#sometimes it pays off and sometimes it’s truly….something else entirely.

[thegingergal]

me: i have made my peace with hbo rome’s historical inaccuracies and come to appreciate (some of) them

also me: VORENUS GETS ANTONY’S ICONIC IDES MOMENT?

[aurumalatus]

𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

word count. 2.1k

genre/warnings. princess!reader, knight!kinich, slight enemies to lovers (not really, they just argue but idk the term for that tbh LOL), pixelprincess!au

summary.

ever since he became your personal guard, you've found kinich to be a royal pain in your ass. you've always assumed he felt the same, until the night of your matching ball. now, you're not sure what this burning in your chest means after all.

author's note. this is a drabble as part of a universe that i'm calling pixelprincess (knight!kinich x princess!reader). i don't really have a full fic planned for this or anything, i just have a bunch of small headcanons about them and i love aus so feel free to scream about them with me HAHA. thank you for reading! reblogs/interaction highly appreciated!

𝐩𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐚𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

If there’s one thing you can definitively say about Kinich, it’s that he’s not stupid.

Honestly, you could say a lot of things. You’ve heard the rumors just like everyone else, about the fearsome Captain of the Guard who passed training within a single day. They whisper that he holds a dragon’s power in his heart, a fact that strikes fear into any nation that dares encroach upon your territory. His reputation precedes him, and he’s somewhat of a mystery to the general public—most of them envision him as a hero, the key to the nation’s defense.

If there’s another thing you can definitively say about Kinich, it’s that sometimes, you wish he was stupid.

The castle always feels larger during the summer, when the sunlight bathes the interior with gold and the halls bustle with movement during the day. Guards and aides rush in every direction, though none of them seem to spare a glance in your direction; there’s simply far too much to pay attention to today.

The maids are replacing the vases with fresh flora, Brilliant Chrysanthemums and Saurian Claw Succulents that make the room seem brighter, discussing which configuration looks the best. You know them all, of course; growing up within the castle meant that these women had practically raised you. Even as an adult, it’s hard to escape them when they feel like pinching your cheeks and reminiscing on old times.

Sensing the coast is clear, you crack the door open another millimeter, carefully slipping into the hall and blending in with the crowd. The maids, luckily, don’t notice, still fussing over petals and stems. You’d calculated this time exactly—right now, the guard patrol should be across the castle, checking the entrances before the ball tonight. If your information wasn’t wrong, then you should have just enough time to make it to the servants’ passages, and then out to the garden—

“Oh?”

The familiar voice makes you murmur some choice curse words under your breath. Of course, the dark-haired man in front of you is always several steps ahead of everyone. He’s leaning against the stone wall, looking entirely too pleased with himself, as if he knows something you don’t.

“Princess,” Kinich greets, bowing his head despite how you wave him off—you’ve never been one for formalities. “What are you doing here?”

“Just taking a walk.”

You move at a brisk pace past him, but Kinich is faster—he always is, the annoying bastard. Before you can turn the corner, there’s the blade of a greatsword blocking your path. No matter how much you see it, you’re always surprised by the size of the damn thing—you’re shocked he can even lift it as it is. A half-smirk rests on his lips when you gasp.

“Taking a walk away from your lessons? I do believe your teacher’s room is in the opposite direction.”

The annoying thing about Kinich is that he truly knows everything, including your schedules. He’s thorough to a near fault, though you suppose that that’s exactly the kind of person who would be fit for Captain of the Guard. Still, you duck under his sword, unwilling to make eye contact.

“Lessons are tomorrow. I have other plans today.”

Kinich falls into step beside you, and the halls are suddenly clear of people—the crowd parts before you, a stubborn rock among a rushing river. You’re unsure if it’s due to your status, or due to your temper—it’s a well-known fact in the castle that Kinich can get you wound up quite quickly.

“And what might these other plans be?” 

He always has too many damn questions, you think. Silently, you curse your father for assigning him to you. A series of attempts on your life last year had made him paranoid, and he’d been quick to promote the strongest knight as your personal guard. Back then, you’d been fooled just like everyone else into thinking that Kinich was some kind of serious, straight-laced hero. Instead, you’d since discovered that he was seriously annoying.

“Can I guess?” he asks, deftly dodging past the maids carrying bundles of tablecloths and the waiters carrying sky-high stacks of platters. 

“No, you can’t. In fact, you can’t even ask. I should have you executed for that.”

Kinich raises a brow, amused. “The Queen would never let that happen.”

And, unfortunately, he’s correct. Your mother absolutely adores Kinich as if he were her own son, and it irritates you to no end—especially when she heavy-handedly suggests that you make him your groom. The door to the back stairwell falls into view, so you break into a jog as you reach the end of the hall, but he’s right on your heel.

If I can just make it to the stairs…

Kinich steps in front of you again, not allowing you an inch further, and you nearly scream in frustration.

“If I didn’t know any better—”

You scoff. “And you, in fact, don’t know anything—”

“—I would say that you’re trying to avoid going to the ball.”

And, once again, you wish that just once Kinich would let something fly over his head.

Utterly defeated, you collapse into one of the plush chairs nearby, fanning your face. Kinich stands over you, a bit tense, as if he thinks you’re going to try to run again. You won’t; at this point, you’re too tired.

“So what if I am?” you finally admit. “You always complain about them anyway. I find it a little unfair that you’re allowed to and I’m not.”

As great as he is at his job as a guard, Kinich isn’t so great at facing the public, despite how popular he is among them (particularly the women). Whenever he can, he avoids social events like the plague, often volunteering to run perimeter duty as a precaution rather than attending with you. You, unfortunately, don’t have that luxury.

Kinich sighs, resting his weight on his sword. “I don’t complain, it’s just annoying when everyone is so loud and—”

You snap your fingers, interrupting and pointing at him accusingly. “You hear that? What you were just doing? That’s called complaining.”

Realizing he was caught in the act, Kinich rolls his eyes. “How very profound of you. If you put that much effort into your escape routes, maybe you would’ve made it this time.”

Your gaze narrows. “How about I stick a profound fist up your a—”

“Kinich? Is that you?”

The booming voice makes you both straighten up instantly. Kinich smoothly sheaths his sword, saluting to the king as he makes his way down the hall. You’re far less graceful about it, gathering up your skirts messily and quickly curtseying to your father. 

“Your Highness,” you both echo.

If your father notices the tension between the two of you, he doesn’t say so; he looks as jolly as always, even more so because of the event today. He’s the social type, a trait you unfortunately did not inherit.

“Just the two people I was hoping to see,” he laughs, a full-bodied sound that booms from his chest. “I’m glad that the two of you get along so well.”

To your irritation, Kinich smirks, while you offer your father a thin-lipped smile.

“Of course,” you lie, sneakily jabbing your guard in the ribs. He coughs. “We get along like a house on fire.”

“That’s good,” your father says, nodding encouragingly. “You’ll both do well later tonight then.”

Your heart drops at the thought of attending the event. You know how long your parents have been planning this, and how long they’ve been practically begging you to find a companion. It’s all a long-winded scheme to find you a princely partner, and not one that you particularly appreciate—a great majority of the princes you’ve met are far too full of themselves. You truly have no interest in any of them.

Kinich, however, pointedly clears his throat at your father’s wording.

“Both of us?” he asks, enunciating slowly. “I’m not sure I follow, sir.”

You perk up in interest—that detail had been lost on you.

“I invited several princes from neighboring nations today,” your father says, eyeing you with a pitying stare. You try not to feel offended. “I want my daughter to find someone suitable for her, no matter who that may be. Still, I was hoping you could attend with her this time? I know it’s not your favorite, but I would feel uncomfortable with her being around so many strangers alone.”

Kinich’s smirk falters, and he suddenly falls still. You wonder if he’s irritated by the prospect of attending the ball at your side. 

(Distantly, you wonder why the thought of that makes you feel a bit ill.)

The silence grows awkward, and you rock on your heels, searching for something to say. Your guard looks a bit lost for words, likely because he wasn’t prepared for so much social interaction today. You can’t really blame him—if you were in his shoes, you wouldn’t be thrilled either.

“Actually, Your Highness, that won’t be necessary.”

Your eyes nearly pop out of your skull at Kinich’s reply, but you hurry to control your expression, unwilling to give anything away to your father. The king raises a brow.

“And why is that?” he asks.

Kinich gnaws on his lip, an action that is wholly unlike him—you don’t think you’ve ever seen him appear nervous about anything in his life. Still, he meets your father’s gaze head on, coughs once, then says:

“The princess isn’t feeling well. I think it’d be best if she didn’t attend the ball today.”

He nudges your foot just as your father’s gaze drifts to you, and you thank your lucky stars that you did inherit your mother’s dramatics. You throw a hand over your forehead, fanning yourself aggressively.

“Since this morning,” you explain, looking as pitiful as possible, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Thank the archons Kinich was here, otherwise I might’ve fainted earlier.”

And you really do feel guilty when your father’s eyes well up with tears of worry.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” he cries, then turns to one of his aides in a panic. “Call the doctor! Have him attend to her immediately. And announce that she’ll be absent from our festivities tonight.”

You force yourself to hide your smile at his announcement. Your eyes flicker over to Kinich, but for once, he doesn’t seem the slightest bit amused—in fact, he still looks troubled. Your father fusses over you for a bit longer, asking a series of questions about what you’d eaten and who you’d been in contact with. You answer as honestly as you can—the least you can do—and then he directs Kinich to escort you back to your room.

The hallway seems to empty out quickly after that display, and then it’s just you and your guard. For some reason, he seems to avoid your eyes. He doesn’t speak, merely offering you his arm, and after a moment, you take it. 

“So, what changed your mind?” you ask, unwilling to let him sit in silence. He looks displeased by your question, but answers anyway.

“Nothing,” he says, expression blank, “I just didn’t think you should go to the ball tonight.”

The tips of his ears are flushed red, you note. Liar. 

Still, Kinich keeps countless secrets that you’re sure you’ll never know, and you suppose it doesn’t really matter why he decided to let you off the hook tonight. Really, you’re just grateful you’ll get to sleep peacefully with no stinking princes breathing down your neck. The thought makes you smile as you finally reach your bedroom door.

“Well, what a shame it is,” you sigh sarcastically, turning the knob, “I could’ve been dancing the night away with the love of my life. Now I might never meet him.”

The corner of Kinich’s lip twitches.

“As if,” he replies gruffly, a touch too fast. “You wouldn’t like any of them anyway. They’re not nearly capable of handling you.”

Your eyes narrow, irritated by the implication. “And you are?”

He raises a brow in response. “Aren’t I?”

It comes out uncharacteristically soft. A switch seems to flip in the room, and you suddenly start feeling sick for real—it’s too hot, too quiet. Kinich’s stare weighs on you heavily, and you get lost in the depth of it. You freeze where you are, bedroom door half-open, and you can almost pick out the meaning in his words when he turns away, clearing his throat.

“Goodnight, princess,” he murmurs over his shoulder. “Sweet dreams, and…get well soon.”

He makes his exit without another word, and you wonder if he’s still working tonight. Is he still going to guard the ball? The perimeter? What if one of the other princesses takes a liking to him—

You huff, deciding you don’t care and slamming the door shut. The ball is bound to be a drag, and you find Kinich annoying, you think as you fall into bed. You’re happy about this arrangement. Overjoyed, even.

Yes, you find Kinich very annoying.

…Don’t you?

[targaryen-dynasty]

DEEP DEVOTION.

Daemon Targaryen x pregnant!Targaryen!Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT - MDNI; canon typical incest/targcest (implied), p in v, oral (fem receiving), cockwarming, pregnant sex, lactating, lactation kink

WORDS: 2.5 K

NOTES: Sorry, I love deleting and editing older stuff. This is an oldie - use it to prepare for my Cregan lactation kink stuff. 😌

✖️ 𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

If there’s something you admire about your husband it’s that he has always been a generous lover. It’s his ample experience that truly pays off whenever you two are staying in bed – or somewhere entirely else – solely depending on where the burning desire overcomes you both. 

And that desire is the main reason he’s put a child in you just shy of three moons after your bedding ceremony.

Wild and exciting are terms you’d use to describe you both indulging in the pleasures of flesh. He’s just a little too rough, and always borderlining between being unbelievably good and almost too much – that was, until he has learned you are carrying his babe. 

Where he has taken you like a common whore before, he now takes his time with you; one of his large hands splayed on your growing stomach while he insists on taking you in no other position than on your back with him between your parted legs. 

Sometimes you manage to sweet-talk him into allowing you to sit astride him, coaxing him to give in with the sweetest praises and offers falling past your lips in the tongue of your ancestors, but even then, his hands always rest on your hips for him to guide your movements and set the pace.

And this night is no different. 

You’ve just recently crossed the six moon mark, and your bump and breasts swelled generously already. If you didn’t know better, you’d say it’s ridiculous how much your body has changed over the time, considering you still have four moons to go. Comparing your bodies to the ones of other pregnant women at court, kind of around the same stage of pregnancy as you, you’ve quickly noticed that your body looked different. However, they aren’t carrying the offspring of a true Targaryen, and their bodies don’t need to provide enough milk for the little life growing inside of them, because they aren’t carrying a dragon.

Lying on your back with Daemon’s silver mop of hair between your parted legs, you have your head tipped back, eyes glued to the ceiling. He has been lazily licking at your folds for too long at this point, not noticing that you aren’t finding much joy in it anymore given the lack of variation.

As you look down at him, you see that his lilac eyes are fixed on you – just not at your face. And when you tilt your head down to follow his trail of sight, you quickly learn the reason why. Where your breasts just have felt hard and heavy to the touch before, they now look like it as well, entirely ready for him. 

A few droplets of milk oozed out of your darkened buds, running down the curves of your breasts. It has happened plenty of times before but only very rarely with direct touch, and never in his presence. 

There’s admiration in his gaze, tinged with something more carnal, primal – hunger. It’s enough to send a shiver down your spine, and coaxes a renewed wave of your arousal to ooze out of your core. 

Your hand entangles in his silver strands, and while that touch seems to be enough to pull him out of his trance, you give him no time to react as you tug him up by his hair to tower over you. 

He doesn’t speak, unusual for someone who always has something to say, and his questioning gaze is enough to have you chuckling softly. Cupping his cheeks, you pull him in for a kiss. “I should have warned you, husband, my apologies. I started leaking very recently,” you whisper against his lips. 

Just like the many times before, you wrap your legs around his waist. You have easily flipped him onto his back like this plenty of times before, but never with your bump and breasts so swollen, which makes you rely on some of his help. Utterly mesmerized by the sight, there comes no objection from your husband, and soon enough you straddle his hips, sitting astride him with his hard cock captured between your soaked cunt and his lower stomach.

It takes a few grinds of your hips to fully coat his cock in your arousal, sliding back and forth with ease. His raspy groans are almost drowned out by the moans you release each time the tip of his cock rubs against your sensitive pearl. 

Your husband knows his job as you lift your hips, bringing one hand to your arse to support your weight while the other grips the base of his cock to align him with your needy cunt, inviting you to sink down on him. 

The delicious stretch is enough for you both to finally moan in unison. One of your primal instincts is to cup your swollen belly at the sensation, fingers splayed out to support the burgeoning bump. Not wasting a moment, your husband’s large hand joins yours, resting atop of it and covering it in its entirety. 

You always marvel at it when you’re on top of him, but Daemon truly looks as though he has been created by The Seven, and, most importantly, just for you. His usually neat, silver hair is disheveled and splayed out around his face, his scars, the testament of the many wars he’s fought, on full display, and his muscles twitch each time your core clenches around him. 

And yet it’s crystal clear that the lilac eyes of the dragon between your legs still don’t know where to settle. His dark-blown gaze flickers from your face down to where you both are connected and eventually focuses on your bouncing breasts, but it doesn’t stay there for too long, always finding another, even more interesting part of your body until it eventually comes back to your breasts again. 

And even your body seems to notice your husband’s unabashed interest in them, because they suddenly feel heavier than before – too firm and too full, and practically begging for his attention. With full anticipation, Daemon awaits for you to move so he can enjoy the show he was going to receive, however, you’ve overestimated your stamina.

“You should have listened to me,” Daemon says smugly, although his voice is caught by a particularly tight clench of your walls. He bends forward, his strong arms wrapped around your middle and pulling you closer. As your perky buds press against his chest you can’t help but whimper, too sensitive to press so tightly against his body. The close contact forces some more milk to leak out of your breasts, wetting both your chests. “Let me–”

“No,” you protest, shaking your head to make a point. 

You slowly rock your hips back and forth, your movements faltering every now and then in response to his closeness and tight grip. His muscles flex, indicating that it feels good for him but that he just doesn’t like the position and your clear discomfort that comes with it.

“Must you always be so stubborn?” The annoyance in his voice is audible, and his patience is clearly running thin.

As Daemon’s head tilts upwards, yours bows forwards, both your foreheads resting against each other with your hips coming to a stop. Indecent thoughts have never before been the bloom of your embarrassment, but it seems that it comes with the pregnancy and your changing body.  

It’s him tightly squeezing your arse that catches your attention again, your writhing body pressing against his. “What is it?” he asks sternly

There’s no escaping him, you’re certain. And with him looking at you like a predator looking at its prey, you know it’s just a matter of moments until he’ll force an answer out of you. But where your voice fails you, you figure it’s easier to show what’s on your mind, how you need him.  

Tilting your upper body back slightly, you wipe at the dark skin of your bud, his eyes eagerly following your fingers. The whiny sounds that leave your lips at the soft stimulation are enough to snap the last lingering threads of Daemon’s resolve, a growl-like sound rumbling in his chest.

A few more droplets trickle down your skin at the contact, and when you reach to wipe your fingers clean on the covers, Daemon is quick to seize your wrist and bring it up to his mouth instead. 

He leans forward, nuzzling at your fingers to take in the scent of you, before both digits are engulfed by his lips. It’s something you’ve thought of since the first time you have wetted one of your gowns, yet seeing it with your own eyes is something entirely different that makes you gasp. 

It’s not the first time he sucks on your fingers, but this time it’s different. The burning that settles between your legs causes you to squeeze your thighs around his hips, and you’re sharply reminded of him still being inside of you when he bucks his hips up in return. 

But that’s not where he stops. 

His large palm comes up to cup the swell of your breast, the pad of his thumb brushing your hardened bud before he applies a bit of pressure to coax more milk out of it. Whimpering again at the contact, the sound quickly turns into a moan the moment his tongue swirls over your little bud, cleaning away the slip of fluid that has escaped.

If your husband wasn’t so familiar with your body, seeing how it approved of his actions and all but melted against his touch, he would have considered stopping.

His mouth latches around your bud, slowly starting to suck, and you can’t help yourself but to arch your back, shoving your breasts further into his face and mouth. Your arms wrap around his neck, bending at the elbow to entangle into the hair on the crown of his head, combing your fingers through it. He is all but forced to your breasts now, and you’d fear that he’s close to suffocating, if it wasn’t for you knowing all too well that he’d gladly die this way – with his lips on your tits, suckling on what is solely designated for the babe he has put in your belly. 

Each suck of his mouth has your cunt clenching around his throbbing cock, slowly but surely coaxing you to rut your hips back and forth with newfound vigor. 

Droplets of milk rest in the corners of his mouth as he pulls back to release a heedy groan. The lack of stimulation causes you to whine, a frown etching onto your features, but as soon as you catch a glimpse of the sight beneath you, you feel a fresh wave of arousal drip out of your cunt, coating his cock and thighs. His lips are swollen, a sight you merely know from your exuberant hours of kissing, and his chiseled features are framed by your full breasts on either side of it.

“Keep going, husband,” you whimper, “do not stop.”

Applying a bit of pressure to his head with your elbows, you nudge him forward to encourage him to continue his ministrations to which he eagerly complies. Banding his arms around your middle, he brings you closer to him again. 

You can’t stop yourself from whining words of praise at the relief you feel when he resumes, this time taking rather large gulps of milk like a greedy babe, the sounds of his messy slurping filling your ears. Knowing you are providing for your unborn babe is good, but it doesn’t compare to the feeling of your husband emptying your full breasts.

With every suckle of his lips, you take in a sharp breath, and when his hand comes up to squeeze the slowly sagging flesh of your breast, the pressure in it long gone with the amount of milk he has drunk, you gently rock your way through your peak.  

“Gods, yes–,” you cry out, your sentence cut off by a moan. “Just like that… please.” You aren’t even sure what you are begging for, since he has already given you all you could’ve ever asked for, but the relief and pleasure his mouth and cock grant you rob you of the ability to form any coherent thoughts, your mind hazy with lust.

You are sopping wet, labored breath drowning out the squelching sounds of your core repeatedly dragging over his thick cock to calm the storm that rages within you. You aren’t able to see it, but you feel that he is coated in more than one of your juices. Milk dribbles down the corners of his mouth and chin, whereas his stones, his cock and his thighs are coated in your arousal. 

He’s still snugly nestled inside of your warm and wet womanhood, and besides the throbbing and pulsing, it doesn’t move much, he doesn’t move much, solely indulging in your efforts. It’s a welcomed surprise to not have his hips pistoning in and out of you, making it much more bearable to keep him inside of you even after the effects of your peak subside.

The previous firmness of your breast is long gone, and only once the spasming of your core around him stops, Daemon dares to pull away from you. “You taste divine, my love.”

“Then keep going,” you whimper the demand, strands of your hair clinging to your sweaty skin. 

You are less vocal as he focuses on your other breast, and just enjoy the sensations that course through you, paying attention to what elicits which response from your body. His cock is still buried hard and wanting inside of you, and you settle into a slow and steady rhythm with his mouth now working your other breast. 

But not only you are deeply affected by this. It’s so strange, so illicit, that even your husband slowly but surely feels the familiar tingling at the tip of his cock, despite you not moving much, sending a shudder through his core.

As he applies just the edge of his teeth to the sensitive skin of your little bud, a second peak washes over your body in an ambush, and you chase your pleasure in a haze, oblivious to Daemon being close to completion as well. 

Keening and shaking against him with the force of your peak, Daemon’s body eventually seizes, his cock spilling his seed deep inside of you, a strained groan of him fanning over your wet skin. If you wouldn’t be growing round with his child already, you surely would’ve been with one after this, his seed filling you up to the brim and slowly leaking out of your spasming hole. 

With you being tight and warm around him, it proves to be a challenge to get Daemon to release the sensitive bud, too keen to drink every last drop of your milk while you grow somewhat sore and uncomfortable at this point.

But when he finally does, he looks up at you with lust-blown eyes, the familiar lilac replaced by black. You lick your lips, eyes flickering between his and his lips, swollen and covered in the last remnants of your milk, begging for your attention. 

Your head bows down, capturing his lips in a soft kiss, and as the taste of your milk on his tongue spreads over yours, you can’t stop a moan from spilling into his mouth. His arms wrap around your body yet again, pulling you closer against him. And this time, it doesn’t feel painful when your breasts are squeezed by his firm chest, causing you to sigh in content. 

“Avy jorrāelan.” I love you. 

[gay-dorito-dust]

doing grocery shopping with the batboys

Could you write something fun and fluff please?

is one of my favorite activities.

I love what you write so much. My favorites are Dickie bird and Jay bird.

Don’t know whether this is fun or fluff as you’d wanted it (kinda went on a personal rant in Jason’s a little bit but I don’t regret it) but I still hope you enjoy it not the less. Also thank you for enjoying my Jason/ Dick stuff! 🫶🦦🐿️

Dick:

You go in for certain things that you need and come out with way more then you probably should. (And most of it isn’t what you actually needed)

Half of the stuff you get is mainly what Dick thinks Hayley might like and she ends up only liking 50% of it…the ‘daddy’s little girl’ doggy shirt was pushing it tbh.

Dick tends to wander off when your shopping together that when you went to ask him a question, only to notice that he was gone, you sigh and say;

‘Dick?’

A few isles over you heard a faint ‘yes honey?’

He was in the pet section. again.

You’d have to remind him that you were only there for specific things and nothing else, but Dick would always try to persuade you into allowing him to get something was wasn’t on the list at all, by battering his eyelids at you and saying ‘pretty please.’

You naturally can’t say no to you pretty boy who acts like a man child when shopping, especially if you’re the one who’s paying.

The shopping list you made might as well have been thrown in the bin with how often you come home, only to be reminded that you barely got 25% of the stuff on the shopping list thanks to Dick’s impulsiveness.

However Dick would only use this as an excuse to go shopping again later on in the week/month and do it all over again without remorse.

Also Dick is way too polite to tell people blocking the isle to move, he wants to, he really does but all he does is breathe in deeply and plaster on a smile before soldering on.

Jason:

Grocery shopping wasn’t a favourite of Jason’s but if he were to do it, he’d rather do it with you because he got to be a little goofy with it.

And by that I mean him getting a little affectionate and pinching your backside and you snacking his bicep and scolding him for being inappropriate in the frozen food section.

‘I’m not doing anything chipmunk.’ He’d defend himself as you glare him.

‘I’m sure as shit there isn’t a perverted ghost here that pinches people’s backsides for fun. Now pack it in.’ You hissed as you rubbed your ass in hopes of soothing the sharp pain you felt seconds ago.

‘Sorry sweetheart.’ He’d chuckle as he kisses your cheek in apology.

You couldn’t help but smile as you could never truly stay mad at your sweet Jason, not unless he was staining your carpets with blood from a night out on patrol, but that was neither here nor there.

Other than that Jason would take the trolley from your hand and storm the store with a determination to get the fuck out as fast as possible.

His long ass strides tend to leave you behind in some random isle somewhere. So to combat this from being a reoccurring thing, Jason would just grabs your hand and puts on the trolley before putting his own on top; Now you were being dragged instead of getting left behind in somewhere with people blocking the fucking isle.

How sweet of him.

(If you’re one of these ppl, go fuck yourself bc what the fuck is so interesting that you have to block the ENTIRE FUCKING ISLE? MOVE!)

Speaking of people blocking the isle, it’s Jason’s biggest pet peeve because WHY THE FUCK ARE THEY TAKING SO MUCH FUCKING SPACE?! FUCKING MOVE YOU LAZY BASTARDS!

He will fucking glare at anyone who even dares to lean over his trolley to get something and when you tell him about how obvious he was being, he’d only response to this was: ‘they’re privileged with the use of a voice, they should fucking use it sometime.’

You’re basically there to calm him down before he bulldozes some poor bastard by guiding him to a lesser crowed isle and get some junk food for later as a reward, followed by your magical cuddles and kisses.

Jason hates shopping but with you it was made just that little bit enduring, only a little bit…he still wants to fight the young couple who wouldn’t fucking move in that one isle and honestly you don’t blame him as you would gladly join him.

[copilotjimmy]

info under cut ^^

RULES!!

SEXUAL NSFW such as KINKS, FETISHES, and whatever else is there DO NOT INTERACT. Not only am I not comfortable with it, JIMMY does not DESERVE PLEASURE. I will block and delete any asks relating to stuff like that. Jimmyshippers are on thin ice, because Imm not sure why you would LIKE him at all for anything else other than his great writing but okay? Good for you? Jimmy x Anya + Daisuke DNI. Jimmy x Curly shippers…. Ehhhhh? In the toxic way, yes. Actual good relationship? No. Are there even Jimmy x Swansea shippers???

Asks relating to Jimmy you knowing Anya will most likely be brushed it off as it not being his fault. I apologize for this. If you want to make him pay for it, then go ahead. It’s your job to make him suffer <3

info !!

jimmy herschel oglethorpe (his full & legal name) is the co pilot we all know and hate (and love, apparently?) and now he is stuck in hell (purgatory, technically) forever, forced to relive the events of mouthwashing until judgment

he is living and he is dead, usually signified by the bullet hole in his head. rp takes place whenever, but i’d say 2 months after the crash/0 hours until judgment.

he is remorseful, but really only since he’s truly being punished for the terrible things he done.

he also has a lot of mood swings so be prepared for some whiplash

tags..

jimmyposting: just a general tag.. whether it be roleplaying with the other jimmies or just jimmy posting things.. this is jimmyposting.

the fckuing Jimmy mod: mod posting. usually entirely in red text.

yimpy: yimpy…

that fuckass horse: anything relating to polle. pollepillar also a related tag, but more serious stuff

judgement, take responsibility, i’ll fix it: more serious rp

anon ask: asks that i’ve bothered to tag

miscellaneous anons: Vice, Nora, 🙃, etc.. just some anons

curly fries, or just curly (may come up with something better) curlyposting

crispy fries: post-crash curly

with a side of potato wedges: curly & jimmy

shoestring daisuke, daisuke, close your eyes: daisukeposting

anya & swansea i need to come up with something .. grr..

my little pony, ponysona: yeah

and anything with red text.. usually it is meant to signify him lying and/or modposting, but is used for emphasis sometimes. anything with blue text is truth.

[andbreakmynose]

cowboy films on gloomy afternoons

you loved everything about working at your local cinema, besides that one employee who just really confused you. he's just as pretentious as you thought but maybe he's also... something else.

WARNINGS: smut!! p-in-v, soft dom! al, one use of slut, office sex, age gap (unspecified, reader is in university). this is really fucking self indulgent

WORD COUNT: 4.7k

written with tbhc alex in mind because tbh he's the only one i can imagine being this level of pretentious tbh

You believed that you truly had the perfect job. For a film student, working as the projectionist at the little independent cinema across the street really was too good to be true. You spent your long hours watching movies—the kind that mattered. Sometimes you’d get stuck with the blockbuster of the week, but you were mostly met with true classics and arthouse features, which not only stuck with you long after watching but actually helped you get ahead in class. Your workspace was cramped and less than ideal, but not even that made you hate the job. You were surrounded by what felt like cinema history in unused rolls of film and posters left over from all 78 years the theater had been open, plus there was a half-decent couch to nap on. And yeah, you got free soda and snacks from it. Perfect.

The company was nice too; if the film ran long and you felt like you needed to stretch your legs, you could walk down to the never-busy lobby and talk to Lucy at the concessions counter (and steal some food) or Dylan at the ticketing stand. Somehow you even got a pretty good boss; Marty was one of the coolest and most experienced people you had ever met. He also wasn’t ever that busy, so he could help you with your homework if you really needed it.

But there’s always that one confusing co-worker, isn’t there? The one that’s either always out for the day or just plain weird. You had Alex. He worked in programming, getting to decide what movies the theater would show regardless of anyone else’s opinions. And goddamn, he was really good at it. Almost every showing you saw was completely sold out (who knew Sheffield had such an audience for auteur films?). But every time you praised his talent, he’d just... shrug it off. He was an enigma wrapped in an encyclopedia of film knowledge.

The problem with Alex is that he was aloof and painfully so. At team meetings, he’d stay in the corner, and you never really saw him out of the office. He also had a habit of being fickle; one day he’d decide he wanted to do an entire week of Tarkovsky films, and the next he’d want to do 1940’s horror films instead. His behavior echoed the type of students that would be dismissed in your class as ‘obnoxiously pretentious’, and god he was, you still remembered the time he went off on poor Marty for suggesting they show a Star Wars movie. But you were still interested in what he had to say; you loved Lucy and Dylan, but they couldn’t hold a conversation about a movie. Alex could, you assumed, if he was able to hold a conversation at all.

The first time you ever talked to him in private was when you went to ask about the copy of the film that was being shown. You had heard there was both a director's cut and a theatrical cut, so you wanted to make sure which you were playing. He answered your question with one sentence; “Director’s. Why the hell would I pick the theatrical edition?” And then went back to his work. It was a while before you talked to him again.

The next time you talked to him was for the same reasons, he seemed a little deep in his work when you came down to his office but you had 20 minutes before credits hit and your boss needed you to do this now. It was something about a high paying donor having a desperate question, whatever.

This exchange was almost the same, except this time he insisted that it was the theatrical cut and that the director’s cut was cash-grab bullshit. Ever the confusing man. You started on your way out when he called at you.

“Hey, what’s your favorite movie?”

It was an unexpected question, he never asked you anything let alone a personal question. It must be a trap, he wanted to hear your favorite movie and then would make fun of you for it. And it’s not that you had bad taste or anything, you're just sure he could find a way to tease you for literally anything you said.

“C’mon, I don’t have all day.” He says, an almost bored expression on his face.

You hesitated in choosing your words, anxious not to provoke the irritation you had seen in men like Alex, even though you knew he was likely to remain impassive. And even though you hadn’t seen him lose his temper, his distant demeanor made you uneasy, as if any slight could provoke a reaction. You had no reason to be scared but you couldn’t shake the feeling of unease in your bones.

Alex on the other hand finally turned to face you fully. He had been observing you for a while, you were always around and so was he, and he noted that you also seemed genuinely interested in the films and not just your paycheck. He also found himself begrudgingly noticing that you always wore the same type of skirt, ending right above your knees. He thought that if you were a character in a film it’d be one of your defining traits.

“Mulholland Drive.” You coughed up after a second of thinking. It was an answer that was both honest and, perhaps, intended to impress him. You didn’t want to dwell on whether that was your true intention or not though, you had other things to do.

Alex felt a flicker of satisfaction at your choice. He anticipated a more predictable answer, so Mulholland Drive was certainly a more compelling choice. In his mind, it confirmed that his suspicions were true; you were a different type of girl than any other employee he had seen in his 10 years of working at this theater. Maybe he really was pretentious, but he felt like if anyone was to work with him it should be people like you. He gave you a satisfied nod and a hum of approval, returning to the emails at his desk. He found you just as mysterious as he found you, he wanted to tear down the layers you had shown to everyone else.

Taking that as your sign to leave, you made sure to stop at the concessions stand for a bag of popcorn before going back up to the projectionists booth.

Two weeks later was when things started to change.

Alex had started to smile more, but you decided that was just because it was warm outside again. He had an interesting smile, it was warm and took up his entire face. It wasn’t the smile you’d expect him to have, you expected him to have a sneer if he was even capable of smiling.

You always liked to look at the schedule of films for the next week when they dropped on Thursday afternoons, you’d compare it to your classes’ syllabus to see if there was anything you could watch to get ahead. It seemed like Alex had decided on cowboy films for the next week, he’d done Sergio Leone before but this was just… a lot of 1960’s cowboy movies you had never even heard of. Nothing that would be helpful at all for you.

In between ‘Navajo Joe’ and ‘Billy the Kid Versus Dracula’ (god, where did he even discover these things), your eyebrows shot up. In the midst of all these damn horse operas he had snuck in… Mulholland Drive.

To say there were a million thoughts going through your head would be an understatement. A small, selfish part of you wanted him to have included the film because he had a soft spot for you, maybe this was his way of saying he saw how much you liked movies too. The logical part of your brain told you that there was some other reason, maybe an anniversary or something.

Checking the remaining time on Sabrina (Alex was on an Audrey Hepburn kick this week), you saw you had an hour left. That was plenty of time to wander the lobby and see if you could catch Alex. You slipped your phone into your pocket and climbed down the ladder from the projectionist’s booth to the lobby, praying to every god possible that Alex is somewhere to be found.

Lucy called out to you the second she saw you, beckoning you over with popcorn. You sighed and walked over, smiling at her.

“Hey look, I can’t talk for too long… have you seen Alex? Urgent question from someone at the screening.” It’s an utter lie, your mother would’ve reprimanded you for how filthy it was. But you needed to talk to him.

Lucy thought for a second, tapping her chin with her finger before she remembered. “He’s in his office, he’s always in his office, remember?” She said like it’s the most obvious thing ever. You nodded and gave a thumbs up, taking a handful of popcorn in your mouth before standing up again.

And that’s how you ended up in his office again, although you were shyer this time. If it was actually a question from a patron you’d ask it so easily, but this time it was your own. He’d have to give you an insight into his mind, you weren’t sure if he had ever done that before.

Your foot tapped lightly as you knocked on the door to his office, you heard him shuffle some papers around and groan.

“Come in.”

You have to take a deep breath before you open the door, there’s no reason this stupid movie should be making you feel this nervous but god…

“You’re gonna make me watch shitty westerns for an entire week, Turner?” You say with a small smirk, you embarrassingly had thought of your words all day. You didn’t want to just come in and ask him about why he picked your favorite film.

His eyes darted over to you the second you walked in, slowly taking you in. You had on the same skirt as last time. “I was watching one at home last night and was reminded of how brilliant the genre was. What, you don’t like a good shoot-em-up?” He asks you with raised eyebrows, leaning back slightly in his desk chair. Of course he liked westerns.

“Not my thing at all.” You replied, taking a small step closer to him. His hair was messier today than it usually was, his beard had gotten longer. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a bit, although he never looked like he got a lot of sleep. “Is it yours? Is your favorite film a western?”

He took note of how you were asking his favorite, the same way he asked yours. Smart girl. He smirked and shook his head, “Nah. My favorite film is ‘Le Samouraï’, you seen it?” Alex wouldn’t judge if you hadn’t seen it, but if you have it just might make you his favorite person on the planet.

You have to rack your brain on what you’ve heard of this film before, maybe it’s been mentioned in class before, you haven’t seen it. “No. Is that a sin?” You asked, leaning against a file cabinet in his office. His office was definitely bigger than the projection booth, he had made it very Alex.

Alex scoffed and shook his head, “I’m sad you haven’t seen it because it’s so brilliant but not mad. They haven’t taught you Melville in that expensive film school yet? You’re getting ripped off, sweetheart.” He matched your comfortable stance by leaning further back into his desk chair and crossing his legs. He had noticed that you aren’t scared of him, not even intimidated by his knowledge. He liked that, he liked talking to you.

“I’ve heard the name, we just haven’t watched it yet.” You respond, looking for the next thing to say to bring you to your point. “But I guess you’ve seen my favorite film, right? I saw you included Mulholland Drive in the lineup, was that a coincidence or are you being deliberate?”

Alex laughed at your words, of course you picked up on that. You really were too smart for your own good. “Well I suppose it’s a bit of both. I wanted something different in case not every regular audience member was on board with my westerns-’ he paused to roll his eyes, as if that thought disgusted him, “but yes. I figured it might be a pleasant surprise for someone with a discerning taste.” His eyes met yours and he smiled again, mostly because he saw a smile creeping on your face. He wanted to keep you smiling.

There was something about him admitting that it’s for you that made you feel… something. You didn’t quite know what. Maybe excited? You were excited and felt validated that he found your taste in film good enough to put on a lineup. You liked that he was perceiving you. “You’re saying you picked it for me? And here I thought you were just gonna be cryptic... What's your angle here?” You asked him; the smile was still on your face, but now your eyebrows were raised.

“Ah.” Alex uncrossed his legs, finally standing up. He got a little closer to you; he wanted to make stronger eye contact with you. “A great teacher back when I was in film school told me that it’s not just about what you watch; it’s about connecting. Maybe it’s all worth it if I can connect with someone who also appreciates the genius of Mulholland Drive.” Pretentious bastard; even his flirting was fucking pretentious. You would’ve made fun of him if you weren’t fighting back a blush.

You took another second to decide your words; it wasn’t often you were speechless, but you were now. "Well, I didn’t expect you to remember, let alone care enough to do that. Maybe there’s more to you than I thought... but don’t get any ideas about being my hero because you saved me from a complete week of westerns.” You had to throw an quip in there; without it, you thought your words felt too… vulnerable. You weren’t sure you were there with Alex yet.

He had to admit that you were funny, even if it was obvious what you were trying to say. He let out a laugh and shook his head. “I’m not trying to be your hero, sweetheart. I just figured that someone who loves the film as much as you deserves to see it on the big screen. Even if it’s from your tiny projection booth.”

His words, once again, leave you stunned. That was really sweet—maybe the top 5 sweetest things anyone had ever done for you. It was almost impossible not to blush and grin at him, and your body betrayed you by making you step forward. “Yeah? That’s… nice. But if you’re not trying to impress me, what’s your real game here? Or do you just have a thing for making people feel special?” You asked him; your smile was somewhere between teasing him and being genuinely flattered.

“You are special.” He responded, also taking a step forward. You started to feel his breath on your face; somehow just this one conversation had made you go from being terrified of him and thinking he’s so pretentious to wanting him.

As if he could read your mind, he reached forward and placed his hand on your hip, giving it a small squeeze. “Maybe I just enjoy challenging expectations; I can’t always be the mysterious bastard in the office. And like I said, you’re special.” His voice lowered, and his face got impossibly closer to yours.

Against all odds of being at work, and that just a week ago you thought he was the most confusing man on the planet, you needed to fucking kiss him. And you did; you took a half step forward and smashed your lips against his. He kept his hand on your hip, squeezing the soft skin as he pushed your back against the filing cabinets. You guessed that he wanted you as bad as you wanted him because he was practically sucking your face; you thought that was just a saying. It was an absolute mess of tongue on tongue and teeth on teeth; your noses even collided a few times as his beard scratched your face. It was uncomfortable in the best way; it was damn hot.

You moaned the very first second you felt his hand grope at your ass and his mouth slip from your lips to your neck. “So fucking pretty, so good,” he muttered before he started to attack your neck. It was an added sensation to have his beard pressing against you alongside his mouth (and teeth; he almost teethed at you). He definitely would leave more marks than just hickeys, but you were so in pleasure you didn’t even have time to think of work.

Oh fuck, work. You cursed silently to yourself and looked up at the clock, just as his hand started to snake under your blouse and over your bra, giving your tit a nice squeeze. “Fuck!” you called out, not just from the intense pleasure but from the fact that you only had another 30 minutes left before you told yourself you needed to be back in the booth. In an ideal world, you’d have an entire night with him.

He continued his mouth’s attack on your neck and hand’s attack on your breasts, feeling his pants start to become tighter; he could only imagine how wet you were. His fantasies were interrupted by you pulling him away and sighing, trying to catch your breath. “Alex… Alex I don’t have much time before I need to go. Do you want-”

He interrupted you this time with his hand coming up to squeeze your lips together, promptly making you shut up. “You got enough time for me to fuck you? Because I’m going to fuck you,” he said as if he'd already decided, and then he started to work with the hand not on your face to unbuckle his belt.

You weren’t able to really form words, so you just whined and nodded, giving him that permission he wanted. He took it quickly, flipping you over and bending you over his desk, your tiny skirt riding up so he could get a view of your pants. You were soaked; he knew you would be. His large thumb started to trace your folds before he made a ‘tsk’ noise and flipped you over again. He wanted to see your face, he decided. Alex Turner was nothing if not confusing.

“This wet only from a little kissing, god, sweetheart, I didn’t know I was dealing with a slut. Although I could’ve guessed from these tiny skirts you keep wearing.” His voice is cool and calm, a complete contradiction from how sinful his words were. You whined at them.

“Alex please. We don’t have much time; please just fuck me!” You cried out, hastily pulling your skirt down so he had easier access. Alex nodded and began to work faster on pulling his pants down. He was so goddamn aroused watching you act like this; you were such a gorgeous girl, and now he had you completely under his control. You moaned loudly, and he grunted, bringing his hand up over your mouth.

“Sweetheart, I’d love to hear all those pretty little noises, but not now. I’m not getting fired because you had to talk all sweet to me and get bent over.” It was an unholy whisper into your ears, causing your skin to shiver. You nodded, and he took that as a sign to slip your panties down. “Knew you’d have a pretty cunt.”

If it was even possible, his words caused you to get even wetter. You could’ve guessed that he was big from the hardness in his jeans, but by the time he slipped his pants and boxers off, you were left gasping against his hand. There was an underlying fear—how the hell was that supposed to fit inside of you?—but also a great arousal because THAT was supposed to be inside of you. Alex tilted his head down to look at your pussy before he smirked, adjusting himself so he could get closer to your entrance.

Your cunt started to clench around nothing, getting excited just at the sheer closeness of his cock. He looked at your entrance again before he spat on his hand and started to rub it along his length as extra lubrication. “I don’t want to hurt you, babygirl,” he whispered before gently forcing the head into your heat, causing you to scream against his hand.

He shushed you again as he kept pushing himself further in; all of your tiny moans and whines were hidden by his hand, but that was for the best; he’d hear them eventually. You were so tight, so warm, and in that very moment Alex decided he was never going to fuck another girl in his life.

When he bottomed out, you gave in and bit at his hand; it was the only way you could keep an actual scream from coming out. You felt so full, you could even feel him throbbing in your cunt (or maybe that was your walls clenching; it could be both). He smirked and started to move, setting a pace that was relentless. He’d prefer to take you apart slower, but you didn’t exactly have the time for that.

His cock was hit every spot in you that made you mewl and arch your back; it was like he knew things about your body that you didn’t. His eyes were focused like you were one of those damn emails he was always writing; it was hot to you that he was that focused on your pleasure. Gentle grunts started to fall out of his mouth as the hand not on your mouth came up to twist at your nipples. The pleasure was starting to become unbearable, and you weren’t sure how much longer you had until you started crying.

You knew you were close when a particularly hard thrust caused your eyes to roll so far back in your head it hurt, so you brought your thumb down to your clit. You needed to cum, and you didn’t care what you had to do to achieve that.

Alex cared though; he wanted to be the one to make you cum. He took his hand off of your nipple and smacked yours off your clit, causing you to whine at the loss of sensation. “None of that. If you needed that, you could’ve just asked,” he grunted, bringing his thumb down to your sensitive bud. It was a funny thing for him to say, as you couldn’t exactly speak, but you still bucked up at his manipulation.

His pace started to become sloppy; you knew he was close too. His breath was also starting to become staggered, and you could almost see a tremble in his legs. You’d never seen him this undone, and it was so damn arousing that you caused it. Alex had already memorized all the spots that made you shake and whine; he knew you were close, so he made sure to hit them all on his thrusts. He knew he didn’t have much time left, and he wanted to make sure you didn’t leave unsatisfied.

It was a particular stroke where he somehow managed to hit your g-spot and pinch your clit at the same time that had you over the top. You felt your legs start to shake and your back arched. You were sure the noises coming from your mouth were starting to get louder than his hand-cranked control, but you didn’t care. You didn’t even care when your hand spilled the pencil cup on his desk all over the floor. All you cared about was that you were cumming and he was making you cum.

Alex grinned at the sight of you becoming this undone because of him. That was what sent him over the edge—the idea that it was his work that just made you coat his member in juices. He pushed until the last second, until his cock was actually twitching, and then he pulled out. The loss of contact was hardly noticed, and he came all over his office floor just by seeing how fucked out you were. You still hadn’t caught your breath, but you were watching him with awe. His dick was really damn nice, and now it was leaking so much cum onto the floor.

He collapsed onto his desk chair and reached for a tissue from his desk. He wiped off his cock before tucking it back into his boxers and then wiped off your pussy, cleaning up the table too. He threw the tissue away and made a mental note to take his own office trash out later.

Once you had caught your breath enough, you stood up, legs still wobbly, and put your pants back on. It took a second, but eventually you had them and your skirt on. Alex just smirked at you.

“That was... good,” you said with a small smile. You were starting to get shy being around him; you just fucked him, and now you had to go back to work.

“It was. You’re uh, you’re perfect. I meant it when I said you’re special.” His smirk turns into a genuinely warm smile, and he brings his thumb up to trace your chin. There was a faint mark on your mouth from him keeping you quiet. You looked down at his cum on the floor, raising your eyebrows in a silent offer to clean it up. He just shook his head; he’d deal with that.

You nodded and sighed, “I should probably get back to work... I don’t look like I just had sex, do I?” Your hair was slightly messy and your shirt was wrinkled, but it also always was. “No one will notice sweetheart,” he replied with a bit of a laugh. He was glad this was your secret.

"Right, uh, thank you, Alex?” It comes out as a question; you’re not sure if you should thank your co-worker for making you cum like that. He shook his head and stood up. “No, thank you for being such a damn good fuck and a special girl.”

You smiled at this; his words gave you a slight hope that maybe this would happen again. You opened his door when he called out to you.

“Sweetheart, I was thinking that maybe I could come up with you and watch Mulholland Drive next week.” It was an optimistic idea; he was worried that you only wanted to fuck. But you grinned and nodded, “I’d really love that; we even have a couch up there.”

He chuckled and stepped closer to you, placing his hand on your chin again. “A couch, fancy!” He joked before he pressed a singular peck on your lips; he wanted you to know that you meant something more than a fuck in the only way he knew how. He wasn’t exactly the best with words. You laughed back at him.

“Alright then, it’s a date.” You grinned at him before leaving his office; you would’ve stayed longer, but time really was running out. You were so lucky that Lucy seemed to be on a bathroom break; you didn’t have to deal with her asking why you were in Alex’s office for so long.

When you got settled back in the projection booth and the credits began to roll, you took a minute to think about what the fuck had just happened, and when you opened your phone, the list of his stupid fucking westerns was still on it. But that was Alex, and maybe you liked that about him.

A/N: yeah like i said... self indulgent (i used to work at a cinema lol). but i'm already obsessed with this version of alex ahh.

[periprose]

Bedside Manner - Chapter One

The Ghoul x Reader

When it comes to job prospects in the Wasteland, being a nurse isn't all that lucrative. So you're Dom Pedro's assistant, where your nurse skills of administering drugs come in handy with sedating the Ghoul. (Not really following canon, just taking my own spin on stuff)

Genre: fluff, fallout angst (more in future chaps anyways), strangers to accomplices to ambivalent friends to lovers, heated moments of tension, probably eventual smut

Word count: 2.2k

Masterlist | Next Chapter

Holy fuck, does shoveling do a number on your back.

You groan as you roll back your shoulder, and throw the shovel behind you. 

Dom Pedro has been on your ass about this shift. You have to take the Ghoul to Dom’s workshop, where he’ll carve him up, when the sedatives have worn off and the pain will be ever-present and lingering. You figure Dom’s angry about something else– and what better outlet is there than torturing a ghoul?

It’s not something you like to do, carrying this extremely heavy, tall undead-man through Dom Pedro’s house by using a rope system and tugging, and then after Dom Pedro’s had his fun. re-administering drugs that will prevent the feral nature from taking him over, but it’s necessary and it pays well.

Pedro’s a little too elite to do this himself anyways. That’s why he hired you, a former nurse who used to work at a charitable hospital– one that was eventually claimed by the Brotherhood.

You try not to think too much about your former, much more fulfilling career.

The mildly disturbing scent of a living corpse hits you as you open up the casket. The Ghoul isn’t the worst ghoul you’ve ever had to look at, but he’s still a little creepy, and you stare at him as he lies there.

Is he awake? Pretending to be asleep so you’ll be caught off guard, and his gun will fire rapidly, making a bloody mess out of you?

You’re well aware of the risks. You just have to hope that today’s chemical cocktail IVs are correct, and enough is administered inside him so that he’s truly, really, fast asleep.

You carefully tie around his wrists and legs– you feel, somehow, the slightest bit of warmth, something that could suggest a pulse from the veins of his wrists– but you know that’s ridiculous and continue on.

/

Dragging him to the workshop makes you feel a little guilty. His face sometimes smacks onto the wooden floors of this cabin if you’re not careful, and you always whisper a hushed “Sorry!” Even though he’s not human.

You don’t want to be on his bad side, even if he can’t hear you. 

“Why the fuck isn’t there a more moral way to make caps?” You exhale, a common complaint you always have.

You tie him to the torture-chair, wrapping rope around his torso and arms and legs, so he can’t break free, adjusting his hat so it stays on, and because– despite the Ghoul’s reputation as a bounty hunter, you feel like he deserves a little respect with his belongings– and now you’re waiting for Dom Pedro to come and cut him up.

You don’t know why Dom Pedro does this. Is there some sort of use for ghoul skin and blood that you don’t know about? Or is it just purely torture, since Dom Pedro’s kept the Ghoul alive for so long, even giving him the false kindness of anti-feral ghoul drugs so he’ll be entirely aware of every inch Dom Pedro’s knife cuts into him?

You don’t know. And it’s not exactly like you’re important enough to know that information, anyways.  

/

The Ghoul stirs awake. He blinks– he’s back in the workshop, yet again.

He’s only half aware of how he gets here. He knows there’s definitely a woman involved– someone soft, with pliant fingers and hesitant motions that suggest she doesn’t want him to get hurt as she drags him from sleep to being butchered– he only vaguely remembers seeing her back, just once, maybe a few months ago.

He turns to the side, ready for Dom Pedro to be seething in the corner over whatever their beef was and brandishing that scary, rusted axe. 

He’s not there.

Oh. The Ghoul blinks again, his eyes clearing up as he does.

It’s you. You’re the woman, the nurse that Dom Pedro uses to administer all these drugs into him. 

It’s almost a little shocking, a little tantalizing to him to actually see you. Two-hundred years of memories doesn’t exactly give him the most clear of minds, but he knows you’re the one who’s always just hazy, on the edge of his peripheral vision after being tortured, in his dreams after you sedate him.

“Hey, nurse…” He can hardly talk, but you jolt in your spot, and turn to him. 

“Uh–” You stare at him, entirely flabbergasted. “You’re not supposed to be awake!”

“Well, I am. What’re you gonna do about it?” He yawns, still ever so slightly woozy from the drugs. 

The Ghoul notices a knife on the table. He tips his head toward it.

“Cut me free.”

“Are you fucking crazy?!” You shake your head immediately. “Dom Pedro will kill me.”

“Dom Pedro’s a bitch if he’s killing someone willing to do the hard work for what, a couple hundred caps?” The Ghoul raises his non-existent eyebrows, and you swallow. “You don’t know how rare that is nowadays.”

“And I’m supposed to just trust you? The Ghoul, the most terrifying, ruthless, brutal killer I’ve ever known?” You narrow your eyes at him, with every adjective tossed out of your hissing mouth, coming closer and closer to him.   

“I like how you describe me, keep going.” He jokes, looking up at you, but he snarls suddenly and you flinch.

The Ghoul grins in satisfaction, white pearly teeth, very square and rigid in their appearance, something that should look handsome on the right person and instead, is a little unnerving right now.

Still attractive, though, and you question yourself.  

“Let me go, sweetheart, and I promise your death won’t be as half as painful as he could make it.” He drawls, and you swallow but shake your head.

“I’m not interested in being a mercy kill.” You state, and he sucks on his teeth. 

“That’s a mistake.” He leans closer to you, somehow straining against your carefully tied knots to do so. “I’d be doing you a favour.”

“Well, I’m a coward. I’m not all rough and tough and shooting every single person I see, unlike you and Dom Pedro. I’m not gonna die in glorious battle, and I don’t want to die anyways.” You’re glum. “I only took this job because being associated with him protects me.”

The Ghoul is silent for a moment.

“And what if you were associated with me?” He asks, not actually intending anything serious, but he feels an urge to tease you ever so slightly. “That’s protection, isn’t it?”

“What?” You glance back at him. “Why would you do that?”

“Dunno.” He shrugs. “Maybe because I’m trying to bargain my way out of here, maybe because you’re the one who’s been kind enough to make sure I’m not chafing with how you tie these fucking ropes– and I’m assuming you drug me, right, sweetheart? You dull the sick pains he gives me.”

“Uh… yeah, I do.” You pause. “Stop trying to sweet talk me, Ghoul.”

“Nah, nurse. It’s funny and I wonder what Dom Pedro will do when he sees you talking to me.” The Ghoul says, another shit-eating grin upon his face.

Oh.

That’s actually quite bad, you think. The Ghoul hasn’t just been trying to coax you with compliments so you’d help him escape– the longer he’s kept you in this conversation, the closer you’ve gotten to his Plan B: Dom Pedro’s wrath.

“I’m guessing a smart lady like you would be more afraid of him.” The Ghoul keeps prodding, and you glare at him. “Rather than me.” 

You know he’s right. Your eyes give away what you’re thinking as you ever so slightly glance to the table.

There’s a syringe of chems there, meant to send him to sleep after Dom Pedro has done his worst. Usually Dom Pedro takes the initiative to do that himself, because as he tells you, he likes being the only one who can send the Ghoul to sleep, the closest Dom Pedro will let him ever get to death. And then you’re stuck with dragging his comatose body back to the grave that awaits him.

Maybe you can just put a stop to the Ghoul’s philandering right now, and get yourself out of here before things get bad. Dom Pedro wouldn’t even notice– the Ghoul would seem as out of it as he was supposed to be at this time.

It’s only a second of you looking over there, but the Ghoul is quick– too quick, immediately understanding what you intend to do– and he somehow pushes his chair forward, at you, aiming his foot to kick at you with what limited motion he has in his restraints.

You get shoved back with a grunt, and you see him edge towards the knife on the table– but you knock him backwards with a shove, and the chair tips back, only stopping on it’s back legs due to the ropes extending from them, tethered to the back wall and through the gear and pulley systems that are ever present in this workshop. 

The Ghoul’s kept his grip around your wrist, though, from where his hands are tied on the armchairs, and you fall back with him, balancing on your tippie toes and your hands on the top of the chair. Your hair brushes against his face as you lean forward, and you attempt to move away, but he won’t let go of you, instead sighing with gratification as he looks up at you from here.

“Huh. This is a compromising position, isn’t it?” The Ghoul licks his teeth as he keeps pulling you towards him, and you hear the wooden floor creak under you as the chair wavers in the air.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, c’mon, cut the bullshit.” He scoffs, still trying to get you to budge into helping him. “You really think Ol’ Dom Pedro won’t think you’re conspiring with me now, after it looks like you’ve taken a lover–”

There’s a sudden sound at the porch of the cabin. You and the Ghoul both turn to look out the window– and it’s definitely one very drunk Dom Pedro struggling to open the door.

You duck, out of fear that he’ll see you through the window, in the delicate moonlight, and the Ghoul tuts as your face comes near his jaw.

“What’s it gonna be, sweetheart?” He looks at your trembling face nonchalantly, as you try to make a decision. “Free me, and we’ll escape together. Use the drugs, and you’ll be stuck under Dom Pedro’s grubby fingers making exceedingly meagre wages.”

“How do I know you won’t just abandon me as soon as you want to kill a bounty?” You whisper, and he rolls his eyes. 

“You don’t. But I always repay my debts.” He says, and you don’t really believe him at all, but the more time passes by, the more you know that he won’t even seem appropriately sedated for Dom Pedro’s wishes– so you wordlessly nod.

The Ghoul won’t let go of you, so you’re left careening to the side as his arms hold you to him. He’s keeping such a tight grip to ensure that you scrabble for the knife– and you do.

“No sneaky bullshit.” He spits out, and you, despite being of the Wasteland, had no mind to kill him. No, that would’ve certainly looked bad as well. 

Dom Pedro’s favourite lap dog, dead? His bounty killer, who does it for the love of the game? His favourite ghoul to torture? The one who did something so bad it’s basically unspeakable, and Dom Pedro would be livid if he wasn’t ultimately the one to kill him in the end?

You could say goodbye to your head if you killed the Ghoul. You know your place– even if you get paid to administer drugs to him, you’re no better than a dealer, a sweet face providing a nice bedside manner.  

You make quick work of the ropes restraining him, and the Ghoul stands up before ducking behind a table, putting his finger against his lips, shushing you.

You’re very careful now. Dom Pedro is coming down the hallway, and any second now, he’s going to check to see if you brought the Ghoul here.. Luckily, Dom Pedro’s so drunk, he’s taking his time, stumbling and groaning.

After mulling over it in your mind, you decide to take the full syringe on the table. Less evidence, and you figure maybe Dom Pedro will be so drunk he’ll forget you were supposed to be here anyways.

And after second-guessing it– you think fuck it, and take the entire briefcase of drugs with you.

The Ghoul whistles very slightly at the sight of that. “You’re committing.”

You resist the urge to ask him what other choice you have, since running out on Dom Pedro is a great way to have a bunch of bounty hunters after you– you’re relying on selling some drugs, and bribing the Ghoul with some so he’d have to continue protecting you after he inevitably says he’s completed his debt by helping you escape.

“Let’s go.” You mouth, and he nods.

He’s not one to care about personal space at all, though– and he lifts you up over the ledge of the other window, pushing up on your thighs, away from the hallway where Dom Pedro is finally coming in– and you feel your face turn hot at the close contact, halfway over the ledge into the outside, with his hands on your waist as he hoists you away.

You don’t even have time to think about it as you land lightly on the ground together, because he’s right behind you, hands still on your waist for a moment, and then he lets go, and together you move quickly.

[jolalibrary]

v. you make me feel wild

javier peña x f!reader | chapter five of late night texts

summary: It's the year 2000. Javi is minding his own business on the porch of his pop's ranch when a text from an unknown number vibrates his phone. The only problem is, no one knows he has a phone and no one has his number.

chapter warnings: fluff. flirting. continuous romcom vibes. an: it's happening. everyone stay calm. also, we have a new header ;) wordcount: 2.2k.

text key: bold is you/reader | italics is javi

Woke up this morning and remembered that we’re going to meet

I may have also woke up smiling

On a scale of Javi smiles was it bigger than the one when we destressed one another?

bigger you flirt

I’ve learnt from you. Never used to be like this. I was innocent before talking to you.

somehow baby I doubt that

We can argue about it later if you want? When I kick your ass at the crossword.

cant wait. try not to let those assholes get you down

I’m on my best behaviour this week. Need them to not revoke going to Houston.

oh any special reason

Not really.

ouch baby

Ask silly questions, win silly prizes.

im going to houston too

Oh are you? Any special reason?

gonna meet this beautiful woman who is an outrageous flirt

Great now I'm blushing.

you make it so easy

I have to go, the meeting is beginning, I'm sorry. Speak later, baby xx

Pop doesn’t bring it up, even if he knows. He waits—like dads do.

Forcing Javi to bring it up, all awkward—sweat pebbling around his neck, lower spine and brow. Not helped by the sun beating down on them, having to shout parts over the occasional animal grunt heard over their discussion as they repair the barn door.

Lately, his Pop leaves him to do bits like this alone. But he’s been hovering. More since the phone calls began and a level above that since he walked in on him the other night.

He stews in it. Allows it to thicken before he really brings it up—unsure whether to come out with it or skate around it. The two of them have gotten out of practice when it comes to sharing.

Javi is more used to lying to save face than being honest.

A hazard of his old job, he supposed. A mask he applied so his old man didn’t worry. Now, with those same occupational worries gone, Javi still finds it hard to let people in. Truly in. Not wanting to discuss Colombia, discuss Cali or Escobar.

It all adds to a pile of things the two Peñas don't talk about.

This wasn’t even bad news. It was good. Precisely what everyone wanted—including him—yet the words still seem to ball up in his throat. Rounding off, becoming a lump that sits.

Making it hard to breathe as he lifts a piece of wood; making it hard to twist when he moves to grab the hammer.

So much so, the words eventually just burst out of him. More like a confession than anything else.

“—that must have been real embarrassing for you.”

He can hear you stifling a laugh. His verbal reenactment of the conversation in the field with his Pop having tickled you.

“You’re an awful person,” he says, twisting the cord around his finger, smirking.

“If you feel that way, baby. We can always not meet.”

“Don’t you fucking dare. We’re meeting,” he says, coating his words in playfulness, even if there's a serious undertone remaining.

Turning on the spot, he leans against the wall. Finger looping more of the cord—hearing you lightly laugh.

“What... what is the plan, anyway?”

You hum, and he hears you shifting. Likely getting comfortable or reaching for something.

He’s learnt that often when he calls, you’re on your sofa—a blanket, sometimes over your lap. You like to be cosy, even if it's a warm day.

Other times you’re in your room, sitting on the bed—or under the sheets. It depends entirely on how warm you are, and how you’re feeling.

“Well, work will pay for my hotel for my two-night stay, and then if we, y'know, wanted to stay, I’ll just need to sort a room out for after.”

“How long have you managed to book off?”

It comes out shaky, more than he means it to.

Some of the finer details of your two’s meet left simmering in the centre of your usual conversations.

Both of you are evidently too afraid to ask.

“I’ll have managed to book off the week. Two days, including the day I land, for work and then the rest—if you're not a weirdo—can be with you.”

Grinning, he leans his head back, resting it against the wall. “Bit late now for you to be worrying about me being a weirdo, baby. I know the sounds you make when I make you—“

“Javi!”

Smirking, he bites the inside of his cheek. “It sounds good. Tell me the hotel, and I can book a room there.”

He hears it, the relief. The way you let out a breath, it blowing down the phone—making him smile.

“Y-you don’t mind?” 

“You expected me to?” 

Pausing, he hears you shuffle again. Sounding more like you’re on your bed than your sofa. “I mean, no. I guess I wasn’t sure what you’d assume. Cause, while there’s a good chance when I see you, I’ll want to spend every waking moment with you, there’s, y’know…”

Grinning, he curls the phone line around his palm, fingers sliding between parts. “The chance it could be a lot?”

“I just don’t want to fuck this up.” 

He doubts you could.

From what he knows of you, he’s sure of it.

But, he also isn’t quite ready to confess he’s already pretty head over heels for you. That he is without seeing your face, knowing how tall you are—whether you have dimples or not, whether you smile with your lips or your entire face. 

“How’re you gonna fuck this up, baby?” 

You go silent, wondering if that’s the point you’ve shrugged to no one but your apartment. 

“I’ve heard I’m a lot,” you say quietly. 

Something snaps in him, a fracture running through him. “That’s alright. Steve told me I’m an asshole.”

“You’re not an asshole—“

“And I promise you’re not a lot. If anything, you could actually talk more to me.”

“Shut up, I talk loads.” 

He smiles, biting the inside of his cheek as he sighs. “I'm excited to see you.” 

“Me too.” 

Moving closer to the wall, he swallows, looking at the chipped tile in his kitchen. “You’re not gonna fuck this up, baby.”

“Yeah?”

“Promise. Let me book the room for the same amount of days as you, and then we can take it from there,” he says.

Struggling to hide his smile as you excitedly tell him you'll go grab your hotel details. More so when he's sure he heard you trip over something.

Are we going to do this when we meet?

you want to still do the crossword together

Yeah! We can find a place to pick up the paper if you want?

id like that

Good! Now, hit me with the next one so I can get some sleep so I can see you quicker.

got me blushing baby

7th word is d from ciders and clue is replacing, nine

Insteadof. This one is easy.

yeah im beginning to see that

Maybe we’re getting good at it?

let’s put it to the test, self-confidence six

Okay that one did take me a second but it’s aplomb.

you amaze me

Thank you. I think I should try and get some sleep, don’t want to look half-dead when I see you.

I doubt you ever could

I can’t believe I’m going to see the face that matches that suave voice.

suave ay. cant wait to see how pretty your smile is

You’re making me blush again.

tomorrow ill get to see it in person

You will. Goodnight, baby.

If I wasn’t meeting you it would be criminal being up this early.

Actually, it isn't even early. It is still night.

morning to you to baby I’m about to get on the road

Ok, I'm going to make myself the largest coffee.

Also if you’re not there after half an hour I’ll just head to the hotel.

hermosa I’m picking you up 

I know but just in case, least you know I won’t be standing around. 

you won’t be because I’ll be there 

Javi, this way you have options to take one look at me and drive the other way. 

I won’t do that 

I’m just giving options and in case there is traffic 

hermosa, im not going to stand you up

Okay, can’t blame a girl for wanting to help.

you can help me by getting your ass to the airport

Getting bossy, are we? I like it.

fuck baby you cant say things like that to me when i need to leave

Just something to think about on your long drive. Please drive safe, baby. See you soon.

see you in several hours

Javi is surprised at how smooth the drive is.

He watches the sun rise up as the miles tick on, sliding his aviators from his shirt to up on his nose. He finds a surprising road stop that serves not-bad coffee.

The kind that doesn’t leave that cheap tinge on his tongue or bitterly sitting in the back of his throat.

He doesn’t feel nervous, either.

And on top of that, he finds a parking spot at the airport with ease.

In a way, he worries it’s too good to be true. That such smoothness now means a rocky hill later.

That’s when the nerves kick in. It sitting, fluttering in his stomach—at first, all little wings and then all of a sudden something larger.

Shifting the parking brake into place, he turns the key to silence the car. His pulse creates a beat—steady, almost orchestral—as he glances up at the sea of people stepping out of the airport. 

This is it.

He’s been trying not to picture you—attempting not to turn shapes into something solid. Javi wants the experience when his eyes land on you, as though his world is in black and white, and then he’ll see colour.

It’s what he hopes.

A part, small but insistent, keeps chipping away at him, reminding him to plan for the worst. To have a backup plan—a way out.

Picking up his phone, he stares at the blank screen. Somewhat reassured that you hadn’t either texted that you’d arrived earlier—or worse, you’d changed your mind.

Lifting his chin, sliding his palm over his jeans, he takes a breath—deep, heavy, the kind that expands his chest until it can’t anymore.

You should have landed by now.

His eyes glance at the time on his watch as he takes another breath. Checking down at his shirt, making sure for the hundredth time he hadn’t spilt coffee—ensuring dark brown hadn’t stained pink.

It’s what you had asked for.

How will I know it’s you? youll know Because you’re oh so handsome? yes that and ill wear bright pink For me? You spoil me.

Running his tongue over the front of his teeth, he brushes his palm over his face.

It’s only then that he allows his eyes to flick from face to face, worry creeping in. It trying to merge with the happiness he’s been stifling on the drive. Scanning and scanning, glancing and glancing—

Then, in a worn denim jacket, legs out, dragging a battered suitcase behind, he sees you.

Or who he hopes is you.

If it is, you look nervous. It makes you stand out from the crowd of bustling people around you, as they struggle to get past you, and you struggle to force it behind a smile or banish it from your cheeks.

Even from here, it pulsates. You finding it more difficult as shaky hands pull out something from your pocket, unfolding it, before he sees the most ridiculous hand-drawn sign in between your fingers.

It’s definitely you. 

You who has scratched Javi P onto a piece of paper, all accompanied by a worried expression on your face as you shift from leg to leg. 

Javi isn’t sure why you made the sign. You didn’t need it.

Somehow, against all logic and odds, he knew it was you. His arm shoving the car door wide as he exits, not looking back to check it slams into place as he crosses to you, watching, waiting with his heart in his throat for your eyes to land on him. 

And when they do. 

It’s an eclipse. 

It hits your eyes first, making them gleam like a beacon guiding him home. Then it reaches your cheeks, lips sliding up, teeth showing as you lower the sign, staring at him as he moves closer, forgetting all the others around the two of you.

As though a single soul has never even existed outside the two of you.

It’s just him and you.

Coming to a stop in front of you, he lets himself stare you up and down—voice and texts stitching themselves to the face he now sees. 

Flexing his fingers at his side, Javi watches you slowly lick your lips as his heart slides back into its rightful place. The nerves slowly stop fluttering, and his mind begins to catch back up with him.

And the only thought that remains is: You're beautiful.

More than his mind could ever conjure or create.

“Hi,” you say.

And it falls like glitter from your lips to his ears. 

His lips are unable to relax from their grin, spreading wider, cheeks aching as he fights running his knuckles against your cheek. “Hi.”

an: if this was a sitcom, this would be my season finale... but alas it isn’t, so you only have to wait a week for them to be hanging out *wink, wink*

✨ also, check out this really cool moodboard a beautiful soul made for LNT for the birthday bash

next chapter ->

[rolankisser]

Ache Within

hii everyone! this is my first boothill oneshot so enjoy. I never wrote him nor posted smut sooo….any feedback is blessed. This was a oneshot i made for a friend bc she’s a boothill lover LMAOO, hope you like him as much as her cause it’s gonna hurt!

Mature Content:

Boothill x F!Reader, shameless smut, little to no plot, unrequited feelings (not really), give this cowboy a hug please, metal cock, P in V Sex, Edging, no kissing, overstimulation.

You can also find it on my AO3!: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57066385?view_adult=true

“You and Boothill never had anything there. Perhaps passing glances and light touches, nothing more you can do when you are constantly on the run from the IPC. But sometimes when you can pay the fee for a room, you may find yourself underneath the man who has been invading everything--especially love.”

So a pretty gal like you is truly waitin' for me?"

That smoky voice you came to relish in at any chance swells your heart big, just hearing his voice with its casual, rough accent that wasn't common on Penacony or any planet you have run to. It may be why it always brought warmth between your thighs and lower belly. He was different. The creaking on the cheap wooden floor signals his movement toward you, a classic motel with the smell of bourbon and cigarette ash. You could have gotten something more excellent, maybe a lavish hotel room on the main street of the bustling planet, but that's never been the case for you two, and that can't be the case for you two. Something secluded and secret was the atmosphere you two ravished in the most. At least the bed you sit on is comfortable; you wear your undergarments, and a soft breeze emanating from the small balcony in the room causes goosebumps on your body.

You can help but let a grin fall over your face as you turn to face the man who has haunted you every corner you go, every alley, every time you go to sleep. Sleep has always been where you can find him, waiting for you.

"Surely I would not be waiting for anyone else; only you ever find me." You hum out cheekily, lifting your head to meet the figure that towered over you.

Your feet lightly touched the roughness of his boots as you sat at the edge of the bed. His arms caged your figure, each hand meeting the plush of your thighs; they immediately squeezed together from the light and cold touch of his metal palms. Your eyes met his, the onyx-colored shade staring directly into yours. Of course, he could only find you. Leaving a trail, he could only see why this little rendezvous had happened more to your liking, Boothill's toothy grin plastered on his pale skin. If you could, you would worship him; his facial structure could go on par with the gods that haunted this galaxy; it's why you find your hand cupping the side of his cheek, the only part of him that kept human warmth. Thumb gliding on his plush skin, and he leans towards your palm the slightest bit, a gesture that makes you swallow back.

"No wonder you wear just these. Surely you ain't want anyone just to see—" Boothill whispers as he leans towards your ear. Ever so gently, his rigged breath touches it. Gods, did it make you shiver and squirm, but his grip stands firm on your thighs. "only lil ole' me." He finishes as his hand slowly travels up your thigh, going under the thin fabric that lightly covers his destination. You sigh softly before taking your hand off his face, stealing that lovely cowboy hat he always wore and placing it next to you on the bed. "You're the only one who can get me like this- the only cowboy in all of Penacony." Airly, you spoke as you felt his sharp teeth nip at the corner of your ear as a reaction to your admission to him. Boothills hand immediately follows and pushes you back against the bed as he crawls almost entirely over you. He lifts his head back towards you, facing you directly; his eyes blow wide, filled with a hint of desire but seemingly Nothing more. He waits momentarily before you nod your head, a silent agreement you two are only aware of. Most of this arrangement did not use many words, the most being the snappy, quick back and forth, and dirty talk. That's what Boothill played the most in this game of lust and passion. His metal hands curled at the edges of the fabric before pulling down your panties, the partially soaked material thrown somewhere in the room. His hand finally palmed your desire; the cold yet smooth fingers were ready to enter. You whimper out in a plea; Boothill's smile played once more on his face before he leaned down and nipped at the skin above your breast; they perk up at the feeling of his teeth leaving a purple mark in his wake as he traveled up to your collarbone then neck where he stayed leaving more marks. Your hands immediately reached towards his leather belt, fiddling over the buckle before it fell abruptly along with his holster.

"Not yet, always so greedy." Boothill teased as his fingers slowly entered your slick slit, the sounds of your wetness taking up the room as you let out a pitched moan from the invasion of his fingers. The cold mixed with your warm walls was almost heavenly. His cyborg appearance made a difference compared to a human one; it was so different. So much pleasure for you, something new. The edge of his palm, finding your perky clit rubbed it roughly as he found a rhythm and trusted his two fingers. The dexterity of his hands is one you admire; no wonder he could handle a gun so well and invade the IPC for so long with a large bounty compared to your own. Your mind grew fuzzy as the pace of his fingers finally found the spot of all your pleasure; it was as if that area in your body was crafted just for his fingers. The sounds of your pants mixed with the gushing sounds of his hands continuously plunging and stretching you, his groans reaching your ears. Opening your tear-filled eyes, you saw his half-lidded ones and a look of determination to finish and please you. "Fuck- Boothill-" You moaned loudly as your back arched into his metal chest; the cold plates of his body touching your nipples brought new pleasure that shot to your apex. His fingers started going faster, almost knowingly. Your reaching your climax was halted quickly, and his hands retrieved promptly out of you, leaving a new empty sensation; a whine left you almost immediately.

"Perfect." He mumbled into your skin, leaving another nip into your bruised neck. He looks into your eyes before cupping your chin as you bite your bottom lip. A sharp breath left your nose as your legs quickly found a place around his hips. A harsh grunt and laugh left him, "I swear to god- don't tease me." You cried out, your hands moving from gripping the sheets under you and finding his hair that lay messily over his shoulders. "What? I can't leave a girl waiting, and I wanna give her something more." Boothill replied with pride as he moved his hands covered in your slick; he licked it clean in slow agony. You couldn't help but push yourself towards his hips; you felt the hard metal touch your warm core. Soon, his hands found the inside of your thighs, pushing them achingly apart as he watched your minor reactions. The way your body reacted just for him. It left him always a little surprised yet cocky.

One thing was this never went further than just your pleasure; he made sure you got the attention you wanted. It never went further than him splitting your and milking you for hours as you wanted with just his hands and mouth. But tonight, he wanted to try something new, one that he wanted to see how you reacted. Mostly, he never felt anything when you two finally touched the lines of lust that spurred out of you, but only light lingered from him. Maybe the cheeky and cocky attitude he held is what you liked. Boothill enjoyed the gaze you gave him and how you challenged him, but he couldn't desire more; of course, he wanted to relieve himself like he did to you. But what would it do for him? He pulled his pants down slightly, enough so that his noticeably missing bulge was meant to leave your eyes staring in one of confusion. Until, with a push of his hand on it, it grew into a metal cock almost instantly; his cyborg body didn't allow him to feel what he wanted to, not ever since he came to be this. But he never used this mechanic it came with; it almost pulsated like a Well-flesh one. It caused him to shudder even within the metal. His eyes met yours as he saw how blown wide they were with lust. He hadn't noticed one of your hands leave his hair and return to your face as you bit the tip of your thumb, getting an itch of arousal out of him. How your skin lightly glowed from the sweat of getting to the most of your pleasure only to be edged wanting even more.

"Hells, it's as if you want me to fill you.." Boothill mumbled as he glided a finger from your slit to your clit, making you moan loudly. Your free hand slid from this silky hair down his smooth chest to his newly freed cock. He groaned almost instantly, causing the grip of his hand on your inner thigh to get tighter. "If you want your reward, I wanna hear it." You felt your throat go dry as your watched his hand leave your needy hole and move to grip is metal cock, slowly moving so the tip sat nicely between the two slits, not going fully in. It's just a light tease to leave you wanting it. You almost need it. No, you wanted it. But god, he had that classic cocky grin on his face.

"If you don't, just, Boothill, please.." You whined a bit, the pressure of his cock readily waiting to split you open. It was just babble talk. Boothill grinded his hips a bit, giving a slight dip into you and sending an almost vibration. Vibration? Boothill's eyes widened before Boothill instantly started laughing, gods his cock was vibrating when he moved his hips. "Hells, please just fuck me." You begged, and he hummed in reply. Slowly sinking himself into you, and your legs instinctively shudder and try to clamp him in. Instead, Boothill takes one of his hands and lifts your leg more, hooking it to his shoulder, allowing him to reach a new angle that leaves you like putty in his arms. The dirty yet beautiful sounds you sang made him push even harder until he was hip to hip and deep in you. You felt him stretch you; it left a slight, sharp feeling that had you taking a deep breath as he sunk. Yet just him sinking into you had you seeing stars, and the new angle has you praising the gods above. You feel his hand push lightly on your lower belly, causing you to let out the breath you were holding in; you whimper from the pleasure. His cock fits so well that it vibrates lightly, making you constantly squirm, feeling almost overstimulated from the feeling of it at that specific spot inside of you.

"You ready to ride a cowboy, sweetheart?"

Boothill announces as he removes his jacket, just keeping his pants on that leaves his cock out. As soon as his jacket landed on the wooden floor, one hand went back to the thigh of the leg on his shoulder and the other on the hill over your breast, painfully slow his fingers landed on your nipples as he rubbed the nub in a circling as he finally thrusts in you. It's almost as frantic and hard as he does as if he is chasing a high. But it was hitting your high. Boothill watches his eyes constantly watch how your ass hits his hips with each thrust into your warm and gushy cunt. He feels every single hit of your spot as if your pleasure is echoing back to him, causing him to let out a string of groans. His hand that was playing with your previously neglected breasts landed on the side of your head; he leaned more over you. Almost the position you were both in was similar to a mating press, sending immense pleasure into you. You moaned, whined, cried. Pretty tears wet your lashes as you glanced at him.

His pretty face was covered his sweat, and the birthmark under his eye highlighted the intense focus he had to make sure of fucking you so nicely. Something new, something that almost awakened you to something. Something like love, fuck, you loved this man. All those sly glances, the small touches as you two flew by each other when attacking the common enemy you shared and wanted justice for the wrongs they had done to you, even if this- whatever you can call these gatherings for you two. You desired for this man, Boothill was ultimately another thing you were fighting for every day other than for your wishes. His white hair intertwined with black strands now sticking to his face and the rest behind him and moving with him as he thrusts his hips in the same rapid rhythm in you. The way his hand continued to grip your thigh once he let go, you see the imprint of his metal hand on your plush skin; soon, it found its way back to your lower tummy. Boothill pressed pressure once more. Every time his tip hit your cervix, he made sure to press down, giving sparks of pleasure.

More, more, and more until you spilled. You finally feel your climax hit you with a storm, one leg that is hugged into his waist tightened on him. The other was shaking on his shoulder when he noticed the sudden spark. "Boothill!" You exclaimed as your spilled out cum on his metal vibrating cock. But he only hushed you as he continued going; one thing was obvious he couldn't spill into you; he couldn't cum. He could just keep going for as long as he wanted to, and for you, it made you crazy. Boothill watched as your milky substances covered his metal cock, pulling out almost all the way to get a look at the sight. He couldn't help but look into your fucked out eyes and the way your hair stuck to your body, and the bit of salvia on your chin.

Boothill knew what he felt deep down; he felt a feeling of appreciation and some romantic desire for you. But he wouldn't act on that, yet Boothill was fucking you through your orgasm; now moving the position in ease as he moved your leg from his shoulder back to his him and turning to his back, you now onto of him. Warming his cock that's stuffed in you as he holds you by your hips directly.

Now, you were really riding the cowboy.

Yet that's all you will do, as the round went again. With Boothill helping you bounce on his cock, his groans and dirty sounds mixed with the sounds of yours, the new sounds you never heard from him. He Vibrated almost even faster than before. Boothill would want more, but why form these attachments? Honestly, it was the fear of losing and loving someone. His thoughts clouded him as he seemingly thrust as you bounced. He was a cowboy as free as the wind. They used to say back on his planet. No one could ever catch him. Love couldn't catch him no matter how much he wanted it to; he had a mission, and you knew that. Yet he knew you felt something more. Boothill can see it even now, the way your fucked out eyes still held a flame of yearning and love for him, and it made his heartache as he fucked you. The way your hands caressed his metal chest so lovingly, the small touches he can only feel so lightly compared to the pleasure he feels on his cock from you. Soon, his hands moved from your hips to your lower tummy. He pressed down once more, and you took him so well. The way you squirmed even more as you bounced on him.

"You take me so well, dont'cha?" He groaned out with his husky laugh. And all you could do was nod lightly as your eyes rolled back, and you panted and moaned so sweetly for him. You were seeing stars, even brighter than the ones out in the sky. The night went by as the sound of skin and metal slapping against each other. The sounds of love making echoing the room the air was thick and hot of ecstasy, you don't know how long its been, but you had orgasmed more then twice already. Your ass was sore from the constant hit of metal from riding the man in front of you, now thighs caging Boothills as he nipped and left love marks between the valley of your breasts. Your throat was dried, and your thighs were sticky from your own slick and cum. And as you hit your peak once more, you buried your head into his metal shoulder. You felt the wave of your orgasm came to the end you panted, Boothills hands came to caress your back before he stopped and only rested it on your hips. He blew away some of your hair from you. "Too good, I think I'm out.." You whimpered, and Boothill could only laugh.

"Alright, sweetheart, up you go." He said sweetly in your ear as he helped you off of him with shaky thighs. Once you lay next to him, you both looked up at the wooden ceiling decorated with tiny fairy lights that highlighted the sweat covering you and him. You were trying to catch your breath as you felt soft fabric brush against your thighs; Boothill turned to your gaze and smirked. "Ain't no way I'm leaving a girl in her mess." it was a tease, yet it squeezed your heart. Once he finished cleaning you up, he sat back up, his metal back turning against you. You felt a tugging feeling. You wanted to touch him, yet not something sexual. A touch that was filled with its softness and care. You heard the sound of gears and the buckle of his pants. You watched once more as he leaned down and reached for something. Laying back down and staring up, your brows furrowed as you sighed, hands covering your face. Boothills steps, though, made you jump up. You didn't want him to go so quickly as he usually did. Instead, you catch him leaning over the balcony in the room corner.

He held a cigarette against his lips and lit a match and put it towards it, lighting it up before putting out the match's flame. He breathed in before letting out a circular puff of smoke. The moonlight shined off him as if the gods were crying the moonlight out. He was the only thing that shined on you in the moment. He looked so beautiful. You thought he looked like those tales of beings made by god, like he was almost hand-crafted to be this breathtaking.

"Boothill.." You called out, reaching a hand out partially.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

He turned his head over his shoulder before taking another puff of his cigarette. 'sweetheart,' you knew there wasn't anything inquiring about romantic interest. You bit your tongue.

"You are beautiful." You replied softly before putting your hand down and looking towards him in his eyes. Yet he turned away, and you heard the tiniest sigh.

He didn't reply. Something worse than him leaving as soon as he came. Boothill wanted to meet your gaze, brush his hands on your pretty lips, and give you the kiss he knew you desired- the genuine care you wanted. Yet he couldn't. He couldn't attach, he did love you yet. As the wind called him out in the moonlight, he stood under this night. The warm smoke entered his mechanical lungs and came once he blew out. He pressed his hand on his head.

"Fuck." He cursed lightly, praying you didn't hear him.

He was a cowboy, after all, free as the wind. Nothing could get him, Nothing could have him.

[lemonrin-i]

Fondness

Pairing: Floyd Leech X Reader

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

Summary: A submission for the @twst-charity

Floyd being protective over the Prefect Post-Chapter 3

When the Prefect first arrived at NRC, they quickly realize that nobody truly respected them on campus.

Ace and Deuce somewhat respected their position as the Prefect, but that’s mostly because they were friends, and while Jack saw the importance of their title, that was mainly due to the fact Jack was a goody-two-shoes.

One time, during lunch, The Prefect saw a meek first-year being pushed around by a second-year for his lunch money. And the Prefect– who had naively thought that they could make a difference– had stepped in, head held high and demanding that they left him alone.

Their confident demeanor was soon shattered when the bullies immediately laughed at them. Loud enough to attract unwanted attention from a few bystanders.

The Prefect’s ears went warm and the sudden attention on them made them sweat. They remembered that when Crowley gave them the role of prefect, he merely gave them that role as a way to turn them into his little errand runner– not because he thought they could benefit the school environment in any way.

What’s worse was that the meek first year that the Prefect came to defend started to join in on the teasing. Probably in hopes of getting away from their radar and setting their attention on someone else, someone much weaker than him, someone with zero magic capabilities and therefore was incapable of defending themself.

It was only after Jack interfered that the bullies relent. Scoffing at him as he bared his teeth at them, muttering under their breath that they were just joking around.

That day, the prefect finally realized something as Jack asked if they were alright.

They were completely and utterly helpless.

That was. . . Until today.

The Prefect didn't pay it much mind, they were usually found hanging around their friend group and Deuce and Jack can be a rather intimidating duo so no one dare approached them. What was strange was the fact that students were starting to run away from them.

Now, the Prefect knew Jack and Deuce would never harm anyone. Sure they would ruffle some feathers but they’re far from scary– quite the opposite.

But after a while, the Prefect began to realize that it wasn’t those two they were running away from.

It was the Prefect.

The realization had dawned upon them when they were having lunch alone. ADeuce got in trouble again and were now staying behind in Alchemy while Jack had club activities.

Floyd Leech had decided to accompany them for whatever reason– The Prefect wouldn't say they were close with Floyd but they got along pretty well, as least. . . they hope they did?

People tended to stay away from Floyd due to his rapid mood swings and the fact that he was one of Azul’s scary henchmen. While Jade kept his intention subtle and was meticulous, Floyd was his polar opposite. Not even Azul could keep a tight leash on him.

But for the Prefect, they didn’t really mind. Between trying to keep Grim and their friends out of trouble, Floyd was nothing. In fact, he can be very easy to read sometimes once you get to know his patterns– Unlike Jade, who keeps his cards close to his chest.

They couldn’t help but note that Floyd can be quite cuddly at times too. His physical affection varies to the point the Prefect has it memorized. When Floyd’s excited, he would lift the Perfect off their feet and give them a big squeeze or when he’s tired to which he just plops his head on their lap or put his entire body weight on the Perfect.

While Floyd had a hard grip and was quite heavy, the Perfect found it strangely. . . adorable? Yes, Floyd can be scary and intense but his physical affection was also his way of communicating his excitement and they couldn’t help but be fond of it– despite it potentially being bone-cracking.

So yes, the Prefect would say they are close enough.

Out of the corner of their eye, they see one of their bullies. They both shared eye contact before the bully's face suddenly contorted into a horrified expression and they made a run for it. The Prefect had never been more confused, since when did they have Jack and Deuce's level of intimidation?

The Prefect turned around to look at Floyd, who was unusually smiling “That was weird”

“Yeah” He smiled even wider “It was”.

[airaibunny]

dom!sana x sub!fem!reader - “in the closet” (warnings: smut, fingering, praise, semi-public[maybe? idk?], finger sucking[idk if this has an actual name], breasts/nipple play)

a/n: this took entirely too long to finish, i’m so sorry everyone. i hope the wait is worth it! if its not, again im really sorry. i have no clue how sets work, im pretty sure they have a director. if they dont then you know the drill: pretend with me

word count: 1.4k

you’re very used to long photoshoots. you’ve never really had a problem with posing and focusing, but you can’t seem to do that today. it’s not your fault though, how can you possibly concentrate when your girlfriend looks so damn hot?

you like to think that the stylists don’t have a favorite, but it’s undeniable that her outfit outdid everyone else’s. you can’t stop looking at her, and you’re not being sneaky about it either. it’s very blatant to everyone on set. she glances back at you sometimes and you can undoubtably feel the slick running onto your underwear.

“y/n, over here please.”

the sudden remark coming from the director jolts you out of your thoughts. this is the third time you’ve been redirected. you really are trying to pay attention, but you just can’t. you can hear sana giggling at you and you turn to look at her without thinking about it. you immediately remember that you’ve just been told to face forward however, so you look away.

“okay, i think we need a break. let’s take 30 and then try this again.”

the director lets out a sigh and you mouth ‘sorry,’ feeling that this was entirely because of you. you notice jihyo walking up to you and brace for impact as you’re sure she’s coming to reprimand you.

“what is going on?” she crosses her arms in front of you and awaits your explanation. “i don’t know, i’m sorry. i’ll fix it when we start again, i promise.” she remains silent for a few seconds. “you better. we’ll talk when we get home.” with that, she walks away. it didn’t go as bad as you thought, but now you have to get a world famous “jihyo talk” when you get back to the dorms.

you sulk for a second, but quickly forget when you see sana drinking water out of the corner of your eye. the way she moves her head back and exposes her neck reminds you of the tension between your legs. you watch as a drop of water drips down her chin and she wipes it away. you rush over to her side and grab her arm. “do you want something?” she playfully remarks and shoots you a fake oblivious look.

you roll your eyes and begin pulling her away from everyone else. you truly couldn’t care less that there’s people looking at you, you need her to touch you. you frantically run around for a few minutes trying to find any sort of open room and finally find a closet. it’s not huge, but you both fit in it comfortably and it’s clean.

you pull sana inside and reach behind her to close the door. you quickly realize there’s no lock and look at her for help. “is something wrong?” you nod and point to the door handle. “oh, that has an easy fix.” she smirks at you and grabs your waist. she switches places with you so that you’re the one closest to the door now. in one fluid motion, she flips you around and presses you against it. “see? problem solved.”

you can feel her breath on the back of your neck as she speaks and suddenly feel uncomfortable in your clothes. you tug at your skirt, but she grabs your hand. “are you sure you want to take it off? if so, we’re going to have to make your outfit looks the exact same when we put it back on.” blinded by your lust, you decide to ignore sana’s warning and continue pulling your skirt down.

you hear her snickering at your back. “you’re so needy, is this really necessary?” you finish taking off your skirt and sana grabs it from you, placing it on a shelf behind her. she slightly pulls at your underwear and instructs you to take it off as well. you swiftly comply with her request and she places it where she previously put your skirt.

sana takes advantage of the fact that your shirt has no straps and pulls it down to reveal your breasts. she brings one of her hands to your back, holding you in place against the door. she uses her other hand to play with your breasts. she draws circles around your nipples and tugs at them, making you squirm in your spot. “calm down, i’ve barely touched you, angel.” you whine at her in response.

her hand travels down your chest, caressing your stomach and abdomen before stopping right before your core. “sana…” you put one of your hands on top of hers. “do you want me to keep going?” she takes your hand in hers and kisses it before placing it back on the door. “yes, please…” she kisses your shoulder and whispers against your skin. “thank you for saying please, you’re such a good girl.”

she finally brings her hand to you core and you jump a bit. you can tell she’s holding back as she places soft kisses on your neck and shoulders. “fuck, i wish i could leave marks.” she’s still teasing you and playing with your folds, but not giving you what you really want. you let out small moans and whimpers, mindful of the people outside.

“sana, please.” she keeps tormenting you even though she knows exactly what that means. “please what? i can’t read minds.” you can feel a wicked smile appearing on her lips with the remark. “i want…” she rubs circles on your back, encouraging you to go on. “mhm?”

“your fingers, inside. please…” she moves the hand on your back to your waist and pulls your ass against her. “okay, angel, only because you asked so nicely.”

she parts your folds with her fingers before slowly inserting two digits into you. “how does that feel?” you don’t bother responding verbally, you just grind back against her. she starts pumping her fingers in and out of you slowly, letting you get used to the initial sensation. “you’re soaked, have you been like this the entire day?”

“yeah.” she begins speeding up, making you let out muffled moans and whines. without thinking, you grab the hand on your waist and bring it up to your breasts. she chuckles behind you. “do you want me to play with your tits?” you mumble out a ‘yes’ as well as you can given your current state. luckily for you, she doesn’t make you repeat yourself.

she continues adding speed to the fingers inside you while taking your nipple in between two of her fingers. you’re worried about how loud you’re being, but your brain is too foggy to actually stop yourself. “hm, feels good…”

you can feel a knot growing in your stomach as she curls her fingers inside you. she immediately realizes how close you are and speeds up even more while still messing with your tits. you bring one of your hands down and hold onto her forearm.

“go ahead, i’ve got you.” with sana’s permission, your muscles contract as you finally reach your high. you shut your eyes close as she keeps going, letting you completely finish. the hand previously on your breasts has moved to your waist, holding you up.

once she’s sure you’re entirely done, she turns you around and presses your back against the door. she brings her fingers up to your mouth and brushes them against your lips. “open.” she commands, bringing her other hand to your jawline. you do as you’re told and she pushes her fingers inside your mouth, letting you lick them dry.

once she’s satisfied with your work, she grabs your clothes from the shelf behind her and helps you put them on. although you struggle a bit, you manage to get your outfit to look just as it did before, or at least you think you do.

“how do my hair and makeup look?” you ask, bringing your face closer to her. she strokes your hair and drags her thumb across the bottom of your lip. she then cups your face, pulling you in for a kiss. “you look great, what about me?” she smiles at you, already aware of what you think.

“you look really fucking hot.” you give her another kiss and she giggles. “oh yeah?” you nod your head, still planting soft kisses on her lips.

“okay, we have to get out now.” you pout, but you know she’s right. “don’t be sad, i’ll make it up to you later, at home.” she reaches for the handle to open the door, but adds to her statement before doing so. “that is, after jihyo yells at you.”

[obey-me-headquarters]

hi! could u perhaps write about mc accidentally finding out about the boys’ hard limits? like, just something that triggers their fight or flight response. maybe like inflecting severe pain or something. idk… thank you and sorry if u can’t!

Summary: Reader finds out where their demons' hard limits lie.

Warning/kinks: Degradation, Mirror play, bondage, sensory deprivation, punishment, spanking (with your hand and with a paddle), public play (? You're at an orgy, so everyone around you is consenting), food play, safeword use. In general, there's some panic on the boys' part as they realize that they don't like what you're doing. Along with some of them holding in their safeword for a bit, but you reprimand them for it.

Word count: 8,500+

Reader is completely gender natural and their genital isn't described.

-

Lucifer:

You know that Lucifer has complicated feelings when it comes to his body. He hates that he's missing a set of wings, but he wouldn't go back in time and stop himself from tearing them out. Yet his preference towards wearing as many layers as possible stems from more of a fear of being vulnerable than a lack of confidence in his body.

If anything, he's a bit overconfident in his physical appearance, if someone were to ask you.

("Is it really overconfidence, or simply knowing what I'm worth?"

"It's overconfidence Luci, my beautiful stupidity prideful demon.")

Using mirror play in the bedroom has proven to be an excellent way to break down Lucifer's walls. Whenever the demon struggled to get into subspace all it took was bringing out a mirror and having him nakedly kneel in front of it while you remained fully clothed for him to fall straight into subspace.

Something about him being so vulnerable while you remained untouched and fully clothed did something to him. Made him feel small and submissive. You didn't quite understand, but you definitely saw the appeal.

So, when Lucifer struggled to get into subspace one evening. When collars and putting him over your knee didn't do the trick, you brought out the mirror. It was full length and wide, able to reflect nearly half of the entire room, but you doubt that Lucifer would pay much attention to anything besides you or himself.

As you place Lucifer in front of the mirror he snaps at you, barring his teeth into a snarl and you know that tonight is going to be a difficult fight of trying to get him to relax enough to slip into subspace.

That proves true when you watch Lucifer struggle to fall into subspace. His pride battling his desire to be vulnerable and let you take control, you watch as he relaxes, before tensing up and snarling, before relaxing again, creating a vicious cycle.

Determined to break it, you decide to try something else that always makes Lucifer squirmy and lightheaded:

Degradation

"God, you're pathetic," you hiss as you pace around the demon. "Look at you, snarling at your own reflection like a wild animal. You know, sometimes I think you're no better than a wild animal with how much you fly off the handle."

Lucifer blushes at your words, but his pride is still roaming, and it doesn't let himself relax just yet.

"How dare-"

"Shut up!" You snap, wrapping a hand around Lucifer's mouth to silence him.

"Shut your dirty, lying, cheating mouth! How dare you think you can talk like you have something worthwhile to say."

Lucifer's breath catches in his throat, as the haze of vulnerability starts to creep up on him. Seeing his desire spark in his eyes you smirk and continue.

"Come on Luci. We both know that you never said anything worthwhile in your life. That at the end of the day, you're worthless. No, no, you're less than worthless. You only seem to make everything worst, don't you?"

Lucifer feels his pride crumble at your words, washing away as he starts to feel truly insignificant.

"You can never do anything right, can you? Not for Diavolo, not for your brothers, and certainly not for me."

The mention of disappointing Diavolo and his brothers strikes something inside of Lucifer, something he wasn't prepared to feel. Yet before he can examine what he's feeling, you continue.

"You're constantly fucking up, disappointing everyone around you. I wonder how long it'll be before everyone around you sees what I see. Do you know what I see Luci?"

Breath catching in his throat, Lucifer shakes his head.

You raise his chin with your index finger and direct it to the mirror, and Lucifer flinches when he sees himself.

He knows he would look vulnerable, and normally he would take great delight in how small and weak he looks compared to you, but coupled with your words, instead of feeling small and submissive and safe in your gaze, he feels like dirt. Normally when he drops down into subspace he feels soft and cared for, now he can't help but feel worthless and exposed.

Your sneer doesn't help as you take in the kneeling demon.

"Ugh, look at you. Can you believe that you used to be considered the star of the Celestial Realm?" You grab onto Lucifer's chin and force him to look at himself in the mirror.

"Well, can you?" You demand.

"N-no." He asks barely a whisper as tears spring to his eyes.

Immediately your hand drops from his chin as you stare at your demon in alarm. You're used to Lucifer being shy, especially as you break his pride down, you're used to his tears, but you never heard your demon sound so broken before.

"Luci, darling, are you ok?" You ask softly.

"I, I can't believe that I used to be the star of the Celestial Realm, Master. I am, sniff, I am worthless." Lucifer ignores your concern as he continues to cry, tears dripping down his cheeks.

Immediately you wrap your arms around him and pull him into your chest. "Hey, hey, shhhhh. It's ok baby. I don't think you're worthless. Demonus, ok? Demonus, the scene is done, it's over." You repeat your safeword a few times so Lucifer knows that the scene is over.

As you continue to hold Lucifer against you, mumbling praise and assurances slowly the demon starts to calm down. When his tears finally stop he leans away from you for a moment to catch his breath.

"Sorry, I- sorry. I don't know what came over him." He says, looking everywhere but your face or the mirror.

"It's ok sweetheart, you know you never have to apologize for needing to stop the scene. You know that right?"

"Yes, I'm aware. I just, didn't expect to react that way."

"If you're willing, do you mind telling me what caused it?"

Lucifer sighs and collapses back into your hold, and you think for a moment that he's going to shrug the whole scene off, but after a beat of silence he answers:

"It was the degradation. Normally I like it, love it even. But as I fell into subspace, hearing you talk about me like that made me feel vulnerable, and not in a good way."

Blinking, you will your tears away for now. Later, when tensions are lower, and everything isn't so raw the two of you will have a more in-depth conversation about this and will be able to apologize. Now your demon needs you.

"Thank you so much for telling me, baby. I just want you to know that I didn't mean a word of what I said. I, and I'm sure everyone else, rely heavily on you. We don't think you're worthless at all."

"I know," Lucifer states, a bit of his prideful overconfidence returning.

"Now, why don't the two of us stop laying on the floor and listen to a few of my records instead? I got this new one that curses those who listen to it to sing until their throat bleeds." Lucifer stands, reaching out a hand to pull you up.

It's a bit silly, seeing the still naked demon being so confident, but you hold all teasing remarks as you follow along.

-

Mammon:

You wanted to do so much to Mammon that it became a question of not what you'll do to him, but what he'll allow you to do to him.

And it turns out Mammon will allow you to do a lot.

Hence the list. After a very exciting night of thinking about every fantasy, kink, and wet dream you ever had, you came up with a list of what you wanted to do with Mammon, and are currently in the process of working through that list.

A lot of things on the list Mammon never tried (or heard about) before, which took a lot of talking, and a lot of easing him into certain kinks. The very kink you're trying out tonight being one he never tried before.

You gather up everything you'll need for tonight. A blindfold, noise-canceling headphones, and a pair of chains. You're a bit excited that the blindfold and headphones are magic, meaning that cut off all light and noise, as it was basically impossible to find a human realm blindfold that blocks out all light.

You could tell Mammon was getting excited too by the way he keeps eyeing the items, but in his usual Mammon way, he keeps that fact to himself.

It's adorable how he rushes to lay against the headboard at your command, as he's usually a bit of a brat and drags his feet before obeying your orders.

The chains are the first thing to go, seeing as Mammon and you were intimately familiar with them. As you lean over to secure the right cuff Mammon steals a kiss, leaning upward his lips ghosts over your cheek. With a grin, you pin him to the bed.

"Greedy boy~ we haven't even gotten started and yet you're already teasing."

"Guess it's just in my nature to be a little greedy." He teases back.

Rolling your eyes you give him one last real kiss on the lips before cuffing him to the bedframe. As you back to enjoy your work you can't help but feel giddy.

Pulling out the blindfold and headphones you turn to your demon with a grin as you present them both to him.

"Blindfold or headphones first?"

Mammon looks a bit caught off guard at being asked his preference, before eyeing them both critically. After a beat, he answers: "The headphones, I want the extra time to see you."

You huff at the flirt, not believing just how bold your demon can get under the right circumstances. (The circumstances being chained to the bed as you lay on top of him.) Leaning down you place the headphones around his ears and give him a moment to adjust.

"Wow, this is really weird! Woah! I can't even hear my voice! Am I being loud? I feel loud!"

Rolling your eyes you lean down and tap Mammon twice against the forehead - the signal you two came up with when you want to check in.

"I'm really to go! Just give me one last moment to look into your eyes -" Mammon stares into your eyes unblinking for a solid five seconds "- I'm good to go!"

Wrapping the blindfold around his head you plunge your demon into darkness.

And it is incredibly weird for Mammon. As a demon he has pretty good night vision, so even in complete darkness he can make out shapes pretty well. So being in complete darkness takes him a moment to get used to.

The warmth of your body grounds him, and it doesn't take long before he's relaxing into the plush bed.

Shimmy downwards, you try to make yourself comfortable sitting between Mammon's legs, sitting right in front of his cock. Leaning down you give the half hard cock a puff of air and watch as Mammon jumps at the sensation.

"Th-that felt weird. It felt like, a lot? Even though it was so little?" Mammon mumbles, and you wonder if you're going to get a rubbing commentary the entire night.

Maybe you should have added a gag to your myriad of tools.

Wrapping your hands around your demon's dick you begin to slowly pump it. Mammon gasps at the feeling, before moaning and leaning into your touch. Your touch is light and extremely slow, but the demon has always been extremely sensitive and it doesn't take much before he's nearly spilling.

"I'm cumming-"

Your hands fly away at his words, and he growls in annoyance. With a grin, he can't see you bounce off of the bed and begin looking through your toy chest. Normally Mammon would be peaking over, curious about what you'll pick out. But seeing as he can't currently do that, you grin as you realize that you're going to completely surprise him with whatever you pick.

As Mammon comes down from his high he realizes that you're no longer on the bed. The warmth he previously felt emulating from you is gone, and his heart quickens as he realizes that he's alone.

"Hey, what's the big idea? Where'd you go?" Mammon calls out.

You roll your eyes at the dramatics, too busy with shifting through the toy box. "In a minute, Mamms, I'm just getting a few toys." You answer, half forgetting that he can't currently hear. Mammon was just so loud, so responsive, that you momentarily let it slip from your mind that he didn't actually expect a response from you, and couldn't receive one.

Mammon tries his best to calm down. Surely you're just messing with him, right? Wanting to make him crack and beg for your touch? You do like to make him beg. Yup, that's it. You were just teasing him.

You are still definitely in the room with him.

Right?

Seconds become minutes to Mammon as he strains his ears to hear you. Normally he knew exactly where you were and what you were doing, even when he was kneeling and staring at the ground his demon senses allow him to hear everything. Now he has no idea where you are or what you're doing.

"Ok, fine, fine! I give! Can you please touch me?" Mammon whines.

Picking up the fleshlight you want to use on him you intend to do just that. Only to realize that the demon forgot to clean it. Gagging you put the toy aside to clean later, and decide to punish your demon by continuing to ignore him by looking through the toy box.

"Come on, please." His voice takes on a real edge of desperation as he starts to spiral.

What if you left? What if you got bored of him and decided that you didn't want to play with him anymore? Is he all alone, begging to an empty room because he wasn't good enough? He begins to fight against his chains in earnest now, instead of the teasing, testing pulls he's used to. But he finds that they're locked up tight and that he can't break out of them.

Will you hear his safeword if he says it?

Finally finding a suitable and clean toy you stand up and stretch. Glancing over at your boyfriend, you notice that he's strangely calm as he's no longer begging or struggling against the chains. You believe that he's just pouting and the second you touch him he'll start whining about you taking forever.

Before you can reach him, Mammon mumbles out a soft, broken, "Goldie".

Dropping the toy in your hand you rush over to him and immediately remove the headphones before moving onto the blindfold.

"Hey, hey it's alright. I'm right here." You mumble, hands shaking as you lean up to undo the cuffs.

Mammon has never safeworded before, and you're kinda panicking at the moment, but you do your best to remain calm as you rush to take off the chains.

The second Mammon lays eyes on you he lunges at you, pinning you to the bed in a hug. His arms are firm, yet they shake as they hold you. It takes you a moment to realize that the wetness you feel on your neck is from Mammon, but once you do you coo in sympathy.

"I thought you left me," Mammon whispers into your chest.

Blinking back tears you lean down to kiss the demon's forehead.

"I would never leave you alone like that Mamms. I just wanted to get a toy from the toy chest. I'm sorry, I should have communicated that to you."

"It's alright just... I don't think blindfolds and noise-canceling headphones are for me."

"That's OK, that's alright. Sometimes we're going to find stuff we don't like."

-

Levi:

Levi is an extremely obedient sub. In your many months of dating each other he never once received a punishment. You two set out rules together, with him not being allowed to touch himself without your permission and him being required to leave his room and go to RAD a certain number of times each month.

You had expected a rule to be broken at least once, so you were very surprised to see that it never was. Levi was just obedient, and even when he didn't want to do the thing you ordered him to do, he did it. (Even with an excessive bit of whining)

So you were content to never punish your scaly demon.

Levi wasn't.

"Why do you never punish me," Levi asks, pouting in his bathtub. His face is partially hidden by the pillow he's clenching to his chest.

"Because you never actually break a rule or be a brat?"

"Hmmmmm," Levi pouts. "It's not fair! You punish the others! Yet you never punish me. Is it because you don't want to? Because you could never bring yourself to punish a gross otaku like me?"

Holding back a laugh you crawl into the bathtub. Really, only your Levi could be envious of those you've punished.

"Well, if you're so interested in being punished, why don't you do something bad?"

Levi's eyes snap towards yours, like he never actually considered that option. "Gahhhh?!? Be, be bad? How could I, wouldn't you hate me forever?!"

Softening you reach across the tub to cup Levi's face in your hands. Moving his shocked face towards yours you pepper his face in kisses.

"Nope! Levi, I could never hate you." You say softly, stopping your kissing momentarily to gaze sincerely at your boyfriend.

Levi blushes at the look and hides his face in the pillow that's currently squished between you two.

"O-ok, if you say you wouldn't hate me, I'll, I'll try being bad!"

-

You walk towards Levi's room with a pep in your step, excited to continue playing the new RPG the demon recently brought. You only stopped playing last night as your eyes burned too much for you to continue looking at the screen.

As you cheerfully open the door to Levi's room you immediately notice that something is off about the demon. Instead of excitedly smiling at you and handing a controller over to you, he's curled up on his gaming chair and nervously fidgeting with the blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

"What's wrong?" You ask. Standing over your boyfriend you check him over. Did Mammon steal something of his again? Was an anime he liked canceled?

Levi shakes off your concern and reaches for a controller. "N-nothing is wrong! We don't we start playing?"

He shoves the controller into your hand before scurrying off to turn on the game console. Unsure of what else to do to help your nervous demon you follow along, thinking that he'll open up once you start playing.

As the title screen of the game pops up you see Levi nervously staring at you in the corner of your eye, and you debate asking again if he's alright. Before you're able the title sequence stops and you press the "play" button. A column of saves pops up, and in your confusion, you momentarily forget about Levi's nervousness completely.

"Levi, where's my save?" You ask, flicking between the different saves, yours mysteriously gone.

"Oh well. Um. I sorta maybe, deleted it?" He says in a whisper so quiet you have to strain to hear it.

Snapping your head towards him you watch as Levi nervously fidgets. His left arm is covering his face in a classic sign of Levi's nervousness as a blush paints his cheeks.

Wait. Blush?

All of a sudden your previous conversation about punishment from yesterday comes back to you. You honestly didn't believe that Levi would gather up the courage to do something "bad", so you're momentarily impressed that he did.

All previous concerns about your save fly out the window, as you're sure that Levi backed up the save and is only pretending to have deleted it to elicit this punishment. Stalking forward you wrap your arms around your demon's shoulders and force him to face you.

"Oh, did you know? I didn't know my little demon could be so.... naughty~" You tease.

Levi's face darkens, at both your close proximity and your words. His mouth opens to defend himself but no words make it out. You watch as Levi reboots himself as you teasingly rub circles onto his shoulders.

As moments pass by and Levi is nowhere closer to calming down, you decide to pick up the lead again. "Does my demon want to be punished? Is that it? Were you sitting here in your room wondering what you could do to make me mad and pull you over my knee?"

Wordlessly Levi nods and confirmation, and you can't help but laugh a little. Even when being punished your demon can't help but be good for you.

Returning to your chair once again, you pat your chair and pat your thighs expectingly. Rushing to comply Levi lays across your thighs, and you give him a warning smack of what's to come.

"Ah!" Levi cries out, more in surprise than any real pain, as it will take a lot more than a little smack to hurt a demon Iike him.

It's not the first time you had Levi over your knee, though the previous times were more to explore a curiosity than for a punishment. Yet the previous experiences fill you with confidence, as you know where to smack to tease him, and where to smack that will cause him real pain.

As Levi gets himself situated on your lap you pull down his pants in one quick motion, jeans and all. The demon shivers as cold air meets his rear and you laugh at the pout he gives you in response.

Testing out the waters you give the bare ass a firm smack, and delight in the way Levi flinches at being caught off guard.

"Ah hmmm!" Levi moans, thrusting back for more.

"I expect you to count and thank me after each hit Levi-chan." You say sternly.

"O-one! Thank you, Master!"

Grinning you continue, giving your demon a few more smacks. You didn't give him a number on purpose, as you want to see how many smacks it'll take before his ass is a bright red and he's sobbing out for mercy.

As his ass gets redder and redder Levi begins to squirm against you, thrusting his hips against your thighs. You sigh in response, deep and disappointed, and the sound snaps Levi out of his pleasure filled hazy.

"No grinding against me. This is a punishment, remember? You're not supposed to be enjoying this."

Your tone is harsh, and it sends Levi flinching. You never sounded so.... frustrated in a scene before. Levi is used to you being teasing and gentle, always there with a soft word and a teasing touch. The idea of you being upset with him sends him spiraling.

Tensing up Levi tries his hardest to sit still and obey you, believing that maybe if he shows you that he can be good, and is willing to listen to your commands, you'll praise him. (You'll still want him.)

The next few swings of your fast, delivered before Levi has the chance to count them individually. Because of this, he miscounts them.

"Fifteen, s-sixteen, seventeen! Th-thank you, master."

Slowly, as Levi catches his breath your hand trails upward before suddenly wrapping tightly around his hair. Pulling him upward you lean down to whisper in your best Disappointed Dom voice: "Are you sure you counted right?"

Levi feels his heart stop at your words. He did, right?! He wouldn't miscount - didn't mean to miscount! He swears! It was an accident-

Slowly you watch as Levi's breath starts to stutter, stopping completely before gasping in and out. Immediately you drop your hold and Levi begins to hyperventilate against you.

"Sorry, I'm s-sorry. Didn't -gasp- didn't mean to! Sorry!"

Instantly you pick the demon up and hold his back towards his chest, hopeful that the extra room will allow him to calm down, as you begin mumbling praise into his ear.

"Hey, hey, it's ok! I'm not angry, I promise! There's no need to be sorry, it's ok, I forgive you."

Eventually, Levi gets his breathing under control, and he collapses against you once he does. Shifting him slightly, you pull him into your chest and he immediately buries his face into your neck. You continue to whisper praise as you being to gently stroke his back, allowing Levi the time to compose himself.

"I'm sorry." Is the first thing he says when he does.

"I know baby, I know. There's nothing to apologize for, though, you know that right? When I was disappointed that was only a part of the scene, right? Like when you sometimes pretend to not like something when you do."

Mutely you feel Leve nod against you.

"I, I didn't actually delete your save. I have it backed up on my computer."

"I know, sweetheart, I know." You whisper before leaning down to kiss the top of his head.

"How about this, we continue sitting here for a bit longer, and then we both get something to eat and drink. Then we have a little chat about the scene before loading up my save?"

Levi grumbles at the idea of actually having to talk about what happened, but he nods against you once.

"Good boy. That's my good boy."

-

Satan:

You hold up a pair of handcuffs and Satan grins.

You two haven't played around with the idea of bondage much, there were other kinks that you wanted to try out first. Sure, you toyed around with pinning his hands down to the bed or ordering him to sit still while you edged him. But you two have yet to use any tool to bind him.

A distinct click echoes throughout the room as you fasten the cuff to his right hand before moving to his left. His hands are looped around the bedframe, stopping him from reaching down to touch himself or you as you play with him.

A wise choice seeing as you plan to edge him until he's sobbing.

The first edge passes through him well, only resulting in a choked-off groan before you give him a few moments to calm down. As you do Satan begins to pull at the handcuffs, testing out their strength.

As he pulls his hands back and forth he feels his heartbeat pick up for a different reason. A looming sense of dread slowly starts to creep in, but before he can focus on it you begin to stroke his dick once again.

Arousal floods through his system once again, but so does anxiety. As he chases his denied relief once more he pulls against the handcuffs, flinching when they make a loud clicking noise as they scrape against the headboard.

When you shift away to allow him to cool off the anxiety settles in replacing all thoughts of arousal. He begins to fight earnestly against the handcuffs, pushing and pulling them, trying to will them to break. But they're strong cuffs, made out of demon-resistant metal and almost impossible to break.

In your mind all you can see is Satan shaking against the bed, sneaking out the pleasure you've denied him. But in Satan's, he's reliving an experience he hasn't felt in thousands of years: entrapment.

Memories of heavy chains wrapping around his body, caging him in and denying his escape as he withers and shakes in rage. Memories of dark closets and being chained to this very same bed as he screamed out curses and profanities until his throat bleed.

He thought he was past this stage of his life, where he was angry and trapped. Caged like a wild animal.

"S-SHAKESPEARE!" Satan growls out your safeword - a safeword that has never been used before.

It takes you a second to realize what he said, but once you do you're on him in an instant. Reaching up you fumble with the keys to the handcuffs as Satan struggles beneath you. You whisper praise and assurances as you unlock the cuffs, but you doubt he can hear you.

The moment he's free Satan flinches backward, his back hitting the wall as he scrambles to get away from you. His eyes are wide, his pupils are pinpricks as he studies the world around him. Akin to a wild, caged animal he crotches down like he's preparing to lunge, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

You know he wouldn't attack you, yet you do your best to look passive as you raise your hands in surrender.

It takes a few moments, but eventually, Satan comes back to himself. He seems to realize where he is, and what's going on, as he composes himself.

"Baby, are you ok?" You ask in a low, gentle tone.

And Satan breaks.

He completely shatters as he rushes into your arms. You barely have time to realize what's going on before you feel your chest wetten as Satan begins to sob.

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm so sorry." You mumble, hands lightly touching Satan's head. When he leans into the touch you begin gently petting him.

"It's, sniff, it's ok. You didn't know I would react like that. I didn't even know I would react like that."

"Still, I saw you struggling against the handcuffs, I should have checked up on you."

Satan doesn't know what to say to that, too tired to try to argue with you so he simply hums in response. After a few minutes of sitting in comfortable silence, your hands threading through his hair, he leans up and rubs the remainder of the tears out of his eyes.

"Do you want to talk about it? Or would you rather we do something else?" You ask, rubbing circles into his back.

"Can we read a bit first?" Satan asks, and on a normal day he would cringe at how timid he sounds, but he's too tired to care right now.

One day he'll tell you about his "childhood". About this memories of chains and ropes, of dark rooms and confined spaces, of rage and curses.

But now he just wants you to hold him as the two of you pour over a good murder mystery, him free to move around and shift, and you with your hands wrapped around his waist.

-

Asmo:

You and Asmo tried nearly every kink known to man, and even some only known to demons. So you know when Asmo's limits lie, and he knows yours. You know when he's fake whining to get a rise out of you, and when his cries border on actually "too much", you can tell the difference between pleasure tears and pain tears, and after many many conversations you know what kinks he absolutely wouldn't want to try under any circumstances.

Fortunately, polygamy wasn't one of them.

It wasn't often the two of you invited another into your bed, you could entertain each other just fine. But sometimes you wanted to see Asmo dom another person, or Asmo wanted to show off his skills next to a less experienced sub, and gangbangs were just fun! You only had two hands, and sometimes you wanted to see Asmo be taken apart by a dozen.

The orgy the two of you are going to tonight didn't have a "main character", but it was hosted by a prominent sex toy brand owner, and Asmo said that the snack bar was "to die for". So you decided to give it a try.

Asmo was being a brat the whole car ride over, pawing at your jacket and trying to kiss you. Trying to save the poor Uber driver you tell your demon to behave, but Asmo only giggles in response as he tries, and fails, to undo your buttons.

You hope that once you got to the orgy Asmo would settle down, but he's  committed to being a brat. As you hand over your coat to the door demon, Asmo rushes ahead of you and sits down onto the lap of a demon he knows, who is very clearly in the middle of having their dick sucked by another attendee.

He tries to persuade them to let him take over and replace their sub's spot, but you're able to pull Asmo away by his collar and onto your lap.

For one glorious moment, you believe that this calms your demon down enough to start behaving, as he quiets down once as he gets settled. It wasn't long after that another demon started up a conversation with you, asking if you were the legendary exchange student, and how you felt about RAD.

While you talked Asmo absentmindedly sucks on your fingers. He tries squirming against your lap, but one smack to his thigh was a clear message for him to calm down.

Or so you thought.

When Asmo continues to grind against you and begins adding teeth to his sucking, you snap. If he was so determined to be punished tonight, he would get punished.

Rising you stand before Asmo wearing your best Disappointed Dom look. He giggles at the look, clearly happy that he thinks he's getting what he wants. That is a public spanking.

You have different plans though, and you walk towards a corner of the room no one is standing near. Snapping your fingers at the corner you command your demon:

"Asmo, over here now."

Asmo rushes off the couch to obey as he skips over. He eyes you a curious look as you force him to his knees, obviously not expecting his punishment to be somewhere so out of the way and private. You pay it no mind, and when he sinks to the floor and assumes a standard kneeling position you give him another command:

"You're not to move, and unless it's your safeword you're not allowed to speak either until I say your punishment is over."

He pouts as he feels the command take hold, staring up at you with pleading eyes. But you don't allow yourself to be swayed.

"Since you were so determined to be a brat and not be patient, this is your punishment. When I think you're finally to sit still I will release you."

You give him one last pat on the head before making your way back to the couch.

As you resume your conversation with the other demon about RAD, more demons start to join in. Some are curious about your life as an exchange student while others are more concerned with the reason why you're here.

A bold demon leaned in close and whispered something in your ear, causing you to blush and gently swat their arm. After that it was like the other demons suddenly remember that they were at an orgy and not a press conference, and began cuddling up to you.

All the while Asmo stews from his spot kneeling in the corner. At first, he was upset at you for hiding him, but now that you're getting more and more attention a prickle of envy runs through him. Not at you, but at the demons now vying for your attention. You should be focused on him - even if it was to punish him.

Normally Asmo wouldn't mind you getting cozy with a few other demons, under different circumstances he would have been delighted to sit back and watch as you had your way with a few of them. Now? When he's hidden away in a corner, forgotten?

Something stings in Asmo, and he desperately tries to whine out for your attention, but the command stops him. All that leaves him is the wheeze of his chest as he desperately tries to force words out of his mouth. Your safeword was on the tip of his tongue, and if you two were alone he wouldn't hesitate to say it, but something about being in a room full of demons stop him.

He's the Avatar the lust, and this is barely a punishment, what would the other demons say if they saw him use his safeword just because he was put into a corner? He knows that safewording isn't a sign of weakness, but he can't shake the thought of what rumors might follow him if he shows vulnerability.

But when he sees a demon crawl into your lap, and you kiss them on the lips, he can't help but yell out a desperate "Majolish"!

Immediately you push the demon out of your lap and rush toward Asmo. Your knees hit the ground with a loud thud but you pay it no mind you kneel before the now sobbing demon.

"All commands are over! Asmo are you ok, what happened?!"

Asmo doesn't waste a second as his arms shot around you and pull you close. As he sobs into your chest your hands slowly wrap around your demon, trying to piece together what went wrong. You don't get must time to think before Asmo's lips are on yours, kissing you desperately, which you quickly return with enthusiasm. Asmo calms down once you make it clear that you desire him, slumping into your chest.

When you break for air you timidly look around the room and breathe a sigh of relief as you notice that the surrounding demons are making an effort not you look in your direction. As you make eye contact with a demon they mouth out a "side room" while pointing at a closed door.

Understanding that this must be some type of aftercare room, or simply a private room couples can retreat into, you quickly pull Asmo up and lead him into the room. As you make it through the doorway you relax as you see that no one else is in there and gently push Amso onto the bed.

"Asmo, sweetheart, darling, we don't have to talk about what happened right away, but I do want to make you feel better. Can you please tell me if there's anything I can do?"

Asmo, whose been holding your hand in a death grip slowly nods as his other hand wipes at his tears.

"Yeah, yes of course. Just can you, can you hold me for a bit?" His voice gets quieter at the end. "Maybe tell me you love me?"

It's rare to see Asmo so shaken up, even after using his safeword, and something breaks inside of you. But you're determined to focus on him, and you nod.

"Of course baby, scout over."

Asmo does as he's told and you're quick to pull him into a tight hug before you begin to slowly rock him back and forth. All the while whispering praise into his ear about how much you adore him, and how beautiful he is.

-

Beel:

It seemed so simple when you suggested the idea: why not mix two of Beel's biggest pleasures and bring food into the bedroom?

You haven't had much experience with food play before, but after doing some research (watching porn on DevilHub and writing down things you found hot), you were confident you could make food sexy.

After discussing what will happen in the scene, you and Beel come up with a game plan. Beel was a bit worried about not being able to focus on sex when he was eating, so you proposed a solution: you will command Beel to sit still and tease him with food from Madam Screams. When he's a good boy and shows patience, you'll reward him by feeding him a piece of food and then stroking his dick. Trapping in a cycle of wanting pleasure, and being hungry.

The start of the scene went according to plan, with Beel able to control himself as he sinks to his knees in front of you. You dangle a curly fry in front of his face, and Beel drools at the sight.

Teasing him you press the fry against his lips and tell him by a good boy and hold it there. Like a dog, Beel obeys and holds the treat against his lips and makes no move to bite. While your other hand sinks to the edge of his boxers.

Palming his dick Beel lets out a guttural groan, the motion causing the fry to ever so slightly push past his lips and he gets a slight taste of the slaty goodness before you rip it away. The glutton barely has time to mourn that loss before he sinks into pleasure once more as you pull his dick out of his underwear.

Already hard and dripping Beel's dick bounces against his stomach, and you coo in delight.

"Oh baby, you're already so wet for me. Excited already?"

Beel moans in response, unable to think clearly as it was growing harder to think through the pleasure filled haze of his mind.

Wrapping your hand around your dick you give it a firm tug, just how he likes it. All thoughts of food and hunger spill out of his mind as you begin playing with his dick.

Until you press the curly fry against his nose and he breathes in the scent. Hunger overtakes him once more as he tries to lunge for it, but you move it away before he's able. Pressing a firm finger against his slit Beel groans as he's stuck in a tug of war between his two different desires. Food, and sex.

As you deny him his treat once again a growl rumbles through his chest and you pause. Beel has never growled like that during sex before. Smiling you continue to jack him off, but Beel is less excited about his rough growl. He normally tries so hard to keep his hunger rage away from you, what if he loses control?

You don't give him much time to worry about concern as you pump him toward an orgasm. Yet the moment Beel feels like he's going to tip over, your hands retreat and he's left wanting.

As a reward you pop the fry into the demon's panting mouth and he instantly inhales it. But it doesn't provide him much relief as he just feels hungrier.

Beel is used to fighting off his hunger and he's used to you edging him. But dealing with both at once? It's an overwhelming, all encompassing desire he never felt before.

And he's not sure if he likes it.

As you lean down to touch his dick once again Beel lets out a throaty whine, sounding more desperate than you ever heard him before. Horny, but worried you glance up at your gentle giant.

"Are you doing alright, buddy?"

"Hungry- no, horny. I can't, I don't know. I want to stop." He rushes out the last part quickly, but you hear it all the same.

"Oh! OK, alright. Yeah, we can stop no problem. Um, which one do you want first? Do you want me to get you off first or do you want to eat first?"

Beel moans hopelessly at the question, and you mentally berate yourself for even asking. It's not like he can't do both at once.

Shoving a handful of fries into his mouth you begin pumping his dick in earnest now, determined to actually get him off this time. Every time Beel moans in hunger you're quick to feed him more food, and Beel is treated to the sensation of eating while getting pleasure.

It doesn't take long for him to cum, shooting into your hands and getting a bit of your chin as he does. As he breathes out a sigh of relief he lays boneless against you, and you remember to finally undo the sit still command you previously placed on him.

Patting his back with one hand the other reaches over to grab a nearby drink and you hand it to him to help wash down the food. After he downs it one gulp he leans back to give you a dopey, but incredibly fond look.

"That was nice. I liked it when you feed me while jacking me off."

Grinning at the honesty, you lean in and kiss your demon.

"Thank you. I liked how desperate you were and how to relied on me to give you everything you wanted. What about the teasing?"

"I.... didn't like that. I was afraid I'll get too needy and hurt you." Beel says the last part ashamed and you're quick to lean up to give him another kiss.

"I get that, it seemed like a lot. If you want to do this again I would tease you again, I promise."

Beel grins, and you momentarily mourn your wallet at how much food you'll be buying in the future. But that fond look is enough to banish all mournful thoughts in an instant.

"I'll like that."

-

- Belphie:

Belphie being a brat isn't a new development for you. He's been a brat since the first time you bedded him. Which resulted in a lot of punishments. A lot.

You almost believe that Belphie prefers to be punished than his regular scenes, and that makes you want to up the ante and show him a real punishment is like. Maybe you'll finally convince him to be obedient for once.

So you got a new toy you wanted to try with him, a paddle. It's a thick, strong paddle. Made in the Devildom because you don't think a human realm one will survive Belphie's ass.

Yet the demon doesn't so much as cower when you present the toy to him after he caused you to sleep in and miss class again. Well, you'll show him. You'll have him pleading for mercy in no time.

The Avatar of Sloth, true to his name, doesn't put up any type of a fight as you pull him across your lap. Only grinning when you pull his pants down and you notice that he's not wearing any underwear.

"You were really committed to being a brat today, weren't you?" You tease, giving the demon a quick pop on the ass with the paddle.

Belphie moans at the sensation, and giggles a cheeky "no". Wasting no time with foreplay you get right into business by delivering a fury of blows to the demon's plush. You don't bother to tell him to count them, knowing that he wouldn't, or that he'll miscount on purpose.

Moaning at the feeling Belphie arches his back as he leans into the swatting, enjoying the pushing sensation.

Yet, as time continues and you keep hitting and his ass gets redder and redder Belphie starts to feel weird..... tender. You normally don't cause him to feel this raw until much later in his punishment. When both of your hands sting with the amount of blows you dealt, the two of you are out of breath and ready to tear each other's clothes off.

As you strike down the paddle once again, Belphie feels something he hasn't felt in a very long time:

Pain

Sure, your spankings hurt before. But it was more of a force, a push, a physical reaction to movement than any real kind of pain.

And Belphie is not prepared to handle real pain. As the spoiled youngest of the Avatars, he's used to not having to lift a finger. This made your punishments even more exciting as Belphie felt the closest he did to pain he felt in a long time, without actually crossing over into actual pain.

He may not be as physically resistant as Beel or Lucifer, but he's still an Avatar, a high class demon who can take a lot before anything even fazes him.

Which makes this situation laughable.

A simple human like you, causing him, a ruler of the Devildom, pain? It's impossible, it should be impossible.

Yet here he is, forcing back tears as a flimsy wooden paddle causes him pain he hasn't felt since the Celestial War. He wants to laugh, but he wants to cry even more.

The safeword is on the tip of his tongue, but he refuses to cave. He's been spanked dozens of times before, why should he admit defeat over a stupid paddle? He knows you'll disagree with him framing it like that, but you're too busy creating welts on his ass to argue with Belphie's mind.

When you show no signs of stopping or slowing down, Belphie starts to crack. For once he just wants a punishment to be over and for him to apologize and for you to hold him in your arms.

When you strike down once more, Belphie cries out a "No!" That's a little too desperate, a little too panicked, that snaps you out of your rhythm

"Baby?" You ask, placing the paddle next to you. "Are you ok? Do you need a breather?" You know not to suggest stopping, as Belphie will scoff at the notion before edging you on, but something about the way he's flinching makes you want to pause the scene for a moment.

"No," Belphie sniffs, hand reaching upward to rub the tears out of his. "No I'm fine, keep going." He insits, but you notice the way he leans away from you as he says it. Belphie may be a brat, he may pretend to huff and hate punishments, but he never shifted away from you during a scene pause.

Placing down the paddle beside you, you host Belphie up and press him against your chest. The moment you do he's hiding his face in your shirt, an act of shyness that's out of character for the demon.

"Belphie, baby, are you ok? We can stop if you want to."

Belphie sniffles against your shift and you raise your hands to rub comforting circles into his skin.

"I'm fine, just.... I'm not letting a stupid paddle break me." He mumbles out the last part, but you're able to catch the gist of it and you frown.

"You know that's now how that works. You're not admitting defeat, or saying you're not strong enough if you use your safeword."

Believe grumbles out a response you don't catch, but you doubt he's agreeing with you. Shifting his head upwards you create eye contact between the two of you, and don't relent until he's staring into your eyes.

"What if I didn't want to do something and so I used our safeword? Am I breaking then?"

Belphie pouts, knowing that he'll never think any less of you if you were to use the safeword. So reluctantly he shakes his head.

"Well, why's it any different for you? Because you're a demon?"

He flashes pink at being so easily read, and he keeps his mouth shut as he shrinks down.

"No, but......" Belphie trails off, unsure of what to say. Smiling softly you lean forward to press a kiss into his lips, one he's quick to mirror.

"Alrighty, so no more holding in your safeword, ok?"

With an exaggerated sigh, Belphie nods before cuddling up to you. As you lay down with your arms wrapped around him, careful to shift him so his tender ass isn't touching anything, you begin stroking his hair. In the following silence, all that can be heard is the steady rise and fall of both of your chests before Belphie says determined:

"I'm going to burn that paddle though."

-

[etherealphosphor]

Stay With Me, Please.

⟡ Contains: Dottore x Gn!Reader, Reader has an incurable disease, Reader is married to Dottore, Sfw, Angst, No happy ending, Death, Mentions of blood

⟡ Edited <3

Dottore valued you above anything else in his life; you were his one real joy. Before he met you, his life had been dull and monotonous, the days almost seeming to blend together. Passing out at his desk after working too late into the night was a common occurrence back then. However, that wasn’t the case anymore, as his career was far from his biggest worry.

You, his lover and his number one priority, suffered from an incurable disease. That ailment caused your body to become fragile and weak, and as time went on, more and more of your strength was slipping away without any hope of recovery.

You coughed quite a bit, too; the sound made Dottore’s heart sink awfully every time he heard it. It was beyond painful for Dottore to see you in that state, and he tried his best to make life as easy as he could for you.

However, naturally, he did mess up on occasion. Although he promised to stay by your side every night and never to choose work over being next to you, he’d sometimes lose track of time. When that happened, you’d slowly walk step after step to the door of his office to ask him to come back to bed.

When he’d see you standing at the door, your legs shaking with the effort to keep standing, a wave of guilt would come crashing over him. Immediately, Dottore would drop all of his research and run to wrap you up in his arms, apologizing over and over for working as late as he did. 

You’d always put your arms around Dottore’s neck as he carried you, resting your head on his shoulder. Even just walking to his office drained you of all your energy. As you two reached the bedroom, Dottore gently set you down before laying down next to you and pulling you into his arms. 

He’d stroke your hair gently as you were lulled by his heartbeat, whispering to you about how much he loved you and how things would be okay. Only in those moments did you feel truly alright, as you almost forgot all about your debilitating sickness. If only things could stay the same way forever. 

As the months passed, your body only got weaker. Your hands shook any time you tried to use them, and when you walked, you’d only fall over. You could feel your time slipping away. You would die, and you could only wait for it to happen. Stuck in the same bed, day after day.

All you wished for was to become even a just a little bit stronger. To regain the strength in your hands so you could pick up a hobby or two would be a miracle. But as much as you wished for your disease to be gone, nothing would improve. 

Dottore could sense you were dying as well. Your cough had gotten worse as of late, and when he held you at night, your body was so fragile it was almost like glass. He was terrified he’d break you just by being beside you. 

He knew something had to be done. Dottore began working all day—and some nights—on a cure for your disease. Since you could no longer walk properly, you weren’t there to remind him to come to bed, and he’d get swept up in his experiments. 

On the nights he didn't end up by your side, you cried yourself to sleep, hugging your pillow for the comfort you were missing, until you eventually ran out of energy and passed out. You couldn’t let Dottore see you like this; you knew it would absolutely break his heart. 

Dottore hated being away from you all day, but he felt that if he put in enough effort, maybe he could find a breakthrough. Maybe he could save you if he tried his hardest. All the time he spent away from you would pay off once he was able to cure you, right?

This was the only time in his life that he was really, truly worried about anything. And he’d never say a word out loud, but this was also the first time he doubted his abilities on a subject. You were what brought him joy when nothing else did; you were his entire world. He couldn’t lose you. He needed to try everything in his power to keep you alive. 

One night, while you were lying in his embrace, you spoke slowly, your voice shaking. In recent times, you hadn’t been speaking much since your throat had begun to feel painful due to how much you had been coughing. 

"Dottore.."

His eyes widened; your tone sounded serious. "Yes, my love..? What is it? Also, please try not to speak too much; I know how much it has been hurting you."

"There’s no progress, is there? In the cure, I mean. Love, I think you should just drop it at this point." You said, coughing a little.

"What? Why would you suggest that? Don’t.. don’t you want to live?" Dottore stared at you with a worried look in his eyes. He didn’t like what you were suggesting at all.

"I do, darling.. I do, but I don’t have much time left as it is, and we both know that." You stared into those deep red eyes of his. When you first met him, you thought of them as quite unsettling, but now they were one of your favorite things about him.

Dottore ran his hand across your cheek, giving you a sympathetic gaze. "Just give me a while longer, okay? I promise you, I’ll make progress, just—"

You cut him off. "No, darling. If you keep trying to cure me, I’ll be gone before you know it. Just.. spend these last few months with me, okay? I just want to make every second last with you."

Dottore’s voice was filled with concern. "But then.. [Name], you’ll surely die; shouldn’t I at least try to save you? There’s still a chance; I’ve made a little progress—I just need more time, my love. Don’t give up yet."

You put your hand on his, the one that was already stroking your cheek. "Darling, I know it won’t work; I’ve already come to terms with that. I just need your company, that’s all. I can’t die without regrets if you stay in your lab all day."

Dottore tried to object again, saying, "I—[Name], we can still spend time together. I can set up a bed in my lab for you to rest in while I work; I promise you won’t be lonely again. I have to try to save you, don’t I? We’ll never know if we don’t try, [Name]."

You felt awful; you knew that you were all Dottore had, and telling him this was making the realization sink in: he was going to lose you. He had tried to deny it, ignoring it by working on a cure, but the truth was that you were dying, and there was nothing he could do about it.

"[Name].. please. Let me try it." Dottore begged you, his eyes shimmering with tears.

It hurt you to see him like that—it really did. But you couldn’t give in. If you did, you wouldn’t be able to spend your last days the way you wished. You knew Dottore was desperately holding on to hope; he was the smartest person you had ever met, so of course he already knew that his efforts were of no use.

"Dottore.." You reached out to stroke his hair, which was something that always calmed him down. "You know that it’s not going to work, right? You’re the one who’s been studying my disease for years now; there’s no way you don’t know."

A tear fell from Dottore’s eye, and it rolled down his cheek. A couple of years ago, Dottore practically didn’t even know how to cry. He was a stern man back then who showed no weakness. 

Nowadays, though, it was commonplace to see him with tears running down his face. Often times, he would lay his head on his desk in the middle of his research and let himself sob where nobody could hear him. Dottore never let you see him cry, as he didn’t wish to make you lose hope in finding a cure.

However, now that you had accepted your fate, silent tears flowed down his face. You tried wiping them away and saying gentle words to soothe him, but it seemed like nothing would calm him.

"I— I.. I don’t want to lose you, [Name]. There has to be another way, something.. anything. What can I do? I don’t want you to die. You’re my everything, [Name]. I can’t live without you. If only I could just switch our places.." Dottore’s voice was choked up, and he was speaking in between sobs.

"Dottore, my love, it’s okay. Please don’t worry so much. I still have a couple months left, maybe even a year. We’ll spend every minute together, and make the most out of what we have. That, or you can spend your time cooped up in your laboratory. How does the first option sound to you?" You continued to stroke his hair, speaking in a very comforting tone.

Dottore just nodded, tears still flowing down his face. He wanted to make you happy, but it was so hard to let go of his hope of saving you. Eventually, you and Dottore fell asleep together, with him holding you tightly. 

In the month following that conversation, Dottore reluctantly dropped his research on your disease to spend all of his time with you. Winter was soon approaching, and your condition was only getting considerably worse. Dottore could feel that you didn’t have as much time left as you thought you did. 

One day, Dottore woke up to the sound of your coughing. You were sitting on the edge of the bed, hunched over a little.

"Love..? What’s wrong?" Dottore asked, moving closer to you.

When you turned your head toward him, Dottore’s eyes went wide. Blood was dripping from your mouth.

"[Name], are you okay!?" Dottore took your face in his hands, gently wiping the blood off of it with his thumb.

"I’m alright, Dottore.. it doesn’t hurt too much." You assured him.

"I need to get you to my lab immediately." Dottore said, moving an arm around you to pick you up.

"Love, I’m not getting any better; there’s no need." You objected, but he scooped you up regardless.

"I didn’t say I was going to cure you, darling; I intend to get you some pain medication." Dottore explained, faking a calm tone as he walked.

Once you reached his lab, Dottore sat you down on the medical bed and began to look around the shelves for the correct medicine. Once he found it, he brought the little orange bottle back to you.

"Here, take one of these with water; it might hurt a little, but I promise you’ll feel better in the end." Dottore handed you a glass.

You quickly took the pill, wincing as the water touched your throat.

"Good, good.." Dottore said, distractedly. It seemed his mind was elsewhere at the moment, but you didn’t know exactly why. He snapped back into reality and went to pick you up again, saying, "I’ll take these pills with us."

Throughout the rest of the day, you coughed up small amounts of blood. The next day, it was more. And the day after that, still more. You could see it in Dottore’s eyes; you didn’t have long left to live. At night, Dottore silently cried while holding you in your sleep. He knew you’d leave him eventually; he always did, but not like this. Not this soon.

Another month passed, and now you could barely keep yourself awake. Dottore had to make sure you took your pills and that you didn’t choke on the blood you coughed up. Blood stained your white bedsheets, a constant reminder to Dottore that you had a couple of days left, at most. In the few minutes you were awake at any given moment, he had to tearfully tell you how much he loved you, or else he might never get another chance to.

You were so exhausted. Mentally and physically. At this point, you just wanted the pain to be over. At the same time, you wanted to cling to life, but archons, you were so tired. You drifted in and out of consciousness, almost to the point where you didn’t know what reality was anymore. All you knew was that tears flowed down your beloved husband’s face, and he was desperately trying to take care of you.

"Please drink your water; you’ll feel better, okay?" Dottore put the bottle to your lips, his voice shaking with sobs.

You just stared at him. You really didn't have the energy to drink water right then. However, you took little sips anyway, hoping that maybe he’d smile just a little bit.

"There you go, [Name].. that’s good.. drink some more. It’ll help you." Dottore spoke gently as you drifted off into sleep again. The last thing you saw was him trying to force a smile to encourage you through his endless tears.

Your dreams were all odd and terrifying, blending together into a chaotic mess. This made for restless sleep, contributing to your drowsiness and lack of energy.

The next time you woke up, it took a minute to make sense of where you were. However, once you remembered what was going on, you felt strangely calm. Blood flowed slowly from your mouth, making new stains on the sheets.

".. Dottore.." You managed to sputter out.

"Yes, my love?" Dottore said calmly, but inside he was quite surprised that you were speaking. He hadn’t heard your voice for a while now, due to your condition. 

"I love you, Dottore.." You smiled at him, blood still leaking from your mouth.

Dottore stroked your hair gently and cleaned the blood from your face. Tears still fell from his eyes, soaking into the fabric of your shirt. However, he smiled back to reassure you, his voice breaking. "I love you too, [Name], more than anything."

You gazed up into those deep red eyes of his. Oh, how you loved those eyes. "Can I have one more kiss?"

Dottore nodded. "Of course you can, my love."

Dottore gently tilted your chin up and leaned in slowly, pressing his lips to yours. Your lips tasted distinctly of blood, but that was the last thing he cared about. He hugged you closer to him, running his hands through your hair and kissing you passionately. Tears still flowed steadily down Dottore’s cheeks as he pulled away from you. He could feel your breathing getting slower.

"No.. no, don’t leave me now. [Name], hang on!" Dottore’s eyes went wide, and he spoke in a panicked tone.

You simply gave him the faintest of smiles, whispering again, "I love you, Dottore."

Dottore held your face in his hands, desperately willing you to stay alive. "No, no, no, no! Don’t give up! You’re all I have left; you can’t leave me now!"

However, he could feel your heartbeat slow. His tears were flowing down his face faster than ever. "Please, [Name]! I can’t take this, please!"

Dottore had his arms tightly around you, and so he knew exactly when you took your last breath. He knew there was nothing he could do now.

The sorrow was too much to bear, and Dottore began to scream in pain. "NO! PLEASE COME BACK, [NAME]! DON'T LEAVE ME! I CAN'T LIVE WITHOUT YOU! STAY WITH ME, PLEASE!"

That scream was the anguished scream of a man who had just lost everything he had left to live for. He buried his face in your chest and let out a wail of pure agony. 

You were gone, and you took everything Dottore loved with you.

[loveandleases]

(Time for our favorite dilf's Fluff ABC. The previous ABC's can be found here and here. Below the cut~)

A = Admiration - Ardent admires when someone is responsible.

B = Body - He's a fan of the entire body, though if you wanted to know which one he would focus on in the middle of the night, would have to ask the old man.

C = Cuddling - He cuddles Cupid when she allows it. When she doesn't he gets a nice scratch as a reminder. Now with a partner Ardent loves being the big spoon, but he will deny he enjoys cuddling.

D = Dates - He doesn't have that much time to date. When he used to he would always offer to cook for his date, Ardent loves to show off his skill in the kitchen, among other places.

E = Emotions - He likes to pretend to be this big tough guy, but one unanswered call to his niece and the man is sulking for the better part of the hour. Ardent doesn't hold back his thoughts while some may say he's an angry person, in reality he just stopped trying to please other people.

F = Family - Ardent is very close to his parent's, especially his mother. He takes care of the complex just for them, not wanting to accept the payment they send his way. He has a sister, who is the mother to his very loved niece. We also can't forget Cupid.

G = Gifts - He will deny he enjoys recieving gifts, but in actuality when someone thinks enough to give him something he truly cherishes it. For Ardent, he doesn't mind to give gifts. When he gives you homemade food, that's when you know he has a soft spot for you.

H = Holding Hands - He will cling to his partners hand like his life depends on it, not wanting to get seperated. Squeeze as hard as you want, he won't let go. Though if you point out you're holding his hand, he pretends it's as a favor to you, definitely not because he likes it.

I = Injury - Ardent is very calm in a crisis, be that an accident or his sister giving birth. He is focused on the end goal. So if someone is hurt, he will basically be like a mother hen. Ensuring they get an ample amount of rest and relaxation.

J = Jokes - The guy tries he really does, when peope laugh at his "jokes", it's usually when he's serious. His jokes tend to fall flat. Every once in awhile he has a good one.

K = Kisses - Ardent kisses with hunger, full of passion. As if the last of breath in his body belongs to his partner. He can be rough more often than not, but if you're lucky enough he might just surprise you with how tender he can be.

L = Love - He loves many people, Ardent doesn't see the point of hiding emotions. It's not something his parents did and it's not something he does either. He grew up in a home where the phrase I love you was always in use. Be that from his family or friends.

M = Memory - Ardent's favorite memory is seeing his niece for the first time, well that and adopting Cupid. Remembering how small she was when he took Cupid home is one of the highlights of his life. Knowing that he could in fact be so caring for her, even though sometimes Cupid just doesn't have time for that.

N = Nightmare (what is one of their fears?) - Not being able to be a safe space for someone he cares about. He might suffer with hearing other peoples emotions, but Ardent still wants to be trusted by them. To be that shoulder they can lean on.

O = Oddity (what is one quirk they have?) - Many people don't know he's actually greek. That is until he gets angry, then he can't help but curse in his native tongue.

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?)- Kitten.

Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?) - Ardent would love just hanging out, be that at home or somewhere else. Though he hates when people pay him attention, when it's with you he will deal with it. He would love to just enjoy the night in each others company, with a good book and a nice glass of wine.

R = Rhythm (what song do they hum to themselves, when they think no one is listening.)- Torn to shreds by Deff Lepard.

S = Secrets (how open are they?) - Not very, though that will change over time. But get him in front of his mom, or niece and he is like an open book. The man is putty in their hands.

T = Time (how do they spend their time?) - He spends his time quite divided, be that taking his niece to after school activities, working on things at the complex, trying to get his mother's Manicotti recipe. Ardent can be seen going in and out many times of the day. The question is for who.

U = Upset (how do they act when they're upset?) - It depends on the level of upset. He could simmer in his anger, sulk, or just let it all out.

V = Vaunt (what are they proud of? Do they like to show you off?) - His body, his cat, and his cooking. He will show it all off if given a chance. Ardent works hard to keep in good health, to love Cupid, and to be able to make a good meal.

W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? Would they fight for you, beside you, etc?) - He doesn't like to admit he would fight for anyone. Instead he prefers to pretend to care less. (Such a lie). Ardent would fight for his partner, or for someone he sees is done wrong. He might be an ass, but he refuses to let people be treated as such.

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?) - Ardent can read a shy person very well. Only time will tell how well he pushes MC's.

Y = Yes (how would they propose to you?) - Maybe something silly like having the ring on Cupid's collar for MC to see. Whose to say just yet.

Z = Zen (what makes them feel calm?) - Cupid laying on his chest, or rubbing his back. Just letting him feel his emotions and knowing someone is there for him can make him calm.

[misc-obeyme]

A Tempting Offer

As promised, I'm doing daily chat scenes while requests are still closed. This one happened because I just really wanted to write some comfort fluff and Asmodeus has been on my mind lately. He's such a sweetheart, in my opinion. Hopefully he's not to OOC here. I also really want to write something ~spicy~ with the daily chat of his called Gloss Mark, but I'll save that for another time lol.

GN!MC x Asmodeus

Warnings: none!

ASMODEUS Hey, would you be interested in skipping school with me today? I was out all night partying, so I overslept. I've decided to just write the day off and spend it lounging around in my room. What do you say?

MC A little break couldn't hurt.

ASMODEUS I knew you'd understand!

I'll be waiting in my room!

You waited until you were sure that everyone else had already left for RAD. You knew that if you got caught, you and Asmo would be dealing with a lecture from Lucifer at the very least.

When you had received Asmo's text earlier that morning, you had to think about it. Was there anything important happening at school that you couldn't afford to miss? But you knew there wasn't. You also knew that any of the brothers would lend you their notes if you asked.

If it really came down to it, you could always say you simply weren't feeling well. It was just a coincidence that Asmo didn't go to school that day, too. Nobody could prove you were lying, right? Well, okay, maybe Lord Diavolo would be able to tell, but you weren't likely to see him if you stayed in the House of Lamentation. And to be honest, you didn't think he'd give you away even if he was around.

So the moment you sensed the house was quiet, that you were sure everyone had already left for the day, you crept out of your own room and down the hall.

Considering Asmo said he overslept and was planning to just lounge in his room all day, you hadn't bothered to get fully dressed. You were clothed, but you were comfortable.

You knocked on Asmo's door and heard him call you inside.

You were relieved to see that Asmo himself had put on a pair silky pink pajamas. You knew he preferred to sleep nude, so you were anticipating that you may have to deal with that upon entering his room. Not that you would have entirely minded, of course…

You didn't have time to linger on that thought as Asmo came over and put an arm around your shoulders.

"Oh, MC," he said. "I'm so happy you decided to stay home with me today. I'm just so overtired. I would be useless even if I went to school. And now I get to have you all to myself all day!"

You let out a soft sigh. Just being here in his room made you feel calm. There was something about the soft pinks, the roses, the floral scent. There was something about the weight of his arm around your shoulders.

You leaned into him a little bit. "I didn't realize how much I needed a day off until you asked."

Asmo frowned and steered you over to his bed where he sat down with you. You felt yourself sink slightly into the soft mattress. "MC, you've been overworking yourself. You know you don't need to do that. We already have Lucifer to deal with, we don't need you running yourself ragged, too."

You laughed. "I'm nowhere near as bad as Lucifer. It's just that sometimes I forget to take breaks, you know?"

Asmo tightened his hold on you, pulling you a little closer into himself. "Of course I know! Why do you think I asked you to stay home with me today?"

"You said you were out all night partying," you said.

"And I was! I truly did oversleep," Asmo said. "Which was the perfect opportunity for me to ask you to come relax for the day."

You laughed and shook your head a little. You put your arms around his waist and leaned your head on his shoulder. His arm tightened around you and his other hand came up to stroke your hair.

"You always know what I need," you said softly into his neck.

"Oh, darling," he murmured against your head. "Of course I do. You're the only one I pay attention to more than myself. If something's not right, I know about it. And I've seen how hard you've been working lately. So just let me pamper you for a bit today, okay?"

You snuggled closer to him. "Okay."

You weren't about to protest. You were so comfortable there in his arms, you couldn't imagine ever being anywhere else.

"What can I do for you, then, hmm? Do you want me to paint your nails? Give you a massage?" he asked.

You considered the questions, thinking about what you could really use right then. "Can we take a nap first?" you asked. "I'm just… very tired. And it sounds like you could use a little extra sleep, too. You can paint my nails later."

Asmo kissed your forehead. "Of course."

Asmo let go of you enough to scoot back on his bed, pulling you along with him. He slipped under the covers and laid back against the pillows. He tugged on your hands and you got in next to him. You were facing each other and Asmo wrapped his arms around your back, pulling you into his chest.

You were surrounded by his sweet scent, the warmth of his body, the softness of his blankets. It was the most comfortable you had ever been and you felt yourself relax, letting go of all the tension you had been unknowingly holding.

You re-positioned your head to find Asmo's pink-gold eyes looking at you with an expression you couldn't read. Before you could ask about it, he leaned forward to kiss you gently. His lips were so soft and as you returned the kiss, it felt as though your body was melting away and you were floating among the clouds.

Asmo pulled away, reaching up to caress your cheek before settling himself back into the pillows. "Get some sleep now, MC. When we wake up, I'll make your nails absolutely beautiful."

As Asmodeus's breathing slowed, your heavy eyelids closed. You felt safe and warm beside him. It wasn't long before both of you were asleep.

others in this series:

Mammon | Barbatos | Solomon | Lucifer | Simeon

Leviathan | Diavolo | Beelzebub | Belphegor | Satan

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[dnsisnakah]

it's as if this boy is truly cursed.

rejected by all the divine entities from heaven, slandered by god, taken under their wings by the demons of misery.

he doesn't deserve happiness. he's been convinced of that for a long time.

his thoughts swirl haphazardly in his head, each time replaying events of the past, a possible future, and... something else. something that never happened, but he feels it. as if he is unhappy not just in one world, but in every possible world in this universe.

tragic events swim before his eyes, the noise of screams and shrieks of pain ringing in his ears.

his head thunders.

his heart aches every time he smells a familiar odor, but turning his head to its source he doesn't understand where it came from. why does he remember? why does he even know it's something or someone he once cared about? who is it? why? when or where...?

his eyebrows furrow, his jaw creaking with tension as a headache throbbed in his skull, making his eyes squeeze painfully shut.

he's tired.

tired of it. it's like the same thing every time. he loses people like it happens every day, like it's already his routine like just breathing. but tears still run down his cheeks and sobs come off his lips as his body shakes coarsely leaning over the bed.

he's tired.

tired of looking for warmth, not from the fact that he's not dressed for the weather, not from the cold wind blowing in his face, turning his facial hair into a mess.

but how good it feels for him when he hugs you when he meets you or when it’s time to go separate ways. his hands squeeze you gently, maybe even a little tighter than necessary. he is afraid of. afraid that you will leave for good. that you will leave him just like the others. but even if so, of course he won’t blame you for it. of course not. his love and affection are so pure and sincere that in this regard he is like a child who is in awe of his favorite teddy bear. he buries himself into your shoulder, lightly touching it with his lips and quietly whispers something that you cannot hear.

he loves to kiss you. loves to comb your front strands back and lightly peck your forehead and nose while giggling softly. loves to take your face in his hands, lightly squeezing your cheeks so he can kiss your entire face. loves your soft lips, which smell different every day, but are so delicious because of lipsticks and balms. he is trying to show that he loves. that he loves you and he is sincere. also, if you have a lot of moles on your face, arms or shoulders, this is even a plus! he loves to count them, leaving light kisses on top while you laugh quietly.

with you he doesn't feel a headache. with you he doesn't hear the buzzing in his ears. after all, he pays all his attention to you, your comfort and making sure you know that you are loved by him.

but when he first receives some kind of gift from you, it doesn’t matter if it’s something small or big, expensive or cheap. he will cry.

he also sometimes cries at night, because the longing for those dear people who left him did not go away, but was simply waiting for the moment to strike with renewed vigor.

he sobs, clenching his fists in his lap as his shoulders shake. just show him that it's not his fault, that he didn't do anything wrong, and that he can cry on your shoulder. gently run through his strands, kiss his temple and stroke his back while his arms wrap around your waist, squeezing in fear that you will leave him at any moment while he is vulnerable.

for him there is no need to conquer the sky, there is no need to do something impossible. just be close to him. prove that he deserves happiness. and he will be grateful all his life. and not even one.

-for some reason I'm drawn to this kind of oddly described stuff, but I'll just leave it here.-

(request are still open.)