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thewinchestah · 10 months ago

Text

"Good things come for those who wait" - Alastor x reader fic

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Tags: ,18+, Smut, NSFW, edging, BDSM, Alastor does what he wants, there's plot if you squint really hard, alastor in heat, breeding kink, Possesive! Alastor, Jealous!Alastor, Protective!Alastor, spanking,degradation kink, praise kink, Angst with a happy ending, fluff, I didn't proof read this, english isn't my first language, no beta we die like men here, etc etc etc

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Word Count: there's no point guys. I can't stop talking.

A/N: WOAH!! Hello everyone!! What the fuck?? I wasn't expecting my "debut fic" to blow up like that! Thank you so so much to everyone who took the time to read it and leave a comment! I'm truly flattered by your praise. So, I hope this sequel to "PREY" does it justice! (but it can also be read as a standalone). Let me know if you guys like it, and if you have anymore ideas/suggestions! I'm tagging everyone who asked me to, so if you want to be tagged on my next fics let me know! Without further due, here comes that mostrosity of a fic! Hope you like it <3! (UPDATE: PART 3 IS NOW UP!!)

Part I | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Taglist: @smallershorteranduncut @markster666 @jyoongim @stygianoir @pepperycookie @fraspent @aether-th3-enby

It all started, as many things do, with a joke and a simple misunderstanding. Dying and instantly going to hell is not easy. Being in hell and not understanding why the FUCK you are in hell is confusing, frustrating and sometimes drawright ridiculous. There’s no guidebook for the hellish afterlife, and more often than not you felt lost at sea, drowning. Until you found your questionable lifeline, the Radio Demon.

Somehow said demon clocked really early on that you were completely infatuated with him, but too scared to act on it. And oh, how he gave you enough reason to be infatuated, enough reason to be scared. Luring you into the most delicious trap, Alastor had claimed you as his. His to breed during the height of his heat, his to care for, his to inflict the most heavenly torture.

Being caught up in the middle of the living myth that was the Radio Demon was a dangerous thing, you had been warned over and over again. So of course that you had to almost fuck everything up in the silliest way possible.

The obnoxious TV set, also known as Vox, had just started another round of his futile attempts to win Alastor’s attention by airing the most absurd reality tv character assassination ever. You would put money on the fact that the obsessive flat screen was a deceased TLC producer. Usually, any of his pompous i-hate-alastor-so-so-much!!! fits would be met with enthusiasm around the Hotel. Everyone would cramp in front of the TV and make fun of the entire ordeal. Even Alastor would tag along and make a private edition of his radio show while he counter-narrated that nonsense. It became a fun bonding activity for everyone involved, it was a nice thing. But there’s a reason why you can’t have nice things.

Today the Hotel was mostly empty:, only you, Angel and a very on edge, sexually frustrated, irritated Alastor haunted its posh walls. Still, you and Angel carried on with the little tradition sitting side by side in front of the tv not knowing what to expect from today’s “My Strange Addiction - Alastor’s Version” episode. It was truly a laughable attempt of a character assassination, actors who could not act saying things like “Alastor isn’t even as bad as everyone says, his torture tactics are not that special either. My mom’s aunt was tortured by him and was going to work 10 hours later”, “i walked down the street today and alastor didn’t even try to kill me when he saw me crossing the street, he’s all talk” “i have video footage of the self-proclaimed cannibal eating a chocolate covered strawberry. He’s cannibalbaiting.”

“no self-respecting overlord would go out wearing those ridiculous out-of fashion clothes”.

Angel was having the time of his life leading the daily Vox roast session, the spider was funny and you couldn’t hold the laughs. The camera cut to a close-up of Vox, babbling on about technology and the anti-Radio Demon speech you knew by heart at this point. As if on cue, Alastor entered the room. But the pair of you remained oblivious to his presence.

“Toots, you totally should apply for this show! I mean it!. I’m sure Vox will buy literally anything you say. Anything! If you say Alastor likes to eat red nail polish cause it looks like blood he would believe it! You laughed at his words, what a ridiculous thing to say. You loved red nail polish, alastor drinking it because it looks like blood is absurd. “I mean, look at you!! Look at this face, these eyes!! This body!!!” Angel gave your thighs a playful slap. “If you say hell is actually cold using all that i would eat it right up. Vox will be too busy staring at your boobs to notice you dropping that even the oldest radio looks better than that fucking flat face”. The thought that you were the mind-numbing type of beautiful made you laugh. Sometimes you felt like your friends were being way too kind with the flattery about you. You were nothing special at all. It was nice of them to be kind to you, adapting to your new lifestyle was taking a visible tool, anyone could tell. Their efforts were honorable and sweet, but you just couldn’t let yourself believe what in your heart, you knew was a lie. A beautiful, comfortable lie, but still a lie. You weren’t much, you were just lucky. You started to laugh even harder, out of pure nervousness as your brain started to snowball into all the things you weren’t.

“ Seriously Angel, you have the strangest ideas ever!” you tried to sound normal, putting up a confident facade. That helped, a lot. You had picked that up during your days with Alastor.

Speaking of the devil, Alastor wasn’t amused by your little display. Standing on the corner of the room as you laughed, he made himself known by walking out of the room, in hurried steps. If it were anyone else, they wouldn’t think much of it. But you weren’t anyone else. You were Alastor’s.

And that’s why he was seething with rage. His rut always drove him, an already unpredictable man, to the brink of true, pure instinctual insanity. He had to grip his marvelous constructed self control painfully hard. Since your paths crossed, the most chaotic part of his existence seemed in control, your pretty little body always ready to take him, your eyes always holding his gaze in a maddening comfortable way, the way you would push your limits just for him.

Only for him.

And the worst part was your softness when it was all done. Alastor would fuck you rentless, for hours, making you take all the mess of his most animalistic desires without a second thought. Both of you would be spent, bathing in the afterglow, room smelling like sex, and you would ask him if he needed anything. Him, that just fucked you so hard so won’t walk straight for a week, that feasted on the blood of the love bites he inflicted, him that covered you in a painting of bruises.

How could he not want to just lock you inside his lavish room and give you all the rings of hell? to carve his name deep into your soul? to dote on you? to make him the only thing on your mind as he makes you his time and time again in the most sinful ways?

It was simple really, why he was shaking with anger: how you, who was his, was even thinking of being in the same vicinity of that scum of creation? LAUGHING AT THIS ABSURD CONCEPT. Vox thinking of you was already a crime punishable by painful death, but Vox looking at you was heresy, and the entirety of hell would pay for his transgressions.

As Alastor stormed off towards the Hotel’s large room corridors, he took several calming breaths. Losing control like this wouldn’t do anyone any favors. In the troubled waters of his mind, Alastor could only think of 3 things: you, fucking you and murdering someone.

So he didn’t even realize your hurried steps trying to catch up with his long strides.

“Hey sugartits! Don’t take too long doing whatever you need to do! there’s a woman going live after the break saying she saw Alastor eating an entire packet of PAPER TOWELS!!! HAHA! This shit is too good to be true!” you heard angel scream.

Adding insult to injury, nice.

Trying desperately to reach your demon lover gait, you could only think about how bad you had messed up. Alastor was your only true respite in hell. He was a blessing in a mist of the worst humankind could offer. He made you feel hope, more than making you feel alive, he made you feel glad you’re dead. The Radio Demon felt like coming home. You just wanted to make it up to him. You could not lose this, lose him. You were not sure you would survive it. And who knew where you went after dying in hell?

It doesn’t matter where you go after hell, it doesn’t matter at all if Alastor is not there. Your brain added to your inner monologue. True.

“Alastor! Wait” you shouted. He stops dead on his feet.

Finally, those long long legs of his do not make chasing after your love any easier.

“Alastor, I'm so so sorry. Angel gets way out of line sometimes and I was nervous” he is perfectly still, ears pinned back, listening. But doesn’t say anything back.

“Al I’m truly sorry. I didn’t mean it like that, at all. Look, let’s try to do something to make your day better. I know how hard this season is on you, I know you feel like you are losing contr-

Uh oh.

oh shit.

You used the two forbidden words together. The temperature in the room drops, Alastor snaps towards you. You feel something gripping your throat mercilessly, as you fall to the ground. Looking at the other end of the corridor Alastor has you on a leash of his magic. Eyes burning red, forehead marked “x” he grips your chains hard, pushing you towards him.

“That was a brilliant speech, little doe. Truly marvelous! I’m sure your television debut will be quite the show you were planning!”

His antlers were growing, his demon form showing itself as he becomes taller and taller over you. All bared teeth and flashing red eyes. This is what everyone warned you about. Don’t get in the Radio Demon’s way, he is dangerous and insane. You will regret it.

Hot. your brain thinks. He pulls your leash even tighter, and you feel wetness pooling on your core.

“Do you have any idea what I was about to do before I heard you so selflessly offer your services to that pathetic excuse of a demon?” Dragging you by the magic chains, his towering frame comes down to meet you at eye level. You can’t say anything back, your brain short circuits and goes AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

“You know better than leaving me waiting for an answer at this point, pet” He grips your face using his sharp claws,the pressure threatening to break skin. “But you seem so hellbent on being a bad girl today, I shouldn’t expect your usually good girl’s behavior, should I?”

You are, once again nothing but a doe caught in the headlights of his eyes

“One should always know better than expecting their fantasies to be true”

His sclera goes black, only the tiny blazing red radio dials devouring you as he stares so deep into you, you feel feverish.

“But since we are already here. I. Will. Tell. You.” static picks up around the room and surrounds you both, the corridor is illuminated by an eerie green light. You start to kinda fear for your life, but Alastor has you completely hypnotized by the radio dials on his eyes. You shiver in anticipation.

“I was coming to ask you, to please, spare me a part of your day, away from you friends. Because the only thing on my mind has been you. Fucking you. Sinking my cock so deep into your tight, wet cunt it would mark your soul. Because you are the only one who can take me like this, who deserves being bred by me, who deserves every drop of my seed”

You feel the wetness on your panties grow until it runs down your thighs. There’s nothing right about this, but your dear Alastor showed you long ago how the concepts of right and wrong are meant to be skewed.

“But oh well, you seem to have your affections directed elsewhere…” he tsks at you using that delicious mocking tone. “But, you can’t blame a desperate man for trying” he goes from 100 to 0 really fast, his voice softens so much in a way that’s almost too heavy to hear after all that. Even with his demon form still very much present “Do you still want to make my day better, pet?”

you are at a loss of words, but you manage to nod desperately. The anticipation of what he is going to do to you makes you giddy.

He manhandles your leash until you are on your knees in front of him, tugging on the chains so you look up towards his crotch. He makes quick work of his pants, pulling his cock out. Hard, angry hot red coloured. Angry because of you, angry for you.

“Open wide, little one” and without much more warning, Alastor is fucking your face, hard and fast.

You position your arms behind your back as quickly as you can. You know how hard it is for him to be touched when his rut is peaking. The overwhelming need for relief mixing with his ever present desire for control. This is about him asserting his dominance over you, making sure you don’t ever forget where you belong: In the warmth of his burning gaze, under him, on your knees, while he merciless fucks your throat into compliance. He’s taking it out on you, and you fucking love it.

He’s not saying anything, only growling like he’s about to murder someone. He grabs fistfuls of your velvety hair, but never leaves the white knuckle grip on your chains. You can only resist the urge of playing with your pussy while he thrusts so deep you feel his monster cock. hitting the back of your throat. This is about him, and you want to give him this so badly your cunt is throbbing with desire

Tears wet your cheeks, your lips around his cock are the definition of renaissance art to Alastor. He’s almost over the edge now, the head of his cock twitches on top of your tongue as a warning of his approaching orgasm. It’s hard, it’s hot, it’s fast and it’s angry.

Alastor cums, you swallow as much as you can, but he takes his cock out and spills everywhere, coating your hair, your face. It’s so deliciously erotic Alastor can’t resist catching some of his cum and running his hands throughout your velvet locks, bathing you in his essence, marking you once more. There’s still a bit of cum on the tip of his claw, he feeds it to you, and your lips wrap around his fingers as you take as much of him you can take, gladly.

“Oh how beautiful you are when you ruin yourself like this for me, my little doe” You look up at him with adoration and a lustful gaze, his eyes hold an equally lustful gaze and… something more. Something that you are sure will drive you insane.

Alastor notices the pooling mess underneath your tights, he knows how desperate you are for relief, but he still wants to self indulge on you. He’s certain you still don’t understand the reality of what he is feeling. Swiftly he topples you down the corridor’s carpet and places himself between your legs, his crawled finger tearing your lacy panties away.

Then, he feasts on you like a starving man, and he might be, because you taste like the ambrosia of the gods and he can’t get enough of it. Of how you make a mess of yourself for him and there’s still something for him to take. You just taste so sweet, what a perfect meal your nectar makes. His wicked silver tongue polishes you, aided by your whispered sighs, his name moaned like a prayer on your lips. You are so so close, alastor sucks on your throbbing clit you are already seeing stars, all you need is a gentle push.

Grinning like a devil, Alastor looks up, tilts his head, gives you the most wicked-and-douchey look in existence. He gets up, your leash dissipating into the air and walks away in perfect composure, like nothing happened. Nothing at all.

“Well, I think that’s my cue!!” he says in his usually chirpy tone. You just stay there, flabbergasted. “I just remembered I still have a lot to do today! Work never stops when you maintain a facility like this in tip-top condition!” Already halfway across the corridor, Alastor’s head turns towards you “Still want to make my day good my dear? Be a doll and clean this mess up, will you?” you just stare at him, too fucking stunned to speak. You can’t believe it. That fucking devil. He’s about to make the turn towards the elevator and disappear when his eyes flash red as he warns you “Oh! and don’t you dare make yourself cum without my permission. If you cum before I say so, you won’t be cumming for a week. Choose wisely!Let’s see who loses control first Ha Ha! This will be fun!”

Alastor can be a psychopathic demon in heat, but before all that he still is a psychopathic demon who loves torture.

And he just left you all hot and bothered.

–

Alastor knew better than believing in such things as heaven or holiness. In fact, Alastor was positively sure nothing was sacred. The concept of sacredness was non-existent in his book.

But his skeptic mind danced on the edge of belief when he touched you. To be inside you felt heavenly, heavenly in a type of way that should not even be allowed in this place. The way your lush body burned underneath his wicked gaze was sacred.The way you always presented yourself to him, with selfless abandon was sacred. Somehow, someone allowed him, of all people, access to a soul he frankly didn’t understand what was doing in hell in the first place. He never was the better man. He was never giving that up.

In all of his nature, Alastor felt the most sinful pleasure in defiling your sacredness. He wanted nothing but to take the heavenly thing you were and taint it with his darkness.

He was well acquainted to torture and had no shame in inflicting the most delicious and depraved type of it on you ,until all of your holiness was irrevocably marked by him, down to the core of your soul. Of course Alastor didn’t buy your soul. He didn’t need to use those means to completely own you. He did it effortlessly, because you craved it. Because he craved it.

That’s why the thought of Vox even looking in your way was heretic, and not in a good way. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing you to Vox. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing you. Period. You were his.

But adding that man into the equation just made everything more intolerable. The things he would do if he found out about you… Found out that not only you were his but how you could make someone feel. How precious and undeserving of anything less than good you were…

You were made to be cherished and protected. Protected by him.

In fact, it took all of the Radio Demon’s willpower to restrain from walking to the Vees building, and kill Vox for something he didn’t do. Because Alastor wouldn’t allow the thought to even cross his mind. All that, a messy display of his desperation and loss of control. Giving that prick the smug satisfaction of knowing somehow he got to him, in his last moments.

Damn, his rut truly did make him on edge.

Suppressing his murderous thoughts, Alastor focused his mind into something he as actually good at: torture. Yours specifically. He still wanted to punish you for making him feel like this. He still wanted to make you understand.

And he just thought of the sweetest way to do it.

After cleaning up the mess on the corridor, and yourself (you did it all on autopilot, still trying to understand what the FUCK happened) you still had to give Angel a satisfaction about why you didn’t come back. You must’ve looked really miserable cause Angel just hugged you really tight and ordered you to bed. When in reality all of your efforts were now focused on masking your humiliating arousal. So you find yourself lying in your bed, trying not to think anything Radio Demon related. You’re totally not thinking about the way he looked at you while he fucked you. The way his eyes would search yours in a crowded room, winking playfully at you. An inside joke. A promise.The way you both playfully banter at the dinner table over silly things. You are also totally not thinking about how he takes you, how you love to hear him saying “good girl” to you after you push your limits again, only for him. Not thinking at all about how his cock fills you so perfectly, you truly feel empty without it. Who’s thinking about what hides behind his eyes when he his voice goes all soft in the middle of a rough fucking? Ha ha!! Definitely not you.

You punch yourself with your pillow.

C’mon don’t think thoughts of Alastor now…

You are so fucked, and not in a sexy way. The worst part is that you want to endure it, you want to be good for him. Your pussy is aching to be touched, your mind begging you to have thoughts of Alastor while your pussy is being touched. But right now you would give everything in this world to hear him praise you again. You know how hard his rut is on him… He already carries a lot alone, the Hotel, the doomsday clock of extermination ticking closer and closer everyday. Plus the other things… You know there’s something more, something that haunts his nights, but it’s not your place to ask. Hell, you are too scared to ask. You just hope, you just pray that when it happens you are beside him. You don’t ever expect the Radio Demon to ever ask for help, or open up. Or seek comfort. Oh, he’s anything but comfortable. But you like to think that in time, he would feel comfortable enough around you he could let something slip, a tiny detail to add to your “The Mystery of the Radio Demon” clue board. Something that would let you show him he doesn’t need to pick himself apart, carry all these burdens alone.

Great, you are doing amazing at the “not thinking any Alastor thoughts” game.

You hug your pillow closer and look across you window as you start saying out loud a list of things you need to do around the Hotel. Maybe this will take your mind off the devil.

Tend to the Venus Fly traps of the gardens. (You could ask Nifty for the bugs)

Write the thank you letters to the new guests that agreed to help with hotel chores.

Tell charlie about your book club idea using cool flashcards

It’s your turn to organize “Theme nights”, maybe Alastor would enjoy a “great gatsby” theme, right?

Great, Alastor again. You sighed.

Suddenly a red note written with perfect penmanship flies next to your spot on the bed.

“My darling doe, I’m waiting for you in my chambers.

Don’t take your time, we have much to discuss.-

Yours, Alastor.

You take your time, though, to thank anyone who’s listening as you sprint towards Alastor’s lavish room. You feel dizzy, anticipation like butterflies in your stomach. You don’t have to knock more than once for him to let you in.

He’s on the edge of the bed, looking like his normal self (as normal as it gets for Alastor)

The taps the spot next to him on the the bed

“Come here, you darling thing!”

you don’t waste a second, and as quickly as you are sitting on his bed, you are sitting on lap. Holding you close, in a vice like grip with one of his arms, Alastor starts talking

“How was the rest of your day, my dear?” you open your mouth to start talking, you have so much to say to him. That you were a good girl, that you were ready to do anything to make up for laughing at Angel’s stupid idea of seducing Vox. You are ready to beg for your release. to ask how his day was. But you don’t get to utter a word.

Alastor quickly and swiftly maneuvers you: now your feet are dangling from the bed, your ass and legs sprawled out across his lap. A powerful arm locking you to him by the small of your back.

Holy fuck.

“Well my day was downright awful! You see I overheard my pretty pet laughing at the prospect of seducing one of my most infuriating enemies. I’m in the peak of my unforgiving rut ,and all I wanted was the shared pleasure of our bodies as I fuck the darling thing senseless!” he pinches the back of your thigh, hard. You blur out a soft, desperate sigh.

“Of course, the good girl she is, she went begging for my forgiveness. I didn’t fully give it, of course. That was a harsh offense, what my little doe did. But I did have my fill with her” You try to spea-

Alastor audibly shushes you.

“I did leave her all hot and bothered after spilling my cum all over her maddening little body, of course. I contenplated murdering the bastard demon so he wouldn’t get a chance of even knowing about her existence and what she does to me. But I still suffered with the hellish need of fucking her into oblivion, and pondered a lot about divine justice. So, if I had to suffer this entire day because of her offenses I think it’s only right for that darling doe to get her fill of suffering and punishment hmmmm?

You try to look back to his face, but you feel the familiar sensation of magic wrapping around your throat. The leash, you are so so fucked. You couldn’t be happier about it.

He tugs at the chain, so your skirt rides up and your ass is totally bare for him and your head is buried in one of his fluffy pillows. With a snap of his fingers your panties disintegrate.

You shiver at the thought of what’s happening next, a delicious sensation that flows across your back and ends up inside your cunt, beginning to turn into a wet mess. He’s gonna spank you like the bad girl you were. He’s not going to be gentle about it either. You can’t wait. It’s gonna hurt, it’s gonna sting, it will leave you bruised. It will be deliciously wicked, like all of Alastor’s punishments.

You feel another surge of magic, behind the powerful green glow something materializes.

Your horsegirl days back on earth don’t let you down. You recognise it instantly. On his previous free hand he’s holding a riding crop. A big, leather pointed riding crop.

He’s going to literally whip you into submission. You squirm inside his arm. You can’t fucking wait. You’ve made yourself come a few times after the thought of being literally tamed, broke by alastor.

You whimper. Alastor’s laugh fills the room.

“So this is how this is going to go, pet. I’m going to whip you lovely ass like the ungrateful slut you are and you are going to thank me for it after every crack of the whip. I’m gonna do this as many times as I see fit. Until your ass is as red as my hair. Until you understand what you did. By the time I’m done you will be begging to be punished more. Are we clear?

You can’t look back at him, but you can feel how his red irises make your skin burn. You like to imagine that his eyes did the thing where they soften for a heartbeat, if you blink you miss it. Waiting for your permission, even now. You are able to muffle a “yes, oh please Alastor, yes”.

“Lovely.”

crack.

He didn’t even gave you time to process. The whip lands hard on the back of your left thigh. You let out a scream.

“Well?” he asks impatiently as he waits for your “thank you”. Seeing the way the spot where the whip landed turn a lovely shade of scarlet isn’t helping him hold his resolve either.

You wanna do this right, you need this as much as he needs it.

“thank-”

crack. the whip lands on your right thigh, a little lower.

“tha-”

crack.crack.

He whips you even harder, cutting the wind as it lands twice on your left buttcheek. Only four cracks down and you are a whimpering mess. You wiggle instinctively on his lap, seeking some friction, some relief. It hurts so bad, but it feels so good. You don’t know if you can take more. You want it anyway. “thank you, thank you” you whimper. Tears wet your face, arousal wets your core adding to the mess from before he even started.

crack. crack.

He mirrors his movements to your right buttcheek. “thank yo- Holy fuck Alastor”

one more hit, now hitting both of your buttcheks.

“I’ve told you many times before pet, there’s nothing holy about what I do to you. I’m gonna break you and then breed you. I won’t give you a moment of respite. And maybe by the end, when your legs are shaking from holding that orgasm you have been desperately chasing since this afternoon, I will be merciful and let you find your release. And we will know who’s really losing control here”

How can he do this to you with only his voice? You are not sure you’ve ever been so aroused in your entire life. You’re so wet, you’re staining Alastor’s pants. As close as you will get to marking him.

There’s a draft coming from the forest of his room, it softly kisses your abused skin, making it sting. You want to see the state of your lower body so badly. The way you’re submitting to him right now, the most sweet form degradation possible. Your eyes are clouded with tears, that line between pain and pleasure being blurred in ways only someone like the Radio Demon could cross. He tugs on your leash, to attract your attention from the sinful, unholy sensations you are feeling so openly, back to him.

Alastor drags the leather point of the whip across your throbbing cunt, collecting the obscene amount of wetness there. “By the 7 rings of hell, what do you have here? Are you such a slut that you are creaming at being whipped into compliance? I could do this all night long. Your ass is already red with regret for your actions but I’m not sure you learned your lesson yet.”

crack. The whip this time lands on your juicy cunt. Your hips trash with the sensation, your demon lover’s name escaping your lips like a prayer.You forget to thank him this time, despite your best efforts.

“Are you so big of an ungrateful brat that you want this sinful punishment to continue? Not even bothering to thank me, in hopes it will end sooner. You know what you are. Nothing but a hungry greedy whore for the Radio Demon”

crack, crack. One hit on each cheek. “But I already knew that” and with that mocking tone Alastor lands a masterful final hit on both of your cheeks. He does have a way of proving his point.

You are fucking sobbing now. Tears coat your cheeks, now a colour so vibrant as the rich scarlet the covers your ass. Alastor knows everything that makes you tick. He knows how close you are to cumming. Cumming for only his masterfully inflicted punishment and his voice. Incoherent whimpers leave your lips “please please please” and soft “ohh and aaah, alastor”

He tugs on your leash again, he knows your body like the palm of his hand, and that you are probably entering the mind numbing phase of the pain and the pleasure. But he still wants your undivided attention. He has whipped you into submission, he still needs to fuck you into submission.

“And you even made the mess of yourself stain my pants! My god, you are pathetic. Delightfully pathetic”

Alastor gently runs his clawed hands across your ass, the sharp edges making you hiss. He looks in adoration at the masterpiece he inflicted on you. Your ass and thighs a shade of scarlet to rival his hair, the wetness between your thighs a heavenly invitation. Beautiful. Sinful. Sacred. He will never forget this, and he will make sure that you never forget it too.

“Now, now, we are done with this my little doe” his voice goes extra soft because you can’t see him with your face buried in a soft pillow. “you were so good for me, you always are”

The softness and sweetness of his praise makes you sob even harder. It’s maddening.

He gently maneuvers you further into the bed, making space for himself.

“But now I’m painfully hard, and I still need to bury myself inside that tight throbbing cunt of yours, so deep it will mark. your. soul.” static picks up around you, a delicious omen of what is about to happen.

Alastor positions himself behind you, immediately entering you and bottoming out.

His first thrusts are sharp and deep, as to make his promise of marking yourself from the inside real. He pulls your chains so your scarlet ass is presenting itself to him like the most sinful gift.

Alastor picks up that breakneck pace of fucking, common to him, specially during his rut. He fucks you like he hates you. As hard as he possibly can, to make you know that you are his and his only. That even thinking of someone else, even as a joke, will not be tolerated. You wanted all of him didn’t you? You’ve made that clear, with words, with actions, with the things your body endures for him. So he makes sure to give you that.

Moans drip from your lips in a crescendo, you are screaming now, you don’t know how long you will last. It feels so good. That delayed gratification drowning you in maddening pleasure.

“Who do you think is losing control here?” he asks after a painfully sharp thrust. “Me, or the mess of a slut underneath me? That is screaming my name loud enough for the entire pride ring to know how she loves being fucked like a common whore for the Radio Demon,hmm?”

One hand pulls your leash upwards, the other your hips. He’s even deeper now, you can feel him in your core.

You don’t reply to the question even though you want to, even though you know the answer.

“Again, since you like being bred like that so much you are not hearing me” he takes all of his cock out and enters you at once. “Who’s losing control here? Me, or my little plaything with the scarlet ass from being whipped into compliance like the pretty little brat she is?”

You don’t forget to answer him now, you need to cum, desperately. You withheld your building orgasm for an entire day, you wanted to be good for Alastor. You wanted to be able to take everything he gives you. The pleasure, the pain, the sinful, delicious depraved torture. “Me, I am!” you scream out.

Alastor’s pace is becoming erratic, you feel the shadows of his growing antlers cover you.

“Again” he tugs at your collars. Another sharp, deep thrust.

“Me, i’m losing control”

“And what are you?” his voice is filled with static now, he’s close too.

“Yours! I’m yours Alastor, yours to fuck, to break, to punish” you cry out in sweet pain and pleasure.

Another tug, Another painfully sharp thrust

“I’m only yours Alastor” you finish.

“Good. girl.” he spaces the words out between thrusts, knowing how you relish in them.

“You can come now”

Your orgasm comes crashing down. You grip the sheets like a maniac, your legs shaking so hard Alastor needs to hold them in place. You scream so loud you are sure they can hear you in heaven. You hope they can, so they know. So they know this man owns you. So they know you love him.

Alastor is not far behind, your cunt tightening around him like a vice. He fucks you specially hard and deep know, delayed gratification hitting all at once. He cums so hard inside you, he’s sure he finally marked your soul. The feeling of his cock twitching and spilling inside you, adding to the indescriptible sensation. You are completely over the edge now, you feel weightless, free falling.

You know Alastor will catch you.

“Ah! There she is” you open your eyes and feel a soft kiss on your cheek. You are lying on top of Alastor’s chest, he cuddles you gently, making lazy circles on your hipbone but still buried to the hilt inside you. He still plans to give you all of his cum, all he has during his rut,after all.

“woah, that was… amazing” you say after a while.

“Well, I did whip and fuck you to the brink of insanity my dear. And you came so beautifully for me, you passed out. You’re such a sight pet. I will never forget it.” you blush at his words. You feel so happy.

Alastor kisses your cheek again, and with a final thrust he leaves you with a obscenely wet noise. You are dripping with his cum, it’s running down your thighs, staining the sheets.

You whimper in complaint.

“Ah ,don’t be like that” he laughs, is a genuinely happy laugh. “There’s still plenty of where that came from, but I need my darling doe to rest first” he says. He’s lying you gently on the bed as he gets up. “Don’t leave” you whisper.

He’s out of the bed anyways, and seems to be on his way to do something. You don’t care, you want him back here, holding you. You don't want him to ever let you go.

“Al, i’m truly sorry about today. You know that, right?” You know that I love you, right? You want to say, but you are scared that confession is a little much for today. You see where he’s headed now. He opens the bathroom door.

“Don’t even think about it, my dear. It’s all water under the bridge” he says in his usual chirpy tone, louder than the noise of the bath running. “Now you just need to promise me that you will never even let the thought of that pathetic demon cross your mind, my love”

my love.

“And if he ever does, you will let me know. So I can fuck those wretched ideas out of your mind” Alastor is walking back to the bed now. He picks you up bridal style and carries you across the room. You can’t help the hiss that escape your lips as your irritated skin touches him. “I know, I know my dear. We will fix that right up. I can’t have my favourite doe hurting. We still have a long way to go until the end of my rut, dearest” you don’t reply, you are just happy. perfectly happy. You could hear Alastor’s voice for days without complaining. “But you did look so perfect with that scarlet ass on my lap. Crying from how much you love what I do to you. I hope you never forget that”

You both reach the bathtub, he drops you with all the care in the world inside the water.

“I’m so proud of you. I truly am” the water is warm. The soap smells so nice. He lit candles too. You give in to the soothing sensations. You might have tuned out for a bit, cause you hear alastor calling your name so softly… He says it again, slow, soft, gentle, pleading. As to catch your attention, he has something important to say. “You know how precious you are to me, don’t you my little doe?” “yes” you respond, trying to fight the tears that begin to spill down your face ‘

“Oh my darling girl, why are you crying? There’s nothing to cry about. You are here, safe with me. As you will always be, as is your place.”

“Alastor I-I-” your heart swells, you want to say something. You want to say everything you are feeling. How consuming, in the best way possible, your feelings are for him.

But Alastor is always 10 steps ahead.

“I know, I know darling” he kisses your hand “I feel it too.” he says. It feels like a confession, it sounds like a confession. The look on his eyes is the one of that mystery that hides there every time his voice in the midst of your passion.

When you,know you know. your mind reiterates.

“Let me help you dry those tears. Save them for another day” He holds your face and kiss your lips. “The only thing you need to worry about right now is resting and recovering that luscious body of yours, as well as your brilliant, witty mind”

He hands you a sparkly fancy pink soap, and gets up to find the softest sponge he has stored.

“Now, I hope you like the smell of these candles, cause I’m not letting you out of my sight for at least the next four days!”

Alastor continues to chat away sweet nothings as he helps you bathe. Maybe it will take a while for the Radio Demon to say those 4 words out loud. He has enough reason for that, inside that beautiful, complicated mind of his. His actions always speak louder than words, your relationship was proof of that.

Until then, you will always have sacred moments in crowded rooms, you will always have jokes that only the both of you understand. He will always keep sweeping you off your feet in the most deliciously wicked ways possible.

Right now, you have him by your side after everything that happened, you have his heart too. You are sure of that. So you don’t mind waiting for him.

Good things come for those who wait.

#atenção creuzebek vamos lá vai começar a baixaria #author is also in heat can you tell #METE COM FORÇA E COM TALENTO EU TO OFEGANTE E VC PERCEBENDO #alastor x reader #alastor #alastor x reader smut #the radio demon #the radio demon x you #hope uou guys like it!!#VEM DE CHICOTE ALGEMA CORDA DE ALPINISTA #baixaria

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purpdrawsthings · 3 months ago

Text

Ok what in the actual hell, did I just finish an animation in one fucking day

Hello hello as you know I make animations

And ungodly amount of fan art that I for some reason have no explanation for

So I decided to make this whole as gift in one day and I managed to finish it... At 11:20 at midnight 💀

Idk how I managed to do this but uh yeah

Got a lil lazy on the last part because GOD MY HANDS ARE SHIVERING ME TIMBERS RN

Uhhhh yeah enjoy.

And that statement up there ladies and gentlemen was me yesterday.

Ngl, I felt so burnt out and so sleepy that I couldn't for in what I wanted to say and wished I could've added this in 😭😭😭

I did this whole thing from I think 3 o'clock in the evening after I came back from school and had the crazy ass idea of doing this.

All the way from 3 to 11, I worked on this thang

So I've been working on this for approximately 8 hours max 💀💀💀

No breaks [ except for some breaks ] and absolutely almost speed running through the whole ass thing

Got way too lazy on the last part since it was literally 10 o'clock and I had to help my sister help a portion of the dishes because she just came back from a moon cake festival and didn't even shower yet like wth 💀💀💀

I absolutely wished I could've added more talented, amazing SMG4 artists in here because there's such a wide variety of them that it actually makes me go coo-coo crazy

Honourable mentions I would've added were prob Trap Sanchez, Opposol, Elis CZ and a couple of other [ which I will not tag since I felt that was way too much tbh ]

Those 3 artists were the ones who actually got me in the damn SMG4 community

And ngl, this fandom is great and is filled to the brim of artists whom I really adore.

It felt quite the missed opportunity for me to not feature them =[

But maybe I will do another huge ass gift, in the future because I have 3 animations to work on I won't be adding another one to my goddamn list like wth 💀💀💀💀

Anyways uhhh yeah! That's about the stuff I didn't get to feature before I posted this whole thing and maybe regretted it a little.

Uhhhhh yeetus =3

All people mentioned in order :

@tiredsmashbros @strange0-0storm @its-a-me-mango @libbytwq @theartistisme43 @cookiepopcat @vrynnvryxivia @lemonjuicesblog @supern0vashii @goofy-mcgee69420 @rr3d2y @meg-girumi

#SMG4 #smg4 ocs #big gift #gift #fanart #shitpost #smg8 #TSB #smg4 oc: mango #smgl:e #mrpuzzles #assistant!smg4 #smg4 oc #silly

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heartkaji · 3 months ago

Text

[ 𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐃 ]

★ ── selfship event

❤︎ WHAT’S CAPTAIN CUPID ?!

hihi hello ! welcome to my selfship event where I, MARS, assign scenarios & headcannons to your selfships !

❤︎ HOW DOES THIS WORK ?!

easy ! all you have to do is send me an ask describing you (or your oc’s) personality ! it’s similar to a matchup event except you’ll specify what character you’re being shipped with. my job as cupid will be to assign a dynamic & scenarios based on you & your fictional other’s personality !

you’ll select a maximum of three questions ( or four for moots ) you’d like me to answer about your selfship, and i’ll do my best to answer based on my idea of what your relationship would be like !

❤︎ WHO CAN I BE SHIPPED WITH ?!

your fictional other should be a character from wind breaker, haikyuu, mha or blue lock only.

note that all characters will be written as adults (18+) by default (everything is still sfw !)

only one f/o per person

❤︎ ANYTHING ELSE, CAPTAIN ?

here are some guidelines when requesting :

anyone is free to join ! you don’t have to be a follower or mutual to take part.

on that note, all scenarios & hcs will be sfw or at best lightly suggestive, so everyone of all ages is free to join

you can send your requests on or off anon. i recommend sending it off so you’ll be notified, but it’s all up to you ! edit : if requesting on anon, feel free to assign yourself a name or emoji !

don’t be shy ! i feel like a lot of self shippers are shy when talking about their self ships because they may feel cringy or embarrassed. trust me i’m not judgy at all. i love reading selfship posts so describe yourself or your oc in as much detail as possible !

❤︎ PICK A QUESTION, ANY QUESTION !

note that before answering questions, i will provide a description of what dynamic i think your selfship would have !

if using an oc, please provide their name !

starred questions (*) have potential to receive slightly suggestive answers

remember you can only pick a maximum of three while moots pick four !

how did you first meet ?

who confessed & how ?

who fell first & who fell harder ?

first date ?

what do others (ex: parents/friends) think of your relationship ?

toxic things they do ?

toxic things you do ?

what do you often fight over ?

why/how did you break up ?

at what moment did they fall in love ?

at what moment did you fall in love ?

what do they not like about you ?

what do you not like about them ?

what do they love most about you ?

what do you love most about him ?

how was your first kiss like ?*

their favorite activity to do with you ?

their green flags in your relationship ?

how did they propose ?

what’s having a family with them like ?

❤︎ HOW TO REQUEST ?

to participate, you must first reblog this post then send me an ask following this template. starred (*) questions are optional. any requests that do not follow instructions will be deleted !

pronouns

*gender + any relevant information regarding gender identity (ex : perhaps you don’t wear certain clothing, or use she/her pronouns but prefer to be treated as male. this is to avoid me making you uncomfortable in descriptions

*sexuality (if unanswered, i will assume you are attracted only to the same gender as your f/o)

f/o + their fandom (refer to list of accepted fandoms)

what questions you want me to answer (3 or 4 max)

a description of you/your OC’s personality

*a description of you or your OC’s appearance (this is to make more specific & personal hcs, ex: them loving you/your OC’s freckles)

your perception of your f/o. everyone has different perspectives on different characters; so i’d like to see your f/o through your eyes in order to make more accurate hcs !

that’s all ! please remember i can only take a limited number of requests. i can’t guarantee requests will be answered on a first come first serve basis, but i recommend requesting as soon as possible ! when requests are closed, the prompt below will go from “start” to “end !”

TAGGING : @kaiser1ns @seneon @seumyo @caelivir @y2kuromi @17020 @megutime @bloodswrd

[ 𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐃 ]

end.

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preseriesdean · 6 months ago

Note

if you don’t mind me asking, could you share some of your favorite fanfics or authors? thanks ❤️

oh hi hello!! yes of course!! i actually haven't read any spn fic in a while but i have spent a lot of time organizing my bookmarks. i'm going to assume that you meant samdean fic but i'll add a few non-samdean ones at the end.

authors!

@zmediaoutlet (deadlybride on ao3)

candle_beck (ao3)

@goshen-applecrumbledore (ao3)

whereupon (livejournal)

Linden (ao3)

sevenfists (ao3)

there are so many more great authors but these came to mind :)

fics!

i am going to list my forever-favorites first - the ones i would recommend to anyone and everyone, screaming-from-the-rooftops kind of love - and then many many more under the cut.

beloved by urchinesque (2016, 1.9k, NR, warning: death) It might be the gentlest thing that's ever happened to them.

in my opinion everyone should read this once. it's quick. they die. it's-- happy, somehow. beautiful. i think about it all the time.

Last Day on Earth by candle_beck (2009, 10.8k, E) A list of things to do if you only have one day to live, presented in inconvenient non-list form.

last year my best friend and i were pondering which fic felt quintessential to samdean for us and somehow settled on this one. i still agree with the choice.

Odysseus, American by coyotesuspect (2010, 10k, M) Dean finds Peter O'Toole's recording of the Odyssey in a bin marked “Audio" in Casa Grande's only used bookstore. The place smells like cigarette smoke and old books, and it reminds him of Sam. Stanford era.

my favorite stanford era fic. i think it captures dean's loneliness and desperation beautifully.

A man with his insides out and his outsides off by britomart_is (2016, 5.3k, E, time travel, underage) They say there are only two stories in the world: man goes on a journey, and stranger comes to town.

another fic i want everyone to read. it's so short and feels like a novel. sam is messed up and dean is in love and everything is miserable.

Breathing Hard by whereupon (2009, 9k, E) The day Dean figures it out.

this is so simple and yet-- everything to me. i can't think about dinosaurs without thinking about this fic, which doesn't tell you much, but you'll see. sometimes this is really all you need.

The Last Outpost of All That Is by gekizetsu (2008, 59k, E) The world ends while they’re asleep.

this fic has stayed with me my whole life. i thought about it even during my years away from spn and fandom entirely. they're alone and you don't know why and they build their life together and you end up wondering, is this hell or heaven? whenever i come across a screenshot of the last couple of paragraphs i want to cry.

see things so much clearer by deadlybride (2020, 11.7k, E) Sam's been acting oddly. Dean learns how to use the history on an internet browser and finds out why.

this is a fic that hits the spot for me personally so well. another favorite preseries fic. i love the idea of sam using livejournal, and of dean finding out this way.

Stay The Distance by lazy_daze (2011, 24k, E) Sam is dependent on Dean's touch and closeness after the wall falls - Dean's presence reminds him of why he chose to wake up, and keeps the memories at bay, allowing Sam to function.

i love enmeshment, and i love that here it's literal. i love that they're just sort of fine with it.

more fics below!

in absolutely no particular order whatsover. please check the warnings and tags on these before reading!

Recall by De_Nugis (2012, 6.3k, E) Sam's having a hard time telling what's real and what isn't, especially when it comes to some voicemails from Dean.

Living in god's blind spot by applecrumbledore (2022, 25k, E) Of all the situations Dean didn’t need his dad to see him in, ‘getting off to being pushed around by a guy’ was in the top three. And ‘a guy’ was a massive glossing-over of reality. Any guy—any other guy—would be bad enough, but Sam was fucking cataclysmic.

Almost At Home by balefully (2008, 24.3k, E) Sam graduates from high school in early June in rural Tennessee. He and Dean start the summer with an all-nighter of celebration; the day after, while both fight hangovers, John calls to assign them their first hunt by themselves.

they said it was the fall of man by jukeboxhound (2016, 7.4k, M) Sam gets his soul back on a Monday.

When I Fall Asleep It Is Your Eyes That Close by britomart_is (2009, 1.9k, E) Post-Season Two. Sam is alive. Dean is happy.

Life As We Know It by sevenfists (2007, 13.7k, M, curtain fic) On the morning that Sam woke up, Dean ran five red lights on the way to the hospital, his half-empty coffee cup sloshing in the holder.

tied up like two ships by orphan_account (2014, 3.1k, E) Dean liked to hold hands.

Gospel Truth by Cerberuss (2020, 15.2k, E, case fic) ‘DOES YOUR BROTHER KNOW THAT YOU WANT HIM?’ Individually placed letters, bold and tinged brown with the weather. Sam can’t look away and he prays, dream dream dream.

Buy You A Mockingbird by candle_beck (2011, 10.3k, M, underage, outsider pov) A genuine horror story.

because you want to die for love by hathfrozen (2021, 27.3k, E) Sam and Dean settle into their Heaven—and into each other, too.

the constant vow by deadlybride (2022, 119k, E, fem dean-ish) They've just finished up a pretty standard job and are killing time in snowy Wisconsin when Dean wakes up no longer looking like Dean. That's just the start of their problems.

This Fortress Made of Us by mickeym (2009, 10.8k, E) Sam really didn't do very well without his brother. Coda for Mystery Spot.

State of Love and Trust/As I Busted Down the Pretext by cormallen (2010, 2.9k, M) When you know exactly what your brother's thinking, there are some chances you just don't take.

Quiet with the Rain by Linden (2014, 5.3k, T) Dean can spot an undercover cop at thirty paces, a hooker at twenty, and rims that will match his baby's at ten. But the fact that his little brother is in love with him—that, he can't see worth a damn.

have a cigar by deadlybride (2020, 5.6k, E) What happened with Andy and Ansem unsettles Sam. Dean doesn't seem worried.

Heart Shaped Balloon by winsive (2022, 18.5k, E, underage) Sam and Dad are fighting. No surprise, but it's the weekend before Valentine's Day and Dean isn't missing out on the chance to bang a cheerleader just to console his bratty little brother. He does bring back a heart shaped balloon for him, though. It's not supposed to be cursed.

Bare by gracerene (2022, 2.2k, T) Of all the things Dean hasn't done before, Sam never expected something as innocuous as skinny dipping to be on the list.

Speechless by candle_beck (2008, 11.2k, T, case fic) Dean loses his voice and their rapport is only moderately impaired.

Like It Was Yesterday by nomelon (2014, 4.9k, T, fem dean, amnesia) Sam can't remember a time when Dean wasn't there. Dean is always with him. Sam's whole life, there's never been anyone else.

Like a Ghost with Two Voices by Dyed_Red (2022, 46k, E) To cure Dean from the Mark of Cain, Sam has to let Dean, in all his demonic glory, possess him for 28 days. It goes about as well as expected.

Breathe You In (Choke You Down) by orphan_account (2021, 5.9k, E, pwp) Dean really likes the way Sam smells.

lost in yesterday by margaryes (2023, 1k, NR, john pov) John hasn’t seen his youngest son in 18 months.

Unraveling by Linden (2017, 855 words, E) No, he’d said, the first time Sammy had tried to kiss him, sixteen and half-drunk and stupidly beautiful, even though he’d wanted so badly to say yes.

pack up the moon by deathdreamt (2021, 5.9k, T, pre-slash) Sam storms back out from their room, his backpack on and his duffel hanging off his shoulder and isn’t it kind of tragic that his whole life fits in two bags. He looks suddenly much younger than he is, eyes shining. John is back at his guns, whiskey at his elbow, and Dean can hardly believe how rapidly his life is cracking down the centre.

Yesterday, minnesota by applecrumbledore (2022, 30k, E, case fic) Any initial awkwardness filtered away over a hundred miles of highway as Sam thumbed through the missing witch’s diary again. Some people had secret coke habits or secret second wives, and some people had passionate, pitch black, no-kissing sex with a family member every four to six months and never talked about it. You had to find ways to cope.

All Heartless Spectres, Happiness by orphan_account (2021, 5.6k, E) Lisa Braeden receives an email with the subject line, "You Deserve to Know." It contains a single video file and nothing else. (soulless sam)

The Palm Oasis by fictionallemons (2022, 12.3k, E, underage) John strands Dean and Sam at a middle-of-nowhere motel while he investigates possible demon omens in Arizona. The place is nothing to write home about, but at least it has a pool. Dean resolves to think of this as a vacation for him and his studious little brother, but when their money runs out sooner than expected, he considers turning tricks at a nearby truck stop so he can feed Sam.

Other Brothers by homo_pink (2020, 7k, M, underage, outsider pov) A callow boy can go from infancy to someone’s lover in the space of two wildflower summers.

Leader of the Pack by astolat (2007, 14.9k, E) Teaching old dogs new tricks.

Underground Wires by eggnogged (2012, 15.8k, E, fem sam, underage) It’s hard enough being a teenage girl even without all the extra crap: they move around all the time, her family is as far removed from normal as it’s possible to get, and she’s in love with her older brother. Sam has no control on any of it, she’s just trying to stay afloat.

Multitude of Sins by Linden (2015, 4.4k, T, outsider pov) Every now and again, Jim Murphy would look up from his altar and find the Winchester boys at the back of his church.

Like Arrows in the Hands of a Warrior by ADeedWithoutaName (2018, 10.3k, E, underage, dub con-ish, john pov) John Winchester loves his boys, and would take a bullet for either of them. He knows that he's doing it right, the way he's raising them, the things he's teaching them. Not every problem, however, has an easy answer. Like what to do after an incubus case in which their target got his pollen all over both of John's sons.

You Can't Lose What You Never Had by nigeltde (2016, 5.6k, E) You can't spend what you ain't got, and you can't lose what you ain't never had.

Flagstaff by Linden (2014, 7.3k, T, pre-slash, john pov) John tracked Sam down in Flagstaff, four days after he got home to find him gone.

I'll take my chance on a beautiful stranger by fleshflutter (2007, 3.8k, M, outsider pov) If Chase were a better friend, he might try to end the game now, before Brendan loses even more money. But if Brendan is a dick at Stanford, it’s nothing compared to how he is on break.

Cupid's Got A Gun by geckoholic (2012, 13.5k, E, non-con) Fuck-or-die, set in early S4. But they've been fucking for years, so that shouldn't be a problem, right? Wrong. Ever since hell, Dean's in no hurry to get that show on the road again.

Someone Else's Blood by sevenfists (2006, 6.7k, E) The first time, of course, was an accident. (pretend dating)

How Many Floors to Realize by lazy_daze (2009, 26k, E, swesson) AU from the end of It's A Terrible Life, in which Zachariah decides to keep stringing them along a little while longer, because damn if they aren't somewhat entertaining, right?

Worthless cartography by applecrumbledore (2022, 15.6k, E) Dean didn’t know what finally made him go for it. The djinn’s dream was a catalyst, but the call was coming from inside the house, and he’d been letting it ring for a very, very long time. (They get one night together right before Sam is taken to Cold Oak. Dean has to deal with that.)

The Space Between Sense and Memory by orphan_account (2021, 4.8k, T) There are a hundred unwritten rules on all the acceptable ways brothers should touch each other. There are hardly any ways at all to break them. Or; five times they follow the rules and one time they don’t.

Ions in the Ether by nigeltde (2019, 10.9k, E, case fic) When was the last time you trusted happy.

Crossed Wires by rivkat (2015, 10.9k, E) Dean thinks Sam is dead.

Crown and Anchor Me (or let me sail away) by Sena (2010, 23.7k, E, underage) Sam Winchester is fifteen years old, at yet another new high school in yet another state, he doesn't get along with his distant, distracted father, he's figuring out that he likes guys just as much as he likes girls, his clothes never fit and his limbs ache at the joint ever since his growth spurt started, he has to study for the PSAT and, oh yeah, he's a little bit in love with his brother, Dean, who's taken a break from hunting monsters to work at a local garage for minimum wage.

Wear Him Lika a Habit by sevenfists (2008, 2.2k, M) Their first kiss isn't an accident. It's anticipated well in advance, discussed for weeks, argued over, second-guessed.

Amor Prohibido by phoenixflight (2020, 3k, M, underage) They spent the spring of Sam's sophomore year living in a shitty apartment south of San Antonio. Every Friday night the clearest channel played three hour marathons of a Spanish soap called La Casa del Corazón. There was a mutually understood truce about watching it, because the alternatives were infomercials or creepy kids’ cartoons that futzed into static every fifteen seconds.

Open Road by Mollyamory (2010, 2k, T) Sam's old enough to know what's good for him.

It's the Blueprint of Your Life by queenklu (2011, 38.4k, time travel) Sam jerks awake in the middle of the night and everything goes to hell. Well, not literally, though Dean is staring down the barrel of less than a year before his deal comes due. In the midst of dealing (or not dealing) with his impending death, a killer ghost ship, and Bela showing up out of the blue, Dean also has to figure out what’s going on in Sam’s head to make him so twitchy, why he’s suddenly breezing through this case while writing endless notes in a notebook he won’t let Dean see.

North of Wednesday by Mollyamory (2008, 3.5k, G) Sam's behind the wheel before he realizes he doesn't have the keys. Coda to Mystery Spot.

non-wincest fic.

dean/omc. We Drank a Thousand Times by glorious_spoon (2010, 43k, M, warning: death) They meet in a bar fight in North Carolina when Dean is nineteen, broke, and desperate, then again when a hunt brings the Winchesters into town a few years later. Neither one of them ever puts a name to it but every once in a while, through the years, Dean finds his way back.

dean/cas: terror & desire intertwined by rupertgayes (2022, 39k, M) Faced with Castiel suffering a fate worse than death, Dean makes the decision to let Cas use his body as a temporary vessel. All things considered, Dean thinks, it could have gone worse.

gen, sam&dean: what lasts by deadlybride (2021, 17.2k, M) Not long after they move into the bunker, Dean loses a leg. Most of a leg. After the hospital, Sam brings him home, and they figure out how to live with what remains.

gen, dean-centric: To Repair Broken Men by procrastin8or951 (2015, 3.1k, T) Dad and Sam keep fighting. Dean can't fix his family, so he fixes things around the crappy apartment they are staying in.

dean/michael: our hour came round at last by orphan_account (2015, 1.8k, NR, pwp) "I want to be inside you," says Michael, low and velvet and hungry and that really shouldn't turn Dean on but it does.

dean/lucifer, dean/cas: exploratory by sp8ce (2022, 4.9k, E, non-con) One night, Castiel proposes he and Dean have sex. Except it's a little more complicated than that.

dean/cas: for a healthy heart by Askance (2013, 2.4k, T) A strange black box appears in Castiel's bedroom one afternoon.

gen, sam&dean: charmer & gentle by Askance (2015, 3.7k, G, outsider pov) The afternoon girl calls them Big and Tall, the strangers who come in late every now and then, buying this or that. The night girl doesn't think those names fit quite right.

dean/cas, past sam/dean: whose wings, though tattered, shall carry me home by fleshflutter (2009, 2.2k, T) There is a breeze moving across the field. It stirs the long grass in lapping waves like the sea. Castiel runs his fingertips through it and remembers flying.

#asks #fanfic #wincest #whatever it is #anon i have you to thank for getting me back into spn fic <3 i've been rereading some of these over the past few days #i was going to post this for ww yesterday but i fell asleep :( so here you go now sdfksdfh

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madamefeu · 3 months ago

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Hi! Here’s what your favorite Hazbin Hotel ship says about you!

Radiodust: You're an old-timer who's been around since the pilot. One off-handed joke about Angel Dust wanting to suck Alastor's dick was all it took for you to start shipping them. You always ship the two most attractive male characters together in your fandoms, even if they have no real connection

Huskerdust: I’m not going to touch this one because I’ll probably get death threats if I don’t tell the Huskerdust fandom exactly what they want to hear

Radiorose: Hello, aro-ace community! You love this because they're the closet thing to a canon queerplatonic couple that currently exists in mainstream media, and as a fellow aro-ace, I’m in the exact same boat

Chaggie: You like the idea of forbidden love, but you're not interested in handling all of the social/political ramifications of it, and would prefer to conveniently gloss over both of those things just like in the show. This ship has the flavor profile of vanilla ice cream with chocolate chips, and so does your personality

Lucifer/Lilith: You only want one thing in this life, and that is for a powerful woman to step on your neck. You are a bottom to end all bottoms

Radioapple: Daddy kink, but in a voyeuristic way. You like watching two dads doing each other, but there is no way you’d ever let them touch you, no, all you want is to watch them go at it

Rosiemilla: Mommy kink, but in a voyeuristic way

Radiohusk: Oh, you would let a man do unspeakable things to you if he was hot enough. You read dark romances and you want a dark romance to happen to you in real life

Cherrisnake: You are absolutely terrible at handling your feelings for everyone you've ever crushed on, and will try to convince yourself that you hate the object of your affections because you lack the courage needed to make a move on them. It would take a life or death situation for you to tell your crush how you really feel about them, and even then you'd be more afraid of telling them than of dying

Guitarspear: Hello, Adam simps! You binge-read workplace romances and you fantasise about dating your boss even though he's a dick 90% of the time. Strangely, the fact that he's a dick makes you even more attracted to him

Staticmoth: Your ideal ship is two horrible people who deserve each other. You want what they have, but at the same time you don't

Zestmilla: Your preferred aesthetic is old married couple core, and I respect that. You binge-read found family fics on AO3, and your favorite tag is hurt/comfort

Radiostatic: You love the idea of someone being obsessed with you when you have no interest in them. You like to laugh at their, quite frankly, pathetic attempts to get you to notice them, and you're waiting for the day when the penny will drop and they'll realise that they are nothing to you, and never will be

Arackpentious: You have never cared about canon, and you don't intend to start now. You probably simp for Sir Pentious and use Arackniss as a self-insert. We know barely any canon information about him, so it's easy for you to project yourself onto him so that you can get doubly-dicked down by the Victorian snake man

Charlastor: You're all about the aesthetic. You got into this ship because there's an abundance of gorgeous fanart for it, even if there's no chance of them being together in canon. You don't care about that, however, because they look beautiful together and that's all that matters to you

Radiomimzy: You wish that the old canon of Mimzy being Alastor's girlfriend was still canon

Royalhalo: You hate Vaggie and you think that Charlie deserves better than her, and who better than the sugary sweet angel who was the first to hear Charlie out and argue in her favor when she found out the truth about the exterminations?

Cherridust: You are aggressively heterosexual and you believe that it is impossible for a man and a woman to be friends without one or both secretly harboring feelings for the other. You binge-read friends to lovers fics on Wattpad, and if a man so much as says hi to a woman, you will ship them

Cherrimoth: You like enemies to lovers, but in a bitch eating crackers kind of way. You either have a crush on someone that you love to hate from afar, or you want to fall in love with someone who hates you from afar

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antimony-medusa · 6 months ago

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*I emerge from several weeks of talking about conceptualizing my cubitos and who else populates their world and what the precise nature of the character is* Hello. Hi. It's time for my twice-yearly thoughts on RPF.

Okay so I was one of the people who was emailing Ao3 about it when we had all of MCYT wrangled into VBRPF going please please please please can we have our own server tags pleeeeeeease I promise it's not just video blogging rpf pleeeeeeease my streamer doesn't have wings in real life pleasssssseeee— and my general stance is that writing about Dream SMP characters is writing about characters, it's not RPF.

Not quite. It's not quite RPF. There is a meaningful distinction there, but it's not a really huge one. That distinction exists and is important to me in how I conceptualize those characters and whether I'm mentally going "okay I need to study lore streams for vocal patterns" for voice research or if I'm going "okay I need to pull up technocord logs " to get techno voice right. What I consider the authoritative canon "character" is a rp guy who spawns withers, not a real streamer in california with a little white dog.

But like I do multifandom exchanges and I wander into them with my cubitos clutched tight in my palms, and I see what other fandoms look like— and importantly, I see what other rpf fandoms look like— and guys, I think that line is legitimately blurry and I think that's literally fine. If I walk into a mulltfandom space with my guys they're going to squint at me and go "rpf fandom— kinda, I think" and I can go "hahaha, not quite", but also I do not blame other people for thinking this is RPF cause like— there are a lot of similarities!

What MCYT tends to classify as "RPF" is directly stories operating in a world where the characters are streamers, they post on twitter, they have lunch with the CEO of twitch. And anyone not writing that, is obviously not writing RPF. And that is not untrue, up to a point, but there is a broad category of fics that tend WAY harder into the pure fictional that are still considered RPF fandoms, if you actually check what other RPF fandoms are doing. There are 599 works in "Demon Shane Madej", many of which are in AUs that have no connection to the real world other than the character relationships, and they're still officially considered RPF.

I have a friend who's in a c-drama rpf fandom that has a rpf ship they really like, and a really popular thing is to take the various characters these actors have played (totally fictional characters from various media) and ship them together. And that's just a crossover of two fictional mediums, but because the thread connecting them is two guys in real life, that's considered RPF.

The banddom tags are absolutely COMPLETELY full of aus that are not set in the real world at all, no connection to the music industry, and what the people in those fandoms will say is like yeah, I have no idea about the real guy, I'm working with a character/persona who's put on for the stage and interviews and personas, and that guy is not REAL, who knows what the real guy is like, but like, I like the persona, I deal with the persona, and then they put that persona in an au where he kisses other personas— and this gets considered RPF.

Wrestler RPF is directly dealing with invented characters who are beating the bloody snot out of each other (hot), they have names like "the undertaker", dealing with scripted storylines, but it still get considered RPF.

And like, I look at myself as I am entering my third year of writing Technoblade most of the time, and what I'm doing here and— there are a lot of similarities in what I'm doing to what other RPF fandoms are doing. I'm a fan of the DSMP character but I'm also a fan of the guy, so I want to play in this extended universe, so I want to include nods to his other stuff. So I will pepper in a cheeky nod to the potato war here, I'll mention hypixel there, etc, kind of make an extended Technoblade universe. And I think that's not RPF (quite) because I'm working from a fictional canon that includes references to the potato war and hypixel etc, I'm just expanding on it, but like, this is literally what my friend in c-drama rpf does as well when she's writing aus about her guy. It's kind of close to RPF. That line is not really obvious to the casual viewer.

So I do not blame anyone else if they look at what we're doing and they go ah, nods wisely, you are a rpf fandom, I've seen this before, and we go um actually, hahah, you'd think that, but no, and then they nod and clearly do not understand how it's not a RPF fandom.

But the thing is it's literally fine if people think that, I think. RPF is not the end of the world. It's just a bunch of people working with people's various performancesonas and worksonas and having fun with it. Spoilers for mythbusters in the real world, but we now know that by the end of mythbusters adam and jamie were not really friends, but most of the mythbusters rpf keeps them as friends because that was the professional persona they provided for the camera, and that was the fictional world the writers wanted to live in. I don't think it's a problem if someone wants to write straight up streamer fic, you do you, and that's unequivocally RPF, but once you start getting into AUs and extended universes and bringing emduo content into qsmp and writing fic based on GIGS streams, the line legitimately gets WAY more blurry.

I think a bunch of fic (including my fic) can start to exist in a "both things are true" state where it's drawing from direct fiction but it's also drawing from a lot of stuff that other fandoms would consider RPF sources, and like, I don't mind this. I don't think it's bad if you're doing this too. We're not getting more DSMP content, the fandom police are not gonna turn up at your house if you want to pull strongly from minecraft monday for your fic. Do schlackity on QSMP. Do a DSMP extended future where tommy gets tubbo to marry him for a bit and then tubbo immediately demands a divorce. The canon of material we have to draw on is not something where big obvious lines exist between "rpf content" and "pure fiction" if you step at ALL outside of canon-compliant. Like fuck, in my very first DSMP longfic I included all these hermit cameos and mcc references which would make it RPF in any other canon, but also I was pulling mainly from the prison arc lore and beats and relationships for the core, which is NOT rpf, and at this point it is not worth the hassle in my head to draw a strong distinction between them.

It's kinda RPF. It's not quite RPF. It's fictional. It's based in the real world. It's all personas. it's drawing on off-lore-stream dynamics. It's drawing on scripted scenes where my streamer had his camera in lore mode. It's COMPLICATED to unpick and I legitimately think that's fine. RPF is literally fine, some people are gonna think we're writing RPF, it's not the end of the world. Just have fun with it.

#fandom meta #dsmp

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chaithetics · 7 months ago

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GIRLLLL OMGGGG YOUR MONEKY MAN FIC HELLO?? HELLOOOO???? so good. i just came back from watching it and wtf. now that is how u direct and that is how u make a profound film. (i’m glazing him and this film so hard but idc i just want 1 chance dev PLS JUST GIMME 1 ONE IS ALL I NEED) also r u indian? cuz when i saw the “jaan” i read it it in his voice and my knees literally almost hit the ground like i was like 😧🌚😜😍🤭🤭😋😋🤤🥰 the whole time!!! if i may, can i request another monkey man fic/drabble/whatever u wanna make it but it’s about how they met? basically like a backstory on how they met and got together. thank youuu! 🫶🏽

Blood-Stained Meetings, Nauseous Introductions

Pairing: Kid (Monkey Man) x reader Word count: 2.6K Warnings: 18+ MDNI, mentions of anxiety, injuries/blood, longing, reader has no physical description, a kiss, no smut. Not proof or beta read. A/N: Hey lovely Nonnie, so glad you enjoyed the film! It's so good! Dev Patel is so talented. I hope you and everyone else reading this and in the fandom enjoys this fic! 🫶(Please do and validate me, I'm scared it's TERRIBLE and I'm not happy with this, genuinely terrified lol) Comments, reblogs etc. are always more than appreciated and encouraged! Enjoy 🥰 Gif by @junkfoodcinemas Somewhat inspired by an old chat with the talented @mittos about how reader would probably hate seeing him fight, and tagging @lialilalo because I feel bad about ending up taking a week to get this out since your ask!

Sure, there were probably worse ways to spend a Friday night, but you also knew that there were definitely much better ways to spend a Friday night as well. But you simply weren’t the kind of person who did better things on a Friday night, that wasn’t in your DNA. Obviously. This was your brother's idea of fun after all.

It didn’t surprise you that this was how your adult brother wanted to spend the start to his weekend and drag you along, or that this was a frequent pastime of his. It didn’t mean that it horrified you any less though.

You’d sighed and dreaded this for hours, days probably, subconsciously.

Yet, you still were here. You’d changed out of your work clothes for this, you’d tried to make yourself as presentable as possible when you knew it was an effort you’d see reflected in your brother. You were dreading leaving your home and having to blend into the sea of bloodthirsty betters you were about to find yourself in.

You walk with your brother and one of his friends into the building, it’s large and crowded. Everyone is packed in like sardines as they yell about what odds they’re betting on, who’s the biggest and strongest, who’s the most nimble-footed and quickest, and who is the immediate runt of the competitors. You can already feel yourself becoming stressed, at this environment. You don’t understand the appeal of this but you understand how it can become a reality with the world that you’re all in.

The heat stings your face like a slap, as you stand there, close to your brother so you don’t get split up in this sea and he rambles in your ear about who he placed a bet on, how they usually do. All of the information that seems so important in a moment like this to everyone else. But you’ve seen enough blood, you don’t need to be fascinated by people getting bloodied up like this. It’s a privilege that you’ve been able to avoid this your whole life.

If you were seeing this at home, or if it wasn’t so packed in here tonight, you’d feel a little less self-conscious. And if you felt a little less self-conscious, you’d be chewing on your nails, all the way down to the nail bed. Until you felt the all too familiar sting of going too far. You give your hand a little shake to try and get rid of that urge, now’s not the place or time to wear your nerves on your sleeve. So instead, you try to offer up a small smile to your brother as he leads you to a spot on some benches nearby.

The bench is relatively close to the ring, but it’s good, you’re already overstimulated and trying to make it up further to higher seats isn’t an idea that agrees with you right now, and it surely promises you a quick exit if needed. You look around, the dim lighting further adds to everything, your eyes scan the faces of those in the crowd and you look out at the ring. It’s big, you think, but you’re not sure if it’s a standard size or not for this sport.

An announcer enters the ring, he looks sleazy and has a large, sly smirk pasted onto his face, one that makes you uncomfortable. You look at your brother to try and share a knowing glance but he’s focused on what’s in front of you both. You let out a quiet sigh as you tilt your head back to focus on what’s in front of you.

The announcer opens his mouth and he speaks in a South African accent, that surprises you and you can’t help but look at your brother again. He announces himself as Tiger. This night is already so random, and you have a feeling that it’s only going to get more wild.

“He’s the owner.” Your brother says as he tilts his head to whisper loudly in your ear. You can hear him over the whooping, clapping, and chants that have started. You nod as you look back at the ring, trying to pay attention to what you’re going to soon witness. Despite how overwhelming it all is.

Tiger then introduces a fighter who’s dressed to almost look like a reptile, he’s introduced as King Kobra and gets a warm, adoring welcome from the audience with thunderous applause and cheers. You don’t clap as you can’t help but look around instead, taking it all in. It’s a lot and there’s so many people here, here just for this.

Tiger then starts to introduce King Kobra’s opponent, his voice changes and it’s tinged with an antagonising disgust, he’s clearly trying to rile the audience up into booing, and not rooting for whoever it is. You can’t help but feel your curiosity grow at that. It feels childlike how it’s said, but you see the audience respond just as Tiger wishes. The opponent is Monkey Man, he quickly comes out and makes his way into the ring. He moves quickly and he bounces on his feet for a moment as he gets further into the zone. He stands there, waiting for the noise to confirm it’s the start, the start of a fight where he can maybe get one or two punches in before he has to keel over for his pay. Pay that he’ll probably have to bargain for.

He stands in the ring and he can’t help but spend a second focusing on the face he sees in the front row. Kid is sure he hasn’t seen that face here before, it’s a pretty face, but he can’t help but notice the anxiety pooled in those eyes or your body language. He tilts his head slightly, it doesn’t seem to be the kind of anxiety some of the gamblers here have before the match, the ones who are risking it all for an expensive thrill and painful rush, to live vicariously through him and the other men adorned in animal masks and names.

Kid turns his head away from you and tries to focus back on his work. You don’t even notice that the man in the ring has been staring at you, taking you and your nerves in for a few, long but oh so short seconds.. How could you? With that mask? You can’t see his face, but you can see there’s a lanky figure standing there, hiding under the mask and donning the monkey man mantle. He’s tall and slender but you can see there’s some muscle on his arms, from what you can see of the sweat and blood-stained undershirt he wears, his chest is toned as well.

You don’t know it yet, but you can feel something realign, change in this moment. You’re just not sure what it is, or if this feeling is even real, or if it’s just another symptom of somatic anxiety. Right now, you think it’s probably just that.

After almost another minute of the crowd booing Monkey Man and chanting out for the King Kobra, the match begins. Each of the men takes a moment to size the other one up, watching the other’s moves before the first hit lands. It’s King Kobra, he strikes Monkey Man.

King Kobra goes to throw another punch, he moves quickly and he’s very agile, yet Monkey Man somehow dodges this one. His landing with the dodge isn’t perfect, but it gets him out of the way. He throws a punch to King Kobra and the crowd erupts into boos at that. It’s even more louder and clearer than before who they’re all rooting for and aren’t. The crowd’s response seems to motivate King Kobra as he quickly moves and starts to deliver blow after blow.

You barely feel the noise of the crowd’s screams of joy and cheers as this happens and King Kobra gets his footing back. Your eyes widen as you watch, you see blood starting to fall as Monkey Man loses his way in this match.

You let out a gasp as he falls to the ground. King Kobra slithers around the ring, posing and feeding off of the crowd’s response before he goes in for the kill shot. He delivers it and you feel yourself slightly jump. It’s terrifying to you, you don’t see the appeal in this, you can only start to mentally list off all of the physical trauma this causes. You sigh as you watch King Kobra be declared the winner of this match, it sounds like a recurring event, you gaze over at your brother who looks ahead with a large smile of awe, obviously happy with whatever return he’s getting on the bets he’d made beforehand

Monkey Man slowly tries to limp his way out of the ring and backstage, you look at your brother and quickly whisper that you need to check on this man. You have to, it’s basically a moral and ethical obligation. Your brother sighs and nods, you quickly move off of the bench and it doesn’t take much for you to catch up to this masked man. “How are you feeling? I’m a nurse.” You say to him and he nods slowly, you can hear his ragged pants from under the mask, the mask is drenched in sweat along with the rest of his body.

As you slowly walk backstage with him to the locker room that’s pungent with the sweat of costumed men masquerading as animals and characters you’d find in The Ramayana. There’s blood stains visible throughout the floors and walls, and you can taste the copper of the crimson in the air, impossibly so. You don’t know how but you can. You ignore these other bodies floating in your periphery as you walk to a sink with the Monkey Man, he leads the way, naturally.

As you approach the sink together he immediately puts his hands on the edge and spits out a thick string of blood, you’re used to seeing blood but in this context, you can’t help but feel your nose screw up a little. It’s awful.

He tilts his head to look up at you, your eyes meet him and you offer him a small smile and give him your name. He looks at you, taking in the way that your lips curl up and how they do so genuinely. He gives a small nod, one you’d have missed if you’d blinked just a few seconds earlier. He just tells you that his nickname is Kid. Maybe he’s been fighting since he was very young. You don’t ask. Not yet.

You turn the faucet on at the sink, to try and wash his blood away so that you can start trying to clean the damage of tonight’s fight, off of him.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, he knows you’re not the type of person to come to these events. You’re not a regular and it’s clear from your face, you’re not a fan of these displays of violence.

“My brother. It’s his birthday this weekend.” You say quietly as you wipe the blood off. “Have you broken your nose?” He looks up at you with a small smile, it makes sense. Your brother was probably the man beside you, he thinks. Kid can’t quite remember his face. He then shrugs at your question. His nose doesn’t feel too bad right now, but he knows he’s probably broken it at some stage.

“You’re not sure?” You ask him, he shakes his head. You immediately notice how quiet he is, but despite his silence, his eyes are so reactive and expressive that you feel like you know more than what his words could give you.

“Do you have issues breathing? It doesn’t look bad, there’s just a small scar there. They often heal pretty well on their own.” You say as if to reassure him, even though you know that it probably isn’t something that would bother him. There wouldn’t be much he could do now anyway about that. You don’t like that thought.

Kid stays there perfectly still as your stomach is now over its nausea and your hand touches his skin so gently as you try to offer him some kindness, some respect, some dignity, some simple compassion and care. His eyes soften as he realises that and looks up at you. There’s a glow from within you, even in the artificial lighting of the locker room and it’s easy for him to block out the chaos in here and focus on your gentleness.

He’s barely ever touched, except for when a blow hits in a match, it’s never this gently. He doesn’t even know how to show himself that level of care when he bandages himself up at the end of each night that he fights.

There’s not much of a conversation as you bandage him up but somehow, you don’t really notice it and it’s completely okay with you. There’s a comfort in his quietness, his stillness. It’s one he finds in you as well, perfectly requited. You put a hand on his arm gently as you just finished putting a bandage on him. He takes your hand slowly, and he examines it. You’ve never had someone look at your hair, analysing every hair on your knuckles and by your wrist. It’s a unique way to be seen. He then takes your hand and gently turns it over, taking his time as he does. Kid looks at your palm, at all the lines on it and his eyes follow and travel amongst every single last one. A million lifetimes. A million dreams. He runs his finger along them, just to confirm as he thinks about the roots of your skin, how they run along to the softness and travel over calluses. “That’s your future.” He says softly as he looks at your hand, running his fingers along the lines. He then looks up at you, and his big, beautiful brown eyes meet your orbs. “It’s your past, everything.” You’re not sure what it is that he sees. You’d like to know but you also think you’d be content living without that and just his opinion on everything else in the world. But still, you want to see with his eyes.His fingers stop running over your palm and you feel your cheeks heat up at the intensity of this, his eyes have softened and there’s something else there. Something you don’t quite know. Is it longing? You’re not sure. You feel a deep, soul-aching longing, he does as well and always has. You just haven’t arrived at the stop yet for that to be communicated with words. Now all there is just looks, longing looks from a man with the most beautiful big, brown eyes in the world. You could melt in them, swim in them, drown in them. All of the above and you’d never complain.

You don’t know who makes the first move first, it just feels natural, like gravity. Some kind of natural force that slowly pulls your lips together that you both know is right. His hand gently cups your cheek as you feel his lips. They’re slightly chapped but you don’t mind. The kiss is soft and delicate and you like it. You need it and so does he. Everything feels so natural right now. Perhaps this is something he saw in the palm of your hand. You don’t know what it is yet, but you’re certain that this mask-wearing monkey man is part of that future he just talked about.

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the-one-who-lambs · 1 year ago

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uhh hello!! sorry if this is a tall order LOL but I wanna ask, do you have any narilamb fanfic recs? :D I already read yours and I really like bamsara’s and I’m waiting for epicaandk’s to update (that one is my fav ever <3) but idk what to read now lol

Tall order?? Naaaaah, I'm always happy to give recs. Oh boy, I'm gonna go in reverse chronological order.

If you've read all of my narilamb fics (have you seriously? I'm impressed, that's probably well over half the 150k+ I've written for this damn fandom. Also, to anyone seeing this from a reblog, my stuff is over at onethirdofimpossible!) then here we go!

You already mentioned it, but The Rehabilitation of Death is excellent so far! This one is by @bamsara who is new to the CotL fandom but apparently not new to fanfic writing; they have a really popular FNAF fic and I assume the well-deserved attention this fic's been getting is a byproduct of the popularity they've already gotten in other fandoms. :D Welcome, bamsara! Many of the fic writers in this fandom are friends with each other already, but we don't bite if you wanna say hi.

Feel No Evil and Language Barrier, both by @payasita. I always love how payasita portrays this duo (in both digital art and writing), with so much sass and repressed loneliness, knowing they're stuck together for eternity and making the best of it. (And maybe falling in love, depending on how dense Narinder keeps being.) What makes these come alive for me is how well thought out the setting is outside the Lamb and Narinder. The descriptions and weight of emotions really pop here.

LITERALLY ANYTHING written by pavi / @i-eat-deodorant. Depending on how spicy you want your fics to be he has even more here. Character analysis, diction, pacing, etc. are consistently 10/10. Top-quality banter between a sassy Lamb and tired old man Narinder. We constantly bounce ideas off each other and inspire each other a lot but I promise I'm not hyping him up just because he's my friend oh my god please just go bless your eyes.

It Was For You, O Death by blueberry-muffin-massacre (if they have a tumblr, let me know so I can tag!). An intriguing alternative ending to the final battle wherein the Lamb chooses a secret third option by refusing to give up the Red Crown and still observing Narinder as the God of Death. So many details are so well thought out and duality their relationship is nicely characterized-- both genuine care for each other and also quite unhealthy. A fine line treaded well!

Confessional by jusmove (again, lmk if they have a tumblr). Been a while since I've read it, but I love how the Lamb chips at Narinder's very carefully built emotional walls. Their personalities are very well fleshed out here, especially Narinder's cognitive dissonance at being able to process love.

Confession by @thewitchoftheweed. I didn't expect a part two to this one, but my god I was so thrilled when it did update. Narinder and Lamb with their unique and parallel loneliness and their fucked-up sense of everything. Their relationship is very rocky here, and I love how they navigate it: with tension and eventual, pained acceptance. Mind the rating.

Of Character Development and Being Dense by @calliecature. A short and sweet narilamb classic. They're both mutually pining and one of them is too emotionally repressed to realize it. Guess who.

Not An Offering, But a Gift by @checkplzjuliet. Small confession fic. I especially love how Narinder's descriptions twist the knife of his situation here, and how Lambert is a total foil for him! There are a lot of good things happening in such a short span, which is impressive.

Also, if you think you've read all my narilamb fics... I do have a secret one out there too. Just so you know.

Happy reading!

I'm already friends with many of the people here, but if any of the writers I've tagged have been kinda wanting to reach out for a while but feel a little anxious... Don't be. I've made my best friends in this fandom by literally just waiting for some of my readers to get over whatever assumption they have that I'm cool and say hi. Or being the more confident one first.

#hannah's rambles #cult of the lamb #narilamb #cotl #fanfic #fic rec

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pastafossa · 3 months ago

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🌊TUNA-TOBER🌊 PROMPT CHALLENGE 2024 🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟

Hello friends! So last month I realized that one of the reasons I'm struggling to get my writing back up to my old speed is I am seriously out of practice since Dec/Jan when shit went down and I stopped writing for a while. After some thought, I decided I was gonna set up a little prompt challenge for myself, just a general, 'here's a prompt a day' thing for about a month. And I tossed this idea out onto my fave Daredevil discord server to see if anyone would want to join. And I'm happy to say there were takers, including some of my favorite writers in the fandom! So I've set up a delicious prompt challenge for all of us, and for anyone else who wants to take part.

For each day in October, there are three prompts: an 🌧️angst/whump prompt🌧️, a 🌻fluff prompt🌻, and a 🔥kink prompt🔥. Participants are free to choose which one of the prompts they want to write or make art of, or they can try to incorporate two, or even all three prompts into a single fic or art piece. They can write a short fic/make art every day, or just on whichever days they feel like (personally I'm going to shoot for one fic a day, but we'll see), or even incorporate those prompts into the chapters of longer fics. There are also four 'backup' prompt options for each category in case anyone hits a day or prompt where they aren't really feeling what's available on the chosen day. If any of these prompts inspire you, you can feel free to take on the Tuna-Tober challenge even if you're not in the server! This challenge is also not fandom-specific (although I have a feeling I'm mostly gonna write Charlie Cox characters, a surprise to precisely zero people, but again, we'll see).

Sometime this week, I'll be setting up a sideblog specifically for Tuna-Tober. That sideblog blog will reblog any Tuna-Tober fics/art or link to those fics that are posted on Ao3 so they'll all be easy to find. That blog will also have instructions for how to tag your Tuna-Tober fics and/or art pieces. If you'd like to be notified when that sideblog is up so you can follow it, let me know in the comments.

Without further ado: our Tuna-Tober prompts!

🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟

Day 1: Falling Asleep In A Hospital Room ⚜ Reading To Each Other ⚜ Somnophilia

Day 2: “Why? Why do you love me?” ⚜ Flower Crowns ⚜ Mutual Masturbation

Day 3: Broken ⚜ “I feel real when i’m with you.” ⚜ Role Reversal

Day 4: “This isn’t you.” ⚜ “Are you blushing?” ⚜ Sixty-Nine

Day 5: Self-Loathing ⚜ Watergun Fight ⚜ Begging

Day 6: "Shh, I've got you now. I'm here." ⚜ Love Bites ⚜ “Spread your legs for me.”

Day 7: Nightmare ⚜ Honest Apology ⚜ Nothing Underneath

Day 8: Shaking ⚜ “You can sleep here tonight.” ⚜ Overstimulation

Day 9: Anxiety ⚜ “You don’t need to do that.” “I want to.” ⚜ “Open your mouth.”

Day 10: "I'm not good enough." ⚜ A Hug That Lasts A Little Too Long ⚜ Strap-on/Pegging

Day 11: Tears ⚜ “I’d be lost without you.” ⚜ Breast Worship

Day 12: "I did it for you.” ⚜ “You remembered?” ⚜ Deep-Throating

Day 13: Loneliness ⚜ Playful Kiss ⚜ “Beg me for it.”

Day 14: "Please look at me." ⚜ Sleep Talking ⚜ Accidental Stimulation

Day 15: Hiding An Injury ⚜ “Are you jealous?” ⚜ Threesome

Day 16: Exhaustion ⚜ Accidental Kiss ⚜ Against A Window

Day 17: "I'm not leaving you." ⚜ Tickling ⚜ “Touch yourself for me.”

Day 18: Scars ⚜ Pillow Fort ⚜ “I’m so proud of you, you’re taking me so well.”

Day 19: Touch starved ⚜ “I’ll always be there for you.” ⚜ Gags

Day 20: "Who did this to you?" ⚜ There Was Only One Bed ⚜ “You were made for me, weren’t you?”

Day 21: Fainting/Collapsing ⚜ Flustered ⚜ “Was that an order?”

Day 22: "You haven't done anything wrong." ⚜ Breathless Kiss ⚜ Aphrodisiacs

Day 23: Father ⚜ “If you won’t take care of yourself, I will.” ⚜ Toys

Day 24: Drugged ⚜ Drunken Confession ⚜ “Shh, do you want them to hear us?”

Day 25: "What's Wrong?" ⚜ Playing With Their Hair ⚜ “Did I say you could do that?”

Day 26: "You're not fine." ⚜ “Shut up and kiss me.” ⚜ Under The Desk

Day 27: Near Death Experience ⚜ Overheard Confession ⚜ “Let me see what that pretty mouth can do.”

Day 28: Chronic Pain ⚜ Sharing An Umbrella ⚜ Hair Pulling

Day 29: "Talk to me, please." ⚜ Forehead Kiss ⚜ Restraints

Day 30: Healing ⚜ Road Trip ⚜ “Take it off. Slowly.”

Day 31: "Why wasn't I enough?" ⚜ Blanket Hog ⚜ Stockings/Thigh Highs

🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟

🌊Tuna-Tober🌊 Backup Prompts:

Bound/Chained ⚜ Moving In Together ⚜ Almost Getting Caught

"Take me instead." ⚜ “I’m in love with you, and that scares me.” ⚜ High Heels

Insomnia ⚜ Adopting A Pet ⚜ Scent Marking

"You're not alone." ⚜ Playing A Game Together ⚜ Ass Worship

🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟

#Tuna-Tober Prompt Challenge 2024 #Tuna-Tober #Prompt List #Promptober #I am going to have FUN WITH THIS #and i think the other writers and artists will too!#i really do just need a prompt sprint to kinda get my brain back in gear and i've had luck with this in the past #fic #fanfic #also knowing me it'll mostly be charlie cox characters but we'll see who else pops up #spawned because i always struggle choosing between kinktober and flufftober and whumptober #like what if i want a chance to do all of those in one month #although now my hardest part of the challenge might be choosing which to do when i like ALL the prompts of the day #but they don't all work in a single drabble fic #WHO KNOWS. LET'S DO THIS. I AM READY FOR OCTOBER

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landoscar-fest · 11 days ago

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Hello and welcome to the very first Landoscar Fest!

We've had the pleasure of these two idiots (affectionate) as teammates for two whole seasons now and have been provided with plenty of material both on and off the track to fuel our imaginations.

Ever thought of an idea that you wish you had the time to write? Or hoped there was fic out there that fit that exact situation you're craving to see Landoscar in? Or wanted to see how others would write our boys in a well-loved trope? Well, that is what this fest is for!

What better way to spend this upcoming winter break than to share these ideas and prompts with others, all the while picking up ones that might catch your eye.

Read on for more details!

Landoscar Fest AO3 Collection

By clicking on the link above, you will be able to sign up for this fest, submit your own prompts, claim prompts, and see how the fest is growing!

This collection is where all prompts will be kept to be claimed, and where all prompt filled fics will be collated.

Schedule

Prompt Fill Fics Due: February 4th

Collection Reveal: February 10th

FAQs

How does this fest work?

This fest is a prompt fest, meaning fest participants are able to add prompts to the collection on AO3 for fics they would like to see written. Fest participants are able to peruse the prompts being posted and claim the one(s) that tickle their fancy and motivates their muses.

Is there a minimum/maximum word count for the prompt fills?

Although we don't want to police this fest too harshly, we would recommend a minimum of 1000 words per prompt fill fic. There is no maximum limit.

Can I claim more than one prompt?

Yes, of course!! All we ask is for writers to remember that readers always prefer quality over quantity, so please keep this in mind and don't overwork yourselves with too many prompts!

Can I write more than one prompt fill?

Yes, but please make sure each prompt fill has its own fic to be fair to the prompter.

Why are the prompts anonymous?

We have kept the prompts and claims anonymous for fairness and to encourage newbies to the fandom or to writing to do so without any expectation. Lets even the playing field and have some fun! (Don't worry, your posted prompt fill fics won't be anonymous!)

Can I tell an author that they have fulfilled my prompt?

Yes, of course! In fact, we would love it if prompters left a comment on the fic(s) to let the author know it was then who sent in the prompt, and what they thought of the fic!

Can my prompt fills contain other ships?

As this is a Landoscar fest, they should be the main ship of your prompt fill. But yes, other ships and characters can be featured as background characters/relationships

I want to take part but none of the prompts are calling me. Can I still take part?

We hope that the prompts that are submitted by the fest participants will be varied enough for everyone to find at least one they vibe with. However we understand that this isn't always possible so we have added a few vague, starter prompts just in case. If you are still having an issue, please reach out and we'll see what we can do!

What if my prompt fill isn't complete by the due date (February 4th)?

Please do not worry and let us know as soon as you realise that you won't be able to make the deadline. We will see what we can do to help :)

Any more questions? Please feel free to send us an ask or a DM!

Rules

This is an easy-going fest. We don't have many rules but please keep the following in mind:

Please be mindful with how your prompts are worded and to avoid anything excessively explicit.

If you have any triggers, squicks or DNWs (do not wants), please state these in your prompt request.

Don't forget to tag your prompt fill fics with the appropriate tags so they're easy to find.

If your prompt is filled, don't forget to leave a lovely little comment to let them know how much you appreciate their hard work!

Please keep in mind that this is a Landoscar-focused fest.

And most importantly, have fun! 🧡

(psst, don't forget to sign up!)

#landoscar fest #landoscar #lando norris #oscar piastri #814 #f1 #formula 1 #f1 rpf

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mirnilop · 1 year ago

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𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝑜𝓁𝑒 𝒹𝑒𝓋𝒾𝓁 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 ˚₊·͟͟͟͟͟͟͞͞͞͞͞͞➳❥ wally darling

⚠ tags: sfw, mob au, yandere!wally, gn!singer!reader, power imbalance, discussions of violence

♡ synopsis: you’d be surprised how many fans you accrue as a small-time lounge singer. while this is usually a good thing, one of yours happens to rule half the city, so he isn’t exactly receptive to the word “no”.

♡ word count: 5,310

⛧ﾐ‧*･ﾟ the following content may be triggering to some. please proceed with caution! ･ﾟ*‧ミ⛧

a/n: hello!! ₍ᐢ.ˬ.⑅ᐢ₎ goshh, my very first post on this acc!! i haven’t posted fanfic in a hot minute but i’m suuuper excited to get back into it!! 💞 i have sooo many wips for this fandom, it was difficult to choose which one to finish first! credit to @/clownsuu for creating the au and for the lovely art!! i tweaked the concept a wee bit so that it takes place in a roger rabbit-esque world where puppets and humans live together unharmoniously (with a jessica rabbit inspired reader ofc >v>). it was a lot of fun trying to marry wally's canon personality with a Scary Mob Boss (*´ 艸`) i can't wait to post more!! what are y'all's favourite aus? let me know!! ･*･:≡(　ε:)

There’s a rose on your vanity.

The sight of it snuffs out your high spirits, irritation igniting in its place– and it was such a good day, too! You and the girls were perfectly in sync for your entire performance, bolstered by the unusually affable audience; you even rewarded them with a sneak peek of new material, which made them go wild!

Dreams of stomping it beneath your heel stew in your head as you drop it in the faience vase at the rim of the mirror, where a crinkled, beige-tipped rose droops against the rim. Why not break the vase too? An idea that’s crossed your mind too many times, and while it gets harder to resist with each flower, you endure it. They’re presents, after all, and you doubt your admirer would take kindly to the news that you’ve trashed them. You’re certain one of his minions would obtain the evidence, if not witness you do it; you can’t pinpoint the extent to which they survey you, but the crawling sensation of eyes on your back crops up often, and obviously they have no problem barging into your dressing room to play delivery service.

Sighing, you comb through your rolling rack to pick a suitable outfit to change into. Most of the articles hanging are also gifts, but you’ve made sure to keep some of your own hard-earned clothes here out of sheer spite. A burgundy cashmere number has just slipped into your grasp when the door bursts open.

“How’s that for a show?! And what a great crowd, a whole buncha dolls! Or– well, puppets– and humans! Hahaha!”

Lottie skips in with her usual energy, the bell on her collar jingling alongside the clack of her Mary Janes. You hate that their manager mandates the bells as a part of their costumes, as if puppets being treated like second-class citizens wasn’t enough. “You wanna make money or not? It’s part of the appeal! You know, Mary Had A Little Lamb and all that!” is what he told you after one of your countless tirades regarding his treatment of them, but the sleazy smirk wrapped around his cheap cigarette allowed you to read between the lines. As much as you despise that man, it’s not your business to judge the trio for staying contracted with him. Mottie’s recalled to you how difficult it was to hire a manager at all, and you suppose you have to (begrudgingly) thank him for bringing them into your life, since he’s the one who bagged them the backup singer gig.

A swell of color in your peripheral lets you know that she’s come near, but you don’t bother diverting attention from your search. This is such a common occurrence between you two that pleasantries are no longer required.

“And they were mighty generous with the tips! So me and the gals was thinking we should go somewhere to… celebrate…”

Hearing her trail off, you turn to find her staring at the new rose, her once-perky ears fallen limp. You click your tongue, remorse prickling your heart, though you’ve done nothing wrong.

“I’ll be alright, Lottie. Here,” You grab a wad of bills from your personal tip jar and fold them into her hand. “You take your sisters somewhere nice, my treat. As an apology for having to skip out tonight.”

When she doesn’t move from her spot, merely pouting at you with big, glistening eyes full of concern, you swaddle her in a hug. Fleecy strands of shell pink hair tickle your nose as she nestles her snout into your shoulder, squeezing you like a lifebuoy. Having her in your arms is a vital reminder as to why you continue to put up with everything. Lottie, Dottie and Mottie are your beloved friends– your family when you had none– and you are willing to do whatever is necessary to build a life with them.

“Are ya sure?”

“Positive. And if that bug gives you even a whiff of trouble, you come get me right away, got it?”

She laughs, the sound a balm to the ache of your worries. “He never gives us any trouble– n’fact, I haven’t heard ‘im say a single word!”

“Good. At least one of them has manners. Now go have fun!”

After a few more hugs and a promise to relay your apology to her sisters, she trots towards the entrance. Halfway through it, she pauses.

“Promise ya’ll play nice?”

An involuntary grimace twists your face, which you smooth immediately.

“I was planning on it,” you concede, earning an exhale of relief from Lottie.

“Thanks. Honestly, I’m kinda worried...” She leans against the doorframe, gaze trained on the checkered floor. “I see more and more of that Napoleon-wannabe’s goons lately. Do ya think he’s gettin’ antsy? It’s been real quiet since that incident with Dorelaine.”

Ah, the incident. It happened a handful of months ago; he refused to go into specifics, but what you’ve gathered from his gnomic recount and various news stories is that their rival organization– led by Ronald Dorelaine, a human man– planted explosives somewhere important, racking up thousands in damages and dismembering several puppets, left to be mended with those horrific stitches. You didn’t receive another rose until several weeks afterwards.

“I can’t be sure,” you admit. “He doesn’t tell me much about the goings-on of the ‘family’, not that I care to know. But I noticed he’s been more wound up lately… maybe they’re going to retaliate?”

A visible shudder travels through Lottie, and she tosses her head as if to ward off the gravity of your predicament. It was easier to ignore the implications when there wasn’t an active turf battle.

“You’re right, we should stay as far as we can from that nasty business. Wear the red, then. To butter ‘im up a little.” She offers you a conflicted half-smile, most likely holding herself back from proposing a makeover, before sidling out the door.

Glowering, you follow the advice, shucking your tight, shimmering stage outfit for the cozy cashmere you were eyeing before. Like I need to be reminded of his favorite color. I’ve practically lived in red since I met him. It inexplicably fits like a glove, as do all of the clothes you've been bestowed; for the sake of your sanity, you prevent yourself from delving too far into that subject.

As you fix the little bits of your appearance that got mussed up during your performance, you can’t help but contemplate hiding in your room until morning, even though you know it wouldn’t work– and you’d have to pay for a broken front door. Once every speck of lint has been removed and your ensemble is flawless, you steel your resolve with a hard look in the mirror. If things go south, at least you’ll make a gorgeous open casket.

You step into your shoes and out of the dressing room, swiping your bag and a matching hat from the plethora that dangle on knobs affixed to the wall along the way. The haze that eternally permeates the lounge envelops you as you walk, no longer springing tears to your eyes like it did so long ago, when you were a starry-eyed fledgling. Upon entering the foyer, you call out to the owner, Gene, who’s counting the register behind the bar.

“Hey, I’m heading out!”

“Geez, you’re in a hurry! Got a hot date or what?”

“Something like that,” you breathe, your nerves relighting tenfold now that you’re so close to the outside.

“Ahh, I getcha.” His amusement is clear, construing an innuendo within your words that is absolutely not there, but you’d rather die than clarify. “You did a great job today, you deserve it!”

Somehow, your admirer has managed to limbo directly under Gene’s nose; thus far he’s made no indication that he’s aware he has a very important patron. For a moment, you observe him, and see how he absentmindedly rubs the pocket of his button-up– where a polaroid of his two children is safely tucked away– and you decide that it’s probably for the best.

“Thanks, Gene. Have a good one.”

“You too!”

His reply barely reaches you as you cross the threshold from the comfort of your work into the cold, pensive night. A luckier soul may have suffered a fright when greeted with the colossal figure standing below the street light, carved with shadow, but it’s a familiar sight to you now. An inconspicuous black car is parked behind him.

“Hi Howdy.”

“Evening, Mx.” He bows slightly, whisking open the sleek passenger door which you reluctantly slide inside.

“I wish you’d stop calling me that. I do have a name.” It’s true. Being addressed formally by such an important figure imbues you a with a sick feeling, like he’s won, and you’ve already been initiated into this fucked up institution.

Though he waits for you to finish speaking before shutting you in, he doesn’t grace you with a response; not that you were expecting one. In all the times he’s escorted you to these duress-dates, as you’ve taken to calling them, he’s remained stoic to a mechanical degree, acknowledging your presence and nothing more. Thrashing, crying, screaming– you’ve tried everything to escape, and have never elicited a reaction more severe than that of a tired parent handling a tantrum. If you resist, he simply manhandles you. It’s hardly a fair match, with him having 4 arms and several feet of height on you, so you opt to reserve your energy for dealing with his headache of a boss.

When he hauls his many limbs onto the driver’s seat, the car lurches, too small to accommodate a puppet of his stature; he has to hunch forward to see the windshield, antennae pushed flat. You lean back and vacantly turn towards the window, wondering if cars big enough for someone like him to drive comfortably even exist while the engine rumbles to life.

The umbrous cityscape passes you by, inklings of humans and puppets flashing in and out of the darkness like ghosts. Thick boughs of red and green tinsel are strung across a few lamp posts, but by the end of the season they’ll all be covered. Dottie’s already triple checked that you and her sisters have one day of the annual Christmas market off, even though you strike the same deal with Gene every year; the four of you get Saturday, then he gets Sunday to take his family. It’s one of your favorite times of the year, if only because you get to experience the aura of wonder that enlivens Lottie when the first snow falls, Mottie’s timid wheedling to attend The Nutcracker, and Dottie’s alphabetically-organized checklist of fun winter activities.

Those cheerful thoughts are wiped away as Howdy turns into a private garage attached to a sleek, angular skyscraper. He parks in the spot nearest to the entrance, the first in a row of spaces labeled with metal “Reserved for Staff” signs, and circles the car to let you out. The sensation of him gingerly lifting you comes with no alarm; he always assists you up the concrete stairs leading to the elevator, as if you’re so physically inept you can’t handle 3 tiny steps. You assume his needless precaution is for the same reason he hasn’t beaten you yet despite defying him so often: boss’s orders.

With a reedy knell, the elevator glides open, and Howdy signals for you to go ahead. Once you’re both inside, he inserts a key and presses the button for the uppermost level. Expecting a noiseless ride, you tune into the low muzak emitting from the speakers, which makes you miss the first time he calls you.

“Mx.”

Startled, you swivel towards him. His steadfast profile is unreadable.

“Boss doesn’t know you’ve opposed him so vehemently in the past. Please keep that in mind tonight.”

The entrance broaches before you can interrogate him as to what the hell he means, granting you entry to a luxury penthouse laved in gold, ivory, and– of course– red. A glimmering chandelier suspends from the ornamental ceiling, bathing the antique furniture in an amber glow. If you hadn’t just ridden up the elevator, you would have assumed such a lavish drawing room belonged to an old mansion.

It’s something straight out of a romance novel, except instead of a chiseled, broody Italian, it’s a short puppet sitting at the marble-topped dining table. He lounges at the head in a slate blue silk suit with its jacket buttoned to the top; an honor seemingly reserved solely for you, because it’s the only way you’ve seen him wear it, despite street tales describing the way it billows from his shoulders as he stalks the town. Revealed by its plunged neckline is the collar of a white dress shirt embossed with rainbow pinstripes, and a red ascot neatly tied and pulled askant around his throat.

Wally Darling, in the felt: kingpin of The Neighborhood, and resident thorn in your side.

When you arrive, he rises to meet you, dismissing Howdy with a pointed glance; you’ve learned that the relationship between a crime lord and his loyal bandog transcends language. You watch him as he leaves through a pair of swinging doors to the left, his cryptic advice-slash-warning heavy on your mind.

And so, you find yourself alone with the most dangerous man in the city– puppet or otherwise.

“Good evening, dearest. I hope my gift found you well.”

The concept of personal space might as well be Greek to Wally, since he hasn’t once respected it from the day you had the misfortune of making his acquaintance. He crowds so close that you have to crane your neck to see his face, the heat emanating from him eliciting shivers in your chill-soaked body.

“Yes, thank you. It was quite a lively night,” you chirp, wielding a civil smile.

Although the contours of his wispy, coiffed curls only reach your ribs, he extends his arm to you, which you take with such a featherlight hold that you barely brush his sleeve. Rather than leading you to the dining table like you expected, you’re guided towards a small lounge area to the side, the crackling croon of Billie Holiday wafting over from a refurbished stereo console in the corner. Oh, great. He’s feeling sentimental.

“Would you indulge me with a dance before dinner?”

Don't have much of a choice, do I?

“I’d love to.”

Dancing with Wally is funny, in an ironic sort of way; it certainly caught you off guard the first time he asked. When you envision dancing with a powerful, deadly mobster, you think of being swept away, wrapped snugly by strong arms and a dastardly smirk, or perhaps something more courtly, like a waltz steered by a polite hand on your waist. Turns out both versions are incorrect.

Muscle memory ushers your arms open, and Wally falls into the space in between them– literally. Slack against you, his full weight is heftier than his height would imply, but not physically uncomfortable– emotionally and morally, however, are another story. An air of pure peace washes over him as his cheek nuzzles the underside of your chest, arms limp at his sides; you swear you even hear a little trill. Your face burns, but you say nothing as you begin to sway faintly to the beat, tracing a loop with your feet as you traipse along. Wally follows easily, tethered by the reluctant cage of your embrace.

“Do you remember the night we met?”

The query is felt more than heard, his gentle monotone muffled by the downy fabric of your garb. You huff softly to yourself, rustling a few gel-slick strands atop his pompadour.

“How could I forget?”

The day the infamous Mr. Darling appeared in your club, his two largest henchmen in tow, is burned into your brain like a regrettable tattoo; Gene was off, so you were covering entertainment for the night while the sisters managed the bar and floor. As you were singing the very song playing now, you detected a curious hush that had overtaken the throng of guests, and strained to cut through the stage glare and cigarette fog to locate the cause. Tracking the audience, who were all regarding the bar with varying amounts of subtlety, you nearly dropped the microphone when you saw the broad blue back of Barnaby B. Beagle, someone you’d only heard of in gossip. He gesticulated as he spoke boisterously to poor Mottie, who was as white as a sheet behind the counter. Situated a slight ways away was Howdy Pillar, who stood as motionless as a statue with both sets of forelimbs fastened behind him.

And then you noticed him. A puppet no more than 4 feet tall, but whose oppressive presence commanded full attention. He paid no mind to the (one-sided) conversation between his colleague and your friend– no, he was staring right at you. Boring into you so acutely that you felt pinned, compelled somehow to continue singing until the final note trickled away.

As if a spell had been broken, you leapt from the platform and scurried to Mottie, who stayed petrified even when you tried to covertly nudge her to the side. How avidly you wished a fissure would open beneath their shoes and swallow them whole; but, armed with years of appeasing difficult and sordid customers, you spoke.

“Evening, fellas. I hope you enjoyed the show.”

Barnaby, who had stopped talking when you rounded the bar, bellowed a laugh.

“Fellas?! Is that any way to greet the boss and I?"

He tilted forward with menacing glee, propped up by furry elbows as his claws scraped the laminate countertop. Each of his fangs were as big as your nose.

"Dontcha know who we are, toots? Or do ya just need a refresher on respect?"

The acrid smoke from his cigar blew directly into your face, making spikes of anger bubble in your belly as you choked back a cough. Just when you felt composed enough to reply, a surprisingly mellow voice chimed in.

"It's alright, Barnaby."

The shock slacking his jaw mirrored yours, although you hid it under a mask of cool indifference. You dared a glance at Mr. Darling, but the pressure of his peer chased your gaze back to Barnaby, who grumbled as he straightened back up. It was difficult to stay trained on his good eye, but you soldiered on. Fear was not something you could afford to show, and you knew you'd crumble if you peeked at the fabled gaping socket that he stapled open himself.

"I don't suppose you're Gene Clifton, aged 54, father of two, owner of this joint?" He joked, recovered from the flub.

"No, sir, but my banker would sure be happy if I was. Can I take down a message?"

"A message! I love this bird!" Snickering cruelly, he waved a flippant paw. "Y'should try that material on stage sometime, might bring ya more customers than the singing bit."

You sucked a sharp inhale up your nose. Serenity now.

"See, here's the problem. This is family territory, and in return for our protection, we charge a teensy fee. Now, we ain't unreasonable– we've sent ole Gene a few letters. And what’s our thanks for such humble hospitality? Zilch."

Oh dear. Gene doesn't bother investigating any mail the lounge receives before tossing it because it’s typically adverts. He definitely would've noted The Neighborhood's seal if he did. Regardless, the frank abuse of power only fanned your annoyance, obscuring your better judgment.

"What protection? I don't recall seeing any of your members patrolling outside. Besides, we didn’t ask for protection."

Mottie snapped towards you, looking as though she might faint. The corner of Barnaby's mouth twitched skyward, like he was hoping you'd argue, but his boss beat him to the punch.

"We can reach an agreement, I’m sure. I'd hate to see a family establishment go under, especially when they have such lovely entertainment."

Apparently Wally was so smitten that he'd accept your company in lieu of money, and so the agreement (if you can even call it that, since you were coerced) was this– whenever a rose was delivered to you, you'd attend a rendezvous with him. When you returned to your dressing room later that evening, you discovered the first gift of several: your vase.

“I knew because of your eyes.”

The floral wallpaper in front of you shifts back into focus, Wally’s voice shaking you from your recollection.

“Pardon?”

“That night, you drew me in; I couldn’t concentrate on anything else, least of all a petty protection tax. And I knew I had to have you when I met your eyes.” He sounds dreamy, reminiscing as you were before, though his framing of events is worlds apart from your own; he recalls a destined encounter with his future partner, whereas you mark it the day your wings were clipped for good.

“They shone like stars, even through the smog.”

It’s only after he’s finished that you realize you’ve stopped moving, wrapped in an intimate hug like true lovers. A strange mix of pride and disgust floods you at the compliment, stomach flip-flopping rapidly.

He untangles from you, receding so that only your hands remain connected. The newfound distance eases some of your tension, but to your horror, you find yourself mourning the loss of the husky scent of his cologne. Loath as you are to admit it, the bastard smells amazing: a dark, leathery swirl of apples and saffron that you’d buy out if someone turned it into a candle.

“Let’s not delay any longer. You must be starving.”

True to his gentlemanly veneer, he seats you at the table before settling himself. You don’t see him call, but a server emerges immediately from the doors through which Howdy left with a tray of appetizers.

There are two graces you award Wally Darling: his excellent taste in cologne, and his staff’s Michelen-quality fare. Though they adopt the four courses typical of fine dining, the dishes are more grounded, toeing the border between grandma and Gordon Ramsay perfectly. Truthfully, you’re not even sure what to categorize it as; virtually everything is transfigured into a jello, pie, or salad, harkening back to the post-war cookbooks you used to gawk at as a child in your late mother’s library. The yellowed pictures in those books appeared extremely unappetizing, but somehow The Neighborhood makes it work.

It could be because of an illusive member named Poppy, one of the 7 who make up Wally’s illustrious inner circle. She’s scarcely seen due to her fretful and skittish nature, but Wally lauds her cooking and baking skills, regaling you in the past with plenty of kitchen mishaps that occurred when she tried to decompress by experimenting with recipes and was interrupted by their more excitable comrades. If you remember correctly, he once told you that most of the menus in rotation were created by her.

The nature of these duress-dates is wholly dependent on Wally’s mood– if he’s happy, then he’ll gladly chat your ear off about frivolous happenings in his and his friends’ private lives, though he takes care to be shrewd with any details that dive too deep into the murky underbelly lying just below. If he’s unhappy, then they can be utterly unbearable; his mere existence puts you on edge, so it’s exponentially worse when he’s out of sorts, tone curt and glare fierce.

Thankfully, he’s amiable tonight. The first 3 courses march on without incident, and painless conversation flows between the two of you, even if he does most of the talking– you’re not exactly eager to share more than you have to. It’s when the server presents dessert that things go awry.

“Say, how are those triplets you work with doing?” Wally says, spooning at the Bananas Foster. “I haven’t had the pleasure of catching a performance since our mishap a while back. So much paperwork, so little time, you know how it is.”

The mention of both your friends and the aforementioned Dorelaine incident have you bristling reflexively, but you do your best to tamp it down.

“They’re well, overall. Sometimes it’s difficult for them– their manager’s a real piece of work, and we get all types at the lounge.”

“I see…”

He lets out a long “hmmmm”, like he’s reflecting on this information.

“My family has also come upon hard times. It can be… trying, sometimes, to guide my children. Especially now, when we are under unjust attack.” He confesses, wistfully resting his chin on a thread-scarred palm. “Every family requires a head, but what is a head without a neck?”

Unjust my ass. Still, the weird metaphor confuses you.

“A neck?”

At that, his catlike grin only grows. What is he talking about?

“Yes, a neck; that is, someone who supports the head. I care for my family, so it’s only right I am cared for in return, wouldn’t you say?”

Though the phrasing is puzzling, you’re fairly confident you can infer what he’s purposefully dangling in front of you, and oh, it makes your stomach plummet. Sweat breaks out underneath your suddenly-sweltering outfit; it's as if you've been tied to a railroad and have managed to divert the train through pure will for a year, but now it's steamrolling square for you. The anxiety of impending doom renders you mute, unable to piece together a coherent thought.

Taking your silence in stride, Wally leans forward, intense as he grasps your hand in both of his own. The yellow fuzz does nothing to help how clammy you feel.

“What I mean to say is, I think that it’s time to settle down."

No.

“Wh– what? Settle down how?”

“To get married, silly.”

You’re unable to help the gasp that escapes you. No, no, no!

“Get married? You mean– to me?!”

“Of course. I’ve been courting you all this time, haven’t I?”

You sputter, and he rubs your hand as if to soothe you. His many gold rings gleam under the chandelier, teasing a glimpse of your fate.

“I know in the beginning you weren’t receptive to the idea of this life, but I've shown you that I can provide for you better than anyone else.”

Your expression must betray your surprise, because he chuckles– a slow, stilted sound that sends gooseflesh blooming across your skin.

“You thought I didn’t know? Howdy may not have reported it– which I’ll rectify in due time– but I have eyes everywhere, dear. You’re quite the talented actor, though.”

That trademark simper melts into something beguiling; he cradles you as if you’re the most precious thing he’s ever held.

“I love you, and I will take care of you, as I ask you to do for me. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?”

An inviting facade of genuine affection, so ardent that you almost want to believe it. Wouldn’t that be the easiest path to take? To surrender to the hand that feeds, because where it strangles others, it caresses you sweetly? It’s more tempting than you’d ever divulge, because underneath the armor of aplomb you've so carefully forged, you're exhausted. This burden has been yours alone to bear– and what a bear it is, because if you mess up, the people you love could be injured, or worse. So much worse.

Perhaps sensing an opening, Wally continues.

“Be reasonable. The family welcomes you with open arms! Haven’t you missed having a family?"

The words stab you right through the heart, and your waning resolve springs back tenfold by the fury that ruddies your vision. When you rip your hand away, he makes no move to stop you.

"My friends are my family. I don’t want anyone else, especially not murderers!” You snarl. “You kill people– and torture and maim them! How can you expect me to accept this?!"

"All in a day's work when cleaning up the city, unfortunately," Wally hums. "I wish we didn't have to resort to such things, but you must understand. As it is, puppets are treated as less than, and hardship runs rampant for both humans and puppets alike. You’ve experienced these firsthand.” With the elegance of a master conman, he touches his chest in mock respire. “All we wish to do is provide a safe haven for those in need– somewhere to rest your bones, enjoy a hot meal, and where everyone accepts you as their own. A home.”

You abruptly stand up, feeling like you’re wound so taut that you could erupt at any moment. The mahogany chair behind you tips over from the force, striking the floor with a leaden thud, though the sound is deafened by the blood rushing in your ears.

“Bullshit! You don’t have to start a gang to combat discrimination or help suffering people! Maybe that spiel works on the poor saps you trick into doing your dirty work, but it won’t work on me. The answer is no.”

All is still for a moment as you struggle to calm your heaving breaths, trembling and locked in a quiet stalemate with Wally, who’s as relaxed as ever. Your attention flits from his right eye to where the left would be, if not for the lesion carved from a notch above his eyelid to an inch below, giving the illusion that what lies beneath is impaled.

Oh shit.

The magnitude of what just transpired comes crashing down as your adrenaline flushes out. After playing it safe for months– stomaching unwanted exorbitant gifts, being tailed by his employees, and rousted to innumerous “dates”– you just rejected Wally Darling in the most aggressive way possible. So you do the only thing that might garner you a chance to make it out of this alive: run.

You’re halfway across the room when 4 thick arms suddenly wrangle and force you to halt, a scream ripping itself from your throat out of fear. Can this motherfucker teleport now?! How the hell did he get here so fast?? Thrashing, you throw your head back to search Howdy’s face, desperate for an ounce of the sympathy he’d offered in the elevator, but it is in vain; his stony visage is impenetrable, as though it had never wavered.

“How about you sleep on it, hm? Think about all of your options. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to those little lambs when their adorable shepherd isn’t around to protect them.”

Delicate fingers cup your jaw, making you freeze as Wally stretches up to plant a faux-kiss on your cheek, complete with a small “mwah!”. You scowl daggers at him as he collects your hat from where it flew to the floor, dusts it off, and lovingly places it back on your head before giving you a few pats.

“Aw, don’t be that way, darling. I truly meant what I said; you have beautiful eyes. I can hardly wait to try one on.”

With a snap, you’re hauled over Howdy’s back and spirited out of the room, presumably to be transported to wherever you’ll be staying. Hopefully not Wally’s quarters.

It’s all too much; you feel like you’re trapped in a nightmare. How else did you expect this to end? You’re not sure. With all of the awful things he’s done, forcing you into marriage is not beyond him. You just thought you’d have more time: to plan, to save up enough money to take the girls and race to the hills.

Tears gather on your waterlines, and the minute your mouth wobbles, they spill ceaselessly. Full-bodied sobs wrack you, the pain of Howdy’s shoulder jutting into your midsection compounding the profound ache of sorrow. All this time, you’ve been trying to fight, but there was no fight to be had; it ended the moment his eyes found yours across the lounge that day.

#🐇 penned #🌈🖼️ wh #feat. some random ocs i made up for the sake of the fic #welcome home #welcome home x reader #wally darling x reader #x reader #reader-insert #yandere x reader #i love randomly throwing in ronald dorelaine #cause we have no idea who he is or what he's like #so he can be whatever i need him to be #yandere wally darling #yandere wally darling x reader #welcome home mob au #clownsuu

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zenaidamacrouras1 · 1 month ago

Text

Marvel Trumps Hate - Last Day

Hello, the above gif is me. (except I am a pigeon, imagine it as a very innocent pigeon).

There is, at the time of me writing this, about 12 hours left of bidding on Marvel Trumps Hate. And there are, at the time of me writing this, wayyyy too many amazing writers of Stucky going for amazing steals. Here are some author's offering you your VERY OWN bespoke Stucky fic for under $100 USD.

(and don't forget about podbidding - splitting up auctions with a few other bidders to make them even more affordable!)

Given the dozens of hours of work that can go into a fic, honestly, these are incredible deals!

1114 – buckybarnesdeservestobehappy @buckybarnesdeservestobehappy

This auction is for a fic with any Bucky-centric ship. This includes polyamorous relationships. The length of the fic will be based on the final total, unless otherwise requested by the auction winner.

1136 – Atsadi @Atsadi

The three characters I'm most comfortable writing for are MCU Steve, Tony, and Bucky, and any combination of ships thereof (Stony, Stucky, Winteriron, Stuckony). I will write other characters, ships, and some other universes, but you'll need to check this with me first.

1153 – hkandi @hkandiu

I would like to collaborate with you for this to really explore what you would like and make it worthwhile for you! I like to write humor into my stories, even if it's just sarcasm. Thanks for reading!

1111 – merrythoughts @merrythoughts

As much as we all need and love happy and fluffy fanwork, fandom can provide us with a safe space to explore darker and ambiguous dynamics and endings. That said, I try to be respectful when dealing with any serious subject matter, and darker themes aren't thrown around casually or for shock value.

1093 – Voylitscope @voylitscope

Some of the most frequently used tags on my fics are: romance, making out, and porn with feelings. I feel like this is an accurate summary of my strengths as a fic writer. You should be able to get a good idea of my style by looking through my A03. I'm open to any rating and to nearly all tropes/AU types, etc. I am primarily a Steve/Bucky writer, but I'm happy to branch out a little for this auction.

1139 – tessabennet @tessabennet

If you want a new fic, I'm open to certain AUs based on canon divergence. Contact me so we can work out what you'd like me to write, based on your suggestions or my own. The fic will have a minimum of 10k words, but depending on what we'll work out this can likely become more.

3007 – papermacherainbow @papermacherainbow

I love writing BDSM, omegaverse, daddy/mommy kink, loss of virginity, and general smut with a side of fluff. I also enjoy playing with sexual identity crises. If you have any questions about your prompt before bidding, feel free to contact me.

4005 – sparkagrace @sparkagrace

My works are usually on the plottier/character driven sides, but I can write a more straight-forward fic if you would prefer. I am very open to you being involved in the process to make sure it’s tailored to your wants for this bid.

1178 – Ginny_Potter @hipsterdiva

I enjoy writing pre-War and wartime Stucky because I am a history nerd. I am also very meticulous about my historical accuracy so this means period typical homophobia and such.

1167 – narqueen @narkik

I am most comfortable writing explicit/NSFW fic, especially darkfic. I am comfortable writing anything under the dead dove spectrum, including: rape, dubcon, incest, age gap, HTP, mpreg, A/B/O, kidnapping, etc. That being said, angst/dark content does not have to be the focus of the work. I am also open to romantic comedy premises, and hurt/comfort or angst with a happy ending is fine.

1119 – Metalbvcky @metalbvcky

I aim to provide a Stucky-centric story of the bidder’s desired flavor. I write Steve/Bucky primarily and have continued to do so for the past four years. Many of my works are AU, specifically Modern, but I also enjoy canon (divergence!) as well as Shrunkyclunks.

1079 – ThisOneSatellite @thisonesatellite

I can do lots of plot and action, or quiet character studies, or both. Anything with a real emotional connection and resonance. Baggage can be unpacked, trauma worked through, angst conquered, or pining pined - and all of this can happen in a hail of bullets or while holding hands and sharing a bed. i also love comic relief, sarcasm, sass, and snappy comebacks. Dialogue is actually one of my strengths.

1042 – Skarabrae_stone @captaintoomanybattles

I am offering a fic of up to 5k words. A bid of over $30 will receive a fic of up to 10k words. If there's a specific trope or plot idea you'd like to discuss with me before bidding, please feel free to contact me!

1088 – dharmashark @dharmasharks

I’m up for pretty much any era and flavor of Stucky (e.g. Prewar Pining, WW2 Battle Boyfriends, Recovery, Shrinkyclinks, Shrunkyclunks, modern setting, you get the idea) and most AUs.

1087 – Cass

Will create works that contain: AU (Sports, College, Street Racing), coffee shop, Enemies to lovers, Fake relationship, Best friend’s sibling, etc.

2014 – SquadOfCats @norelationtoatticus

I am offering one Stucky fic, specially for you! Smut is welcome but not required, and I'll do anything from a PWP to a more plotty story with romance in it. My general tone/style of fic tends to be bonkers, off-the-wall, highly specific concepts, executed with a surprising amount of humor and heart.

2052 – rillils @rillils

I’ll be happy to write fluff, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, pretty much any AU, kidfics, most romantic tropes (e.g. there was only one bed, meet cute, arranged marriage, period romance, soulmates, friends to lovers, etc.), as well as smut (I’m fine with both mild and explicit sexual content).

1151 – Katie_Delaney

I write a lot of A/B/O, but happy to do non-A/B/O too. I'm open to most prompts as long as they're not on my don't like list. Please feel free to reach out to me if you want to discuss before bidding.

1063 – BonkyBornes

I'm more of a character-driven writer; you can take a look at my works on my A03. I am open to writing shrinkyclinks, shrunkyclunks, modern AUs, soulmate AUs, etc. Please note that I will not write any explicit scenes.

2043 – King Of Sorrow

Most of my work is AU and tends to have some humor/comedy/crack. Also my pairings are always truly madly deeply head over heels for each other (even if they don't realize it yet). My favorite is Stucky, but happy to do BuckyxClint and BuckyxTony and even Cap Quartet.

Caveats:

1. I have a fever and may have missed you on accident. Send me a note and I'll add and "I love you, I'm sorry" as the song goes.

2. I only put auctions that were under $100 at time of writing and had Stucky as a standalone ship because I had to narrow somehow. There is a LOT OF REALLY GOOD STUFF Y'ALL.

3. The order is random

4. also my own auction is still under $100!

#mth 2024 #marvel trumps hate #stucky #an embarrassment of riches #mischief and mayhem

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thewinchestah · 10 months ago

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"INTERMISSION" - ALASTOR X READER

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Tags: ,18+, Smut, NSFW, edging, BDSM, Alastor does what he wants, there's plot if you squint really hard, alastor in heat, breeding kink, Possesive! Alastor, Jealous!Alastor, Protective!Alastor, masturbation, I didn't proof read this, english isn't my first language, no beta we die like men here, etc etc etC

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Part I | Part 2 | Part 4

A/N: Hello,hello everyone! Again, thank you all so much for the amazing reception to "Good things come for those who wait". I'm truly touched by your words and praise. I never really tought my writing would see the light of day at this point, nor this much love. My biggest thanks to everyone who takes the time to leave a comment.

So, I'm a bit self concious about this piece. "Intermission" is supossed to be a light break from the previous two fics. A breath of fresh, sex smelling air as I write the next long chapter. (It's gonna be nasty). My intent with this fic was to make it kinda chaotic, kinda rushed like Alastor's mind would be as he masturbates himself at the thought of you and what you are doing to him.

I truly hope I can do your hopes and expectations for my writting justice. I really appreciate feedback on this one.

As always, my special thanks goe to my lovely friend @smallershorteranduncut, who always support my ideas. Te amo amiga <3

Taglist: @markster666 @jyoongim @stygianoir @pepperycookie @fraspent @aether-th3-enby @lady-valtieri . If the tags aren't working or you wanna be tagged, let me know.

PART I | PART II

Alastor considered himself a smart man, a cunning, self-sufficient, resourceful man. So, naturally, the irony of him being locked inside the bathroom, his cock in his hands while he tortures himself with thoughts of you made him frustrated at best, murderous at worst.

He hates everything about it, he hates to admit that his rut indeed makes him on edge and out of control, he hates to admit that before he met you the ways he dealt with his rut were… undignified. And he hates even more admitting that since he had you at his every whim, to fuck, to breed, to inflict the most depraved ways of torture his rut was becoming a pleasurable thing. All because of you, only because of you.

He had quite literally just fucked you so hard you passed out, his name a scream on your lips, so loud heaven might have heard it. Some part of Alastor wishes that heaven heard it, so they know they made a mistake, so they know they let one of the most sacred things to exist get down here. In hell, with him. Your heavenly body is his to do as he pleases, to break it, desecrate its holiness as he fucks you into submission, granting him a relief so pure, so all consuming that it shouldn’t even be allowed in hell. And they will never correct this mistake.

Some part of Alastor wishes no know never knew about how you always make a mess of yourself for him, how you gladly sprawl yourself open for him, eyes lustful and hopeful that if you let him take it out just a little more on you tonight he will send you over the edge with those two little words: good. girl.

And what a perfect good girl you were, doe eyes always seeking for his across any room, with adoration, with barely hidden lust, with love. Such a contrast when compared to his eyes, burning red from desire, anger, lack of empathy. Red condescending eyes filled with excitement about what he is going to do to you, what he is making you endure for him.

It doesn’t make it any easier on Alastor’s painfully hard cock that you are sleeping just a door away after a rough fuck, his seed still coating your thighs.

He flicks his wrist up and down his shaft, slowly.

Just as slow as how his cock stretched your tight cunt, inch by inch when he first took you. You weren’t nearly as wet as you should be for the first time taking his cock but you darling thing decided to break one of his rules. Your legs desperately spreading in a futile attempt to accommodate him, the delicious fear in your eyes as you realized what you’ve gotten yourself into, completely at his mercy, enduring the pain of being broken by his monster cock. The scream you let out when he buried himself to the hilt inside you, you liked it even when it was hurting, because the pain Alastor inflicted on you was ten times better than any pleasure your silly mortal lovers had ever given you.

The Radio Demon has a knuckle white grip on his cock now, even with hands as big as his, Alastor is having trouble fully closing his hand around the swollen member, his need to claim, to mark, to breed you strong as ever. Precum leaks for the engorged red tip and a hiss escapes his lips, the feeling of powerlessness consuming him in waves of a maddening, unprecedented carnality. The only thing the mighty demon overlord can do to mimic the divine feeling of your cunt being spreading the glossy drop around his overly sensitive tip, grip his cock even tighter as he strokes himself harder and faster, like a maniac.

How the mighty have fallen, he thinks to himself, he’s completely cunt struck by you.

Naturally, he’s gonna make you pay for it.

Alastor fucks himself fast and hard, trying to pic up the breakneck speed he usually does when he’s burying himself inside your heat, his grip sometimes painful. Exactly how the way he wants to be next time he fucks you.

The raw carnality consuming him is too overbearing, so overbearing he closes his burning red eyes as his brain process the severity of his situation: he found the perfect plaything, a deliciously submissive doe for him to breed until she’s numb with the feeling of his cock thrusting into her, completely filled up by his seed. It made his rut more bearable, it made his rut pleasurable, everytime he needed to scratch that primal need you’re always there, always ready to completely submit to him, to completely ruin yourself for him. Alastor honestly thought having you always there, as fun as it was to toy with you that way, would make things better. But it actually made it worse. Because now he knows.

Oh fuck, now he knows.

More pre cum spills, running through Alastor’s claws, dripping and staining his pants, making a mess under him. But it’s not enough, because it will never be enough. It’s not your mess coating his cock, running through his claws, it’s not the sinful invitation of your wetness staining his clothes.

Realization hits him like a curse.

His wrist flicks around his cock with a purpose: to find relief in pain.

You’re the only thing he wants. You are the only woman he will ever want like that. You are the only one he wants to see the obscene amount of his seed dripping from a perfectly swollen red cunt. You are the only one who could possibly deserve this. Now he knows what it is like to feel, to want someone. To have an irrevocable connection. No one in heaven, hell, and all the other possible realms of creation have the right to even think of you in that way. You are his and that’s final.

Next time he takes you he will make sure you know that.

Stroking himself erratically now, Alastor pictures you peacefully sleeping next door, luscious body sprawled on the bed like you don’t have a care in the world. He wants the first thing you feel when you open your eyes is fear. Good, you should feel scared. You should be very, very scared of what he is going to do to you. He hopes to relish in fear in your eyes as he enters your tight pussy, stretching your velvet walls apart in ways you’ve never felt before. Being obscenely broken to accommodate the girth of his rut swollen cock.

Fear, because you should be scared. Fear because you aren’t. Fear because as the realization that Alastor needs you terrifies him, the realization that you fucking love the pain of being a submissive slut to the Radio Demon will undo you, in unholy ways.

The scene of your ass on his lap, red with regret from his whipping and a symphony of your soft moans overrides his mind. You were sobbing from those little whips? He’s gonna double that. He’s gonna give you something to truly cry about. He’s gonna see you cum from the pain of being whipped into submission and his voice only. Because it is what you deserve for making him feel like this. Because it is what you want.

He’s close now, he can tell. He’s gonna cum soon. And it is not going to be inside your pussy. Alastor is enraged about that.

A clawed hand grips the wall besides him. He strokes himself at a merciless pace. Just as merciless as he is gonna be with you. He knows your body like the palm of the hand that is clawing the wall because of the maddening desire he has for you. He’s gonna lure you so you purposefully make a mistake. Just so you can give him the excuse to punish you into understanding that you are irrevocably his. He’s gonna take all of you as it is his right.

His cock twitches, claws scratch the posh wallpaper all the way down, he spills so much cum, all over his lap, his hand.

The sight of Alastor’s flustered face, in post orgasmic daze after mercilessly touching himself at the thought of you is something you definitely should see. But he will never let you.

Because now his mind is clear, he knows it and delights in acceptance. You are his, his mate, his love.

And he’s gonna take his sweet time torturing you into compliance and understanding. With pain, pleasure and all that is Alastor’s nature.

#atençao creuzeback vamos lá que vai começar a baixaria #alstor #hazbin hotel #hazbim hotel fic #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor x reader smut #the radio demon x you #the radio demon x reader #baixaria

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