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whatswrongwithblue · 8 months ago

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Alastor Headcannons

Fem cat demon reader in a relationship with the Radio Demon

SFW

Rosie introduced him to you. Maybe not necessarily with the idea that you two would be romantic, but she saw similarities between you two and knew you would eventually hit it off.

Once you stopped constantly arguing, that is.

The man had been an Overlord for so long and had sworn off attempting romance for an even longer period, that he genuinely did not recognize his feelings for you as romantic inclinations at first.

He knew he liked you. Admired you. And enjoyed your company. Could talk to you for hours about anything and everything. So obviously that meant he wanted to own your soul.

That blew up in his face – almost literally.

He quickly found out there was nothing he could offer you, or do to you, including putting you in harms way, to force you into making any kind of deal with him. He couldn’t make himself do a damn thing to you. And that scared him and made him avoid you for a long time after that.

But when you two did eventually reunite, it was a lightbulb moment for him, and he pretty much immediately started pursuing an actual relationship with you.

PDA isn’t really his thing, besides hand holding and possibly a hand on the small of your back if he’s feeling extra possessive or wanting to show you off.

The biggest exception to this rule is dancing. He loves to take you dancing.

Surprisingly, he really doesn’t mind others knowing you two are an item.

Some might think he’d want to hide it, worried that others would see you as a weakness to exploit but honestly? Who would dare go after something the Radio Demon held in such high regard. Let them try, my dear.

In private, if he’s in a good mood, he’s quite the sweety.

His love language is definitely acts of service and quality time.

He’ll want to start each day relaxing, enjoying coffee and breakfast with you. He cooks. And throughout the day he really enjoys just being the same room with you, even if you’re both absorbed in your own tasks.

In private, if he’s in a bad mood, he’s very distant.

Don’t touch him and try not to interrupt his work.

He’ll still unconsciously show his affection for you by letting his guard down in these moments.

He’ll let his mask slip a little, show you how upset he is when he would never let anyone else know what’s capable of actually getting under his skin.

He’ll be in some disheveled state. Have his jacket off, or bow tie undone, or hair tied back. He’ll have his microphone across the room. Little things to show he’s still comfortable being vulnerable with you but still . . . best not push it because then he’ll get a little mean.

If you’ve accidentally hurt his feelings in some way, then the insults will start. He’ll call you annoying or dramatic, but he won’t raise his voice unless you do first. He rarely swears so when he does, you know he’s completely at his wits end with you or with whatever else has upset him.

He would never ever lay a hand on you.

If he’s really pushed to the edge, his power might be harder to control. Lights may break, his shadow will go nuts on the wall around you, and he’ll even take on a more demonic, imposing form, but you’ll still feel completely safe in his presence.

Have I mentioned how rare these arguments are? There’s a reason why he’s comfortable enough to be in a relationship with you, because 99% of the time, you understand each other perfectly and can calm the other one down.

At the end of a “no touch day” he’ll usually come find you and initiate some type of cuddle. Usually once you’ve already gone to bed.

He’ll slip under the sheets behind you, probably still a little damp from a shower, and either be the big spoon or, if you’re awake, rest his head on your chest while you stroke his ears.

Those ears are mighty sensitive. Not in a sexual way, but it always sooths his exhausted nervous system when he allows you to touch them like that.

That, and your purrs. No lullaby in the world is as potent as the mesmerizing sensation of your purrs when his body is laid close against yours.

It took him a few months to admit it, but after the first time he told you he loved you; he says it all the time. His mother always told him you couldn’t overuse that phrase if you meant it, so you tend to hear it multiple times a day.

He isn’t fluent in Louisiana Creole, but he knows a few phrases, and will slip into the native accent of his youth and whisper them in your ears when he’s trying to sooth you if you’re the one upset.

He took decades to propose. You never pestered him about it, but Rosie did – and that probably made him take even longer to get around to it than if she had just let it alone.

Neither of you were super into the idea of a big ceremony but then word got out and half of Cannibal Town was asking about Save the Dates so you two decided that while the vow exchange would be short and sweet, the reception would be a fucking party.

NSFW

Sex had not been a part of this man’s life for a very long time.

He’d only been in two brief relationships, once as a teen, and once later to appease his mother, and neither one exactly went well.

Even his rut, which makes most other demons sex-crazed, used to just make him more aggressive and territorial. The physical aspects of it were easy to take care of in private, so he never had to seek out other outlets.

But then you came along and while it still wasn’t as much of a priority for him as it was for you, he still found himself enjoying and even desiring that kind of intimacy with you.

For the first time in . . . well, ever . . . he found himself initiating sex with someone, rather than the other way around, and you found yourself pleasantly satisfied whenever he was in the mood.

Don’t get me wrong, he could still be - and was often - very touch adverse, especially after a difficult day.

But if he’s happy and relaxed and you’re around . . . you two are going to end up under the covers.

He used to hate his tail. He’d even cut it off more than once, but it always grew back. But you liked it and he liked anything that pleased you. And then you started touching it during intercourse and he really liked that.

If the guy has one cum button, it’s you stroking his tail while he’s inside you.

It also really helps that you are so comfortable with your tail and you constantly let him touch it.

He’s definitely a top. Sex is just not interesting to him unless he knows you’re getting off, so it’s either mutual pleasure or your pleasure, but he doesn’t care for anything that involves just his body.

You enjoy going down on him, and it’s okay for him, at least for starters, but he rarely lets you do it for very long. It’s just . . . boring, for him. He’ll compromise and 69 if you’re really in the mood for that kind of thing.

He gets very excited when you’re in heat.

It’s the only thing that can -almost- always override his touch aversion on a bad day.

The idea of you wanting him that much, to the point of it being a near constant physical need for him to be inside you, really gets him going.

He wears out faster than you do, but even after he can’t get it up anymore, he has a multitude of other appendages (fingers, tongue, tentacles) and even some toys that he thoroughly enjoys using on you until you are finally sated.

He’s not one for dirty talk. It makes him uncomfortable, and he finds it distracting. He stays pretty quiet himself during sex, but he loves the needy little moans and whines you make.

He does bite.

And slap your ass.

He’s not usually one for restraints or whips, but he does enjoy marking you with his teeth and claws. Again, this man wanted to own your soul, so he’s going to enjoy leaving physical reminders all over your body that you are his.

His rut is much harder to handle now that he’s sexually active.

And he’s very different in bed when he’s in a rut.

That’s when he dirty talks.

And that’s when he really gets rough.

You have on more than one occasion been face fucked to the point of choking and tears.

And those shadow tentacles really come out to play during that time of year.

They’ll be wrapped around your body, your neck, limbs, etc. They’ll fuck your mouth, your ass, any part of you that his cock isn’t in. He wants you completely controlled and filled up by him when he’s fucking you in his rut.

And he can go for a very long time. Multiple times. You learned after the first year to just plan on taking a vacation that time of year because really, other than eating and sleeping, he pretty much demands that’s all you two do.

He can sometimes lose control of his power and his bodily form during sex.

You’ll know when he’s close to climax because those antlers get massive and his eyes tend to go black. And if he’s in a rut, he can get a little . . . big.

Like, all of him. His entire body. But also yes, his dick gets larger then, too.

One time, you were just about to say you were getting stretched a little too much down there, and his weight was starting to crush you, when he literally broke the bed. That’s all hot and steamy in romance novels, but you just about broke your tail that night and ended up nearly impaled by the bed frame.

Another time, he got his antlers stuck in the backboard of the bed and that was even more embarrassing for him than breaking the actual bed had been because it took him so long to calm down enough to control the size of those things and meanwhile you had just been pinned beneath him and laughing hysterically at the very horny, very frustrated, very stuck husband of yours.

He’s a self-inflicted insomniac and doesn’t let himself sleep much, so after sex, he tends to pass out next to you and when he finally wakes up, he usually insists you join him in the bath or shower for some aftercare.

He’ll help clean any wounds that haven’t already healed, massage your overworked muscles, and verbally check in with you that he didn’t take things too far. Especially since after a rough rut-induced session, he gets awfully insecure about the things he did to you in the heat of the moment.

Of course, you’re always happy to ensure him that you really enjoy that side of him and you’ve never felt like he’d taken anything too far with you.

(P.S. These are some ideas I worked through on what this ace-spectrum Overlord man would be like in a committed relationship for my new OC wife x Alastor fic. I’ve been working on it for weeks now and am just about ready to start posting. It’s been very difficult writing him truly in character while also navigating meeting my OC, coming to terms with his feelings for her, and how he would behave as a partner/husband. For this post - so that it can be its own standalone work - I’ve changed all the wording to Y/N, with the only specifics being that Y/N is a cat demon. But if you really enjoyed this, I hope you’ll stick around for The Fire in the Sin. It’s going to essentially be all of the above turned into a novel, that’s half prequel and half current events for Hazbin Hotel.)

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x oc #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor fanfiction #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor headcanons

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kaiserposting · 2 months ago

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Michael Kaiser — Liebevoll

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader WORD COUNT: 1k TYPE: Humor, Established relationship, some fluff WARNING(S): Kaiser is a cringe loser, my bad german makes a comeback (I was always on that damn phone in german class)

Since you’ve been trying to learn German (you gave some stupid excuse about how you ‘want to know what shit he talks about you when he thinks you don’t understand him’), a golden opportunity to mess with you has appeared in front of Kaiser.

Obviously being that your brainwaves aren’t completely inactive, you knew not to ask him and instead try a language app first because he’s not to be trusted.

Not possible on Kaiser’s watch, though. Nuh uh. What do you need an app for when you have a boyfriend who’s perfectly capable of lying to you for his amusement?

Your phone was dealt with (snatched and tucked in Kaiser’s back pocket, where you’d rather wretch than reach) three exercises in… So you’re still about as clueless as in the beginning. Now, Kaiser is subjecting you to his ‘tutoring’.

“When someone holds the door for you, you bow and say ‘Ich hoffe, du wirst von einem Auto angefahren.’ It means thank you, by the way.”

“Uh, that’s too long to mean thank you.” You look at him like he’s forcing you to say tongue twisters, suspicion clear in your expression.

Kaiser finds your wariness and lack of understanding really cute, mainly because he’s a condescending asshole. He reaches out to try and move your mouth as if that’ll somehow assist you in pronouncing it, but you pry his fingers away from your face before he can reach. It makes him snicker.

After a few tries, you get through that one. Then Kaiser forces you through the ordeal of sounding out that string of bullshit multiple times ‘just to make sure you really memorized it’.

Next, Kaiser says, “When you want the tab at a restaurant, you should say, ‘Kannst du auf meinen Teller scheißen?’”

“Are you sure?”

“Definitely. Why do you think you know more than me? It’s my first language.” He smiles at you in a wannabe suave manner.

Reluctantly, you repeat it back to him, more than once.

His gaslighting is almost becoming convincing with his insistence on you retaining this information as if you’re actually gaining knowledge here.

But you decide to take everything with a grain of salt, anyway, no matter how compelling Kaiser’s acting may be. You’ll try to search these up later. At least if you can manage to spell them based on what you heard.

The nonsense continues on like this:

“When a guy compliments you, you should reply with ‘Sag das noch einmal, damit ich dich ausweiden kann.’ It means thank you veeeeeeery much, by the way.”

“Does everything mean thank you according to you?!”

“Aww, that’s a really cute grumpy face you’re making.”

“Don’t dodge the question.”

Kaiser stares at you expectantly, scooting closer towards you and leaning in, his face inching closer towards yours. Disturbed (not swayed or affected at all, might you add!), you decide to comply.

He wonders what other stupid shit he should make you say. Even for a joyless and miserable person like Kaiser, it’s kinda difficult to stifle his laughter. Of course, someone as delusional as him would find entertainment in his own antics, but he’s doing a good job on not letting it show.

“After paying at the supermarket, you tell the cashier ‘Es gibt eine Leiche im Pausenraum’ and walk off immediately. It’s a social norm.”

What a shameless liar. You’re curious about what he’s making you say though, since he’s still not reacting when you repeat it back to him during this whole farce. The mischievous rat’s game is on point.

You continue to go along with it, though, since your intrigue is also making you want to learn them all so you can actually look them up after all this. In fact, you drop asking him about it regardless, pretending as if you let down your guard and believe him now.

This leads Kaiser to being more comfortable, testing the waters in a different direction, assuming you won’t think anything of it.

“You should greet me in German every time you see me as practice,” he says. “With something like ‘Du bist sehr schön.’”

Kaiser thinks he’ll think it funny because you rarely compliment him, but he finds himself liking it a little once you repeat it to him. Then he makes you say it again and again, aiming less to deceive you into thinking he’s dedicated to your linguistic education and more so for his satisfaction.

But Kaiser ignores this strange happiness. He tricked you into saying it, so it’s whatever. Doesn’t mean anything. In fact, he’d be a stupid microbe to dwell on it.

Once he strays down that part, though, it keeps escalating.

“Mit dir ist alles besser." - That’s probably the opposite of how you feel, so Kaiser finds some kind of humor in it conceptually. Then hearing is too much to his liking again.

“In deinen Armen fühle ich mich geborgen." - You’d never think something like that, god forbid you utter it out loud… What’s wrong with him? It’s supposed to be comedic. He’s pranking you! Punking you. You’re a gullible idiot!!! He like, got you so good or whatever.

"Du machst mich glücklich.”

When you parrot that one back to him with more ease, since it’s more on the simple side, Kaiser stares into your eyes with a kind of seriousness you find disconcerting. You expect him to demand you say it again so he can be sure you remember it, though the frequency of this request died down more and more with each phrase you spoke.

The silence stretches. You continue to gaze at each other with an almost bizarre confusion between you two.

Is he making you say things he yearns to hear deep down? Or is he finding an excuse to tell you things he’s reluctant to admit? Both options are pathetic and beneath him. And he also really can’t tell which one it is, either.

“Can you say it again?” asks Kaiser, more tender in tone.

“Du machst mich glücklich?”

You’re not a very affectionate couple. It’s to your surprise that Kaiser wraps his arms around you with tentativeness, like he’s skirting around something, then presses a chaste kiss to your forehead. Despite your puzzlement, you return the embrace, pulling him closer.

Now you’ve got to find out what it was to warrant all that from him for sure. Guess you’ll be utilizing speech to text later…

Ich hoffe, du wirst von einem Auto angefahren = I hope you get ran over by a car Kannst du auf meinen Teller scheißen? = Can you take a shit on my plate? Sag das noch einmal, damit ich dich ausweiden kann = Say that again so I can disembowel you Es gibt eine Leiche im Pausenraum = There’s a dead body in the break room Du bist sehr schön = You’re very beautiful Mit dir ist alles besser = Everything’s better with you In deinen Armen fühle ich mich geborgen = I feel safe in your arms Du machst mich glücklich = You make me happy I was writing a WIP with a premise I've never done before, but it got difficult to write whihc annoyed me, so I wrote this which is something that ive quite literally done before instead #StayStagnant

#michael kaiser x reader #blue lock x reader #kaiser x reader #michael kaiser x you #bllk x reader #blue lock x you

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vrystalius · 3 months ago

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could you do hashira men with an s/o that's taller than them? (idk how this would work for gyomei since hes a literal beast)

Being taller than the hashira

How will they react to their s/o being taller than them?

Pairing: Sanemi, Kyojuro, Gyomei, Giyu x gn!reader

Sanemi Shinazugawa (179cm, 5’10")

You just can’t stop annoying him for being taller, can you? You with the head-pats, weather jokes and whatnot. It annoys Sanemi to no end how Genya is taller than him, someone who’s supposed to be smaller just because of his age, and now you’re doing it too! You’re supposed to be his spouse, damn it! Stop holding things above his head where he can’t reach it! He’s completely average height! Why are you even teasing him like this? It’s not Sanemi’s fault you’re rivalling the height of a mountain, so why make it his problem that you’re insecure, huh?!

Also, do not even dare to pet his head like you would with a child. He will kick your leg or break your kneecaps when you do it. He’s a grown man and doesn’t need you joking to him everyday that Sanemi’s going to get taken away during the Christmas period to work in Santa’s workshop as an elf. (Let’s pretend Santa exists in the Taisho Era)

“Never pat my head again. NEVER. And now fuck off or I’ll ignore your ass for the next week, no kisses, no nothing.”

Kyojuro Rengoku (177cm, 5’10")

It’s very amusing and adorable to him. Kyojuro needs to lift his face a little to properly face you and tip-toe a little to kiss you. It’s one of his favourite things in the world. Also, another thing he loves about you being taller than him is how comfortable it is to hug and hold you. Once he wraps his arms around your waist he can perfectly nuzzle his face against and into your warm chest.

It’s very endearing to him how you have to lean down to kiss him on the lips and how you sometimes pat his head as a greeting or just randomly without a reason. It makes Kyojuro’s whole day when you ruffle his hair a little everytime your hand touches the top of his head.

He sometimes hears from Tengen’s wives how they steal Tengen’s clothes to wear them, and he wanted to test this out himself. His clothes are too tight and small on you, but your clothes somehow fit him perfectly. They’re a little oversized, but that’s what makes them so comfortable. Kyojuro steals your clothes daily and wears them around the house with a huge smile.

“Oh, is that a new shirt, my love? May I try it on as well? It looks very comfortable!”

Gyomei Himejima (220cm, 7’2")

It was very surprising to him when he first met you. Gyomei believed that no one is capable of being taller than him, but you proved him wrong. He almost pitied you for towering over everything, like him. Due to his height, many people find him intimidating and scary, something you probably experienced yourself as well. He is very curious about your own experiences about being so tall and how people act around you.

Also, Gyomei feels very comfortable around you. He’s actually glad that his spouse is a little taller than him, that way he’s not afraid of scaring you with his height alone. He asked you not to tell anyone in case people ask, but he adores being the little spoon snd being held by you during the nights. It makes him feel just a little safer and more loved.

“My love, may I lay my head against your chest? You’re incredibly warm…”

Giyu Tomioka (176cm, 5’9")

Your height makes him slightly insecure about his own height. Giyu knows that he’s not the tallest of them all and that you can’t influence your height, but he’s just average. Average in fighting, average-to-worst-hashira, average in protecting, and now average in height. Seeing you tower over him like that… it just stings a little.

Yet, he likes when you have to lean down to kiss Giyu. It makes him flustered how you sometimes tilt his chin and lean down. One time, you lifted him up into your arms and peppered his face in kisses, then putting him back down and walking off. You left him behind to get all flustered and embarrassed. It makes him… feel things when you can throw him around with ease. It’s embarrassing, incredibly so, but he just can’t deny it to himself how much he actually likes it. He just really hopes you won’t notice.

“Put me down. Please. Pretty please.”

💠

I know this is short, so forgive me! I want to post at least two things today and take advantage of my sickday as much as possible :P! Hope you enjoyed reading it and thank you so much for requesting! This was fun!

Anyways, take care of yourselves <3

Make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

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cryptidghostgirl · 10 months ago

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Hey so uhh, it said requests are open so I'm gonna shoot my shot ig. I have this fic idea but I'm a shit writer so here it goes.

Alastor x reader but the concept is that the reader is Alastor's shadow.

Now, hear me out: Alastor is said to be a powerful demon since his manifestation in hell, we know that it takes demons quite some time to accumulate their power before they become overlords.

If "The Radio demon" was an alias was that operated between more that one person, then it would make sense as to why and how he rose to the top very quickly (assuming we ignore the fact he made a deal with someone).

That and Alastor's black appendages and shadows seem out of theme for a demon who's primary power is based on Radio.

As for how they met, it could go two ways. Either with Alastor, a man hungry for power, strikes his first deal with Shadow!Reader to get them to do his bidding. Or Shadow!Reader offering Alastor their services after realizing that he has a lot of potential. Either way, their partnership blooms into a sort of kinship between the two of them.

Do with this concept whatever you want with it, I just wanna get this concept out in the world in the hands of someone much more capable of writing than I am.

Enjoy!

A/N please always shoot your shot. this is such a fun idea,, thank you so much for entrusting it to me. I've decided just to write their meeting for now but may continue it later on. I hope you like it!!

The Thing (Alastor x Gn!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: Mention of cannibalism and the Donner party. I think that is it.

Word Count: 1,752

Master Lists:

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Hazbin Hotel Master List

Click here and leave a comment if you want to be added to any taglists or send me an ask about it.

There was a secret, one that no one knew, one that would tear the demon realm apart at its edges if anyone found out. The illusive Radio Demon and his shadow were, in fact, just that: the illusive Radio Demon and his shadow.

Y/n was master of the immaterial, shifting forms and shedding skins the way others change their clothes. When Alastor arrived in Hell, they had long since been established as one of the many demons to be aware of.

Rumor runs rampant everywhere but especially in Hell where in controls, combines, and divides. Y/n was just that, a rumor. Never the same face twice, never in the same place twice. No one even knew their name, simply referring to them as the thing or the hunger. They snatched sinner's souls from their grasps and devoured them whole. An urban legend, a ghost story only here, all the ghosts were real.

Alastor was as observant in death as he had been in life, it didn't take him long to catch sight of the shadow. Though he had only been in Hell a few days when it had first appeared, he could tell it had nefarious intent.

The thing was a good actor, almost good enough to fool him. It lay in the reality of his own shadow, following his moves perfectly. However, no one is perfect and every once in a while, there would be a little slip. The first one which had caught Alastor's attention was when he had taken a step forward and it had gone the wrong way, quickly righting itself and following after the mistake.

Alastor pretended not to have noticed, but he remembered. He lay in wait for another such occurrence. It was not until two days later, when his shadow gave him four hands rather than two with no apparent explanation such as an odd angle to the sun or another body near him, that his thesis was confirmed. There was, in fact, something following him.

It stuck like glue to the heels of his shoes. Alastor was quiet, Alastor schemed. He had trapped it in a pure white room which he had fixed lightbulbs in from all sides. When he had turned on the lights, he had turned on them, arms crossed and foot tapping expectantly.

The shadow had looked this way and that, searching for a place to hide. When they realized it was no use, they had pulled themselves from the floor into three dimensions and faced him head on.

"Who are you?" Alastor had asked before quickly reevaluating his question, "What are you?"

It moved like liquid in the air, twisting and dissolving at its edges. Bubbles, or what was almost bubbles, what looked like bubbles, rose to the surface of it's body and as they popped, a demon began to take the shadow's place.

"I am everything."

They were many voiced. When they spoke, it sounded like a crowd of people saying the same thing in unison. Alastor stared at the demon, unamused. They were a full person now, about a head shorter than him and seemingly very calm considering he had them trapped. Then again, Alastor had only been in Hell a few weeks by this point, not nearly enough time to work up the sort of reputation he was hoping for.

"Is that a bad pickup line?" Alastor asked, "Am I supposed to ask what you mean and you'll say something like 'I could be everything to you?'"

The demon raised their eyebrows, shaking their head.

"It is the truth."

A tense silence fell between the pair. Alastor broke it with a sigh, rubbing his temples in irritation. He hadn't really known what to expect from this endeavor save an event to break up the monotony of his days. The demon was not delivering.

"Yeah, alright."

"Who are you?"

"You've been following me for what, two weeks? And you don't know?"

The demon shrugged.

"I was trying to be polite. It has been a while since I have spoken to anyone."

"Sure. Well," Alastor turned to the door, pulling a skeleton key from his pocket, "this has been interesting. Enjoy eternity alone in a well lit room."

Alastor opened the door. The demon made no move to follow him out of the room, no move to escape. They simply watched him in curiosity, their head tilted slightly to one side. Alastor hesitated, his body blocking the exit and his back towards them. He watched them over his shoulder as a thin black smoke seemed to emanate from the outline of their body.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

An empty threat, barley even a threat to be honest. Alastor stepped out of the room, closing the door firmly behind him. Once he was sure it was locked, he slipped the key back into his pocket. He made to leave, intending to go out on the town in a desperate attempt to find entertainment. Barley two steps forward, and shadows began to pool on the floor before his feet, blocking Alastor's path.

He watched in a mild interest as the demon pulled themselves from the shadows, taking on a different face than they had worn in the room. Now they were broader, taller, stronger. They looked mean.

"I told you."

"Is this what you meant when you said you were everything?"

The demon nodded once. Their wide eyes were unblinking, unchanging, as their form mutated again. A spider demon now with many arms and a lanky figure. Alastor raised his eyebrows.

"So, you let me catch you."

"I was bored. No one ever notices me until it is too late, except you."

"I find that hard to believe. You were easy to spot."

The demon's eyes widened slightly at this, something similar to surprise but halfway to fear.

"Like I said, Alastor the interesting." they mused after a moment.

Alastor bowed his head slightly in recognition of the title.

"I could take your soul, destroy you. Why were you so willing to risk all that? Surely a bit of entertainment can't be worth that much to you."

He was trying to get a gage on the creature, and he knew they could tell. It was a mild threat, one he couldn't follow through on even if he wanted to. Sure, he could maim the creature, cause it great pain, but beyond leaving them formless for a few days tops he was powerless. He knew that, but he didn't know if they did. Either way, the situation would play out to his advantage. It would either give him more information, or the upper hand.

They considered the situation for a moment before answering. Alastor couldn't figure out if it was because of their interest in him, for fear of him, or some third, other undefined motivation. No matter what it was, he didn't care. This was the most engaged he had felt in weeks.

"You aren't an overlord. You can't make a contract."

"And you are?"

"No."

"Too weak?" Alastor teased and the demon glared at him.

"Far from it. I don't like being seen."

"But you're letting me see you."

"I am allowing you to see a face. It is not mine."

Alastor fell silent. He had figured that the demon before him didn't have a true form, or if they did, that it was shadow. Things were becoming curiouser by the second. He was no longer regarding his attempts to trap the demon as a waste of time.

"So, you want power but anonymity. Those things don't go hand in hand."

"I know. You want fame and lack the power. Another unmatched set."

Alastor's ear twitched at that, displeasure running through his veins and clouding his sight. His hand tightened where he held his microphone.

"I have power enough."

"What use is a Radio Demon with nothing to broadcast?"

"Are you suggesting a deal?"

The demon smiled a smile that was too big for the face it wore. Alastor had to admit, they were unsettling. He understood the rumors.

"I've heard of your... reputation shall we say? But if you think I will trust someone who's face I have never even seen, you are dead wrong."

"Was that a joke?" the demon tentatively asked after a moment.

"Not on purpose but I supose so."

The thing seemed to roll the idea over in their mind as their form changed once again, this time becoming a demon with the body of a shark. They seemed not even to notice they were changing as their eyes flicked back to Alastor's.

"You want information. Then you will be open to the idea of a partnership."

"This was your goal all along, a partnership as you put it."

A statement, not a question. The demon smiled, their eyebrows slightly raised.

"Oh, was it now. At least I had an end goal to this little... situation."

Alastor scoffed, looking away. They were right. He had come up with no ideas past capturing the thing that had been following him. He was in the dark. They had everything figured out.

"Show me your real face. Then we can talk."

"Alastor Hartifelt. Died 1933. Louisiana famed radio host and serial killer cut down in his prime by a hunter who mistook him for a deer."

"Are you trying to intimidate me?"

"Not at all."

The demon shifted once again. It took them longer to find form this time, remaining as a black cloud for a few moments before at last settling on an almost human body. They were shorter than he had expected, smaller too and decked out in what seemed to be colonial dress. They held a hand out to him.

"Y/n L/n. Died 1846. Newly wed and member of the Donner party."

"Cannibalism." Alastor mused, gently taking their hand in his.

He had expected them to be cold, immaterial. He had expected his hand to slide right through theirs. Instead, the demon, Y/n, was warm and solid to the touch, just like anyone else. They smiled, mouth full of needles.

"We all take what we are given."

"I suppose."

Y/n dropped his hand and crossed their arms. Despite their stature, they radiated authority and poise. It was almost impressive.

"If you will be the face, I will be the force."

"No soul binding."

"I couldn't if I wanted to. Not an overlord."

Alastor looked them up and down. His smile grew.

"Not an overlord yet."

----

tags:

@willowshadenox @i-love-jafar @elfyeet @reader3 @lazygirlfanfic0-0

#hazbin hotel #x reader #hazbin alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x gn!reader #gn reader #gender neutral y/n #gender neutral reader #gender neutral pronouns #they/them reader #alastor x reader #the radio demon x reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x gn reader

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senseichaos · 11 months ago

Note

Hey, same anon asking about yandere stuff. I'm so glad to hear!! Of course if you want to, may I please request yandere Vox with the reader? Like how they try to run from him? Perfectly fine with it being a female reader as I am one. And I don't mind how you write it. Do whatever you please! I love seeing others' interpretation of the characters 🖤 No rush!

YOU CAN'T RUN. HELL, YOU CAN'T HIDE EITHER.

thank you lovely anon! I love the concept of Yandere Vox! Hope this is good :) let me know your thoughts in another ask if you'd like! Lots of love!

Summary: Vox doesn't often fall in love often, no. Well that was until you came around- and you wanted a job with Valentino of all people? No. That would never fly with him. He'd make you work with him instead, like an intern or something? Hell, anything to make you stay near him. Anything to get him as close to you as possible.

Genres: Angst with a small amount of sexuality

NOT PROOF READ (yet)

Warnings/Tags: Yandere Vox, Insecurity, Reader is naive, manipulation, mind control, exploitation, creepy behavior, masking, contractual agreements, reader lacks hell experience, Vox is violent, Vox lacks empathy, angst, swearing, overall kinda depressing (LET ME KNOW IF MISSING ANY)

Pt 2

_______

You can't believe your eyes when you step into that tower, the pink glass adorning the outsides making your eyes shimmer. You have a job interview with Valentino today, after waiting for (probably too long) to get a job somewhere.

You see, hell worked slightly differently to earth. Where things in earth worked in a more of a 'work and make work' sort of way, Hell is more 'work, make work, and fight'

You'd managed for the past months to live in a small apartment that happened to be owned by someone who got killed in an extermination. It wasn't your plan to impersonate a sinner and squat in their home, but you have to get by somehow, right?

Well- it also wasn't your plan to be a porn star. But no where else seemed to want to take you. You're small, too weak to be taken by anyone else. People on the street told you that you were made for the screen, that your body was perfect. Some even tried to pay you copious amounts of cash just for you to suck them off. And you hate it.

At least the elevator of the building is cozy.

Vox on the other hand was having the best day of his life: or in his definition, a day where Valentino doesn't have a stupid breakdown that Vox doesn't have to solve.

He loves to watch his people as they indulge in his technology, he loves to watch everyone become obsessed with him and his media, he loves to be in control of all of these people. He'll watch every screen around him with focus, taking in their reactions as he bottle feeds them content.

Could he be with his boyfriend, Val? Yes. Does he want to? Hell no. He doesn't love Val. Plain and simple in his eyes. He has Valentino to get his business along. To make him more powerful. He'll do what he has to to be the most powerful he can be. Even if it means toying with people around him.

Val doesn't think he's capable of falling in love with anyone in this horrible underworld he inhabits. Everyone here is fucked. he is fucked. Plus, he doesn't know anyone here who he'd connect with anyway.

Or well that's what he did think until right now. There is a girl in the central elevator that looks awfully out of place, causing Vox to turn the entirety of his attention onto her. She looks like a regular old sinner, yes- but still she stands it like a sore thumb against the few people also in the central elevator. Where everyone's boring physique was her own enticing one stands. Where everyone else's two tone personalities stand her own colorful and bright one shimmer in his 2-D irises.

And then comes that odd feeling in his chest, this weird bubbling feeling of emotions that causes his eyes to tear up ever so slightly. This feeling, it's addicting. He wants to grind her up into a smoothie and drink her up, making the feeling sit there forever.

Something is wrong with him: he thinks.

With bated breath vox looked at the floor the elevator was approaching, figuring out where the girl is exactly going. There are only few reasons a sinner shows up at V tower anyway: to get a job with Valentino, or to turn yourself in if you'd wronged them. The elevator number reads '10'. She's going up to the business floor where Valentino currently is.

A sudden twist finds its way into his stomach, a horrible twist that makes his head burn with anger. Who does Val think he is? Having a girl such as her working for him. He. Couldn't let this happen, no no no no no no no. Why would he even want to exploit such a girl? She's supposed to be loves and cherished for everything she is.

The only reason she'd want to work with Val is because she has no other thing to do. He needs to offer her a job- or something to keep her from giving herself away to Valentino. Something to keep her as close to him as possible- like an intern or an assistant or anything.

Anything: Vox thinks.

Not often is Vox so reckless, not often at all. He likes to think he's decorum and well-adjusted. Likes to think he's a figure of this time. Of his time.

But right now, all he wants is this beautiful fucking girl to look at him in his eyes. Is it selfish? To want something so bad you feel like you could to horrible things to get it? Probably. But this is hell. And as an overlord of hell he can take what he wants. For once he doesn't care.

--- 666 ---

You take a step from the elevator, looking around the rather nauseating long and rounded hallway with squinted eyes. You can barely remember where you're supposed to be going anymore. You're supposed to meet Val inside one of these many, many studios. But soon enough as you start to venture through the halls on light, unsure steps you find yourself unable to read the words and numbers on each door.

Something is wrong, and you're unable to focus. There's this buzzing sound in your ears, a very faint but obvious buzzing that's causing your brain to go fuzzy. You can't feel your body anymore, it's just walking down the hallway in painful circles.

Suddenly that tether in your brain snaps with a loud crack, and your face to face with a television. You're still standing, in this long hallway, but now you're looking into the dark eyes of a TV screen. Wait- Eyes?

"Oh, Hello there sinner, are you looking for Valentino?" He asks, voice weirdly distant yet close all at the same time. His smile is large, almost devilish looking as he stares down at you.

You feel on edge, and your head still has a very faint buzzing lining itself.

"Oh, erm, Yeah.. I can't seem to recall what room-" You flinch as he hooks an arm around your neck walking you down the hallway once again with a smirk. There's a weird edge to him that you can't pin down, this whole interaction almost seems.. forced? Oh, there you go again, putting labels on things. Stop overthinking!

"Don't worry your pretty head about it! I'll take you to him," he says, unhooking his arm from your shoulder; only for him to rather sensually drag his hand across your shoulder blades until it's claws barely rest against your shoulder.

"But you know," Vox begins, swinging himself around so he stands in front of you, hands resting on either of your shoulders. You have to stop yourself from bumping into his chest. "You don't have to work for him." He says, his voice turning slightly more TV like and distant as he speaks.

"What do you mean..?" You ask, pushing his hand off of your shoulder with a painful twist of butterflies. A type of butterflies that you can't understand.

"Well, you seem like the type of gal to enjoy.." he looks you up and down, moving his hands from your shoulders as he grins. "Taking orders," you tilt your head at his words, confused. He shakes his head to himself, looking away for a moment with a slight frown before staring back, smiling brightly.

"No, I mean that you could be my assistant! You can.." He thinks for a moment, tapping the bottom of his screen as if it were his chin. He shrugs, smiling awkwardly with furrowed brows. "Bring me drinks and such! C'mon.."

He leans down to your level again, looking into your eyes. You suddenly feel that wave of disorientation go through you again, the only thing seeming to make sense to you being.. Vox.

"You don't want to be exploited by him, do you?" He says, and you feel his screen radiating heat on your skin. The buzzing becomes more loud as he goes on, all you seem to be able to hear being his words as they drip from his vile tongue. "C'mon dear, He'll break you."

"And you don't want to be broken, Right?"

He is right. You don't want to be broken by Valentino. You don't want to be exploited. But you don't have any other choice-

Until now, that is. You have an opportunity.

You should take it, right?

The headache and buzzing dissipate, taking a chunk of your psyche along with it. You feel your feet begin to give out beneath you from the exertion, lacking balance as you wobble softly. Not wanting to faceplant into the carpet, you reach out to something, anything to hold you. It just so happens to be Vox's chest, grasping onto the fabric of his coat as you begin to slip down to the floor.

"Hey, Hey, it's okay, What's got you out of sorts?" He asks, grasping you by your waist as he lifts you back to your feet. You blink, looking around for a moment with a nervous breath. Those butterflies, again. You hate them.

"I- uh.. I dunno.." You say stutter, pushing yourself away and scratching that back of your neck.

"You're feeling better?" Vox says, dipping his lids as he tilts his head rather attractively.

You nod, looking down at the ground with a nervousness inside of you.

"Good, good.." he turns away, looking at the ground and pacing for a short amount of time "good.." he says softly to himself, turning back around and clasping his hands together as he grins.

"Now how about you follow me and we can get you set up, yeah?" He says, pressing his hand against the space between your shoulder blades as he turns back to the elevator. You look up at him, and for a moment he seems to be in his own world. At least he is until you speak.

"So what's your name, Mister?" You ask, fiddling your fingers against each other nervously. He grins, lids upturning with the smile as well. He leans down again, poking a blue claw on your cheek as buzzing blurs your brain.

"It's Vox, my dear," He says, and your brain goes soft and mushy with an emotion you cannot describe. It feels as though he's making you melt.

"Keep that in your head for me, will you princess?" He asks softly, pulling his claw up the side of your face with a manic grin.

With a sudden movement he pulls away, shrugging his hands.

"Now darling, let's get back to it, shall we?"

Something is off, and part of you wants more of it.

--- 666 ---

Mister Vox's office is large in size, walls lined with screens displaying different things across the entirety of the pride ring. You wonder what Vox may do here all day, seeing the singular seat between it all that doesn't even seem that cozy.

You assume he watches, broadcasts, does meeting, and.. does what he's doing right now, perhaps?

"What do you do all day, Mister Vox?" You ask, looking wide-eyed at the television lined walls of the area. He flinches, grinning awkwardly before bringing back his confident demeanor.

"Me? Oh, you know.. this and that- I go to meetings.. I sign paperwork, I go to meetings.." He laughs to himself, shaking his hand dismissively as he sits in his seat, spreading his legs in a man spread. You turn away from the screens, looking over at Vox as he scans the monitors with narrowed eyes. You wonder if he was doing something important before he found you.

"Uh, Mister Vox, what do I do now..?" You ask, taking a small step towards him. He tilts his head towards you, smiling as he swings his chair to face you completely.

"oh, you? You can just sit there and look pretty.." Vox looks you up and down with narrowed eyes, face blank for a long moment before bringing a small smirk onto his face. He leans back in his chair, clicking his fingers as a bundle of clothing finds it's way into your hands.

"Perhaps prettier, change into that for me will you dearest?" He says, leaning his head on his fist as his voice becomes slightly more distant. You look at him, confused as you clutch the blue and red clothing to your chest.

"Okay.. Where do I change, Mister Vox?" You say, fiddling with the collar of your shirt as your body feels hot. Vox rolls his eyes playfully, pointing a clawed finger to the floor as he shifts his chair back to the screen. "Just change here my dear, no one will see you," He says, looking at you with a side glance. It's almost condescending, in a way.

"right here? But-"

"Here is fine, dear. Hell, here is more safe to change than anywhere else in this building," He laughs. You get this off feeling like you should trust him. I mean, he's one of the people owning this building anyway, right? He would be the one knowing a lot about it rather than anyone else. you should trust him.

"Okay Mister Vox."

You can't see his grin.

Every piece of clothing you peek off feels like this weird symbolism for losing yourself. Off comes your shirt: a piece is lost. Off comes your shorts: a piece of you is lost. And then more clothes come onto you, building something new. On comes a skirt: a piece of you is molded. On comes a blouse: a piece of you is molded.

And then there's this watch, a mobile one with 'Vox Tech' plastered across the side. With a shrug you put it on, struggling with getting it to tightness but ultimately managing to win the battle with the finicky strap.

"Good, good, how great you look!" He says, outstretching his hands with a grin.

You feel yourself blush, one half of you from his compliment and the other half from the fact he's looking completely in your direction. Does that mean he was watching you the whole time?

"Actually my dear, do you think you can grab me a coffee?" He asks, clicking his hands as a streak of blue energy shoots inside of the watch; this causes a mao to appear on the screen, showing where you are currently. "That map should tell you where to go, the assistant there should give you the coffee the way I like it,"

You shouldn't ask it, but you feel your bones ache too.

"How do you like it?"

He grins, tilting his head.

"Sweet with a strong flavour," He states, waving you off.

--- 666 ---

The first week as Vox's Assistant goes by smoothly, or as smoothly as it could working with an Overlord of hell. A rather odd seeming one at that.

Everything feels on edge with Vox, you feel like at any moment he could do something drastic. You've no idea what said drastic thing could be either, which makes it a whole lot more anxiety inducing. Hell, Vox is attractive. That's probably why you're on edge. That's what you keep telling yourself anyway. You're probably in love with him or something.

Vox had even given you housing as close to the building as possible, insisting he pay the rent. Not that you complain, no; less walking for you it seems. The Vox Tech watch he gave you tells you pretty much everything that you need to do. When you wake up in the morning it goes off, alerting you like an alarm, it has a to do list that blares when you're in the office, it maps out the whole space, it even acts as Vox's messaging system towards you.

You do wonder how he controls it, even in the comfort of your own home. Well, he is an overlord, right? He's capable of things even outside of your grasp. You cannot even fathom what he could do with that power.

And that's just the way Vox likes it.

Actually, you haven't seen Valentino around the building the whole week either. Even in a meeting you accompanied Vox to. You'd expect to see him more often with all the prowling in and out of the building you do.

It's as if he's vanished.

"Princess, grab me a coffee will you? Maybe even grab one for yourself while you're at it, on the house," Vox asks, swiveling on his chair to face your own, which sits just off to the side of his own with a small desk in front of it. You'd been doing some paperwork for him for the past hour, mostly reading through stuff, asking him questions, and singing them for him.

"Yeah, sure.. um, I was just wondering.." You utter softly, causing Vox to raise a brow as he leans back on his chair with a confident grin. He tilts his head in question, saying: "What's on your mind, (N/N)?"

"I haven't seen Valentino around the building, I was just wondering if something's up with him?" You ask, looking down at the ground as you begin to regret yourself even questioning. Vox laughs, flapping his hand in dismissal.

"Oh, just that? Don't worry about it! He's just.." Vox pauses for a moment, shrugging his shoulders. "Doing his own thing," He finishes, smiling rather oddly as he begins moving his chair back to face his computers. You intercept.

"His own thing..?"

Vox turns back to you, grinning widely with a manic look in his 2-D eyes. Once again, the buzzing fills your brain. And you fall to your knees against the ground with a painful 'thump'. Vox harshly grips your chin, pulling you closer to him until all you can see is that blaring red eye of his as he speaks.

"As i said,"

You feel yourself wanting to let go.

"Don't worry about it."

He lets you go of your trance, leaving you teary eyed as he smiles softly, brows furrowing in a sort of mocking empathetic way. His eyes drip with affection you find.

"Now, grab that coffee, okay?" He finishes, placing a cold kiss against your forehead before letting go of your chin, leaving yourself to gather your bearings.

It's not often you feel the want to defy someone. But as you stand from the floor, dusting off your skirt and walking to the elevator; you feel that need to be defiant. You'd figure out where Valentino is. He has to be somewhere in the building, right? You just have to find.. him..

In these hundreds and hundreds of doors. You would have to find him. And you can't take so long, otherwise Vox may suspect something.

You'd find someone to tell you where he is, you'd find him, and you'd stop worrying if Vox is going to do something drastic because he hasn't lied to you. Simple as that, simple as that. Right?

As it just so happens, as you begin walking through the studio halls you find yourself bumping into a spider individual, of whom you remember being a popular porn star.

So with an anxious breath you asked him. He explained that Valentino was in studio B-40, but he doesn't recommend finding him. And once again you go against someone's wishes. Plus, you were just going to stick your head in the door. It's nothing to worry about.

So what are you so anxious when you find yourself getting closer to the door? Why does your throat feel so tight? Why do you want to run in the other direction? Why does every step feel so heavy?

Taking another small step to the door, you wonder if you should listen to your conscious. It's supposed to do you good , right?

No, that's baby talk.

You aren't weak. You aren't letting the people in hell get you down! You are going to open the door!

You push yourhand towards the door handle and-

"Ouch! Fuck-" You yelp, an electric shock going through your body, causing you to fall backwards onto the hard floor below. Your whole body is on fire, you can't feel your tongue. You can't feel your brain.

A hum accompanies Vox's words.

"You're not going in there." He says, leaning over you as you push yourself to your knees, pressing yourself to the wall. Your head is throbbing.

"I'll beat him to a pulp if he sees you, you know?" Vox laughs, that sickening pseudo-empathetic look covering his flat features. You feel your stomach twist, this time in an awful way, it's like he's draining you of your soul. You want to disappear.

"I don't want to be aggressive," Vox begins as he grips your face harshly, causing tears to well into your eyes. "But your fucking mine, you got that?"

"And I won't let that sleazy prick get his greedy eyes anywhere near you!"

"W-what?" You whimper, pushing his hands from his face and backing away meekly. Vox laughs to himself, red dripping from his two dimensional mouth. He humors you with that gaze of his, eating alive any part of your confidence that may still linger.

"Oh, don't you get it, my dear? You sighed the paperwork," Vox leans down so his eyes can bore into your own, his gums showing in that prideful smile of his. "You belong to me now."

You choke on air, standing to your wobbly feet.

"W-what? I don't un-"

The paperwork. The paperwork you signed to get the job. You didn't read it! You idiot. You fucking idiot! You've ruined your own life. You belong to him..

To Vox.

"You- Shit-!" You turn around on your heels, almost slipping as you speed off into the hallway. You hear his voice echo in your ears.

"You can't run. Hell, you can't hide either!"

This was a mistake, this whole thing was a mistake. You want to die. You want to disappear. You want to get as far away from him as possible. You don't even take the elevator down, you run down every single flight of stairs jumping down a couple to save time.

The slip beneath your feet almost makes you topple over as you clutch onto the railing, swinging yourself onto the next flight of stairs. You have to be close to the bottom, right. Right? Yeah. This is fine.

And you were, right, surprisingly. You can almost see the entrance outside. You just have to make it out of this lobby. You just have to make it out of this huge fucking stupid ass lobby! You have to.

All of the sinner's eyes bore at you as you run at top speed to the door. You can't be here. You need to leave immediately. He can't find you If you're far away, right? Just go somewhere without a camera.. it'll be fine.. everything will be fine.

You're so close! Just a few more steps, a few more heavy, headache inducing steps.

You can make it. You just have to believe in yourself, and it'll all work out. Everything will be fine. It just has to be. Hell can't be this cruel, can it?

You're so close to the door you can smell the outside world, hear the cars as they pass, hear the charter hear the-

You choke and fall.onto the ground, a heaviness around your neck and wrists. It buzzes against your skin, making you go light headed. You can barely see it, but it's there. There are handcuffs around your wrists. And a collar around your neck. All of which glowing and buzzing with that electric blue of Vox.

He is right.

You can't run, you can't hide, you can't do anything.

He owns you, he has you. You can't do anything.

You made a mistake.

Maybe hell really is this cruel.

Keeping you forever tethered to this man.

Who knew one mistake would ruin the rest of your eternity.

Serves you right for being so naive.

"Alright now, are we done with our tantrum?" Vox asks.

"Yes mister Vox." You say.

#proship #senseichaos #antishippers dni #senseichaosdrabbles #proship fanfiction #Vox x reader #vox x reader #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #vox yandere #yandere vox #yandere hazbin hotel #ask #sensei chaos requests #senseichaosanons #lovely anon

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mrsbuckybarnes1917 · 7 months ago

Text

14: CRICKET & BUCKY

Previous chapter < MASTERLIST

Bucky plans your first date, but it doesn't quite go according to plan.

Word count 5.2k

Warnings: first dates, explicit sexual content, Bucky Barnes ... still a warning

It was strange, waking up in a room far away from everyone you knew and loved. It's not that you lived that far from your friends, it's just that it felt like a chasm. But this had been your choice. May made you feel very welcome at the Academy and you got to work with kids who had powers from a young age, helping them to understand their physiology and giving them the opportunity to explore what they were capable of in a controlled environment. Needless to say, you loved it.

Bucky had been very attentive to you, bringing you food and keeping you company, driving you to your physical therapy. You had gotten the impression from Sam that he refused every mission that Tony and Steve asked him to take part in. The other Avengers all visited but they had their own lives and work to attend to, but you saw Bucky every day. As you regained your strength, he accompanied you on your daily walks to maintain some baseline level of fitness. Sometimes you were bold enough to hold his hand while you walked. And he would always leave you with such intimate kisses. To your frustration, they never seemed to progress to anything more than a goodbye and you were beginning to wonder if he would ever want anything more.

One day, the two of you were hanging out in the middle of the day, watching a movie, cuddling on your couch. You'd recovered well and been assessed by the S.H.I.E.L.D. medical teams and deemed fit for any duty you wished to carry out.

Even though you'd been cleared and gone back to work, Bucky insisted on helping you out with everything and frankly, it was grating on your nerves. You were certainly not made of glass and he was treating you like you might break at any second. Luckily for you, Steve was ever the loyal friend, even if he had no idea what he was doing. He descended on your new abode demanding Bucky's participation on a mission which clearly would benefit from his expertise.

“Come on, Bucky. This is important.”

“Then you do it,” Bucky replied sullenly. “I’m staying here with Cricket.”

“Oh for crying out loud, Buck!” you exploded. “Are you shitting me right now?”

Bucky and Steve froze with surprise, both their blue eyes wide and staring at you.

“Just go!” you pointed your hand at the door. “Help Steve.”

A flash of uncertainty and hurt flickered across his face. It disappeared so fast that you wondered if you had imagined it. Bucky shuffled forward to the edge of the couch seat from his place beside you. “Will you be okay?”

“I’m perfectly fine, Bucky.”

“You want me to go?” he asked, quietly, avoiding your gaze.

“Bucky… I want… I need you to understand what I’m not… going to break. I’m okay, Buck.” You sat forwards too and put your hand to his face. “Thank you for taking care of me, but I don’t need that now.”

“You’ve always been the one to take care of me, I just…”

“And I love you for that, Buck. But you need to go, do the things you need to do. Help your friends, your teammates. They need you more than I do right now.”

"Are you trying to get rid of me?" Bucky asked, a playful smirk on his face as he leaned in closer to you.

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the fluttering in your stomach at his proximity. You moved off the couch and slid into Bucky’s lap, your face barely an inch from his. "No, I just think you should go with Steve to work today."

Bucky pouted, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "But I'd much rather spend the day with you, darling."

You couldn't help but blush at his words. Bucky had been your best friend for such a long time now but for the first time since you’d confessed your feelings there was a tension in the air, a feeling that something more was brewing beneath the surface.

You cleared your throat, looking over at Steve and trying to push down the butterflies in your stomach. "We both know that it’s time for you to go back to work."

It was cute how uncomfortable it was for Steve, being present for this conversation between you, seeing Bucky flirting so shamelessly with you.

Bucky's smile faltered slightly, but he quickly recovered, his charm back in full force. "Of course, Cricket.”

You shook your head, trying to ignore the way your heart was racing in your chest. "I think it's best if you go with Steve."

Bucky sighed dramatically, but he finally relented. "Fine, fine. I'll go with Steve. But only because you asked so nicely. But I'll be back as soon as I can."

“You promise?”

Bucky's eyes softened as he looked at you, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. "Promise."

You smiled, feeling a rush of warmth in your chest. "I'll be waiting for you."

“When I’m back, maybe I could take you out on a date? A real date?”

Your face broke out in a huge smile. “I’d like that.”

As Bucky leaned in to kiss you goodbye, the world seemed to fade away. His lips were soft and inviting, and his touch sent shivers down your spine. His hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him as if he never wanted to let you go. The kiss wasn’t just a sweet chaste peck on the lips, no, it was deep and passionate, filled with a longing that had been building between the two of you for what felt like an eternity. It was as if all the unspoken words and hidden desires were finally being released in that one moment of connection. And then all of a sudden he was gone, as though looking at you would somehow stop him from leaving. You waved at a grinning Steve who followed Bucky down the corridor. Who knew that all it took for things to move forwards was to get Bucky to leave?

The second you closed the door behind them, everything felt quiet, too quiet. Your space which had felt slightly cramped when Bucky was with you suddenly felt empty and cold without his comforting presence. You retreated to the comfort of your couch, wrapping the throw blanket you had been sharing with Bucky around you, breathing in his scent, the traces of his cologne clung to the soft material. Picking up your phone, you sent him a text.

>>>> Miss you already. Come home soon. xx

His response was almost instantaneous, as though he was holding his phone when you sent the message.

Bucky << Miss you too. Make sure you’re ready for our date when I get back. It’s going to be as special as you. Love you. xx

>>>> Love you too, Bucky.

Bucky texted you every chance he got. He had even tried a video chat, only to have Steve snatch his phone away. You caught the Captain glaring at his friend before giving you an apologetic glance and cutting the call. He apologized with his own message to you later, as had Bucky, calling Steve a few impolite names. As the day of Bucky’s return came closer, he messaged you with a time and date for you to prepare for.

When the day finally arrived, you were a nervous wreck. You called Nat and Wanda, desperately begging for their help in choosing your attire. It didn’t help that they spent two hours bickering over what pair of heels would make you look the sexiest. It was only when you took a swig of wine directly from the bottle, did they take their leave, along with access to the liquor. You spent the next two hours alone waiting for Bucky to arrive. He texted you the moment they landed the quinjet and the progress he was making towards making it to your date.

Bucky >> Just landed, Cricket.

Bucky >> Heading to the shower. Don’t want to turn up without. You wouldn’t like it.

Bucky >> Sam says I should wear a jacket, I’m not sure it fits.

Bucky >> Steve agrees. Jacket is a must. I hope you like it.

Bucky >> Tony said if I drive my bike, he will have Friday lockdown the garage.

>>>> Probably best you didn’t, not sure I’ll be able to get on the bike in what I’m wearing.

Bucky >> What’re you wearing?

>>>> Come over and see for yourself.

Bucky >> Soon darling. Nat’s making me change, she says you’ll like this more.

Bucky >> On my way!

You dropped your phone running to the mirror to touch up your makeup and check your hair. It wouldn’t take Bucky long to drive to your apartment. You had been looking forward to this night for a while now and you knew that you and Bucky would have an amazing time. You slipped out of your robe and into the flared dress that Wanda and Nat had settled on. It fitted you like a glove, highlighting all the right curves. The perfect date night ensemble!

You jumped at a knock on the door. As you went to answer the door, you found yourself in a state of butterflies. You hadn't seen him since he left for the mission and every fiber of your being was eager to reunite with him. He was going to take you out and you decided to look your best. And when you opened the door you were blown away by what you saw on the other side. Bucky was standing there in his finest, looking like the hottest guy you had ever seen; dark jeans, a slim fit black shirt with white dots and his favorite leather jacket. You made a mental note to thank Nat for his wardrobe choices.

“Hi,” you greeted him, breathlessly.

“Hey…” He grinned, taking in your appearance, how beautiful you looked. "Ready?”

You blushed under his gaze, accepting the pink rose and lily bouquet he held out to you, swooning over his old fashioned ways. “Thank you, they’re gorgeous.”

“Not as gorgeous as you.”

“Have you always been so charming?”

“Yeah, you just never noticed.” As he spoke, Bucky moved closer and closer towards you. He was only inches away from your face, when he asked, “Ready?”

His body was pressed against yours, his warmth enveloping you in a comforting embrace. Bucky kissed you deeply, his mouth soft yet full, his hands sliding down to wrap around your waist. The taste of his lips was like sweet nectar, intoxicating and addictive. You found yourself melting into his touch, losing yourself in the sensation of being wanted and loved. As the kiss continued, neither of you wanted it to end. It was a moment of pure bliss, a moment where time stood still and all that mattered was the love that you shared. Bucky held you close, his embrace strong and reassuring. It was as if the kiss had been building up inside both of you for a long time, neither one wanting to let it end.

As Bucky pulled away eventually and you laughed, throwing hands up in celebration. “I win!”

Bucky chortled at your response. “Cricket, I don't think you understand. I win every time you look at me, every time you smile, every day that you're beside me is the best day. There will never be a time where you aren’t the most perfect thing in my life. You’re my everything.”

How could you not kiss him again after hearing those words? So you did, desperately, the flowers crushed between your bodies, as yours throbbed with the passion you felt for him in that moment. His arms wrapped around your back, pulling you into him, your mouths pressed together as his energy met yours. The feeling of you against him sent a wave of heat through his body. He held you tight against him, unable to resist the temptation. Your lips were soft and he craved them, the two of you caught up in the long awaited moment.

Taking the lead, you tugged at the collars of his jacket, drawing him into your apartment and fumbled to close the door. Bucky tapped it shut with his foot, lifting you into his arms and letting you drape your legs around his waist. Your arms snaked around his neck, still clutching the floral arrangement. With the door closed, he was far less restrained, his mouth left yours, tracing your neck as his lips played with your soft skin. His hands caressed your back softly, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

“Bucky,” you moaned.

He smiled at you as your fingers twisted into his hair. He couldn't help but get lost in you so he leaned forwards, his mouth searching for yours. It took only a second for his hand to start exploring your body, letting his fingers roam freely to feel every inch of your soft and supple skin. They trailed down your back and his voice was a husky whisper as he broke from the kiss. “God, I've missed you.”

“I missed you too. Forget what I said, don't go away again.”

“Then let's make up for all the time we lost. I'm never leaving you again.”

“Bedroom, now,” you commanded.

Sergeant Barnes was good at following orders. He marched you across the apartment, hands cupping your ass to hold you up against him, taking the happy opportunity to knead the muscle. He stopped temporarily for you to deposit your now crooked flowers on the dresser before continuing to the bed. He laid you down, getting greedy with the kisses he was giving you. It felt like he wanted to devour all of you. His hand slid up your leg until it reached your hip, hot and cold fingers grazing the bare skin under your dress. His hands stopped temporarily at your hip, just for a moment before they slid up even further under the straps of your panties. His touch made goosebumps erupt on your thighs.

Bucky noticed your reaction and chuckled. He knew exactly how hard his fingers were pressing into you and how you were responding with shivers. He wanted to keep going and his flesh hand came back down to your thigh, rubbing closer and closer to your core. You pushed his jacket off his shoulders, letting it slip off his arms and onto the floor, discarded. Bucky approved of the move with a grin, loving to see you take the lead. His fingers were slowly approaching his final destination now and he wanted to get there soon. He needed it.

You marveled at your body's response to his ministrations. Every inch of you felt like it was on fire, everywhere he touched blazed with excitement and anticipation.

"Everything go okay with your mission?" you asked, making small talk as Bucky pushed his hands between your legs. You felt yourself tense repeatedly in response.

“Everything went fine... It was rough, being away from you, but got through it knowing I got to be here with you at the end of it.” Bucky's words were barely distinguishable, his voice reduced to a low growl with the excitement and tension building inside him. But he stopped for a moment and looked up at you with a look of pure desire.

"I'm glad you're home," you answered breathily, as you feel his arousal pressed against your abdomen.

Bucky smiled down at you, a hint of mischievousness coming into his eyes as his mouth pulled away from yours and moved down to your neck. His fingers rubbed small circles on the sensitive skin at the top of your thigh and he watched as the skin became flushed just from that small movement. You whimpered softly, holding back your moans.

He watched you closely with every caress and touch, the way you flinched and shivered from his movements, feeling your arousal growing by the second. He felt your breath grow deeper, heavier as the circles made with his fingers got faster and faster. Bucky grinned at your reaction, eager to go further. But he could see you holding back and his face softened, seeing you bite your lip to avoid making any noise. Bucky broke away from your neck for a moment to whisper into your ear.

“I want to hear everything... let yourself go, okay? Let loose, for me?” He knew why you were afraid of expressing your desires and he was going to make damn sure that your first time together would be perfect for both of you.

You nodded, flushing. “I want you Bucky. I missed you so bad. Tell me how much you want me?”

Your words made his heart skip a beat, he suddenly felt anxious, torn between wanting to please you and feeling embarrassed about sounding foolish. “Cricket, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this? I don’t want you, darling, I need you. Now…” his eyes darkened dangerously, “tell me how you want me to fuck you.”

“Take off your clothes.” You started unbuttoning his shirt, still kissing him desperately.

He kissed you back eagerly, his mouth moving back in rhythm with your tongue. He pulled away for a brief moment as he helped you unbutton his shirt - his hips still pressed against yours. Then he resumed his kissing as he slipped his arm back under you, pulling you against his bare chest. He pushed the straps off your dress, fumbling with the zipper. But the normally nimble fingered super soldier was having some trouble with the mechanism. As his hands fumbled with the zipper he couldn't help but chuckle. “I'm normally not this bad…” The nerves were starting to set in on his mind and his muscles started to tremble ever so slightly as he realized how close you both are to having each other for the first time. With a frustrated sigh, he gave up on the zip, resuming the exploration of your body through the thin material of your clothing, searching for a weak seam in the dress.

You giggle slightly at his desperation. “Don't you dare rip my dress, Buck,” you cried in warning.

It was almost predatorial, the way he watched you as you made the process easier for him. You rolled slightly in his arms, taking pity on him. It slipped off you like water off a duck’s back and for a moment, all Bucky could do was stare. His eyes drifted down to the curves that were pressed so tightly to his body. He wanted more, he craved it.

As you stood there, feeling the intensity of his gaze on you, a wave of self-consciousness washed over you. His eyes seemed to strip away all your defenses, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable. But at the same time, there was something undeniably thrilling about the way he looked at you, as if he could see right through to your soul.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you instructed him to take off his pants. His lips curved into a knowing smile, and you couldn't help but return it, appreciating the sight of his flexing abs and the glisten of sweat on his chest. He reached down, hooking his thumbs into his boxers, and you gave him a little helping hand to push them off his hips.

As the fabric fell to the floor, you couldn't tear your eyes away from him. You gasped quietly at the sight of his erect cock and how it matched the magnificence of his body. A work of art, every muscle defined and sculpted, a testament to the serum that coursed through his veins. But it was more than just his physical appearance that drew you to him. There was a raw, primal energy that seemed to radiate from him, a magnetism that pulled you in and left you breathless. And that was all Bucky.

He stepped closer, his bare skin brushing against yours. You could feel the heat of his body, the strength of his arms as he wrapped them around you again. His hands, hot and cold, felt perfect on your waist. His deep voice was just a whisper as his hands ran over your body, sending shivers down your spine.

"I want to touch everything, I want to worship you," he murmured, his eyes filled with desire. His hands continued their downward trajectory, the speed picking up as he grew more and more excited. There is nothing he wanted more than this moment to be perfect for you.

"What do you want me to do to you?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Nothing. I want to take care of you. I want to make you feel amazing. I want to give you everything I have right now," he replied, his lips brushing against yours. His touch was gentle yet firm, his hands exploring every inch of your body with reverence. You could feel the love and desire radiating from him, and it filled you with a sense of warmth and contentment.

"Bucky, I want you to touch me. I want you to see what you do to me”

As his hands slid lower, you felt a surge of anticipation building within you. His touch was electrifying, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You closed your eyes, losing yourself in the sensation of his touch, letting yourself be carried away by the love and passion that flowed between you. And you knew that this was where you belonged.

“Dear God, Cricket. Is this really for me?” he asked, dipping his fingers between your folds, coating them carefully in your arousal.

You whimpered softly as he continued to caress you, exulting in the ecstasy. “All for you.”

“Hey Cricket?” he whispered, huskily in your ear.

“Yeah?”

“Talk to me darling. Tell me how it feels. I want to hear you.” He pushed down on your clit with his thumb, gently rubbing circles over it, working his magic on you.

“Please, Bucky,” you moaned, hips pushing into his fingers. “S’good, but not enough. Want you.”

Bucky chuckled darkly. “Are you sure you’re ready, darling?”

Nodding enthusiastically, you answered. “Yes, want you… inside me. Make me feel good. I need to feel every inch of you inside me.”

“You want me? You want this?” He wrapped his vibranium fingers around his shaft, pumping it up and down with long, firm strokes, right in front of your eyes, taunting you with his cock while teasing your clit.

“Yes.”

Bucky shuffled closer, getting comfortable between your thighs. You spread your legs to straddle his hips, opening your entrance to him. He looked down at you, a look of awe frozen on his features.

“Buck?” you asked after a moment of silence.

“Hmm?” he startled out of his reverie.

“You okay?” you asked, gently.

“Yeah,” he huffed a short laugh. “Sorry, just wondering if this was real or just a dream.”

“Let me show you how real this is.” You put your hands over his, helping him guide his cock towards your entrance. Just before you let him penetrate you, you stopped. “Buck, I… do we need a condom?”

“Nat said you have an IUD.” He frowned, pulling something from his memory. “She made me get some tests, when they came back she said I was good to… fuck you raw. Whatever that means.” Bucky blushed, and you suspected he knew exactly what it meant.

You couldn’t contain the laughter that bubbled inside you. It was good to have friends who looked out for you.

“Does that mean we’re good to go?” he asked.

“Yeah, you’re good to go. Just like this.”

The wetness from between your legs mixing with his as he ran his tip between your folds. He grunted with pleasure as your tight walls pressed against him.

“Oh God Buck, so thick,” you mumbled as he pushed into you slowly, letting you adjust and stretch around him.

Carefully he watched your face for signs of pain, surprised at how well you were doing. “You gonna take all of me, darling?” He threaded his fingers between yours, pushing them up above your head, pinning them to the bed.

You watched as your pussy glided over each and every inch of his thick hard cock. “Deeper, that’s it. Shit Buck, you fill me up so well.”

Bucky felt his whole body tense, willing himself not to blow his load into you after hearing you utter those words. “You like that?” he asked, pushing further until he was buried right inside you.

“Yes, si-” you stopped for a moment, but the flash in Bucky's eyes and the throb of his dick between your legs suggested that he liked it.

“Yes?” he asked, expectantly.

“Yes, Serrrrgeant,” you moaned softly as you spoke, bucking your hips up towards him, pushing that last inch into your stretched out pussy.

“Good girl.” He shuddered as you clenched in response to his words. “So perfect.”

You hummed, happily.

“Come on, Cricket. I want you to be as loud as you like. You have no idea how much I want to hear you. Ever since Italy. Do you know how hard I was when you said those things?” he growled, pushing himself deeper inside you. “How much I wanted to be the one who made you moan that way. I haven’t stopped thinking about that since then.”

You were speechless, panting as his cock filled you up, stretching your walls to their limits.

“God it makes me feel so many things when you look like that. Do you have any idea how perfect you are?”

“Well I have some idea, but no harm in hearing it from someone else.” You winked, regaining enough power of speech to sass back at him

Your cockiness earned you an unexpected thrust, making you gasp loudly.

“Have you any idea how hard it’s been these last few weeks? For me to keep my hands off you?” he rasped, trailing kissing up the side of your neck. “I’m gonna show you.”

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes. Please, show me.”

You sounded better than anything he had imagined. He still couldn’t believe he was the one who was coaxing those pretty sounds out of you. It only spurred him on to drive his hips into you, again and again, faster and faster until he was pounding you into the bed. The neighbors probably wouldn’t be too pleased with the noise your headboard was making against their wall, but you didn’t care at all. He let go of your hands to get a better grip on the bed, to get closer to you until the small hairs on his chest rubbed against your breasts. Every vein on his ridged cock caressed your walls as his swollen sensitive head brushed your sensitive spot repeatedly.

"How's this darling? Is this what you like?"

"Yes, Sergeant, just like that. I’m so close.”

“Don't! Try to hold back. I want this to last as long as possible. I’ve wanted to give this to you for so long... so you can get the most pleasure out of it.” The need inside of him was getting too intense and he held back as much as he could to keep going. He wanted to be able to give you this for as long as he could.

“I can't, it feels too good. I need to cum.”

“Try… that’s my girl." He was having a hard time keeping his voice from breaking as he tried so hard to hold back. “So good for me.” Bucky watched your body react to every move he made. Your hands grabbing at the bed sheets, your hips slowing their movements against him, you moaning and breathing heavily. The sight of all this made it so hard to go slow but he had to. He had to keep trying.

You looked into his eyes and the way he looked back at you felt like he could see right into your soul. Your fingertips dug into his back in an attempt to stop yourself from falling over the edge as he thrusted down into you.

Your touch was driving him crazy and it was almost enough to drive him over the edge. He continued to focus his every effort on holding on but it was getting harder to resist as your hips began to move slightly faster against him.

“Please-” you whimpered. “I-oh God, please.”

“Please what? Go faster? Let you cum? Tell me. Be a good girl and use your words, darling. And maybe, just maybe I’ll give it to you.”

“Please Bucky, make me cum.”

His body suddenly tightened and he let out a small groan as the feeling of your pleas went through him. He was holding back but it wasn’t working as well now. Your legs started to tense up more and were your nails breaking his skin? Every movement you made, every noise from your mouth was sending him closer and closer to his final climax.

His thumb on your clit was what had you tumbling into oblivion, waves of pleasuring washing over you, Bucky's name on your tongue. His face wore a feral, completely fucked out look as your orgasm triggered his, the stuttered way his hips grinded deeper into your body drew out your pleasure until your vision went completely black for a few seconds. You squeezed around him, milking his white hot seed, greedily claiming what was yours until his cum was leaking out of your overfilled pussy. Bucky collapsed on you shortly after, his breathing heavy and his chest vibrating ever so slightly from the effort he had just gone through but he smiled, looking down at you with his most vulnerable expression yet.

“I love you, Buck,” you whispered, carding your fingers through the edges of his hair.

"I love you too, Cricket... so damn much." He let out a soft sigh of satisfaction, the feeling between the two of you was one that could never be matched.

"That was... something else.”

He couldn't help but chuckle a bit. "That's one way of describing it." He pressed his lips onto yours again for one more lengthy kiss before pulling away and resting his head on your chest. "Did you get everything you wanted?”

"And more.”

He grinned as he closed his eyes for a moment, head still on your chest, and arms wrapped securely around you and his body was still trembling ever so slightly. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes, looking up at you, the warmth of this moment was indescribable. "That makes me happy to hear.”

Every life might be a pile of good things and bad things, but in this exact minute, everything was perfect. Bucky closed his eyes, simply absorbing everything about this moment of peace.

"Is it too late for dinner?” you asked, as Bucky chuckled at your rumbling belly.

“I suspect the place where I made reservations won’t accept us turning up now.”

You sighed and pouted. “Boo.”

Bucky pulled out of you and you lamented about the loss of fullness inside you. He propped himself up on his elbow, resting his head on his hand and turned to you. “I was going to make a reservation at Sticks and Stones, but... I wasn't sure if you would feel comfortable with that because that's where... I want you to feel comfortable and secure about us first. ”

“Thanks,” you whispered gratefully.

“You in the mood for something else?”

"Yeah," you grin, seductively. “Dessert!”

You screamed gleefully as Bucky suddenly rolled onto you, his laughter ringing in your ears.

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#bucky barnes smut #bucky smut #winter soldier smut #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fan fiction #my best friend's girl

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tiny-minecraft-rabbit · 20 days ago

Note

You should do 4 with Jimmy and grian.

"What were you thinking?" Jimmy asked, cupping his hands around Grian.

Grian hissed at him- Usually that would be accompanied with the little borrower flapping his wings, but one was hanging limply from his back.

Jimmy sighed, gently pulling Grian out from the vent he had gotten stuck in. "Dude, I really don't think that vent travel was your best plan."

"Vents are great modes of transportation!" Grian argued, despite the fact that Jimmy had never seen him travel through them before.

The borrower had been trapped, sliding down the walls while trying to push open the grate he could barely reach let alone lift up. He can't imagine how the other had even got into them in the first place, but he certainly wasn't able to get out without Jimmy's help. Even then, considering it's been a few days since he's even seen Grian, he doesn't want to know how long it took for him to even get to a place that Jimmy would find him.

"Just- Just how long has your wing been like that?"

The silence was probably the worst answer he could have gotten.

"You should have come to me- Grian, you know I would have helped you-"

"That's just it, Tim!" Grian snapped, his head looking ready to pop right off, "I'm a gosh darn borrower, I don't need your help. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself and I do not want some Bean handing out charity at every little inconvenience I have."

Jimmy sighed at that, gently bringing Grian to the kitchen counter. "I understand that. I know you don't want me to just give you handouts; but this isn't a handout. You're injured, you have been for a while, and instead of getting help you're letting your pride get in the way."

Grian remained stubborn, "I don't need your help."

"You do," Jimmy insisted, staring down the limp wing, "You don't know how to set it do you?"

More deafening silence. Jimmy could barely believe it. He's seen Grian injured before: small bumps and bruises, at most a twisted ankle that he had expertly wrapped. There was nothing around his wing, not even an attempt at a splint or bandage. Grian couldn't fix it and had just left it to fester.

To be completely honest, Jimmy didn't know how to fix it either.

"I'm calling my friend Pearl. She's a vet, she'll know how to set your wing."

Grian laughed at that. It was an ugly, disdainful laugh. "Yeah. No. Not happening. You want to help that badly you can get me a popsicle stick and gauze. We'll wrap it, hope for the best; but I am not getting another Bean involved. You're more than enough."

"Grian, please, you might not be able to fly again."

"I'm grown okay with that."

A lump formed in Jimmy's throat. There was no way. Flying was everything to Grian. Jimmy saw his face when he flew. Saw the pure joy. Grian may have been okay with losing that, Jimmy was not.

"I'm calling Pearl," he said again, picking up his phone.

"Then I'm leaving," Grian snapped right back, "You can't make me see a vet of all things. I'm not your pet."

Jimmy glanced between Grian and the hole he knew was poked into his kitchen wall. He reached over him, his arm casting a light shadow over Grian, slid the toaster in front of it.

All the rage left Grian in an instant. "Wait, Tim- You're not- You're not actually serious-"

"This is- This is for your own good," Jimmy stuttered out, almost gagging on the words as he pressed the call button. He pulled out a big tupperware box and laid it was a towel.

"Don't. Jimmy, don't do this," Grian pleaded, backing away from him.

His hands shook as he once again scooped up Grian. He had to be firmer, since the borrower was trying to slip out, and far more careful not to touch his broken wing when Grian was struggling.

Pearl picked up the phone, "Hey Jimmy! What's up?"

"P-Pearl! Hey- Hey. I have a- a bird I found, wing is pretty beat up. Can you come over? Please?"

Grian bit into his hand, and it took all of his will not to flinch as he set the borrower in the tub. He was crying. They were both crying.

It would be fine. It was just Pearl and Grian would fly again. Grian could hate him forever, but he would fly.

#jimmy solidarity #grian #pearlescentmoon #life series #trafficblr #mcyt g/t #traffic g/t #giant jimmy #tiny grian #rabbit writes #thank you to destiny that helped me come up with the ending <3 #she hates me for it <3

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zannolin · 2 months ago

Text

lucy talks to rabadash before aslan judges him.

she never knew him well—she's never been very interested in any of her sister's suitors, not unless she's certain she'll need to step in, and he seemed reasonable enough, if smug and rather small in personality when he visited cair paravel. she didn't understand why susan wanted to go to calormen, but she'd never stop her sister from something that might make her happy, and edmund was going with her, so it's not like anything could go wrong. and anyway, someone needed to stay at cair paravel while peter went to the north. lucy would rather have gone with peter, but she'd also rather susan not be alone in the south. susan's alone all too often while the rest of them venture out across narnia. it's only fair she gets to spread her own wings a little.

they never thought anything could go wrong, no matter what the reputation of the tisroc. but then suddenly the splendour hyaline is spotted at the mouth of the harbor, and the raven is bringing her news both joyous and grievous in turn of her siblings' northern flight, and now there's a stag come to tell her that rabadash and a company two hundred strong have come to lay siege to anvard. lucy has an idea what he's crawled out of calormen for, and it's nothing to do with archenland. judging by the sick look on her sister's pale face, susan can guess well enough herself.

it's that look that has lucy mounting up beside edmund and riding out to anvard at double time. there is very little she wouldn't do for her family, and the lion help anyone who is the cause of her sister's distress. in the end, it's probably better it was edmund who fought rabadash in battle, because lucy's not so sure she'd have spared him.

the morning before he is to be judged, she escorts herself to the chambers where he is confined, a knife in each hand, and locks the door behind her. he is unbound, but the look in her eye keeps him seated in the chair where she finds him.

"i should like you to know," she tells him, not bothering with proper greetings—he does not deserve them, after all—as she leans against the arm of the chair opposite his, "that your cowardly plan would never have succeeded, even without the warning."

rabadash sneers at her, and not for the first time, lucy wonders how he ever conducted himself to be anything more than the ass that he is.

"narnia's high king is a fool and a craven," he scoffs. "he never would have attacked the great land of calormen and my father, the tisroc, may he live forever, over something so trifling as a mere sister."

this is not his first mistake, but he is lucky that it isn't his last. lucy's face goes very still and very stern, and rabadash glimpses for one terrifying moment why the narnians all call her valiant. why she is named for the sea, the harsh and changeable mistress, and the flowers that grow back first after wildfires.

"i wasn't actually talking about peter," she says, her voice chillingly light, all pretense and formality dropped, "though if you think he wouldn't have marched on tashbaan to save our sister, you're a much bigger fool than i thought."

her tone makes it perfectly clear just how much of him she thought, and it certainly wasn't very highly at all.

she strides forward to stand before him, which would be a very foolish thing to do in a company of an unbound and dangerous prisoner if that prisoner were braver than rabadash and lucy were anyone else, and leans down to meet his eye. she's not very tall, queen lucy, and yet to him she seems like a giant—terrible and beautiful in an entirely different way than her sister. she's so close he can see a long white scar on her neck, can smell horse and leather and chainmail and clean sweat, can see how her hair is bound back for convenience and not beauty, and her hands are rough and capable.

he is aware, suddenly, that he is afraid. that perhaps he has been since she entered the room.

"know this, son of tashbaan," says queen lucy the valiant, and the smile on her lips does not at all match her eyes. "if you had laid even the tip of one finger on my sister, the queen, i would have skinned you alive."

she leans back just enough for him to breathe, and he gasps with it.

"and do you know what?" she asks cheerfully.

he doesn't want to know. she tells him anyway.

"i really don't think peter would have stopped me."

#narnia #lucy pevensie #the horse and his boy #narnia fic #zanna writes #sorry had drabble brain hit me

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thecoffinsys · 1 month ago

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Slay the Princess is the perfect demonstration of trauma, dissociation, and systemhood.

I NEED MORE PEOPLE TO TALK ABOUT THIS. And it's NOT just for the reasons you may think. Yes, it is due to the multitude of voices, but that isn't all there is to systemhood. Slay the Princess dives into almost every fundamental stage of grief, trauma, stress, and body sensations regarding traumatic events that we as a collective have ever experienced. Stay with me.

SYSTEMHOOD

Not only does Slay the Princess display systemhood through the multitude of voices, inability to come to a conclusion on outerbody decisions, and having different methods of how to survive specific situations— it also displays systemhood through loss of time, depersonalization, loss of identity and sense of self, alters having abilities over the body that others do not, looping the same trauma over and over again, and rapidly splitting due to traumatic experiences — even down to not being believed by family members when you tell them something horrible happened to you.

The entire idea of jumping from one alternative world to the next after dying or making the incorrect choice perfectly displays a repetition of the same traumatic memory over and over again, the mind trying to logistically think of what could have been done differently as a means of coping with what really happened. When you fail to save the world in one reality, your mind restarts the entire scenario again, trying to find a better option to the mistake you've already made.

The Stranger rout perfect displays depersonalization, dissociation, loss of self and identity, and confusion regarding time. The second you step down a staircase, you completely and utterly forget yourself in the mundane action. Forgetting who you are, where you are, what your purpose truly is - and sinking deep within your own mind, until suddenly you're right where you are meant to be and have no memory of how you got there. It's so perfect in how it shows the confusion and distress.

This game is about becoming. whole. Gaining. A sense. Of self. And purpose. Gaining more perspectives, more understandings of what it means to be a person. (Oh my god I'm screaming)

In The Nightmare, the voice of the Paranoid displays perfectly symptoms of not only paranoia regarding trauma, but symptoms of OCD due to trauma. He has an ability that no other alter has, which is to keep their organs running by participating in his own compulsion. Which really displays how some alters have abilities that other do not, because to be a system, you must be fragmented. Several shards of glass attempting, to the best of their ability, to be a functional mirror- but never having the exact strength. And different shards will hold different capabilities than those who are smaller, weaker, and carry smaller and/or more specific burdens. Paranoid is a very big shard, I think.

Following that — mirrors are a huge motif of the game. Not only do you continuously see them in every rout, but you end each rout by finally looking at yourself and seeing you for you. And the more perspectives you gain, the less "you" you truly feel. You become tired, withered. But it is all in the efforts to "become whole". To make this being of perception finally understand what it means to be more than just broken worlds creating branching understandings.

In A Moment of Clarity, dozens of voices begin to cloud our understanding due to the very traumatic thing we experienced in the last world. A rapid split because of trauma! We become more broken; "losing ourselves". Now there are even more conflicting thoughts, feelings, and opinions regarding how we should go about surviving- and it displays our further descent from our sense of self. Which is ironic given the name of the ending!

And finally (but most definitely not finally, I could keep going on and on but no one would want to read all of that), The Narrator never believing you when you tell him you've been here before, have experienced horrors that he could never imagine, and have been through countless nightmares. But not only does he not believe you, he will also ridicule your idea, and go on to say "you failed because you didn't listen to me" or "you damned another world because of what you did". Puts the blame on us, once again. It's the same thing a lot of systems do experience in the real world. You try to reach out, you try to explain to someone you trust that something horrible happened to you, but you're met with disbelief and shamed for your own trauma. Made to feel like the guilty one when you are in fact the victim- the survivor. That one stood out to me very personally.

. . .

I really want to go on but this is already a billion paragraphs and I worry no one will even get this far. But this game means a lot to us as a system and as someone who experiences things very similar to what is displayed in the game on a daily basis. Slay the Princess might be one of our all time favorite games as of right now, especially considering the guy who traumatized us for 200 episodes straight is the main guy voicing the entire thing- that also helps with sentiment-

Uhhhh thank you for reading if you made it this far :]

#🩻 Tim's Posts #The Coffin System #did #did system #dissociative identity disorder #actually did #system stuff #slay the princess #stp #plural community #actually plural #plurality #plural system

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genericpuff · 4 months ago

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I'm honestly amazed by how well you can imitate the LO S3 art style! Have you always been good at this sort of thing or is it a skill you developed due to your work as a tattoo artist?

ahhh thank you, but ima let you in on a little trade secret -

it's literally just referencing LMAO which is a valuable skillset to have! but one that I think a lot of folks tend to overlook because they think "learning to draw" means "I need to be able to draw everything perfectly from imagination!" Which sure, learning how to draw things without needing references might be cool, but it's ultimately not the sole defining feature of a "good artist" and I think there's frankly way too much emphasis put on "drawing without references" these days because it creates this unrealistic expectation of what an artist is. Referencing is part of the process! It's important! And it's a valuable skill to have so that you can actually grow your skills beyond your own limits! Referencing is as important to the process of creating art as research is to the process of writing, you can only produce so much new stuff if you're not taking in new stuff alongside it.

Though I use this skill a lot in tattooing as well, it's mostly rooted in my animation schooling which broke me out of the habit of drawing purely from imagination and taught me how to properly reference other material for educational purposes.

And I'm sure there are people in audience right now gasping at the fact that I simply cropped a bunch of different shots of Minthe from S3 and rearranged them like some surgical madman playing with body parts-

-but this is like, the actual majority of the process when it comes to learning other art styles and this process is taught as a skill in a lot of art schools because it forces you to draw what's there rather than what you think is there. This is the basis of master studies, to learn the techniques of other artists by trying to mimic them as closely as possible. Don't know what tools that artist used specifically? Try to recreate the work anyways with your best guess. Even if you only get close but not perfect, you'll still likely learn a lot along the way and may even develop some brand NEW techniques that weren't present in the original work you're studying from.

Imagination is necessary to the creative process, but it's only part of that process, you can't suddenly learn how to draw the way other artists draw through imagination alone because your imagination is limited purely by your own lived experiences. Our brains don't come pre-installed with these skills, they can't just magically unlock the capability to "do the thing". Just like how we have to learn to follow recipes as a means to becoming a baker or learn to read the alphabet to learn how to read and write, we have to learn how to draw what we see and reference the material around us if we truly want to expand our own innermost knowledge which will allow us to draw from imagination.

Here are some other examples of studies I've done, such as my attempts to learn the art style of The Doctor Foxglove Show:

As well as a background study from S1 of LO:

And of course here are a handful of the shitloads of studies I've done to try and "figure out" how to draw Hades and Persephone from S1 of LO:

Aaaand just for the fun of it, here are some completely non-LO studies, like the ones I did of Kazuma Koda's background work and Akihiko Yoshida's character designs for Nier: Automata:

And this sorta rotoscoped ??? animatic of Mitsuhiro doing the opening jig for Still Feel by Half Alive which is 100% not done and probably never will be LOL

I'm always progressively doing studies of both LO and other media in this way so that I can update my knowledge and continue to improve my skillset.

Though, despite my best efforts to mimic the original creator's style, works like Rekindled will always have my own stylizations present, as that's just an inevitable consequence of it being made by myself and Banshriek (and the fact that we just refuse to draw worse to look more like LO because jfc so much of LO's original art, even the stuff we love, is rooted in Rachel's trial and errors lmao), but that's a feature, not a bug :') <3

So the answer is yes, the Minthe S3 redraw was done through skills I developed over time, though not necessarily through tattooing, simply through learning how to actually practice properly beyond "drawing a lot". And you can too! Draw lots, but also remember that your brain isn't naturally just going to "get better" at whatever you're trying to achieve just because you really want to achieve it. I try to avoid the mantra of "just practice" because it oversimplifies what's truly necessary to learning - having something to learn from outside of your own imagination. If you don't learn how to practice properly, then you'll just wind up repeating the same mistakes and reinforcing the same bad habits over and over again.

All that's to say, if you want to learn how to draw like a certain artist, try and recreate their art for yourself ;0 (but like also please for the love of god remember that it's for EDUCATIONAL PURPOSES, I shouldn't have to tell y'all not to copy directly off other artists' work for your own because that's just deadass stealing lmao) I know this enters the ethical dilemma of tracing, and whether or not it's a "valid" way to learn, but there's a lot of virtue in learning through referencing other artists and building new skills through them. I'm sure folks will argue that it's a 'crutch' or 'training wheels', but that's all often being touted from the perspective that crutches and training wheels... are automatically bad things and aren't meant to help people ?

Like obviously if you want to create your own thing that isn't purely "living in the shadow" of the works that inspired you, you WILL have to make that leap into the unknown. But that leap's a lot less scary to make when you have a parachute.

#sorry this turned into a long art advice post LMAO #but i hope it's helpful!#ask me anything #ama #anon ama #anon ask me anything

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agniratha · 1 year ago

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you guys ever think about how Xenoblade 1 tells us "hey, you've all got your own Monados — you just have to find them" and doing so means we can realize our full potential and seize our destiny but then Xenoblade 3 chimes in and says "you know what, you've all got a little bit of Moebius inside you too" and it actually FUCKS how these two messages, from the finales of the first and last games no less, not only perfectly parallel each other but also beautifully cap off everything this trilogy stands for???

like yes human potential is boundless and we are capable of anything when we work together and put our minds to it but also we're just lil guys in a great big world that never stops changing so of course we're gonna get scared! and it's okay to be scared because it's only human to fear the unknown, to want to cling on to the things dear to us when the future is so vague and full of uncertainty. moving forward is very hard and it can be downright fucking terrifying but what choice do we have when forward is the only way?

but you know what? it'll be okay. nothing may ever be the same again but you'll be okay. i'll be okay. we'll all be okay.

#xenoblade chronicles 3 #xenoblade chronicles 1 #rephy rambles #analysis #xenoblade chronicles 3 spoilers #xenoblade 3 spoilers #xenoblade 3 #xenoblade 1 #xenoblade chronicles #xenoblade

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mcflymemes · 1 year ago

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AS SAID BY DORIAN PAVUS * assorted dialogue from dragon age inquisition, updated version

i don't care what they think about me. i care what they think about us.

i like you. more than i should. more than might be wise.

discretion isn't your thing, is it?

all this dancing, politics, and murder makes me a bit homesick.

i suppose it really depends. how bad do you want to be?

living a lie... it festers inside of you, like poison.

i'm a man of many talents. what can i say?

the moment i saw you, i thought "there's a man who knows quality."

if you don't come through this, i swear i'll kill you.

i'm curious where this goes, you and i. we've had fun. perfectly reasonable to leave it here.

here is my proposal: we dispense with the chitchat and move on to something more primal.

i tease you too much, i know.

i'll have to find something we can do that doesn't involve teasing.

time to drink myself into a stupor. it's been that sort of day.

i see you enjoy playing with fire.

i like playing hard to get.

i'm not suggesting we venture into mutual domesticity.

if it's a trap, we escape and kill everyone. you're good at that.

talk to me. let me hear how mystified you are by my anger.

oh, i'm not arguing. just pointing out the ridiculously obvious.

if you choose to leave your door unlocked like a savage, i may or may not come.

now... what was i talking about? ah, yes. me.

i am apparently an incredible ass at accepting gifts.

i prefer the company of men.

would you prefer me bound and leashed?

sometimes the ones you love are also the ones who disappoint you the most.

you are the man i love, [name]. nothing will truly keep us apart.

the things you ask are just... very personal.

sometimes... love isn't enough.

there will always be an "us." we'll just be... farther apart, for a time.

i had no idea something like you was possible.

i'm imagining what you would look like in a dress.

i've never seen you smile so much!

i have no idea what you're talking about.

you stand there, flexing your muscles, huffing like some beast of burden with no thought save conquest.

you're shaping the world for good or ill. how could i aspire to do any less?

my footsies are freezing, thank you.

don't you ever bathe?

you're not suggesting we're similar.

watch where you're pointing that thing!

i'm not wearing a skirt.

it's significantly more impressive than hitting them with a sharp piece of metal.

i only meant to say i'm very sorry for your loss.

we can continue this dance forever, if you wish.

i'm saying we should be careful what we assume when it comes to such matters.

demons don't appreciate a man with good hair.

what i wouldn't give for some proper wine.

your outfit's entertaining. i'll give you that.

he had to leave early on account of assassination.

it's nice to know you have friends.

i'm here to do what is right.

come on, just answer the question.

they were asking me about you. personal things.

you said we'd be ass-deep in trouble. this is more like knee-high.

so what's your estimation? think we can win?

you can't call me pampered. nobody's peeled a grape for me in weeks.

you startled me. you're always so... nondescript.

you're a special and unique snowflake. live the dream.

i wanted to see you make flowers bloom with your song. just once.

you've done a lot less dancing naked in the moonlight than expected.

i've never seen anyone in this part of the world do it.

i realize there's more to you than that.

have i offended you?

for hating the outdoors, you sure seem to like bad weather.

i can't figure you out, [name].

you don't play their stupid game, they send an assassin or three your way.

i can't believe you're scared of magic.

i'm going to take that as a compliment.

still don't like me, [name]? after all this time?

[name], i owe you an apology.

i suspect people will use any excuse to hate us.

why be ashamed? power should be respected, not swept under the carpet.

maybe you're not a complete moron.

i just need to know you're capable of higher thought. for my own comfort.

it would take work. and soap. lots and lots of soap.

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eyesxxyou · 1 year ago

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Backstage Show Pt.5

★🎸 {} .. rockstar!hobie brown x groupie!reader

rating. m

word count. 3.6k

synopsis. a game of body shots goes terribly wrong when things gets heated and hobie walks in on you. you two are forced to come to terms with your feelings

hobie gets jealous and fucks you

🍒・．❕warnings. bathroom sex, rough sex, jealous sex, body shots, sorta kinda cheating but not really since they aren't togeteher, claiming kink, writing on v, bathroom sex, oral (m recieving), unprotected sex, p in v sex, a whole lotta angst at the end, yall ain't ready for this

Backstage Show pt.4

Hobie Brown was always so sure of himself. He was sure in his pursuit of music as a career, sure in his bandmates and their ability to perform, sure in his own capabilities when it comes to nearly everything in life. He loved his life just as it was, the glamor, the weed, the alcohol, the fans. He was so sure that he adored it all.

But Hobie could not be sure of you.

He was initially interested in you because you were pretty and that hole between your legs could constitute a portal to heaven. You were nothing but a way to let off some steam before or after a show. A pretty little thing he could have on his arm just for him to make up for the fact that he was a horrible, lonely, asshole who used girls for his own pleasure because he was a self-sabotaging loser. And once the people he date finally figured that out and eventually left, he’d find someone new to bide his time with until the cycle continued.

And now he could not think of a world where you're not right there by his side. He can't imagine a world where you aren't his girl. Your loyalty was unmatched, your dedication, your silent worship every time you looked at the profile and his slender, beautiful face you simply wanted to run your fingers alone and kiss.

Did you know he wanted to do just the same? DId you know that he thought the world of you? The only difference between you and him was that he had the courage to do it, to rub his fingers upon your lips and trace your jaw where the tips of them touch? It's because you were always a little more his than he was yours. You'd never dare call him yours, never try to make him feel constricted in fear that he may ghost you.

But because you were not necessarily his and he was certainly not yours. You thought it perfectly fine when Mace was in your ear as he usually was talking about doing body shots with the rest of them. His hands were holding your waist as he pulled you into his body and whispered in your ear that it’ll just be a “bit of fun, nothin’ serious”. You could hear the smirk in his voice, feel his lips curl against the shell of your ear.

You were hesitant at first, glancing over at Hobie who was talking to a roady about stage management, but gained the courage to go off with him and the others to lick tequila shots off of each other's bodies. Why would he not be okay with it? He let the others have their way with you, body shots would be where he crossed the line?

You sat down in the group and watched for a moment. They had gotten a couple of other groupies to play the game with them, shirts all removed as they lay back and let alcohol get poured on them. You were hypnotized by tongues, by the giggling, but the heated makeouts once they reached the top of each other's bodies, mouths seeking each other without discrimination.

They went around the circle, licking each other’s sculpted bodies until it was your turn. You were eager to try. You removed your shirt and layed on your back while Eli poured a shot on the curve of your diaphragm, trickling north and south very quickly before his mouth caught it.

It was warm and hot, his mouth that is. Even hotter watching his tongue lap up your diaphragm and down your naval, eyes never leaving yours as you let out a shaky breath. He made his way down to the waist of your skirt and kissed the mound of your pussy before going back up to kiss you, the others cheering you on into depravity. You kissed him back, thinking only of Hobie's lips on yours, his hands on your body.

Eli grabbed you by the waist and pulled you closer, your bodies melding into each other much like clay. He smelled vaguely like Hobie, like smoke and musk but a different cologne. All you wanted as Hobie, Eli meant nothing to you but he knew how to make you feel good.

Then his voice manifested behind you.

"Wha' in the bloody fuckin' hell is this, then?" He reached between the two of you and pushed Eli away, your lips tearing apart from each other as you gasped and looked up at him. "Hobie– It's no-"

"Oh, don' gimme tha' bullshit. Come'ere." He did not reach for you, did not help you up, forcing you to sit in your embarrassment as you grabbed your shit and stood to your feet. Hobie grabbed your wrist and pulled you along with him out of the room and towards a nearby bathroom in the busiest part backstage. You held your shirt to your chest to cover whatever little modesty you had left as he put you in the bathroom and closed and locked the door behind the two of you.

His lips were on yours so fast you hardly had any time to comprehend it. It was rough, possessive, demanding all you had and more to offer. He swallowed your moans as you pushed your body against his and dropped your shirt to the ground. “Hobie–” You whined, begging for him to let you explain. His large hands were pulling your clothes off of you until you were just in your bra and your panties were partially pulled down your supple thighs.

“You must like sluttin’ yaself out, don’cha?” He picked you up with a surprising amount of strength and set you down on the sink. “Greedy lil’ whore. One just isn’t enough for you.” Hobie reached around in his pockets to find the marker he always carried around for autographs. Once he finally found it, he uncapped it with his teeth. “Guess I’ll haf’ta remind ya who you belong to.”

In great big, capitol letters, he wrote above the mound of your pussy like a tattoo, like an autograph ‘HOBIES PUSSY’. Hobie capped the marker and tossed it away somewhere before pulling you in and kissing you again with ravenous fervor. He was angry, he was jealous, you realized.

The thought of him being jealous made your heart swell. Jealousy meant that in some way, he cared, even a little. You kissed him back, let him have his way with you as he licked and bit down the length of your body, your skin still tasting of tequila and bad decisions. You parted your legs a little further as he made his way towards where you needed him the very most.

His breath the warm, fanning along your outer lips, teasing what could be but never quite getting there. Hobie paused a moment and looked up at you. "Nah– you don' deserve i'. That's a privilege." He let you go, standing up and backing away. His body, once warm and covering your partially naked one, suddenly retreated from you and now all you know is the cold and humiliation. You ached. You wanted him badly, needed him.

"Hobie, please." You begged, hopping down from the sink, your hands coming to adjust your panties. His claim on your body still visible through the thin fabric of your underwear. "I know you're mad but it was just some stupid game. I wasn't actually gonna fuck him."

Hobie didn't say anything, didn't look at you from across the small bathroom you two were locked in. He was so good at making people feel unimportant, unheard. He was good at making people feel like they didn't exist in his presence.

What if he told you he had never even looked at a single person since he first fucked you? Never placed his hands on another person other than to sign tits as some fans love when he did. People have flirted, men and women and everyone in between, but he brushed them all off. What's casual, one time sex when he has you there to offer him something so much more? Would that change what you said? Change the way you brushed it off as if it were nothing?

You got down on your knees in front of him, kissing the crotch of his pants where his cock lay half-hard and growing. "Please forgive me." Your words muffled as you spoke into his dick that was beginning to stir more and more. He was still pretending to ignore you but his body could not. It wanted you as badly as your body wanted him. "'m gonna make it up to you."

Your hands worked his assortment of belts and his jeans until his half-hard length sat before you, twitching with the rushing of blood. You spat into the soft palm of your hand and used that to work your hand up and down the length of his member, your thumb rubbing over the sensitive slit at the tip of his head.

He was hard in your hands in no time, a few short huffs leaving his nose as he attempted to deny himself the pleasure. You knew he would break soon, but it would take more than some feeble handjob to do it. You kissed the wet tip and parted your lips to let him sink into the hot wet cavern of your mouth, your tongue running along the vein on the underside of his cock.

Hobie shuddered, finally looking down at you and the way your mouth wrapped around him. You took him as deep as you could go, a little more than halfway before your throat constricted and you gagged around him. You looked at him through teary-eyes you drew back, leaving his cock all wet with your saliva before pushing forward again. You bobbed your head at a steady pace, your hands braced against his thighs.

Oh– you sucked dick like a champ, slurping him up like he was an popsicle, looking him up with those big, innocent eyes of yours. You hollowed your cheeks for more suction, letting him go with a pop of your lips before taking him right back into your hot mouth.

Hobie hissed with pleasure, moaning softly as he reached down and gathered up your hair in his hands in some makeshift ponytail. “Jus’ like tha’. Nice, stupid slut, tha’s all ya are.” How his body shuddered for you, for those wet, plump lips of yours, for your tongue that ran over his slit over and over and drove him absolutely insane. He couldn’t stand you and the way you could make him crazy for you, for your mouth, your body, you in all your ways.

He forced you to go faster, pushed you a little further until his cock slid down the tight pocket of your throat. He selfishly took his pleasure in you, slapped your cheek lightly when you resisted him out of instinct. Your throat tightened around his cock and if he were to look underneath, he’d find the outline of his dick in your throat.

Hobie fucked your throat the way he wanted to, fast and deep until your nose met his pelvis and your saliva dribbled down his balls. You were nothing but a means for his pleasure, a way to get off, a sex toy. You offered yourself up to get back into his good graces, not wanting him to hold a grudge against you over some stupid game.

He fucked your throat raw, nice and deep, slowing down to give you a break, speeding up when you got too comfortable with the slow and steady pace. Hobie pushed you to your limits, fucked your mouth until you were lightheaded as hand to tap his leg to get him to give you a break. When he let you go, you broke away with a gasp, coughing as your lungs pleaded for air. Hobie grasped you, picked you up with overwhelming ease and set you back on the sink, tearing your panties away with a rip of fabric like it meant nothing to him. His signature on the top of your pussy spurred him on as he stroked his cock between the sopping lips of your pussy and sunk into you in one swift motion of desperation.

You let out a gasp, shuddering at the feeling of his cock filling you so suddenly. His tip kissed your cervix before retreating and thrusting back into you. He gave you no time to adjust, no time to savor the feeling of him slowly inching his way into you. He was fucking you hard and fast and you were loving every moment of it. He couldn’t wait. He needed to be inside you, claiming you, owning you.

"Hobie! Mmh~" You moaned loudly enough for anyone outside of the bathroom to hear. It's just what he wanted, for everyone to know that you were taken, that you were his. He had your legs hanging on either side of his shoulders, toes curling behind his head as he brutalized your cunt.

The way he fucked you could only be described as abuse. It was ruthless, desperate, selfish. Hobie was not at all focused on your pleasure, if you happened to cum during all of this, that would not have been his goal, just a side effect. He was out for his own orgasm, he deserved it, you belong to him.

But did you really? He never applied labels. You were only his in his mind and you had only broken a made up rule he had kept in his brain.

“Fuck! Ohh~ God, please…I–” Your voice was louder, hands grasping at anything and everything you could from the sink to Hobie’s neck. Your jaw hung open, lips forming a small ‘o’ shape. Your back was against the cool mirror and you wondered in the back of your mind what you looked like right now. Did you look like a whore? You imagined you did, with wild hair and smudged makeup. He probably thought you a slut, just making your rounds with his bandmates until you collected them all like Pokemon.

Hobie readjusted his grip on your thighs, his hold almost bruising as he nudged your jaw with his nose. "Look at i'. Look at the way I fuck you." Your eyes were squeezed shut, hands gripping the sides of the sink to brace yourself. Slowly, you opened your eyes and looked down at the sight before you. His cock bullied its way into you, the lips of your pussy parted for him so nicely. Just above the mess he made of your cunt, a creamy, white ring sitting neatly at the base of his cock, was his signature, 'HOBIES PUSSY’. The words made you moan, made your head face back and your back arch as he fucked you up.

Only he could do you like this, have you screaming his name in the violent rush of an orgasm so everyone could hear the way he fucked you. The sound of him pushing into you was wet and creamy with the residue of an orgasm pulsing through you. Your body shuddered, your hands grasping at him, tugging at his shirt, pulling him closer, teetering on the edge of tears. Your climax crashed upon you, left you desolate and destroyed and sobbing.

He didn’t stop fucking you, didn’t slow down. “Look a’ me.” One of his hands grasped you chin and forced you to look him in the eye. You could hardly see him through the glaze over your eyes, the tears swelling then falling down your face, taking mascara and eyeliner with it.

“You see wha’cha done to yaself?” You let out a cry as he gripped you tighter, fucked you harder, his pelvis rubbing against your aching clit with each thrust into your used up cunt. You could hardly take it, barely stand it. Your body scrambled to get away from the brutalization. Hobie held you down. “Why ya runnin’, luv? You said ya make i’ up t’me. Stay righ’ here and take this dick since ya so hungry to be fucked.” You could do nothing but take it, take the jealousy and angry way he fucked you.

Hobie kissed you when he was close to orgasm. His teeth chewed softly on your bottom lips as he asked you to scream a little louder. You wrapped your body around his, kept you so close he could barely pull out enough to cum. He made a mess of you, coating the outside and inside of your pussy in creamy white.

“You’re such a fuckin’ was’eful, whore.” Hobie dragged his fingers through his cum and pushed it into your leaking hole, watching the white ring of cum forming at the base of his knuckles. When he pulled out his fingers, you slid down from the sink on shaky legs and reached for some toilet paper to clean yourself up while Hobie washed his hands.

There was a long stretch of silence as you got dressed. You couldn’t help but look at the curl in Hobie’s lip through the mirror. He was really upset about it and you figured you should say something to help the situation. You didn’t want any animosity between the two bandmates.

“It truly didn’t mean anything.”

Hobie turned off the water and flicked the water off his hands and he turned to look at you. “Is tha’ s’pposed to make me feel better? I walked in an’ you were shirtless, makin’ out with ma mate. What the fuck was I s’pposed to think. Aw nah, she’s jus’playin’? Come off i’.”

You didn’t understand why he was so upset. He always made it very clear that you two were nothing official. He was not tied to you and you were not tied to him and it didn’t matter either way. “I don’t understand, Hobie. Are we together or are we not because I’m tired of always following you around like a puppy dog wondering when you’d actually look at me as more than just a sex doll you can call up when you need to get your dick wet.” It came out so suddenly, your quiet anger, your silent resentment.

Silence once again. The two of you stared at each other for a long time.

“I haven’t touched a single person since I first met you.” Hobie admitted, almost throwing it in your face. You scoffed at him. “That’s not fair, Hobie. You know that’s not fair. You always made it clear that we weren’t together. And I’ll have you know that before tonight, I haven’t been with anyone that you haven’t given me express permission to be with.”

“I’m not holding that against you, luv. You don’t even have to bring it up.”

“Then what do you want from me? Are we together or is it just casual? You’re giving me all these mixed signals. One second you’re ghosting me and the next, you’re talking about how obsessed you are with me. Hobie—” Your voice broke, choking on your own words as more tears dappled your messy cheeks. “Hobie, I love you.” You said it, you laid your heart out in front of you and gave him all the opportunity to crush it under his boot.

His lips twitched and he shook his head, placing his hand upon his temples. What did he expect? She hung on his every action, his every word because she hated him? She was in love with him before she ever even knew him. She was in love with him the moment he first interacted with him. She worshiped him like a god.

“It won’ last, babe.” He sighed. “I’m a fuckin’ dickhead an’ an asshole. I don’ do love. One day you’re gonna wake up and realize tha’ I’m not worth ya love or ya time.” He pushed you away because he couldn’t bear to wake up to that day where you don’t look at him with that spark in your eye or you don’t hang on his every word. He can’t face the day where he figures out that he’s in love and you’re not.

“That’s for me to decide.”

“Well, I’m makin’ the decision for ya. Piss off, would ya? I don’t fuckin’ love you ‘n I neva will.” Hobie flung you off with a dismissive wave of his hand like the beads of water that still clung to his skin. It was the period on the matter, the end all be all of this conversation. He left no room for further argument. He wanted you gone and that was that. Who were you to fight it?

So once you were all dressed, you opened the door and looked back at him, tears threatening you to show weakness. You would never give him the satisfaction of crying in front of him. A young you would have begged on your knees. A naive you would have asked him not to turn you away. But you were better now, knew Hobie for what he really was and he was right, he was just some selfish asshole who could never love you.

“Go fuck yourself, Hobie.”

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