call his name whenever he gave himself to you.

His deepest secret is that he still thinks he can hear you now. Now, as he has your mouth gagged and arms bound, balls-deep inside you, pumping his hips against yours.

He calls your name, thinks he can hear you call his back, looks you dead in the eyes while he’s making love to you.

You still take him so well despite how cold you are. You bring him to a spasming, throbbing, white-hot end that leaves his voice straining, crying your name amidst the throes of his orgasm, his head hanging in the crook of your shoulder while he empties his load inside you.

He half expects your hands to card through his hair, for your lips to meet the sweat-soaked skin of his forehead, for your face to light up with a hazed smile when his eyes find yours.

When he looks down at you, though, panting and pushing himself up onto muscular arms, he sees none of that. Feels none of that.

Your eyes are milky and you writhe beneath him, trying to unbind your hands to grab him, scratch him — anything.

He can see you gnawing on the rope about your mouth, no doubt the sensation of his skin between your teeth on your parasite-infested mind.

He knows he’s utterly mangled. His mind won’t let you go.

And neither will he.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

[wlwxreader]

Queen of the Wilderness

not my gif

Yandere!Lottie Matthews x fem!reader

Summary: After the crash, came the need for survival. And with that, came the hunger. When you get selected as The Queen of Hearts, your girlfriend Lottie does everything she can to keep you safe, and starts to think of you of some kind of almighty being

Warning(s): obsessive behavior, possessive behavior, cannibalism, mentions of blood, Lottie being a cult leader, power dynamics, protective!Lottie

Word Count: 2.6 k words

Request: here

A/N: might make a part 2 idk

Masterlist: tba

You had lost count of how many months you have been stuck in the forest with your teammates.

You used to keep a very precise count. Every time you woke up, you would add another number to the figure. You would repeat it throughout the day, like a mantra that kept you sane.

You stopped counting when Jackie died, and Lottie started to talk about the Wilderness.

It made no sense to keep count anymore. No one would ever come to rescue you. You didn’t want them to, after what you had done. You all had broken a sacred human oath; you had eaten human flesh. Your soul would be forever tainted. It was only fair that you had to live the rest of your days like that, always hungry, always weighed down by your mistakes.

Lottie had changed too, but in a way you didn’t expect to. She was the leader of the group now, always keeping everyone on check.

She also kept them fed.

You never questioned her. You knew her. You knew she was doing whatever she could to keep the group together, and alive. You had known her your entire life, you knew she wouldn’t hurt a fly.

You knew it.

So when they started doing the card game, and she was a willing participant, you knew it was for the best.

“We have to do it, Y/N,” she whispered quietly, rubbing your back as you dry heaved over a bucket. You were in the attic, it was late at night. You could see her silhouette only because of the moon light, shining through the naked trees.

“I know,” you whispered. You moved away from the bucket. No matter how much you hated yourself, your weakened body couldn’t bring itself to throw up.

You had just eaten a person, and you were so hungry you would have gone for another round.

“Come here,” she whispered. Her hands were cold, but when you rested your head on her chest, she was warm. So damn warm against the coldness.

“I hate it,” you said. You wanted to sob, but were too tired to do so.

“I know, baby.”

Her voice was soft, unlike when she talked to the group. With you, she was still warm, she was still Lottie.

“What do you think we would be doing now, if the plane never crashed?” you asked. You used to ask a lot of questions lately; you needed to hear her voice, so it would drown out everything else.

“We’d be in college,” Lottie said. She ran her hand through your hair, and you sighed. “We would be in the same university. I would’ve gotten us a place close to college, and we would be living together.”

“You think?” you asked, sleepily.

“Yeah,” Lottie said, with a certainty that made you feel relaxed. “We’ll always be together, baby. Always.”

You hummed, closing your eyes. You fell into a dreamless sleep, and Lottie allowed you, sitting down on the floor. When she was certain you wouldn’t wake up, she carried you to bed and put all the blankets she could find over your body.

She left the attic with a kiss on your forehead. Almost everyone was already sleeping, laying as close to the fire as they could be. Natalie was laying against one of the walls, deep in thought.

“Have we run out of meat already?” Lottie asked. She crossed her arms, waiting for the blonde to reply.

“We have food for tomorrow’s lunch,” she said. Her eyes were on the rifle, as if she was considering how crazy it would be to get out in the middle of the night to find an animal.

“That’s it?” Lottie looked out the window, as she too was wondering the same thing.

“Yeah,” Natalie sighed. She looked reluctant to even speak the words. “Tomorrow, we’ll have to play again.”

Play. Lottie almost laughed at the word. They haven’t played in too long. Not even since the plane crashed.

“Okay,” she said instead. “I’ll work on it.”

Lottie came back to the attic, and laid down beside you. She put her hand on your cheek, and smiled when you moved closer, seeking her out even in your sleep.

Lottie knew what they were doing, what she was doing, would be considered psychotic if anyone outside of the group were to find out. But they couldn’t hear the whispers that came with the wind, they couldn’t feel the hunger that stuck like cheap gum on long hair. They couldn’t, but she could, and she knew she had to listen to the wilderness to keep you alive.

You were the most important person in her life. You were her lifeline. When she first saw you, her breath had stopped for a second. She had wanted you ever since, and had done everything to ensure you stayed by her side. She had the means for it. Especially now, in the middle of nowhere, with a group of people that would do anything she asked for.

“I’ll keep you safe,” she whispered against your hair. “I promise.”

The Queen of Hearts.

The card stared back at you, almost mockingly.

You swallowed hard, looking around the room. You wanted to take it all in, the tranquility of the cabin before you turned the card around and everyone would be craving your meat like wild animals.

Your eyes caught Lottie’s. She looked beautiful, with her antler crown and her dark brown hair falling on soft waves. She looked back, always aware whenever you looked at her, and the smile she gave you froze midway when she noticed your face.

“No,” she said, arms falling down to her sides. All strength seemed to leave her all at once. While the others kept choosing a different card from the stack, she walked up to you in fast steps.

“Run.”

You looked into her wild eyes, feeling her fingers digging into your arms. You blinked once, twice, and then once more, and before you knew it, the card was on the ground and you were running towards the door.

“It’s Y/N,” Shauna said. She looked detached, gone. Her eyes no longer had any warmth in them.

“Fuck,” Natalie said, looking at Lottie. She rushed to grab the rifle and held tight onto it, making sure no one else would grab it and use it to hunt you.

“She can’t get away,” someone said, and it was as if a light switch was turned on.

Everyone except Lottie and Natalie left the cabin, searching for you. They screamed your name, running in different directions to find you.

“This can’t be right,” Lottie said, completely out of it. She stared at the door, eyes out of focus. “Y/N is mine. They wouldn’t hurt her. The wilderness promised. I promised.”

“I—” Natalie was lost for words. She had never been okay with anything they were doing. She felt guilty; if she had managed to find enough food to keep everyone well fed… “I’m so sorry, Lot.”

Hours went by, and you remained hidden.

You moved stealthily, remembering all the advice Nat had taught you in those times you hunted with her.

Keep your head down. Use the woods to your advantage. Never look back, always move forward.

You did as she had told you all those weeks ago. You could hear them all around you, steps that never flattered unlike yours, screams that called for your blood, for your death.

You kept going, until you fell down. You almost moaned, but held yourself back in time. If they heard you now, it would be over.

You looked at your foot, grabbing it. It hurt like a bitch.

Something moved to your left, and you ignored the pain to get up. You couldn’t fight anyone sitting on the floor.

Instead, you found yourself staring at a white hare. You blinked in disbelief. It couldn’t be possible. Nat and Travis had said time and time again there were no animals left to hunt.

So why was a hare right in front of you?

You watched as it dug into the snow, disappearing from sight. You crawled towards the place the animal had just been at, and you noticed a small hole. With desperation, using the last remaining rays of sunlight, you moved the snow away, trying to find what you thought could be your salvation.

The hare’s den.

Your hands were numb and freezing by the time you found it. There were at least ten of them, piled up together in their home to keep safe from the cold. You felt sorry for a second before you reached for the first one, wasting no time to twist its neck.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered as you sobbed. You took off your jacket, and laid the animal there. You did the same with the others, only thinking of how long they would keep the group fed.

They wouldn’t go rotten for a while if you kept them by the snow, and someone could make broth with them. If the group was smart, the animals laying on your jacket would keep you fed for well over a month.

You got up when you were done, trying not to think of what you had just done with those innocent hares. Your steps were clumsy and uneven, what with the snow and your throbbing ankle. You took a big sigh, and walked back to the cabin, hoping you could explain yourself before you were attacked by someone, anyone.

When you saw lights by the cabin, you almost went back into the woods. They had regrouped, probably arranging themselves into different groups to cover the entire forest until they found you.

Taissa was the first one to notice you, limping toward the cabin. In a moment of loyalty you had thought long forgotten, she shut her mouth and turned back around, giving you some ahead time to run.

But you didn’t. You moved forward, stepping loudly so everyone could hear.

“Y/N,” Lottie said, out of breath. She ran towards you, wrapping her arms tightly around you, knees deep in the snow you had just fallen to, incapable of holding yourself up anymore.

You knew then, with the way she was holding you, that she would die protecting you. She wouldn’t move away from you even if they crawled at her skin until they reached muscle and bone.

“Lottie,” Shauna said, almost weary. “Move away from Y/N.”

“You won’t take her away from me,” Lottie said. You had never heard her sound so fierce.

“We need food,” Misty said.

“I have food,” you said. Your voice was muffled by Lottie’s chest.

“What?”

You moved away from your girlfriend, and rested the jacket on the ground. Silence was the only response you recieved.

Everyone looked at the hares, in complete confusion.

“It’s not possible,” Natalie said. She kneeled down in front of you and grabbed one of the hares, as if to check if they were real.

“It is,” Lottie said, with a conviction that made you furrow your eyebrows. “Y/N has brought us food. She’s the Wilderness’ daughter.”

“What?” Shauna asked, looking between you and the hares.

“Can’t you see?” Lottie asked, getting up. She faced the entire group with a smile on her face. “She is mine, and she is protected by the Wilderness. The Wilderness is her mother.”

You wanted to shake your head, to tell Lottie to shut up, but you were still in shock. In a few days, you would process everything that had happened and finally understand the severity of the situation, of just how close you had been to being hunted by your own friends, but at the moment you couldn’t think of anything except how scared you were, so you just allowed Lottie to wrap her arms around your forearms, trying to help you get up.

“My foot,” you complained.

“Someone hurt you?” she asked, sweetly. Too cheerful given the situation.

“No.”

But Lottie didn’t hear you. She got up again, looking at the crowd with fire in her eyes.

“Do you see what you have done?” she asked. “You hurt her. You know what would’ve happened if someone had taken her from me?”

The group remained silent, looking at Lottie as if they were mesmerized. A few of the girls had kneeled down to grab one of the hares, them checking too if they were real, and had stayed there, kneeling in front of your girlfriend.

“Everyone would have been killed by the Wilderness. She has been benevolent this time, allowing you to hurt what’s mine and still keeping you fed. But it won’t happen again.”

You looked in disbelief as everyone nodded.

“Now go work on dinner, and be thankful for the food she has brought.”

To your utter surprise, Lottie grabbed you bride style and lifted you up. She made you rest your head on her shoulder, and carried you back to the cabin. 

“I’m sorry, darling,” she whispered as she sat you down in one of the chairs that were by the fire. She kneeled before you, and took off your shoes. “I should’ve kept you safe. You shouldn’t have gotten hurt.”

You watched as she got up to get the little medical supplies there were left. She kneeled and grabbed your swollen foot, and left a kiss on your shin.

“I’ll do better next time,” she promised. She wrapped some bandage over the afflicted zone, apologizing when you complained. “I will. No more card games for you. No one is ever going to touch you again. No one but me.”

“Lottie…”

She gave you a smile after she was done with the bandage. It was slightly crooked, and a little tight, and she knew she should have asked Misty to do it, but she would rather die than see another woman touching you.

You were hers. She could finally understand— it had all happened for a reason. The two of you meeting, you joining the football team, the plane crash… It was all for a reason.

“Don’t you see, baby?” she asked, eyes wide open. A smile split her face in half, making you slightly uneasy. “You are mine. My queen. The child of the Wilderness. We both look out for you.”

On any other day, you would have been combative. You would have told her she was overreacting, and that she should calm down. That the entire thing was maddening, and it was no one’s fault.

But you were so tired, and your leg hurt, and you wanted to cry over the betrayal you had felt when your friends had tried to kill you to eat you.

So instead, you nodded, and followed her back to the attic.

“My baby,” Lottie wrapped a jacket around your shoulders. “You must’ve been so cold. But not anymore.”

She kissed your shoulder when you laid behind her on the bed, and you allowed her to hold you through the night.

Lottie smiled when she felt your breath slow down, indicating you had fallen asleep.

She could hear noises downstairs. The girls were already preparing dinner. She would go down in a while to grab food for the two of you, but until then, she held you tight.

[redvexillum]

Well, this was just asking for a companion piece to my other two story C☆CKWARMING and ROUGH S☆X, so thank you for that. I dedicate this story to @kewpikayo. Listen, I dedicated yesterday's story to your wife, it only makes sense this story should be dedicated to you - after all, Dew & Kew FOREVER! 💖

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, human!alastor, alastor is dom, reader is sub, pain kink, reader is masochistic, alastor is sadistic, bad BDSM etiquette, no safe word, no after care, blood play, biting, spanking, rough ☆ral s☆x, p in v, c☆m outside, c☆m eating, implied period-typical racism

✨️ Companion piece to C☆CKWARMING and ROUGH S☆X. This story is the origin of where it all started. ✨️

A low, irritated growl simmered in Alastor’s throat as he watched you—Daddy’s sheltered little girl—stumble back, arms flailing as the load you carried slipped from your grip. You landed unceremoniously on the ground, the papers and boxes you’d been carrying spilling around you like fallen leaves. The sight was exasperating, yet all too familiar; he wasn’t sure whether to sigh, sneer, or simply walk away. 

Instead, he felt his left eye twitch as he forced his grin wider, an increasingly tight smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. Each muscle in his face strained against his better judgment, but he bent down, begrudgingly extending a hand to help you up. 

And there it was: the way your cheeks bloomed crimson as you looked up at him, hesitantly taking his hand as if touching him was some kind of privilege. 

Under normal circumstances, he would have thrived on this—the adoration, the bashful flush, the clear admiration in your eyes that so many others had shown him. The mere idea of having another fan should’ve filled him with smug satisfaction. But not this time. 

No, there was one pesky fact that dulled the thrill. 

From the beginning, breaking into the radio world had been an uphill battle. The station was his dream, and to make it a reality, he’d had to secure an investor. But with his humble roots, Alastor had needed more than a charming smile; he needed money, power, and someone with influence willing to back a stranger like him. And so he’d found himself entangled with a wealthy patron—a man who agreed to fund him… under one condition. 

He had to hire you.

You. 

His patron’s clumsy, insipid little daughter, the perpetual thorn in his side. Each time he thought he’d seen every mistake a person could make, you’d invent a new one, blundering through tasks with astonishing incompetence. His nerves frayed more with every passing day as he forced himself to breathe, to smile, to tell you gently that "everyone makes mistakes." The words tasted like rot in his mouth. 

Alastor considered himself a patient man. A forgiving man. But everyone has their limits. 

And you, quite simply, were his. 

He took a slow, seething breath, plotting as he felt the spark of a plan take root. If he could get you to quit on your own, perhaps he could still keep the funding—maybe, if he played his cards right, he could even sway your father to his side without the added irritation of watching you trip over your damn feet every three steps. 

So he began to freeze you out. Day after day, he kept his distance, watching from the corner of his eye as you struggled on, hoping his chilly demeanour would drive you away. But you were far too talkative, your relentless cheer slipping through the cracks of his carefully crafted mask. Every time he steeled himself to ignore you, there you were, talking at length about how much you loved his show, how much his puns and wordplay made you laugh, how his humour lifted your spirits. 

The way your eyes sparkled when you praised him—it should have been satisfying. Instead, it was infuriating. 

Yet, against his better judgment, he found himself responding. Something in the glint of your smile made his guarded grin relax, if only for a moment. Begrudgingly, he’d join in, rolling his eyes at your endless enthusiasm but unable to entirely dismiss it. It was as if you were some parasitic creature, a leech drawing life from him, clinging on with no intention of letting go. 

And he endured—patient, calculating, waiting for you to tire of him. 

But then came the last straw. His beloved broadcast, his dream, was starting to slip through his fingers. Listeners dropped off, each patron he had worked tirelessly to convince backed out one by one. Every investment vanished like smoke. And with it, his patience thinned to a knife’s edge, fraying with each setback. Months of self-restraint, of resisting his baser urges, of refraining from any “extracurricular activities” in favour of keeping his show alive, felt like sacrifices crumbling underfoot. 

And he blamed you. 

Though in truth, your mistakes weren’t drastic enough to ruin his business, but they were enough to tear away at his sanity: the times you forgot to pick up his dry cleaning, spilled coffee on his meticulously crafted script—one he knew by heart—or neglected to take his typewriter in for maintenance, forcing him to painstakingly handwrite his next segment. Small annoyances, but they added up, each one tightening the coil of irritation within him. 

Today, though, something snapped. It started with a simple spill, water glistening on the polished wooden floor of his office. As you bent down to hurriedly wipe it, your hand brushed against his glass vase, sending it crashing to the ground in a cascade of shattered crystal. The shards sparkled around you, a mocking reflection of the life he felt slipping into chaos. 

In one swift movement, he had you pinned against the wall, his hands braced beside your head, his body pressing close. He could feel the heat radiating from you, his knee slipping between your legs, lifting just enough to keep you fixed in place. The room felt smaller, the air charged with something he couldn’t name, something that sent a thrill down his spine as he watched the flush creep up to your cheeks. 

“I have never met anyone as clumsy and foolish as you,” he murmured, his voice low, menacing. Though his mouth held its trademarked grin, his eyes burned, dark and narrowed, a storm barely restrained. 

“Ah, u-uhm,” you stammered, your eyes darting away, body trembling before him. 

“Look. At. Me.” His fingers caught your chin, tilting your face up, so your gaze was locked with his. 

Deep down, Alastor knew he was risking everything. You were untouchable—Daddy’s little girl from a family of wealth and power, far beyond his own background. He knew what one accusation could do, one tear sent running back to your father. His dream, his work, his station—he could lose it all before he could snap his fingers, hah! 

But right now, the months of mounting irritation, of resisting every impulse, of pushing down every dark urge—none of it seemed to matter. 

“So-sorry, s-sir,” you whispered, a helpless apology on your lips. And at that moment, something snapped within him. The rush of power, the slight tremor in your voice, the glimmer of fear in your eyes—it was intoxicating. 

His fingers itched with desire, a pulse of longing, dark and primal. 

He wanted to choke you, see the life dull from your eyes, kill you. 

It had been so long since he’d indulged, felt the thrill of being in control, of bending someone to his will. Slowly, his hand slipped down, brushing along the column of your neck, fingers tracing the soft, vulnerable skin. 

Just a small squeeze. Just a taste.

The moment his hand rested there, he felt the rapid beat of your pulse beneath his fingertips, sensed the quick rise and fall of your breath. Your pupils widened, darkening with something that wasn’t just fear, and he nearly laughed at the realization. 

You were… enjoying this. 

“Was it all on purpose, dear?” His voice dropped to a dark murmur, lips just a breath away from your ear, close enough that he could feel the heat of you. “Did you want this to happen? Have you been fantasizing about this with me?” His leg shifted, pressing upward, his knee sliding dangerously close to the warmth of your core, your skirt sliding higher as he held you in place. 

There was no escape for you, nowhere to look but at him, and he could hear your heart pounding louder, a heat blooming that had nothing to do with fear. The line between his anger and desire blurred, each breath he shared with you pulled him deeper into something he couldn’t resist. 

“Did you want to be punished by me?” Alastor’s voice was a low, dangerous purr, his fingers pressing into the side of your neck as he held you there, watching your every response. The softest moan slipped from your lips, unbidden, and his mouth curved into a slow, wicked grin. 

“Oh, dear,” he murmured, clicking his tongue in mock reproach. “How utterly deviant, depraved, you are.” He leaned closer, his lips barely grazing the edge of your ear. Every sound, every whisper, heightened the tremble in your muscles as your body gave in to his hold. 

Alastor felt the thrum of his own pulse, a deep, carnal need that was building to an undeniable point. He’d known desire before, but never this tangled web of control and raw hunger that he felt with you pinned so willingly beneath him. 

To his dark amusement, he felt the tightening in his pants as he took in every inch of your flushed, submissive form. You were an enticing little thing, and now, the line he’d never meant to cross was beginning to blur. 

A tempting thought crossed his mind. “If I fulfill your desire, will you fulfill mine, dear?” His voice was a low, velvet promise as he pressed his knee firmly against your core, feeling the heat of you even through the fabric. His grin grew, an expression laced with a dangerous delight. “How utterly sinful you are, hiding that desire under a mask of innocence.” 

“I-I would do anything you’d like, sir,” you whispered, breath hitching, your hands glued to your side.

Keeping his eyes locked with yours, Alastor pulled back, though he didn’t allow enough distance for you to look away—or see the intensity of his arousal pressing through his trousers. 

“Let me give you what you want,” he murmured. “One good, hard fuck, and I,” his voice turned sweet as he tilted his head, his gaze narrowing with intent, “want you to quit for good, after ensuring that Daddy keeps his generous funding for me.” He brushed his fingers along your cheek, a mockingly gentle caress. “What do you say, dear? Do we have a deal?” 

You hesitated, looking into his eyes, the flush of your cheeks deepening as your lip caught between your teeth. “Hard f-fuck?” you stuttered, voice soft yet bold, your fingers hovering near his chest before you finally dared to touch him, briefly tugging at the lapels of his jacket. “You don't find that strange?” 

Alastor didn't care how unusual your desire was. As long as he got what he wanted at the end, that was all that mattered to him. 

The end always justified the means. 

A dark laugh slipped from him, and he tightened his grip, one hand sliding up to tangle in your hair, fingers pulling enough to tip your head back as he leaned in. He pressed himself against you, his hardness now unmistakable against your stomach, his lips grazing yours in the lightest, tantalizing tease. 

“Eyes on me, darling,” he commanded softly, releasing his hold on you just enough to let his thumb trail down your lip as he took a small step back, watching you. “Now,” his voice dropped to a dark whisper, “strip.” 

To his delight, you hesitated, only for a heartbeat. Your cheeks flushed in that shade of pretty pink he found almost as irresistible as your trembling compliance. But then, slowly, you began undoing the buttons of your blouse, your fingers shaking slightly as you slipped the fabric from your shoulders, baring yourself to his gaze. 

Heat surged in his veins, not only from the sight of you, but from the delicious power thrumming in his veins. This wasn’t just about pleasure. It was control, a feeling as heady as the thrill of holding someone’s life in his hands. 

But tonight, he was going to savour every second of holding you in the palm of his hand. 

As your clothes slipped away, one by one, you stood bare before him, your skin glistening in the dim light, the cool air teasing your erect nipples. He stepped closer, the sharp click of his heels against the polished wood. “Someone might come in, dear; are you aware of that? I left the door unlocked, after all.” His voice dripped with sadistic glee.

Your breath hitched, and your gaze flicked nervously to the doorknob, before you paled, realizing it was indeed unlocked. You had no idea that his workers had all quit once they heard wind of the investors backing out. 

Yet, you stood your ground, your eyes meeting his with a potent mix of fear and unyielding resolve. There was a trust there—a dangerous, intoxicating trust—that he knew he didn’t deserve but was all too willing to take. 

“Kneel,” he commanded, and your knees hit the floor without hesitation. His lips curled into a wicked grin as he closed the distance, his hips thrusting forward enticingly. “Show me just how much you want it, dear.” His voice was sultry and low, coaxing you into surrender. Your fingers fumbled with his belt and pants, pulling them down to reveal his half-hard cock, thick and waiting for you. 

You inhaled sharply, before you pressed your lips to the tip while looking up at him, waiting for his next command. “Open your mouth,” he ordered, and you obeyed, “Tongue out,” he added, and your tongue slipped out from your lips, eager to please him. 

With a firm grip on your hair, he guided your head forward, forcing his cock deeper into your mouth. A low, primal groan escaped him, echoing off the walls of the office. It had been far too long since he’d indulged in such raw pleasure, and the thrill of having complete control over you heightened his arousal. This was not the gentle foreplay he was used to; this was a deliciously crude act of dominance that made his heart race. 

He couldn’t help but imagine how his mother would disapprove of his treatment of you. But you craved this, wanted him in ways that thrilled and terrified you both. It felt like a dark dance of power—a beautiful, twisted exchange that neither of you could resist. 

With each thrust, he lost himself deeper in your warmth, the sensation of your soft, wet mouth engulfing him driving him to the edge. He revelled in the control he wielded, in the way you surrendered to his desires, your submission stoking the one lukewarm drive within him. 

The best part of this exchange? He was going to remain on top, remain in control, remain in power, both in the deal struck and the way he devoured you. 

When he called you depraved, a deviant, your heart sank. Deep down, you knew it was true; your desires were unconventional, perhaps even strange. You had been with other men before, yet none had ever come close to scratching the itch that Alastor stirred within you. 

Every word he spoke about you rang true. Yes, you had a crush on him. Yes, you often found yourself lost in naughty, impure thoughts about him. Still, you yearned to keep those thoughts hidden, for working for him had become the highlight of your months. 

For once, you felt needed, desired, and useful—feelings that seemed to vanish the moment you returned home, where you faced the disappointment of your parents after yet another failed meeting with a suitor. The worry etched on their faces suggested they feared you might become a spinster.

The thought of Alastor wanting you to quit stung. It felt as if your dreams were crumbling around you, and the realization that he didn’t reciprocate your feelings hurt more than you cared to admit. But if you could have him for the first and last time, you wanted it to be an unforgettable memory. 

What Alastor would never realize was that you would never allow your father to withdraw his support from him financially. You loved his show genuinely, and you wanted to see him succeed and thrive. You believed in him wholeheartedly, confident that one day he would achieve the success he deserved, so he wouldn’t have to bargain for your father’s backing. 

As his hot, heavy cock filled your mouth, you felt a rush of heat flush through your body. You gagged slightly when the tip pressed against the back of your throat, a combination of pleasure and slight panic washing over you. The salty taste of him overwhelmed your senses, and you glanced up, seeing Alastor’s eyes closed in pure ecstasy. His fingers gripped your hair, the pressure varying as he slowly rolled his hips, the head of his cock brushing against the roof of your mouth. 

Each time you choked on him, you felt the violent twitch of his cock, and a small, heady low moan from him. It seemed he relished the sounds you made, and you focused on creating a tight seal around him, sucking with all the enthusiasm you could muster. But the bliss was abruptly cut short when he pulled your hair, yanking you off his cock. A glistening strand of saliva connected the tip of his cock to your lips, then fell, leaving a tiny droplet on the floor. 

“Messy girl,” he teased, and you could see the hard anger in his eyes fade, replaced by a gleam of something more raw and animalistic. He was enjoying this, and your heart raced at the thought. “Always making a mess of all my things.” His gaze flickered to the shattered vase on the floor, but thankfully, none of the fragments had reached where you knelt. “What do you have to say for yourself?” 

Your shoulders jumped as you looked up at him, your voice trembling. “I’m so—” But before you could finish, he thrust his cock back down your throat. You gagged again, tears springing to your eyes as you grasped at his thighs for stability. 

The struggle for breath was real, but Alastor didn’t relent, pushing deeper until your vision blurred from the lack of air. You fought to breathe through your nose, panic mingling with arousal. Just when you thought you might pass out, he finally pulled back, leaving you gasping for air, your body bowed low as coughs escaped your lips, mixed with tears and saliva spilling from your mouth. 

“I should punish you, shouldn’t I?” Alastor purred, his voice smooth like silk as he sauntered over to the single-seat couch in the corner of his office. His cock stood proudly, glistening with your saliva, an inviting sight that made your heart race. He patted his knee, an invitation that sent a shiver down your spine. “Come.” 

A flutter of excitement mixed with trepidation filled you as you quickly stood up, your legs feeling slightly unsteady as you approached him. When you reached him, your stomach flipped with a blend of curiosity and uncertainty. His gaze roamed hungrily over your body, settling on your slick folds, and he hummed a low note of approval. Slowly, he extended his hand, sliding a finger between your inner folds before teasingly flicking your sensitive clit. 

A sharp gasp escaped your lips as you doubled over, almost collapsing onto his lap. You could see the wicked glint in his eyes as he observed the slickness on his finger before bringing it to his mouth, tasting you. “Hmm,” he hummed, a smirk played on his lips. “Lay on my lap, stomach down.”

Your mind spun with a mix of confusion and apprehension. You complied, laying across his lap, your gaze dropping to the floor, heart racing. You felt the heat of his hard cock pressing against your side, and his hand began to stroke the gentle curve of your ass, sending sparks of desire coursing through you. 

“Have you ever been punished before, my dear?” he asked suddenly, his tone teasing yet serious. You hesitated, unsure of how to respond. “Have you ever been spanked before?” he corrected himself with a soft chuckle. 

Confusion clouded your thoughts as you shook your head. “N-no, my mama and papa never laid a hand on me like that,” you admitted quietly, unsure where Alastor was going with this. 

“Ah, it all makes sense now,” he mused, his hand continuing to caress your ass, fingers grazing your drenched folds. The teasing touch was just enough to send waves of heat pooling in your core, igniting a desperate need within you. You wanted him to delve deeper, to flick your clit until you were begging for release. 

“Let me give you a lesson on what we do to spoiled princesses,” Alastor remarked, his voice dripping with mock cheer. 

Before you could utter a word, you felt a sharp slap against your left cheek. The sting radiated through you, a mix of pain and unexpected pleasure that made tears prick at your eyes. You stifled a cry, fingers clenching at his pants in a desperate bid for control. 

“Does it hurt?” he asked, his tone devoid of any sympathy, only curiosity. 

You nodded vigorously, the truth washing over you. 

“Excellent,” he replied, a smirk curling at his lips before he raised his hand again, delivering another sharp slap to the same spot. The pain was intense, yet thrilling, and you felt a tear escape, rolling down your cheek as your body reacted in ways you never thought it could. 

Before you could beg him to stop, you felt his fingers plunge deep into your core, rubbing and massaging against your walls. A sharp gasp escaped your lips, quickly morphing into a heady moan as your body instinctively wiggled, seeking more of his touch. The slick sound of his fingers squelching inside you mixed with your cries, blending the initial pain into a dizzying rush of pleasure. 

Suddenly, an insatiable hunger ignited within you. You hadn’t realized how exquisitely pain and pleasure could intertwine. “Please, sir, m-more,” you mewled, unable to hold back the desperate need spilling from your lips as you turned your tear-streaked face to meet his gaze. Your heart raced, overwhelmed by the heady blend of emotions and sensations. 

Alastor’s fingers stilled inside you, his eyes darkening as they traced over your expression, drinking in your vulnerability. The corners of his lips twitched with satisfaction, and you felt the heat of his cock twitching insistently against your side. In a swift motion, he withdrew his fingers, pulling you up and manoeuvring you to straddle his lap. 

Blood rushed to your head, the dull ache of arousal amplifying every sensation. Your breath hitched as you felt the thick tip of his cock pressed against your entrance. With a firm pull, he sank you down onto him, filling you completely to the hilt. 

A scream tore from your throat, a mix of shock and bliss as the delicious stretch enveloped you. Tears streamed down your cheeks, mingling with the sharp, heat of pleasure as his cock throbbed against your walls. The arousal only mounted as Alastor leaned back against the couch, his mouth slightly parted, eyes fluttering shut in bliss. 

Moments later, he opened his darkened eyes. His fingers released your hips, and he commanded, “Move.” 

You hesitated, adjusting to his size, then began to lift yourself up, savouring the emptiness he left behind before sinking back down onto him again. The rhythm felt exhilarating as you rode him, bare and exposed before his hungry gaze. 

His hands found their way to your nipples, fingers grazing your sensitive skin, teasing your areolas with gentle circles. The electric pleasure shot through you, urging you to move faster, each rise and fall sending jolts of pleasure through your body. As you sank back down, he pinched your nipples hard, the sensation exploding through you. 

A sharp cry escaped your lips, mingling with a wave of decadent arousal that crashed over you. Desperation consumed you as you began to grind against his hip, your clit pulsing with need, craving attention, longing for the release that only he could provide. 

“My, you certainly do handle pain in quite a strange way,” Alastor said, his breath coming in heavy, lust-filled gasps as his hips jerked up against you. “Though—hah—I can’t say that I dislike it,” he murmured, a wicked grin spreading across his lips. 

He pulled your body forward, pressing his face between the soft, inviting curves of your breasts. His hips took full control, pistoning his thick cock deep inside you. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure rippling through your body, rising in a staccato rhythm that matched the desperate cries spilling from your lips. His teeth sank into the tender flesh of your breast, and you felt a delicious blend of pain and elation that blurred the lines of your pleasure. 

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, clinging to him as he bit down harder, his hunger for you evident in the fierce way he held you. Finally, he let go, his breath hot and ragged as he revealed his lips stained crimson with your blood. 

Your heart raced as you looked down, seeing the deep teeth mark oozing with warmth. His tongue flicked across his lower lip, savouring the taste of you as he pressed you even deeper onto his cock. A deep, throaty moan escaped him, the sound raw and primal. 

His eyes glinted with a dangerous hunger, and he bit into the underside of your breast once more, drawing another cry from your lips as his cock throbbed insistently against your walls. Instantly, the world flipped, and your back hit the cold floor, the shock sending sparks of mind-numbing pleasure coursing through you. Alastor's every bite left a blazing trail of sensation, a heady mix of sharp pain and bliss. His teeth glistened with crimson, and he began to thrust into you with desperation, each powerful movement sending waves of euphoria radiating from your core. 

It was overwhelming—the way he drilled into you, the way his hips slapped against your clit with a relentless intensity. The wet sound of skin against skin filled the air, mingling with the cacophony of his moans and your cries. Just as he sank his teeth into your other shoulder, you felt a blinding rush of pleasure, a bright flash that took you over the edge. You shattered around him, your body convulsing in waves of pure bliss as he continued to thrust, driving you deeper into ecstasy. 

Sobbing with a mixture of overstimulation and overwhelming emotion, drool trickled from your lips as tears flowed freely down your cheeks. You clung to him, the intense heat of your orgasm washing over you in a torrent. When he finally withdrew, Alastor positioned himself above you, pumping his cock vigorously, each stroke pulling a raw, primal growl from deep within him. The gleaming head of his cock pointed toward you, dripping with unsatisfied lust. 

With a low, guttural sound, he released himself, spurting hot, milky liquid that mingled with the crimson of your blood, swirling together into a beautiful shade of pink. The warmth splattered across your face, your neck, and trickled down the curve of your chest, marking you as his. 

When he finally let go, he gazed down at you with a mix of desire and admiration. “My, how pretty,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust, his eyes glazed and wild with an unquenchable hunger. 

Your heart raced at his words, and you lay still, the remnants of your orgasm still pulsing through you, each throb a reminder of the heat and sting left by his bites and slaps.

You didn’t dare speak as you waited for Alastor to gather himself, bracing for the inevitable moment he would fire you. Instead, he did something entirely unexpected. With a slow, deliberate movement, he traced his cum, now mingled with your blood, transforming into a light pink hue across your bottom lip. The sight sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and something more debased stirring within you. 

He then penetrated your mouth with his finger, the salty, bitter taste flooding your senses. You could taste the metallic tang, and a whisper of disgust escaped your lips as the awful flavour overwhelmed you. 

“I expect to see you tomorrow,” he murmured softly, his gaze locked on your lips, hypnotized as he pistoned his finger in and out of your mouth. Each movement was both gentle and demanding, making you feel utterly exposed. “Perhaps I underestimated your usefulness,” he continued, pressing down on your tongue, forcing you to swallow around him. “If you don’t come, I’ll assume you quit.” 

As he withdrew his fingers, glistening with your saliva, he brought them to his own, licking them clean with a slow, deliberate motion, his eyes boring into yours with an intensity that made your heart race. The way he savoured you, relishing the taste, ignited a forbidden thrill deep within you. 

“Understood,” you managed to say, your voice hoarse yet tinged with submission. The soft addition of “sir” fell from your lips like an offering, and the way his eyes darkened in response sent a jolt of excitement through you. 

His grin stretched wider, a predatory gleam flashing across his features, making you feel like prey caught in the gaze of a hungry predator. You were trapped, utterly captivated by his dominance, and yet there was a part of you that craved it—craved him.

And deep down, you knew you would let him devour you whole, wouldn’t you?

Follow #vexitober 2024 to read my questionable kink/fluff stories!

[saphiccarma]

- Sweet Thing Pt.2

Relationships - Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary - For the first time in months, Agatha and Rio take you off the ship and into the human world. Of course, you had to go and ruin it once you were given a chance.

Warnings: Overall a little bit of dark themes, but its not obvious.

A/N: Y'all could prob guess this already, but this story is going to be kinda dark. Stuff like stockholm syndrome. Just letting y'all know. Reblogs and comments make me happy :>

Weeks had gone by, maybe even months. You weren't sure how long they held you there. The pain was never any less, you still longed to be home and with your family again. To feel the cool flush of sea water against your skin. Not once had they even let you get close to the water, no matter how much you begged and pleaded. It made your heart ache and tears swell in your eyes whenever they brought you out onto the deck.

It felt like they were taunting you. The wind would blast in your face and for once, you would get a taste of what it would be like to be free. If you were close enough to land then you would be able to see the birds as they dived for fish. Whales would surface every now and then and you wondered if they were the ones you knew.

Little by little, you began to understand the ship more. The people on it. They were a bundle of dangerous and sweet, all mixed together and thrown onto the boat. You weren't sure how you felt about being around them. It's not like you had a choice.

Alice was one of your favorites. Her brown eyes were dark, a deep color that resembled the chocolate she gave you once. Most times she kept her hair pure black with red stripes at the front, pinned halfway up, letting some dangle around her neck. The few times you saw it down completely, showed you how wavy it could be, flowing like the waves in the ocean. Alice usually stood in the back of the group, silent and watching, but she made sure to smile in your direction or give you a simple nod.

Lillia was probably the oldest on the ship - skin wrinkled and slightly tanned from being out in the sun so much. She took care of most of the cooking, skilled hands making some delicious, yet odd, food. Her hair was an interesting mix of white and various shades of gray, with hazel eyes that were always so comforting. Her voice soothed you when you panicked once, neither Agatha nor Rio around, and your breathing uncontrollable. Like the whale songs that you heard under the sea, Lillia had a way of calming you down.

Your relationship with Jen was odd. She was gorgeous, skin smooth as a turtle's shell and beauty similar to the corals that blossomed near your home. You hated how much she scrutinized you, eyes scanning you up and down with a weird sort of disgust. Despite that, there were times where she felt familiar. She would dab at your face with a wet cloth, cleaning off the blood from where Agatha punched you. In the end, you decided that you liked her enough.

Billy was your favorite. He lets you braid his fluffy black hair into tiny little braids that stuck out, reminding you of your sisters. One of your favorite things was that he brought you entertainment whenever you spent time locked in your room after 'bad behavior'. (That mostly included being snarky or trying to jump off). Once, he brought cards, little pieces of paper cut down into squares with shapes and symbols colored red and black, and he showed you how to play games with them. Billy was there for you, bringing a source of comfort when you missed the one you truly wanted.

Then there was Agatha and Rio-

Rio whose’ s nails dug into your cheek. Rio who twisted it and squeezed until your mouth was opened. Rio whose eyes were dark brown, calculating and observing every movement you made,

"Are you paying attention?" A red flush crept onto your cheeks as you glared at her, shifting on your knees. You had been sitting on the floor for forever, the wood digging into your skin every time you shifted the slightest, but Rio never let you up.

Her boot was wedged between your legs, keeping them spread apart as she examined you. Lately, Rio had taken a particular interest in studying your anatomy - which you learned was quite different from human anatomy. Her fingers pressed down on your tongue until spit pooled on her fingers, coating them in the wet liquid. Even as you flinched back from when she pressed down hard, Rio didn't let up until there was a pool of saliva. Shivering once she finally withdrew, still holding your mouth open with her other hand, Rio snagged a bottle from the desk next to her. She placed it under your chin then tilted your head down until your spit was dribbling into the cup.

Rio shifted her boot up, the hard tip pressing tight against the sensitive spot between your thighs. A small huff of air escaped your nose as you glared at her. All you got in response to your sound of annoyance was a teasing smirk and a raised eyebrow.

As of late, Rio had been taking you to her 'study area' as she called it. It was a room near the back of the ship, secluded from everyone else and all other places. The only thing audible from there was the soft sound of the ocean moving and rocking the ship. The constant movement of back and forth was one of the few things you liked, the movement lulling you to sleep when it evaded you during many nights. Stacks of books inside the shelves lined the walls, a few odd trinkets shoved between them. A desk was pressed in between two of the shelves, a chair sitting behind it. Otherwise, the room was empty.

You hated being back here, alone with Rio, where there was no one who knew what was going on. The thought sent shivers down your spine and made you twist uncomfortably when you were ack here with her. Sometimes Agatha would join the two of you. That did nothing to make you feel better.

On queue, the door was opened, a bit louder than Agatha would have. And based on Rio's glare, it wasn't the blue-eyed woman. Rio sighed, annoyed, and removed the bottle and her hand from your skin. She set the bottle, filled with your saliva, onto the desk behind her.

"Billy," her words were cool, her boot slowly dragged out, but not before shoving it up one last time, "What do you want?" You were forced to suppress a whimper at her harsh movement, biting down on your lip and giving her wide eyes.  

There was a little spluttering from behind you, "I-uhm- Agatha sent me to grab you. We're docking soon."

That made you perk up, your pointy ears alert for whatever Rio had to say next. She waved her hand at Billy dismissively and there was only a second before the door fell shut again. Rio grinned, the sight almost feral, but you knew it was normal, and she bent down so that she was eye-level with you. There was a glint in her eyes you didn’t like.

"It's time to go on land, pet."

^__________^

Humans bustled about you, and it wasn't so different from the undersea markets that sold oysters and clams, pearls and coral necklaces. Your mother loved to take you there for your birthday, buy you anything you wanted. There were various wooden shops set up, people shouting into the street and waving their products around with excitement. Billy had given you a quick debrief on what the human markets were like so you wouldn't be completely surprised, but it didn't help with the shock that rolled through you.

Your fingers twitched nervously when someone knocked into your shoulder, not bothering to look back and say something. Agatha's grip on your arm made everything worse, her fingers digging into your skin hard enough to bruise later on. She never once let up, even when you tried to pull away because it was too much. It was all so loud compared to what you were used to. The ship was quiet, Jen and Agatha arguing being the loudest sounds there. In the sea, it wasn't exactly either loud or quiet, but you were used to that type of noise. The whales were singing and dolphins talking while fish swam around.

But this was different.

People yelled at one another, carrying large baskets around where they carried their goods - too focused on themselves. You stumbled over your own two feet more than once every time Agatha tugged harshly on your forearm. She had dressed you up in a pair of pants, loose ones that swished and made dirt fly with every step you took. A loose blouse was thrown over your head, the edges nearly dangling over your shoulders and you constantly had to push it back up. Rio threw a pair of sandals at you just before you left the boat.

Being near the port was the most comforting part of this experience. It smelled of fresh fish and the salt of the ocean was more prominent. For a moment, you were able to pretend you were back in the water. That bubble burst when Agatha told a hold of your arm and dragged you into the crowded streets.

Tall buildings, taller than the ones you had merely observed when you were still home, boxed you in from all sides. People stood atop those buildings, watering their plants or chatting with one another. Everything here was constantly moving. Not in the way the sea did though, the sea flowed with a practiced and familiar flow. People were odd.

Agatha stopped at a stall, and for the briefest of moments, her hand let go of you. Without thinking much, you took off, feet kicking up dirt with every frantic step. Running was still new to you, but with the hope of freedom you got the hang of it. You shoved through people. They gave you shouts of protest. Rio and Agatha were hot on your heels, you could tell. Once, one of their fingers ghosted along your blouse, tugging. Desperation helped you rip free. The near chance with capture again spurred you on more, picking up speed.

Taking a sudden right, you skidded and almost lost your balance. Agatha shouted behind you, her words a sharp warning. You knew you should listen, it would be smart, but home could be so, so close. You followed the sound of crashing waves and seagulls cawing. Wind whipped in your face, similar to the way currents would rush past you in the water. Oh, you could be there so soon. Your hair got into your eyes, and you brushed it away frantically, you had to be able to see right now.

The smell of salt became stronger the farther you ran. You were almost there. Birds crowed above you, almost cheering you on. The finish line was right there. You could see the ocean now, the crashing waves and the wet sand. Slapping against your skin, the sandals felt restricting but you had no time to take them off. You burst from the confines of the buildings that had walled you. Arms pumping and pushing yourself to run fast, you were almost there.

The ocean was right there. You could be home. Mother and Father would be waiting with your siblings, eager to welcome you back. Tears of joy pooled in your eyes at the thought. All you had to do was get deep enough to transform and then you were free.

A sudden weight on your back stopped you. You fell face first into the wet sand, the water lapping at your face - you were so close. A body was on top of yours, holding you down. A scream, one of pure desperation and frustration left your mouth as you thrashed.

"Calm down," Agatha's voice was the coldest you had ever heard her as she pushed your face into the sand. You twisted around, somehow managing to get on your back, and spat sand from your face. Your hands clawed at Agatha's shoulders, trying to shove her back, but she merely held firm. Agatha waited it out while you struggled and screamed, not caring for the eyes that began to stare. Tears streamed down your face, wet and mingling with the sand that clung to your skin. "Calm down." She repeated it, firmer this time.

Your breath was coming in ragged breaths as the fight left you. A broken sob came from your lips as your head fell back, eyes falling shut. The waves licked at your hair, the water a small comfort in this moment. It was cold. If you were just a little further in then you would be able to hear some of the sea creatures. Maybe the fish would circle your body, welcoming you home. But that wasn't happening. Instead, Agatha was hauling you up, her grip somehow even tighter than before. You cried in pain at how harshly she yanked you up. Agatha scoffed and rolled her eyes, but she did not apologize.  

"Never," Her face was right up against yours as she said the word, breath hot and eyes narrowed, "Do that again. Rio take her back to the ship." Agatha threw you at Rio, the other woman catching you with a small smirk. Her hands landed on your hips, smiling down at you as if you weren't crying.

"Aww don't cry," Rio's thumb wiped away your tears, and that was all you got before she was dragging you away. The fight returned to you for a moment, and you struggled, but Rio merely swept your feet out from under you and threw you over her shoulder. You gave a surprised yelp, her shoulder bones digging into you as she walked back towards the ship. Your fists pounded on her back, legs kicking as you tried to break free. Freedom was so close. It was so close.

Marching up the deck of the ship, Rio nodded to people passing. You felt like a child on her shoulders. Maybe they saw you as one. Rio kicked the door to below deck open, ducking so as to not hit her head on the frame and you had to pause in your struggle to do the same. She carried you down the hallway before reaching your room. Once again kicking the door in, she finally set you down. There was hardly a moment for you to recover from the harsh landing, being thrown onto the bed, before the door was being slammed shut.

You heard the telltale sound of the key locking it.

Scrambling up from the bed you pounded your fists on the door, "Rio please!" Your voice was strained due to the tears that ran down your face, "Let me out!" And you begged. And begged. And begged. Even after you knew she was long gone, you sunk down in front of the door. Your hands trembled and your breathing was shaky as you gasped, trying to get more air in. You screamed until your voice was raw and cracking with every word.

You were so close to home and now it was just gone.

Taglist: @vigilante24ish

[zzencat]

Why Am I So Hard On Myself? - Timeless ⏳

Breathe and choose. Left to right.

Kinda doing this one on a whim but figured it could help anyone who needs to be heard and have their doubts or feelings validated. You’re not alone. Does it say anything else about you?

TO ENHANCE ACCURACY BEFORE CHOOSING: Clear your mind. Time is now patient and still. Close your eyes, inhale deeply, fill your chest up to the fullest, feel the soft air brush up against the ridges of your nose. Breathe out.

———————————————-

Pile 1 | “no matter how hard i try…”

somehow, something always goes wrong. you always try to salvage what you can, picking up the pieces and trying to make the most of the situation, but maybe the timing is shit, or it isn’t met up to standard. plans ruined, connections gone, opportunities lost. even when all you do is try and try. you might even think “why is this even happening? im only breathing”

small note: while shuffling, it was going pretty nicely then cards started flying out of my hands like fliers on a windy day. it’s a small thing, but to me, it has to do with having constant roadblocks and inconveniences, and that maybe you feel like you’re at your last straw sometimes

you want to be seen for your efforts. at least some acknowledgment that someone knows, sees, and understands that you’re trying. someone to hear you out for once and take you seriously, even if none of what you’d done or contributed has worked before. just acknowledgment would be enough. maybe you’re the only one who recognizes your efforts.

i think you struggle with maintaining career, friendships, or really anything, in general. the foundations laid out might’ve been risky or unstable to begin with so you could question why things don’t last for you. a part of you expects the heartbreak to happen.

it’s crazy bc in this pile, there’s so much…optimism and hope (that might be dying out or feels like it has already) that one day something will work out

your heart isn’t completely closed and you’ll still have it open to accept things, even when you think it shouldn’t. this is what makes you a stronger person. it opens a wide range of doors for you, whether you know it or not. don’t give up.

———————————————————————————————————————

Pile 2 | “look out!”

you’re so used to prioritizing others and putting yourself last. bc of this, you could’ve missed out on many things and lost opportunities

you have a big heart and hella good energy — an abundance of it — but for some reason, it’s rarely spent on yourself

you feel like it’s your responsibility, all of it — to run or lead things, as if it’s all in your hands. to take over when things are about to fall apart. who made it your responsibility to carry the burdens of others? what happens then if they don’t reciprocate or return the same generosity?

all of this energy is being redirected to the wrong places when you should be thinking about yourself too. how can you help others when you can’t even help yourself? how about your own dreams and goals? you’re human too, so you need the care and support as well. your energy doesn’t just grow on trees. put yourself high on your own list. make yourself a priority for once. book a spa day and have someone else take over for the day.

——————————————————————————————————-

Pile 3 | *whistling*

for this pile, it seems to be more family related, where your pursuits, outlooks, or the way you treat yourself is how you were treated growing up. there’s some connection to pile 2 as well, so there could be some messages in pile 2 for you if it caught your eye

parent(s)/caretakers put a lot of pressure on you with crazy expectations or nitpicking, sometimes maybe even emotional manipulation like guilt tripping

there’s a need to take more charge in your life, especially in the creative and emotional corners of it, and also to create more meaningful and deep connections

some people in this pile might be easily defensive as well too. in this lifetime, you’re gonna learn to put your guard down, bc perhaps you’d grown up feeling trapped and forced into a mold you didn’t belong in

you could struggle with emotional commitment or generally sticking to one thing. there are probably too many things you wanna do or end up trying at least once. relationships might not last too long. there could even be a subconscious fear that you won’t be able to meet someone else’s emotional needs or standards.

you’re very spontaneous and prob get bored easily. also prob struggled academically (ex: having a hard time understand in subjects, sticking to one thing/constantly changing interests or majors, feeling trapped, giving up)

you’re lowkey a perfectionist. perhaps you’re never satisfied bc you grew up with that kind of dissatisfaction on yourself, likely by adults or maybe just things you’d picked up from adolescence

at some point, you might reflect back and feel disappointed in yourself, even if you’d just had the time of your life. it seems like this pile indulges in more superficial activities/substances to fill in the void in that chest

—————————————————————————

ending teddy note: hey guys! been a while but here’s a pac for ya!! i think this is a great pac if you don’t have someone to acknowledge the potential issues going on in your life. thank you for taking the time to read this and i really hope you enjoy it! rmr to take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. ciao!! :P

i would appreciate the feedback! lemme know what you got or think in the comments or reblogs 🦾

- The Tedster

[lila-lou]

✨High School Sweetheart - Pt 2✨

Summary: You come face-to-face with a ghost from your past—Dean Winchester. Five years after he vanished from your life without a word, and now he´s here. But neither you nor he are teenagers anymore.

-Listen to "Chance with you"-

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Language, ANGST, Fluff, poor fucking dean

Word Count: 6231

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 💙

It barely took ten minutes of sitting beside Dean in the Impala before Sam, watching his brother’s slightly dazed expression, finally broke the silence. Sam’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he noticed the faint blush still lingering on Dean’s cheeks, his older brother biting his lip, lost somewhere deep in thought, the edges of a grin tugging at his mouth.

“Still really pretty, huh?”, Sam mumbled, a slight smirk pulling at his own lips.

Dean blinked, as if snapped out of a daydream, glancing at Sam with a mixture of irritation and sheepishness. “Shut up, Sammy”, he muttered, though the flush on his face deepened as he tried to focus back on the road.

But Sam wasn’t about to let it go that easily. “Oh, come on, Dean. The look on your face says it all. You’re practically glowing”. He leaned back in his seat, watching his brother with a look that was both curious and amused. “I mean, I knew she was special, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this”.

Dean let out a breath, shaking his head, though he couldn’t hide the small smile still playing at his lips. “Yeah, well…”. He trailed off, running a hand over the steering wheel as if it could ground him, as if the familiar leather beneath his fingers could keep him from spiraling into the memories of you. “She’s… I don’t know, Sammy. She’s always been different”.

Sam nodded, a knowing look in his eyes. “She got to you, huh? Even back then”.

Dean let out a rough chuckle, rolling his eyes at Sam’s all-too-knowing expression, but he couldn’t shake the warmth spreading in his chest, even if he tried to hide it behind his usual bravado.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get all mushy on me”, he shot back, giving Sam a light punch on the arm. “Just ‘cause I’ve got a soft spot doesn’t mean you need to turn into Dr. Phil over here”.

Sam grinned, rubbing his arm dramatically. “Hey, I’m just saying, it’s kinda nice to see you like this. Kinda reminds me you’re human after all”.

Dean scoffed, his cheeks darkening a bit more as he focused on the road, though a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Alright, smartass. Keep it up, and I’ll throw you out of this car faster than you can say ‘college boy’”.

But Sam wasn’t about to let up, not when his brother was in rare form, and he leaned back with a smirk. “Right. Go ahead, toss me out. Maybe I’ll find my way back to that little bookstore she’s got. Tell her all about how you kept looking at that card she gave you when you thought I wasn’t looking”.

Dean’s head whipped toward Sam, his expression caught between shock and embarrassment, and he quickly cleared his throat, shifting in his seat as he tried to play it cool. “Pfft, the card? Didn’t even realize I had it”. He shrugged, feigning nonchalance, though his fingers instinctively brushed against the pocket of his jacket, where he’d tucked it safely away.

Sam chuckled, shaking his head. “Right. Like you’re not gonna call her first chance you get”.

Dean cleared his throat, trying to shake off the knowing look Sam was throwing his way. “I’ve got bigger things to worry about than a card, Sammy”, he muttered, eyes fixed on the road.

Sam smirked, crossing his arms as he settled back in his seat. “Uh-huh. Bigger things like… calling her? Or just figuring out how you’re gonna manage to stay away?”.

Dean shot him a quick glare. “You know, you’re real mouthy for someone who’s got a free ride”.

But Sam wasn’t letting up. “Look, Dean, all I’m saying is… we’re still in town, at least until we figure out what’s going on with this case. Not like you’d be going out of your way”. He raised his eyebrows, his tone both teasing and genuine. “Maybe it’s a sign, you know?“.

Dean scoffed again, rolling his eyes as he tried to keep his focus on the road ahead, though the twitch of a grin betrayed him. “A sign? Really? What’s next, Sammy, you pulling tarot cards out of the glove box?”.

Sam shrugged, a smirk still lingering on his face. “I don’t know, Dean. You’ve always been the one to follow your instincts. And I think we both know this isn’t just another hunt”.

Dean let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head. “You really are going for that Dr. Phil gig, aren’t you?”. But the usual bite in his tone wasn’t there. “Look, it’s not like I’m dying to make her life any more complicated than it needs to be. You saw her—she’s doing fine. Better than fine, actually. So, maybe it’s better if we just leave her out of all this”.

“Right, sure”, Sam replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Because you looked real ‘fine’ back there when you were about to drive off again. Totally ready to let her go”.

Dean shot him a glare, but it didn’t have much heat behind it. “Just because I want her to be okay doesn’t mean I need to go barging back into her life, alright? She’s got her shop, her routine. She deserves someone… better. Not someone who has to leave town at a moment’s notice”.

Sam leaned forward, his expression softening, but his eyes remained steady on his brother. “Or maybe she deserves the truth. You know, the Dean who sticks around long enough to let her decide for herself if she wants you in her life”.

Dean clenched his jaw, trying to shrug off Sam’s words, but something about them hit too close to home. He kept his gaze fixed ahead, but his grip on the wheel tightened, his shoulders tense. “I don’t know, man”, he murmured, voice softer now, almost hesitant. “I left her once. Not exactly the best track record”.

“And yet, she still gave you her number, didn’t she?”, Sam countered, his voice gentler now, but unyielding. “Seems like she’s already made part of that decision. Maybe all you have to do is follow through”.

Dean stayed silent, his gaze distant as he considered Sam’s words. The road stretched out ahead of them, but the weight of what Sam was saying hung thick in the air. He knew his brother was right—that he’d only be lying to himself if he tried to brush this off as a coincidence or some passing feeling.

Finally, he let out a low chuckle, a half-smile tugging at his lips. “You know, you’re getting a little too wise for your own good, college boy”.

Sam shrugged, leaning back with a satisfied grin. “Just looking out for you, big brother”.

-Flashback-

It was a crisp autumn afternoon, a few days into the new school year, and Sam had already noticed the way Dean’s gaze lingered on you whenever you crossed paths in the hall. Dean would lean against his locker or sit on the edge of a bench outside, looking casual, pretending he was just minding his own business. But Sam saw the way his brother’s eyes tracked your every move, the subtle shift in his posture whenever you were near, as if he was debating making a move but could never quite bring himself to.

Sam knew Dean well enough to know his brother wasn’t one to hold back, not usually. Dean had always been confident, sometimes cocky, and had no trouble talking to girls when he wanted to. But with you, it was different. Sam saw something softer in the way Dean looked at you—a rare uncertainty, almost like he was afraid to ruin something he hadn’t even started yet.

So Sam, always the quiet observer, decided to give his brother a little nudge. With a smirk, he took matters into his own hands, slipping a note into each of your bags. He kept it simple, setting up a “chance meeting” during lunch.

Neither of you ever found out who had orchestrated it, and Sam never breathed a word about it afterward, but he remembered watching from a distance as it all played out.

The lunch bell rang, and you wandered over to the spot Sam had mentioned in the note—an empty table under a big oak tree at the far edge of the school grounds. As you approached, your gaze landed on Dean, already sitting there, idly picking at the sandwich in front of him. When he looked up and saw you, a flicker of surprise crossed his face, quickly replaced by a crooked grin, though you could see a faint blush on his cheeks.

“Oh, hey”, he said, a bit too casually, his voice carrying a hint of nervousness you hadn’t expected. “Didn’t think anyone else knew about this spot”.

You smiled, feeling the same odd flutter in your chest that had been there since the first time you’d noticed him in the halls. “Yeah, me neither”, you replied, sitting down across from him. Your hands fidgeted as you unwrapped your sandwich, and you risked a glance up, catching his eyes on you.

The two of you settled into a quiet, awkward rhythm, stealing glances and giving each other shy smiles. It was strange—usually, you could hold a conversation with anyone, but something about him, about this moment, left you a little breathless, as if words would somehow ruin it. So instead, you both sat there, eating in silence, lost in the simplicity of each other’s presence.

After a few bites, Dean cleared his throat, his voice low and a little rough. “So… you’re (Y/N), right?”.

You nodded, trying to ignore the way your cheeks heated up as he said your name. “Yeah. And you’re Dean?”.

He chuckled softly, nodding. “Yeah. Dean Winchester”.

Silence settled between you again, but this time it was comfortable, both of you just taking in each other’s presence. The occasional breeze rustled the leaves overhead, casting dappled shadows across the table, and the scent of autumn filled the air—fresh, crisp, with a hint of warmth from the fading afternoon sun.

Every so often, your eyes would meet, and you’d exchange a shy smile, like you were both trying to figure out why this moment felt so special. For a while, neither of you felt the need to say anything. You just sat there, grinning like two kids with a secret, your sandwiches forgotten.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of glances and soft smiles, Dean let out a breath, shaking his head with a small, almost bashful smile. “So… you come here often?”, he asked, his tone teasing, though there was a hint of sincerity underneath.

You laughed, the sound breaking the quiet around you. “Guess I do now”, you replied, meeting his eyes with a smile.

And in that moment, something unspoken passed between you—a silent understanding that you both felt something real, something new.

As the lunch bell rang again, neither of you wanted to leave, but you both stood, reluctantly gathering your things. Dean gave you one last look, his gaze warm, a quiet promise lingering there. You exchanged a small wave, parting with barely a handful of words spoken, but it didn’t matter. The connection was there, something simple and pure that you’d remember for years to come.

And as you walked back to class, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed—that, somehow, in that quiet moment under the old oak tree, you’d found someone who might just mean something.

-End of the flashback-

The memory faded, but a faint smile lingered on Dean’s face as he drove, lost in thought, his fingers still brushing the edge of your card in his pocket once more. That first lunch under the oak tree—so simple, barely a conversation at all, really. But it was one of those memories that had stuck with him all these years. He hadn’t known then how much it would mean to him, how that day would be the start of something he’d never really shake. He could still picture the way you’d smiled at him, shy but genuine, the way your laughter had slipped out, breaking the quiet like sunlight streaming through a crack in the clouds.

“You’re remembering it, aren’t you?”, Sam asked, his voice quiet, softer now, like he knew he was treading on something sacred.

Dean blinked, pulled back to the present, his hand dropping from his pocket as he cleared his throat. “What are you talking about?”, he muttered, but his face betrayed him, that faint, far-off look still in his eyes.

Sam chuckled, shaking his head. “Come on, Dean. Your first meeting. I know you remember it as well as I do. You were looking at her like she was something you’d been searching for”.

Dean rolled his eyes, but there was no real bite to it. “Alright, Nostradamus, dial it down a notch”. He hesitated, glancing at his brother, a half-smile tugging at his lips. “Wait… you were watching?”.

Sam shrugged, feigning innocence but failing miserably. “Maybe. I mean, someone had to play matchmaker. You weren’t exactly making any moves on your own”.

Dean’s jaw dropped slightly, a look of realization dawning over him as he put the pieces together. “Wait a minute. That note… You’re telling me you set that up?”.

Sam grinned, unapologetic, as he raised his hands in mock surrender. “What can I say? I knew you needed a little push”.

Dean shook his head, a mixture of disbelief and grudging appreciation crossing his face. “You were fifteen, Sam. Already sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong”.

Sam just laughed. “Hey, don’t knock it. Without me, you two would probably still be stealing glances from across the hallway”.

Dean rolled his eyes, a low chuckle slipping out despite himself. “Guess I owe you one, then”, he muttered, his voice a little softer, his gaze drifting back to the road. The thought of that quiet lunch, the way you’d both sat there smiling like idiots, felt as fresh as if it had happened yesterday.

He fell silent, the weight of the past settling over him again, that strange mix of regret and nostalgia twisting in his chest. Sam watched him for a moment, his expression softening, sensing his brother’s quiet struggle.

“You know”, Sam said, his voice gentle, “maybe this is your chance, Dean. To do things differently. You’ve got the card. You’re still here. It’s not like you’re running out of reasons to reach out to her”.

Dean’s grip on the wheel tightened, his jaw working as he wrestled with the decision that had been simmering under the surface since they’d left the bar. The logic was simple enough, and he knew Sam was right. But the thought of opening that door again, of letting you back in, was equal parts terrifying and thrilling.

After a long stretch of silence, Dean let out a breath, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “Maybe”, he said quietly, his tone carrying a touch of hope he didn’t often let himself feel.

The evening settled around the small, dimly lit motel room, the hum of traffic from the nearby road blending with the low rumble of the TV in the background. Sam was already fast asleep, sprawled across one of the twin beds, his breaths steady and even. But Dean lay awake, staring at the ceiling, his thoughts drifting back to you—back to those lunch breaks you’d shared, the quiet moments that had managed to etch themselves so deeply into his mind that they felt like yesterday.

-Flashback-

It had been a week since that first lunch together under the oak tree, and somehow, it had become an unspoken routine. Every day, you’d find him waiting for you in the same spot, and each time you’d sit across from him, settling into the easy rhythm that had formed between you. Each day, it was a little less awkward, the smiles a little brighter, the silences a little more comfortable. And each day, Dean felt something in him relax, as if the weight he carried had lightened, if only for those few minutes with you.

On this particular day, you’d shown up with two hot chocolates, handing him one with a shy smile. He took it, surprised but grateful, the warmth of the cup seeping into his cold hands.

“I thought you might need it”, you said, your voice soft, almost teasing as you sat across from him, watching his reaction.

Dean took a long sip, his eyes twinkling with a familiar mischief as he set the cup down, looking at you over the rim. “You know, you keep bringing me stuff, and people might start thinking we’re a thing”, he teased, his voice carrying that trademark Dean charm, but with a warmth you hadn’t quite heard before.

You rolled your eyes, chuckling as you pulled your own cup closer. “Oh, please. They probably already think that”. You tried to keep your voice light, but there was an unmistakable blush creeping up your cheeks, which only seemed to amuse him more.

“Guess I’ll just have to get used to all the rumors then, huh?”, he replied, a faint blush of his own coloring his cheeks, though he played it off with a casual shrug. “Could be worse. There’s no one else I’d rather get a hot chocolate from”.

You bit your lip, feeling your heart stutter in your chest as you looked at him, his grin still lingering, his gaze holding steady on you. Dean had this way about him, this mix of cockiness and mystery that set him apart from everyone else. He was older, and though you didn’t know much about his life, there was something in his eyes—something quiet, something that hinted at secrets, like he’d lived more than anyone you’d ever met.

And somehow, all of it—his smirk, his laugh, that intense, guarded gaze—it made you feel giddy and nervous all at once, like you were balancing on the edge of something you couldn’t quite name.

You cleared your throat, trying to shake the feeling, but your voice still came out softer, a little breathless. “Well, guess I’ll just have to keep up the hot chocolate supply then, huh?”.

Dean could feel his own heartbeat pick up, thudding against his ribcage as he looked at you, but he kept his expression casual. He wasn’t about to let on that just sitting here, watching you smile and laugh, was enough to make him feel… well, a little unsteady. This wasn’t supposed to be part of the plan. He was just here for a few weeks, maybe less, keeping his head down, blending in, not getting too attached. And yet, here he was, heartbeat racing, feeling like he was balancing on the edge of something he hadn’t prepared for.

“Guess I’ll just have to keep showing up, then”, he replied, his voice light, though there was an unmistakable warmth in his eyes as he looked at you. “I mean, can’t say no to free hot chocolate”.

You laughed, shaking your head, and the sound sent a warmth through him he couldn’t quite explain. He glanced down at the cup in his hands, trying to hide the slight blush creeping up his neck, but he couldn’t resist looking back up at you, his gaze softening despite himself.

“Not just here for the hot chocolate, though”, he added, the words slipping out before he could stop them. He cleared his throat, trying to play it off with a shrug, but he knew he’d already given himself away. “I mean, the company’s not too bad either”.

Your cheeks flushed more, and you bit your lip, a small smile tugging at the corner of your mouth as you looked down, trying to hide your own reaction. That small gesture, that shy, quiet smile—it made Dean’s chest tighten, and for a moment, he let himself just watch you, forgetting the rules he’d set for himself.

In those simple lunch breaks, in the way you’d look at him with such unfiltered warmth and kindness, Dean had found something he hadn’t expected: a chance to feel… normal. He hadn’t thought that was even possible anymore. Not with the life he led, not with the weight of everything he knew he’d have to leave behind.

But with you, it was different. You made him want things he’d never thought he could have—a life that wasn’t always on the road, days filled with easy moments and quiet laughter instead of danger and uncertainty. And that scared him, more than he’d admit. Because he knew he wasn’t supposed to want this, wasn’t supposed to get attached. But here he was, feeling his pulse race every time you so much as looked at him.

You glanced up, catching his gaze, and for a second, the two of you just held each other’s stare, the air thick with something unspoken, something fragile but real.

-End of the flashback-

The memory faded, but the feeling lingered, a quiet ache settling in Dean’s chest as he lay in the dark, staring at the motel ceiling. He let out a long breath, his hand rubbing over his face, trying to scrub away the emotions that had crept up on him, emotions he’d buried for so long he’d almost convinced himself they were gone.

But being back in town, seeing you again, had peeled back every layer he’d built to keep those memories at bay. He could still see you as clearly as if no time had passed, that shy smile tugging at the corner of your lips, your gaze soft and sincere in a way that had always made him feel like he was something more than the kid his dad had dragged from town to town, always moving, never staying. And those lunches—just a few stolen moments under that oak tree—had been the closest thing he’d ever had to a taste of normal. They’d left him wanting a life he’d known he could never keep.

Dean let out a low, humorless chuckle, running a hand through his hair. “Should’ve known better”, he muttered to himself, voice barely a whisper in the stillness of the room. But there was no denying it: he’d never really stopped wanting that life with you.

He rolled onto his side, trying to settle into sleep, but his hand drifted unconsciously to the pocket of his jacket, where the small card you’d given him rested, a reminder of the day’s events, of the quiet invitation you’d made him.

For a moment, he debated it, running a thumb over the edge of the card, letting the idea linger. But he knew the risks, the life he’d bring crashing down into yours, the way his path never seemed to lead anywhere that didn’t end in heartbreak or goodbye. He didn’t know if he could pull you into that world, not after how hard he’d tried to keep you away from it back then.

But he also knew that maybe, just maybe, he couldn’t keep himself away any longer.

With a sigh, he closed his eyes, the faintest smile tugging at his lips as he whispered to himself, “Guess we’ll see”, before finally drifting into a restless sleep, the image of you still lingering in his mind like a quiet promise.

-Flashback-

Days later, on a quiet night, the kind of evening that felt wrapped in stillness, only broken by the rustle of leaves in the soft breeze and the occasional bark from your dog as he sniffed at everything in sight. You hadn’t expected to see anyone in the park this late, let alone Dean Winchester, slumped on a bench, face bloodied, bruised, and staring into the distance like he was barely holding himself together.

Your heart dropped, the sight of him so raw and shocking that for a moment, you thought you were imagining it. His clothes were torn and stained, dark patches of blood spreading across his shirt and jacket, and his arm was cradled awkwardly, held close to his side in a way that made you realize something was seriously wrong.

He looked up, eyes widening slightly as he registered you standing there, but his expression quickly turned guarded, his gaze flickering away as if he could somehow hide the damage from you by simply looking somewhere else.

“Dean… what happened?”, you whispered, approaching him slowly, the weight of concern heavy in your chest. You felt your dog pull at his leash, sensing your worry, but you held him back, focused on the broken figure in front of you.

Dean forced a smirk, though it came out more like a grimace, his face paling with the effort. “You know, just a rough night”, he muttered, trying to sound casual, like he was brushing off a scraped knee rather than the blood seeping through his shirt. “Thought I’d get in a little brawl. Keeps things interesting”.

You frowned, not buying his attempt at humor for a second. His arm was cradled protectively, and the tension in his face told you he was barely holding it together. He looked exhausted, broken in a way that went beyond the physical injuries, as though something much deeper had been hurt tonight.

“Dean, you’re hurt”. You knelt down beside him, reaching out carefully, but he flinched, pulling back instinctively before realizing it was just you. His defenses dropped, just for a moment, as he looked at you with something raw, almost vulnerable, in his eyes.

He let out a heavy sigh, glancing down at the blood staining his hands. “It’s… it’s nothing. Got into a fight, bit off more than I could chew. Happens”. His voice was rough, edged with the kind of pain he’d clearly been trying to ignore, but there was something else there too—a flicker of shame, as though he didn’t want you to see him like this.

But you could see the weight he was carrying, and the thought of him out here, alone and hurt, made your heart ache. “Come on, we need to get you to a hospital”, you insisted, your voice gentle but firm, reaching out again, this time more determined.

Dean shook his head, a grimace of pain tightening his features. “Can’t”, he said, his voice low. “Too many questions. I’ll… I’ll figure it out”. He tried to push himself up, only to falter, his breath catching as he slumped back onto the bench.

“Dean…”. You felt a surge of frustration and worry, torn between wanting to respect his stubborn independence and the overwhelming need to help him. “If you’re not going to the hospital, then at least let me help. My place isn’t far from here. I’ve got first aid stuff, and… you can clean up. Please”.

He looked at you, and for a moment, he seemed to consider it, his resolve wavering. Finally, he nodded, letting out a breath that seemed to carry the weight of his pride with it. “Alright. Just… just don’t tell anyone, yeah? I don’t need anyone knowing I can’t handle a stupid fight”.

You nodded, a soft smile breaking through your worry. “I won’t say a word”.

With a careful hand, you helped him stand, his weight leaning against you as he took a shaky breath. The walk back was slow, every step a reminder of just how much he’d been trying to mask his pain, but he didn’t complain, didn’t try to pull away.

As you reached your front door, you turned to Dean, pressing a finger to your lips and whispering, “We’ve got to be quiet. My parents are asleep”. He nodded, gritting his teeth against the pain as you helped him navigate the steps, each creak of the floorboards feeling impossibly loud in the stillness of the night. Your dog trotted quietly behind, sensing the need for calm as you led Dean through the dimly lit hallway, past closed doors, and up to your room.

You cracked your bedroom door open and guided him inside, holding your breath as he took in his surroundings. It was a simple room, but every inch of it was distinctly yours—a world apart from the barren motel rooms and grim hunting spots he’d known all his life. Posters lined the walls, a mix of bands and books you loved, and there was a soft, warm glow from the string lights draped along the headboard of your bed. The bedspread was a gentle shade of blue, soft and clean, with a few cozy throw pillows tucked neatly on top. A bookshelf stood by the window, crammed with novels and notebooks, a few favorite titles spilling onto the floor in stacks.

Dean’s eyes widened slightly as he took it all in, his gaze wandering over the posters, the string lights, the soft details. He looked almost out of place, like he’d stumbled into another world—a place where the harshness of his life didn’t belong. He shifted his weight awkwardly, cradling his injured arm, and you could see a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes as he took in the details of your room, details that, to him, seemed to capture pieces of you he hadn’t known yet.

“Nice place”, he muttered, trying to keep his tone light, but you could tell he was genuinely taken aback. It was like he was seeing a different side of the world—one he hadn’t been allowed to experience.

You gave him a small, reassuring smile, whispering, “Thanks”. You motioned for him to sit on the edge of your bed as you quietly opened a drawer, pulling out the first-aid kit and some supplies.

He lowered himself onto the bed slowly, grimacing as he tried to keep his sprained arm steady. The mattress sank slightly under his weight, soft in a way that made him blink in surprise. Everything in your room seemed to have a softness to it—the kind of comfort he wasn’t used to but found himself instinctively leaning into.

Dean watched as you moved around your room with quiet familiarity, pulling out bandages, antiseptic, and a towel. You flicked on the lamp by your bedside, casting a warm glow that softened the edges of the room, and as you sat beside him, his gaze lingered on you, a hint of awe in his eyes.

“Feels… nice in here”, he murmured, almost like he was embarrassed to admit it.

You settled beside him on the bed, the first-aid kit open between you as you prepared a damp cloth, dipping it into a bowl of warm water you’d brought up from the bathroom. Every movement was gentle, careful, your focus fully on him as you began to dab away the dried blood from his face, wiping it away in soft strokes.

Dean watched you, his eyes tracing your expression as you worked. He seemed almost hesitant, like he didn’t quite believe he deserved this kind of care. There was a rawness in his gaze, a hint of vulnerability that made your heart ache as you gently brushed a thumb over his cheek, wiping away a streak of dried blood.

“Does it hurt?”, you asked softly, looking up at him, your eyes filled with quiet concern.

He shook his head, though you knew he was lying. “Not much”, he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper, his gaze fixed on you as if he was trying to memorize every detail. “Guess I’m tougher than I look”.

You gave him a small smile, continuing your work with gentle hands. “I don’t doubt it”, you murmured. “But even tough guys need someone to patch them up sometimes”. Your voice was tender, carrying a softness that felt like a balm on wounds that went deeper than the bruises and cuts on his face.

Dean’s gaze softened, a flicker of something vulnerable slipping through the usual guardedness he wore like armor. He didn’t say anything, just watched as you worked, his eyes following the movement of your hands, the way you handled him with such care, as if he were something fragile.

As you moved closer to clean a cut near his eyebrow, your faces were just inches apart, and you could feel his breath, slow and steady, warm against your skin. He was still, so still that you could almost hear his heartbeat, the air thickening between you as he held your gaze, his expression open in a way he rarely allowed himself to be.

“You’re always this soft?”, he asked, his voice so low it was almost a murmur, his eyes never leaving yours.

You felt your cheeks warm, but you didn’t look away. “Only for people who deserve it”, you replied, your voice equally quiet, the words carrying a meaning that hung in the air between you, heavy and unspoken.

Dean’s jaw tightened slightly, his gaze flickering downward as if he didn’t believe he was worthy of that softness, of that quiet care you were offering him so freely. He swallowed, a faint smirk pulling at his lips as he tried to brush it off. “Not sure I fall into that category, sweetheart”, he muttered, his voice laced with a self-deprecating humor that barely hid the vulnerability underneath.

You rolled your eyes at his words, but there was a smile tugging at your lips, soft and genuine. “Well, you don’t get to decide that”, you murmured, still focused on the cut above his brow, carefully dabbing at it as though he might break under too much pressure.

Dean’s smirk faded, replaced by something softer, almost disbelieving, as he looked at you. “Guess not”, he whispered, his tone lacking its usual bite, as if he was letting himself accept your care, even if just for a few moments.

You finished tending to his cuts and bruises, then sat back a little, finally taking in the full picture—Dean Winchester, bruised and broken, but with that familiar, guarded warmth in his eyes, one that was aimed solely at you. Despite his injuries, he managed a small, crooked grin that sent your heart racing all over again. You didn’t realize it then, but this was a moment he’d remember, the memory of your touch lingering with him like a promise.

-End of the flashback-

You lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, thoughts drifting back to Dean—the boy he’d been, the man he’d become. So much time had passed, and yet, seeing him again felt like slipping into something familiar, like picking up a story that had been left unfinished.

He’d stood in front of you, years later, carrying the weight of battles fought and scars earned, a look in his eyes that told you he’d seen more than he’d ever wanted to. Yet somehow, despite the rough edges time had given him, there was something unmistakable in his gaze, something that brought you right back to those early days—the same quiet warmth, that flicker of mischief, that vulnerability he tried so hard to hide.

It was almost surreal, how he looked so much older, and yet, to you, he was still somehow that eighteen-year-old boy who’d made you feel like the center of his world in those stolen moments.

You rolled onto your side, pulling the covers closer as your heart beat faster, memories rushing back to fill the silence of your bedroom. You thought of how he’d looked at you back then, like he was trying to memorize you, and how he’d looked at you now, like he couldn’t believe you were real. And in that moment, you felt the weight of those lost years, the ache of missed moments and the wonder of seeing him again, as if fate had brought him back to you.

But even now, as a grown man, standing in front of you with a lifetime of stories written on his face, he still looked at you with that same spark, that same fondness. It was as if, in his eyes, you hadn’t changed at all.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 Right now, early-seasons-dean gives me all the vibes... I just.. CAN´T. HELP

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Part 3

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[rae-writes]

vampiric

om brothers x reader

wc : 1.k

warnings : nsfw, vampire things aka lots of blood and blood drinking and biting

synopsis : new vampire event, am I right?

a/n : I know the event is set in nightbringer and not og, but you can read it as either version

“Your scent…forgive my lack of a better word, but it’s absolutely heavenly, Mc.” Lucifer has his face buried in your neck, fangs scraping against the skin delicately. 

You sighed, head tilting to give him more room as your fingers carded through his hair, moving to rest at the base of his neck when they were done.

It made him shudder; he knew the power you held over him, and yet— “So compliant for me, so willing to give up control. All for me, hm?”

Humming in return, you let your head roll back against his shoulder, looking up at the first born with eyes practically in the shape of hearts, “Trust you.” 

“You trust me?” 

“Uh-huh, please bite me.” You felt him twitch from where he was buried inside you- and had been for the past 10 minutes. To place a little more incentive on your words, you wiggled around until he let out a sharp growl. 

Lucifer could feel his composure fraying, however you just looked so delectable staring up at him like that; his jaw opened, teeth brushing over you one last time, before they sunk into the flesh of your neck just enough that blood pooled into his waiting mouth. 

Moaning in unison, both your hips began moving in tandem with one another as he choked out an actual whine at your taste. Throwing all sense of pride and bravado out the window, Lucifer pushes you on your back against his desk and sets a frantic pace. 

His mouth hangs open at the feel of it all, drops of blood dripping down his chin. He might’ve been moaning louder than you, it was hard to tell, but as he bites you again and again, the avatar of pride can’t bring himself to care— especially not when you’re letting him cum inside. 

“More- don’t stop, Luci, want you to ruin me. I can take it, promise I can take it, ‘m yours—“

†

“Slow down there, vampire. Don’t be greedy.” your tone was entirely teasing, knowing damn well that Mammon couldn’t help himself when it came to greed. 

“‘M not a vampire, ‘m a demon!” His complaints were half-assed as he continued lapping at the blood flowing from your shoulder, “y’r demon, ‘m y’r first, first ‘n only— my human, mine, taste s’good, makin’ me go crazy.” 

The muffled and senseless babbling only served to make you chuckle. You leaned further back against the pillows, watching with amusement as he followed without hesitation. “Take it all, then.” 

Mammon’s eyes flashed gold, hands scrambling to yank you into his lap while his fangs busied themselves with biting again for the fifth time since you started. He accidentally ripped your bottoms in his desperation, but his fingers slipped inside you and immediately began abusing your spot as an apology. 

“G’na take it all, Mc, s’good to me, my human’s so, so good t’me- i’ma give back, yeah? G’na make you feel good— please cum f’me, wanna taste that too, please, ‘m beggin ya-“ 

You responded with a loud cry, hips jerking when he didn’t even slow down after you’d given him exactly what he asked for. “Mammon-!“ 

His free hand ran through the mess you made, bringing it up to his lips so he could suck it off his fingers, “not enough, ‘s not enough, give me more, Mc, cum again and again—“ He bit you for the sixth time, and then for the seventh, “—not stopping till y’r as light headed as me, so give me more.” 

†

“D-don’t—! ‘m filthy- don’t deserve it, don’t deserve you, I can’t-“ the heightened urges this virus brought made Levi feel dirty, especially when you were so sweet to him like this. 

You pulled his back flush against your chest, resting your head on his shoulder to watch as one of your hands jerked his cock. “Don’t tell yourself that, Levi…you’re so cute when you’re desperate, it’s okay.” 

He whined, embarrassed at your words but rutting his hips against your movements nonetheless. “Am not-!” His pupils dilated when you nudged the palm of your free hand against his mouth. 

“Go on…” your lips brushed over his ear, moaning lowly against it, “Take it, Levi- take what you really want.” swiping over the slit of his cock with your thumb, you giggled when he bared his fangs involuntarily. 

“Mc!” Levi choked out another whine before burying his teeth into the flesh of your palm, whining even louder when your blood hit his tongue. 

“Aww, there you go, baby. Good boy, Levi.”

He was fucking your fist himself now, hips jerking frantically as a familiar tingle began creeping up his legs. “Yeah, yeah, yeah— ‘mma good boy, y’r good boy, g’na cum, g’na cum!” 

You winced slightly when his jaw locked, thumb targeting his slit once again, making him shriek and spill the rest of your blood that was in his mouth as he came. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you- again, please, again! More, Mc, please, please!”

†

“I’ve spent centuries learning control, so tell me…” Satan holds your bleeding finger gently, staring down at the now splattered page you’d cut yourself on, “How do you manage to make me lose every bit of progress so easily?” 

You watch him with lidded eyes, not paying any mind to your stinging injury. “Isn’t it special to find someone that makes you lose your mind like this?” 

He only chuckles, allowing his tongue to poke out and lick at your papercut. The taste makes him groan and shift closer to you as he switches to sucking the pad of your finger instead. 

“Tannie…” 

Satan closes his eyes for a moment to tug at the last strings of his composure before laying back, yanking you down with him quickly. 

Gasping, you do nothing but let him maneuver you until you’re hovering above his face, jumping slightly when his claws tear the crotch of your bottoms. 

With a desperate growl, the fourth born pulls your entire weight onto him as his tongue thrusts inside you, “Gonna make you feel good first— I’ll get my fill after.” 

You respond by wiggling your hips (slightly distracted by the feel of his fangs against your thighs), “Can have as much as you want, Tan- give everything to you— fuck!”

†

“Mc, don’t tell me you’re just gonna leave me here~” Asmo’s voice was airy and teasing, but it was easy to pick out the desperation coming from him. 

You laughed, slitting a small cut in your lip before moving to stand in front of him. The satin blindfold you’d made him wear looked so pretty against his complexion. 

“Mc?” He restrained against the material holding his hands behind his back, “I smell blood, darling…” 

Your tongue came out to poke at his lips briefly, making him gasp. Just when he was about to speak again, you crashed your lips over his, making your blood smear over both of you like shared lipstick. 

He moaned loudly, keening unabashedly when you plopped down in his lap. His wrists broke free of the restraints, hands sneaking up your shirt, while his sharpened teeth rolled your bottom lip between them, making the blood pour out more. 

“Azzy~” you pulled away from him, letting out a breathless laugh when he whined at the loss of contact. “Patience brings good things, you know.” 

Asmo’s head spun when you began bouncing over his lap teasingly, tongue swiping out to lick at all the excess blood on his lips. “I’ll be patient, just kiss me again—“ 

His cock jumped when you bit at his lower lip instead, eyes fluttering behind the blindfold as you pried his mouth open with your fingers.

“Careful what you wish for.” 

†

“M-more!” 

You tut at Beel, lifting your arm higher so he doesn’t try to bite at it. There was a cut across your wrist dripping blood into his mouth— the compromise you’d given him. “Don’t be ungrateful,” you chastised. 

He only moaned, hips bucking from where you were settled over the bulge in his pants. “Not ungrateful, I promise-” his tongue lolled out of his mouth to catch your blood better, “-You just taste so fucking good, Mc…” 

Your free hand came up to his face, fingers curiously spreading the blood that’d missed his mouth across his cheeks. He looked ravenous like this, only making the heat in your belly swirl even hotter- “Fuck, Beel…”

Bringing your arm back down, you grab at his jaw, “Only use your tongue, okay?” your hips jerk over his, making him respond in a choked groan. Slowly, you lowered your wrist towards his mouth.

And when his tongue flattened against the cut, mouth flooding with your blood, his eyes rolled back in his skull. Both hands came up to grab at you, pulling your arm even closer to where he was now licking at it like a dog. 

“S’good, you taste s’good, Mc, more, more, more, please! ‘M so hungry, please let me keep tasting you-!” 

Your mouth dropped when you felt warmth pooling underneath you, moan echoing his own when you realized Beel came in his pants from just tasting your blood. This was going to be a long night, but, “Don’t worry, bub, I’ll take care of you.”

†

“Gentle, Bel, gentle…” you pet his hair softly as his head moved between your thighs, mouth placing small bites around to show you he could control himself. 

Belphie whimpered back at you, tongue licking at the spot he bit a little too harshly, “‘m trying, you just smell so good…can practically taste it through the skin…please, can I?” 

You watched him hump against the bed for friction, taking pity when he whined again, “Alright, alright. Gently, or I’m pushing you off and you won’t get anything.” 

The word ‘promise’ left his lips like a mantra before he was nosing at a spot on your inner thigh, licking a stripe up the area before sinking his teeth in. 

The reaction was instant— the harsh jerk of his hips against the sheets, the high-pitched moan that would’ve embarrassed him had he not been in ecstasy right now, and the harsh tug you gave his hair that sent shudders wracking through him. 

“Good boy, Belphie, take what you want, go on.” The sight of your blood dripping past the corners of his mouth from how messy he was drinking it made you coo, “Cum, Belphegor.” 

The command shocked through him, making him choke out another whine as he made an even bigger mess in his pants. There were stars in his eyes as he watched you maneuver him on his back and settle above his face.

You used your fingers to shove the blood dripping down his chin back in his mouth, “My turn, and then I’ll let you have more blood, okay, baby? Goood boy, my good little demon.”

[devildomwriter]

You Go To See A Christmas Carol Part V

You expected a few mishaps on a trip to the human world to see a Christmas Carol, but you never expected quite so many or how far things would escalate. The play is over but the trouble isn’t and it’s time to get the hell out of dodge before Michael finds out.

Diavolo: “Ahahahahaha.”

Luke: “Ugh.”

Leviathan: “This is going to go viral.”

Once the party was finished properly, curtains came to a close and opened again with the staff taking a bow. Lucifer among them, having effortlessly blended into the cast as their hero.

Everyone slowly trickled into the hallway and you froze in place as you looked at the parking lot from the window.

MC: “Hey guys…”

Diavolo: “Yes, MC?”

MC: “Yeah…there’s no way we’re getting back to our cars…”

Barbatos: “Is there an issue? Oh my.”

Luke: “I’ve never seen so many cops! What happened?”

MC: “…Levi said we were part of a convent.”

Leviathan: “You said you got kidnapped!”

MC: “Technically the truth!”

Belphegor: “While we’re at it…you should know the card declined for the popcorn and none of it was paid for.”

Barbatos: *sigh*

MC: “I’m gonna go crawl in a hole somewhere. I do not wanna deal with this.”

Lucifer: “Why do you two suppose there are police searching the building?”

Mammon: “I don’t know! Maybe cause you beat me publically and a fancy butler joined in!? Or maybe cause Asmo fucked a couple of cops! Or maybe because you sent the cops there to help me away and everyone saw that shit!”

Lucifer: “I see, so it’s your fault.”

Mammon: “How is it my fault!?”

Lucifer: “If you hadn’t stashed seventeen weapons on you before entering a checkpoint then I wouldn’t have had to search you and neither would Barbatos!”

Lucifer: “And you Asmo! Instead of having the cops report a false alarm you had sex with them and made them disappear somewhere!”

Asmodeus: “I don’t know how the legal system works okay!”

Mammon: “While we’re at it, you didn’t have to stay and bow now did you!?”

Staff A: “Hey!”

Staff B: “We found them!”

Lucifer: “Great, just what we need, more witnesses.”

Director: “Listen here, I don’t know who you think you are—“

Lucifer: “All of you. This was a bad dream. Go to sleep.”

The dozens of human staff, actors, and the director fall to the ground asleep.

Asmodeus: “Oh, yikes! Someone totally got a concussion just now! Is that blood…?”

Lucifer: “We’re leaving.”

Mammon: “How!? The cops know what you and I look like.”

Asmodeus: “But not me!? That’s a crime!”

Lucifer & Mammon: “Shut up, Asmo!”

Asmodeus: “Hmph.”

Mammon: “Everyone quiet, MC is calling me.”

MC: “Hey Mammon…where are you guys….okay and why are you not in trouble…they’re asleep…blood?”

Diavolo: “I don’t think this conversation is going anywhere good.”

Satan: “It’s not a conversation they’re relaying information.”

Diavolo: “Yes, either way…”

MC: “Teleport? There are cameras everywhere we can’t just teleport out in the open. The fact we’re up here staring at the cops is already suspicious.”

Staff B: “Excuse me, everyone?”

Barbatos: “I’ll handle this.”

Solomon: “Who is that?”

Barbatos: “No one important.”

An alarm suddenly blares through the building and you all look at each other.

MC: “Is that an alarm?”

MC: “Mammon was that you guys? ….Did he hang up on me?”

MC: “Ugh, whatever. Everyone go down the stairs and make a run for the cars if they start chasing you. Try not to look suspicious. Beelzebub carry Luke.”

Luke: “What? Why do I have to run too? I didn’t do anything!”

Simeon: “Don’t worry Luke, we know.”

Diavolo: “That sounds like a good plan but why don’t we just teleport into my limo instead?”

Leviathan: “Yes, please!”

Belphegor: “Yeah, I don’t feel like running.”

Barbatos: “I’ve returned young master.”

Diavolo: “Good. We’re teleporting into the limo.”

MC: “In front of windows?”

Diavolo: “Okay…Barbatos disable the camera in the stairwell and everyone follow me.”

Barbatos: “Yes, my lord.”

Everyone crams their way into the stairwell and Diavolo snaps his fingers. You fall back against a cushioned seat in Diavolo’s limo, relieved.

Suddenly the limo door slides open and Mammon is thrown into your lap.

MC: “Oof!”

Lucifer: “Drive! Drive!”

Asmodeus: “Hey, don’t leave me!”

Lucifer yanks Asmodeus inside and they lay there on the floor as the limo pulls away while cops run towards the parking lot.

Mammon: “Haha! Too late suckers!”

Lucifer: “You’re in so much trouble.”

Mammon: “Why me!?”

Barbatos drives the limo into an alley where it could safely teleport you all back to the Devildom into the driveway of the House of Lamentation.

One by one you all crawled out of the limo. You held your stomach in pain from absorbing the impact of Lucifer tossing Mammon into the back. Lucifer unlocked the door with some difficulty and everyone, Diavolo included walked inside.

Lucifer: “I’m going to go lie down.”

Leviathan: “Guys turn the tv on quick! The human world news channel!”

Satan: “Which one?”

Leviathan: “I don’t know, whatever was local.”

MC: “You think they’ll be talking about it?”

Leviathan: “I may have seen something about a demon cult on the internet…”

Simeon: “A demon cult?”

Solomon: “Hehe, this should be good. I haven’t been in a large news scandal in a while.”

MC: “And you still aren’t, this is the brothers’ mess. And potentially mine…”

Solomon: “Potentially? You’re the one who said you got kidnapped.”

MC: “I didn’t publically beat anyone.”

Leviathan: “I found the channel, be quiet!”

News Reporter: “Thanks Jim we’re back on channel 8 bringing you the latest on the Christmas Carol chaos.”

News Reporter: “Witnesses say they first noticed something was wrong when a group of men with colorful hair began to harass a security guard. Minutes later one of them broke away from the line and began violently beating another in a nearby parking lot, they were soon joined by a white man wearing traditional butler attire. To make things worse when the cops did arrive they left after being waved off like nothing happened.”

Cop C: “I don’t recall even being at the scene to begin with. We got a call about a hate crime taking place and that’s the last thing I can remember.”

Lucifer: “A hate crime…”

Barbatos: “Oh dear…”

News Reporter: “The guard Matthew Vallinci details that they all went by strange names and referred to the black-haired one as Lucifer.”

Guard: “I’m a practicing Catholic, I knew something was weird about them from the beginning and then one of them told me they were there for Diavolo. I’m a third-generation Italian I know what that means, it means Devil! They also said something about kidnapping and Stockholm syndrome and drugs.”

All: “…”

MC: “My bad…”

Guard: “Even weirder when me and Larry asked for the truth they told us they were the master of the seven rulers of hell or somethin’ and wished us a good night. They were completely psychotic.”

All: “…”

MC: “In my defense… …I did not think that would get back to me…”

News Reporter: “Among claims of demons, convents, human trafficking, and public acts of violence there are still no answers as, despite all the cameras, the people involved are nowhere to be seen.”

Leviathan: “…”

Asmodeus: “…”

News Reporter: “Hang on a minute…I am getting word now that the security cameras have been reviewed and reveal some rather shocking things.”

MC: “It’s all downhill from here folks.”

Luke: “This can’t get any worse!”

Belphegor: “You underestimate us.”

Lucifer: “I need some Demonus.”

Diavolo: “Absolutely not.”

News Reporter: “In a video too graphic to share two of the cops from earlier in the case abandoned finding answers on a possible kidnapping crime and were recorded having sex with one of the convent men. Neither has been seen since.”

All: “…”

Asmodeus: “There were cameras down there! We need that footage! Then I can find out what bitch stole my Devicci necklace!”

Mammon: “I cannot believe that’s the only reason you’re concerned, people would pay so much money to see that shit!”

Lucifer: “ Shut the HELL up.”

News Reporter: “Furthermore in some unexplainable footage the man from earlier is seen again with his victim and after snapping his fingers the production crew for The Christmas Carol all seem to faint simultaneously.”

*The footage plays*

Diavolo: “Well…this is going to take a while to cover up…”

News Reporter: “Other infractions by these individuals include public intoxication—“

Lucifer: “…”

News Reporter: “Theft of food—“

Beelzebub: “…”

Belphegor: “…”

News Reporter: “Threats to staff—“

Barbatos: “…”

Satan: “…”

MC: “…”

News Reporter: “And grooming.”

MC: “What!? Who the fuck did that!?”

News Reporting: “The group was spotted with a child who seemed to shout in distress before the beginning of play, something about “Chihuahuas.”

Luke: “Nooooooo.”

Leviathan: “You’re a legend, Luke.”

News Reporting: “One server is shocked by the allegations made upon the group as the man with red hair had given her a tip large enough to pay off her Student loans however psychological analysts suspect this was a way to groom her into the convent by winning her affection.”

Diavolo: “…No…”

MC: “Oh yeah, she said to thank you. I forgot about that.”

Diavolo: “…”

News Reporter: “So what really happened here? A convent, a stunt, a new TikTok trend, or a demonic cult? We’ll have more for you after these commercials.”

All: “…”

Ringing echoes in the common room.

MC: “…Who’s phone is that…”

Lucifer: “I think it’s mine?

Lucifer: “…”

Lucifer: “Nope. I’m too sober for this, Simeon you answer him.”

Simeon: “Hm? Oh…it’s Michael.”

Diavolo: “Tell him hello for me.”

Simeon: “Yeah…I don’t know if I should.”

Simeon: “Hello— ….no…it’s me Simeon…Lucifer is…”

Lucifer: “Away.”

Simeon: “Drunk.”

Lucifer: *sigh*

Simeon: “No. MC is fine…Diavolo was not trying to kidnap anyone he was just doing a good deed. The cops? I have no idea…”

Simeon: “Asmodeus, where did the cops go?”

Asmodeus: “I have no idea I just said to take a vacation.”

Simeon: “Yes…yes…don’t worry I will…tomorrow? At 12:00? Okay…I’ll let him know. Goodbye…”

Simeon: “Well…the seraphs are working on erasing memories and proof…also we’re all temporarily banned from the human world.”

MC: “But I live there!?”

Simeon: “Right…Michael says not to tell any more kidnapped jokes…he also asks that Leviathan not upload videos of his brothers to the human internet.”

All: “…”

Lucifer: “Those…were…YOUR videos, Levi?”

Leviathan: “Th-there were others!”

MC: “Well, I’m going to bed. I’ve had enough Christmas cheer for one day.”

Mammon: “Is that what that was supposed to be? You humans are pretty weird.”

MC: “Says the man who brought seventeen different weapons to a theatre!”

Mammon: “I forgot about em!”

MC: “Literally, how!?”

Luke: “Guuuuuys!”

All: “…”

MC: “Yeah?”

Luke: “I-I have an idea!”

Barbatos: “Yes?”

Luke: “T-today got sorta messed up and Asmo didn’t even get to see the play at all and Mammon missed the most important parts and we were all super worried about earlier so…can we watch the Christmas Carol movie together?”

All: “…”

Beelzebub: “Popcorn?”

Satan: “I’ll start making it.”

Leviathan: “I’ll get the blankets.”

Lucifer: “I’ll get the Demonus.”

Simeon: “Someone stop him, please.”

MC: “I call remote privileges!”

Diavolo: “Ooh I can’t wait! What version shall we watch?”

Meanwhile in the Celestial Realm

*news report ends*

Seraphim: “…”

Michael: “…”

Michael: “…Did anyone record that?”

Raphael: “I did.”

Michael: “Play it again.”

— FIN —

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