#when its being used against you. its not. if it comes from me or us. its not.calling video games QUEER. as opposed to gay which i am not

[strkly]

misunderstanding

s.m: you and bob were inseparable. until he begins to ignore you and you have no clue why. when you’re injured after a mission gone wrong you’re finally able to find out why.

robert ‘bob’ reynolds x avengers!gn!reader

w.c: 2k

c.w: hurt/comfort, bob being avoidant (but he means well), two idiots in love, hea, reader implied to be an og avenger, no use of y/n, thunderbolts spoilers obv. not proofread and intentionally lower case.

a.n: as soon as i finished the thunderbolts i wrote this LOL. im already working on like three more for him

After you had all saved the city and had been established as the new avengers you and bob had been inseparable. you had chucked it up to you just seeming the friendliest out of all of them but the looks the rest of the team all exchanged with one another anytime the two of you were around told you they thought otherwise.

you watched movies with him, went to go get milkshakes together, helped him with the chores around the base, there wasn't really a second the two of you weren't together unless you were out on a mission or sleeping.

yet as a recent theres been a shift. hes been avoiding you. its so obvious to not only you but everyone else in the team, he was more than happy to chat with yelena ava alexei hell he’d even rather talk to walker than he’d rather talk to you. the only person also seemingly receiving the cold shoulder from bob was bucky who shrugged when you asked him if he had any clue what was going on.

whenever you would walk into the room and smile at him he stared at you wide eyed before rushing out the room mumbling to himself before you could say anything to him. you tried not to let your heart break show on your face as you watched him flee the room as you had entered. you had been so determined to get him to talk to you today after over a week of nothing from him but watching him run away from you killed any sort of motivation you once had.

the pout only grows on your face as you feel yelena pat your back in pity. “i dont know what i did wrong.” shes quiet for a moment before she speaks, “dont worry im sure he’ll get over this weird phase and you’ll get back to normal in no time.” you look down at your feet and sigh, maybe she was right. you knew he struggled with his mental health maybe he just needed space yet the idea of that being it just made you feel worse. he had always confided in you, told things he wouldnt even tell the therapist he started seeing. it made you feel trust worthy, like the two of you had a bond stronger than words could describe. you like him, you like him so much your heart feels like its about to burst out of your chest at the thought of him.

it was later that same night. you could see the light peering out from under his door. he was up, but when you knocked on his door you were only greeted with silence. “bob?” silence. you sigh before pressing your head up against the door. “i just wanted to say goodbye, were leaving for the mission, me and bucky.” you can hear some shuffling inside at your words, you almost let yourself hope he’s about to come to the door but after a few more beats he still doesn’t respond.

“i miss you bob.” the words spill out before you’re able to stop them, “im sorry, for whatever ive done im so sorry, i just want use to go back to the way we were. i miss you so much, i hope we can talk once i’m back. goodbye.” you force yourself away from the door as the tears begin to pour down your face you don't even bother to glance back at the door as you exit the hallway and down to the area where bucky is waiting for you. he doesn't comment on your tear stricken face, simply just placing hand on your shoulder and asking if your ready to go. with a quick nod you join him on the ship and your off. you silently thank him for it.

what you don’t know is bob is curled up in a ball in his bed, pressing his face tightly against the stuffed bear you had bought him as a gift as he tried to silence his own sobs. it was for the better, he told himself over and over again. you didn't need him, not when you had him, you were better off without him as much as it made his heart ache.

five days. it had been five days since you had left and bob felt like he was losing his mind. he didnt leave his room, laying and rotting in his bed hoping the universe would just swallow him up. it took yelena and walker finally coming into his room to force him out of bed much to his dismay. he couldnt stomach to eat anything, shaking his head and hanging it down like a child clinging his stuffed bear to his chest while they tried. he knew it was a pathetic display but he couldnt find it in himself to care.

the rest of the team stares at him in pity, unsure of what to say. they all knew what he was going through, the only one oblivious to it was you, as walker finally sighed and opened his mouth to speak they all froze at the sound of the doors slamming open. “can somebody call a doctor?” bucky called out and everyone turned to see him enter the room. you were held in buckys arms, all beaten up covered in blood. bobs head spins, he doesnt hear the sounds of everyone asking what happened he doesnt see ava running off to get medic all he sees if you and he faints.

the mission was supposed to be easy. it was easy, until the last guy standing ended up being a mutant neither of you were prepared for. you ended up taking the bigger hit and bucky quickly finished the job rushing to take you back to the tower. your injuries were not life threatening but you lost a lot of energy in the fight and had ended up knocked out for a couple days. when you regain consciousness the first thing you hear is his voice. bob. he’s talking with someone whos voice you an barely make out, based on the brass and tone you assume its bucky. you cant make out what he’s saying but you cant bring yourself to open your eyes just yet.

footsteps ensue with a couple final words exchanged before the gentle opening and closing of the door and suddenly you’re alone with him. you can hear the scrapping of a chair and suddenly his very warm body heat flows next to you, you can feel his hands playing with the blanket as he sniffs. “please wake up.” you still cant open your eyes, maybe you’re still too tired but a part of you thinks you simply want to hear what he’s going to say.

“im- im so stupid. im so so so so stupid. all ive been dreaming about is seeing you again,” you feel him place his head on your stomach and you try to keep your heart and breathing at a regular pace, “i wanna sit on the couch together and watch movies and drink milkshakes and talk about anything with you i miss you please i was so stupid please just wake up so i can hear your voice again.” your chest aches and you fight the frown growing on your face. you open your eyes, realizing his has his face turned away from you. when you go to speak he manages to beat you to it. “i was so jealous.”

his words have you almost gasping before quickly closing your eyes again realizing he was turning his head to look at you. your mind running a mile a minute, you had no clue what he was talking about but his words had you hopeful, you couldnt help but be eager for whatever he was about to say. “he’s so much cooler than me. i get why you must like him, i just,, i just wish i could be the one you like. the one you think is cool but i know im not worthy of that.” what? you almost find the word spilling out from your lips but you manage to stop yourself. “i just couldnt do it anymore, after i saw you guys in the kitchen, you were smiling at him, i couldnt make that ache in my chest go away like you taught me and whenever i saw you it just go worse so i ran away like a coward. im such a loser.”

it finally clicks. you remember.

it was late at night. you had stepped out of your room to get a glass of water. when you got to the kitchen bucky was also there drinking a glass of whiskey, the two of you chatted for a moment and when you opened up the dishwasher to get a glass you busted out laughing at the sight of his metal arm in the dishwasher. “what the hell is that doing in there?” “what how do you think i clean the damn thing?” ‘not in the dishwasher! you’re so stupid bucky.” he walks towards you and leans down to be face to face with you, “thats why you like me doll.” you grin and hit him on the chest, shaking your head. “shut up.”

you opened your eyes once more and realize he had pushed his face to be pressing against your stomach. slightly shaking as he sobbed lightly into the fabric. your heart ached, realizing how sad he must have been. how lonely he must have felt. he freezes when you put your hand on his hair lightly running your fingers through it. “i dont like bucky.” your words are course, its clear your throat is yearning for some sort of hydration but you dont care. his head flys up and he looks at you with his wide wet eyes. your name tumbles from his trembling lips but you still continue to speak. “ive known him for a long time, he’s called me that for forever, he was just joking around with me i dont like him i promise.” he continues to stare at you in shock, his mouth opening and closing like a fish before he clenches his jaw and looks down at the floor, mumbling to himself, “im so stupid.”

as much as it hurts you force yourself to sit up and touch his shoulder. he looks up at you, a much sadder expression having taken over his face. “i love you bob.” his breath hitches, “i love you so much it kills me.” you wait for him to say something back, anything in return but he simply stares. you wait for him, you’re so patience with him he just can’t help himself.

you yelp in surprise when he suddenly laches onto you and you fall back with him ontop of you. you ignore how much your body burns in pain as he shoves his head in your neck. “i love you i love you so much.” you feel so much relief your eyes burn with tears. you can hear him mumbling over and over again that he loves you and it feels unreal, like youre dreaming and youll wake up soon.

“bob look at me.” he reluctantly pulls away from you and stares at you with heart eyes, your hands gently cup his face before pressing your lips against his. he eagerly but sloppily returns it, clearly inexperienced but you cant even find yourself caring as you can feel him brightly smile against you all other thoughts float away from you.

hours later when bucky comes back to check on you a smile falls on his lips as he sees bob laying on top of you and the two of you asleep peacefully, both of you unknowingly smiling in your sleep. he shakes his head before walking away. he pulls out his phone and clicks a couple things before raising it to his ear as he walks down the hall. “you own me 50 sam i told you they would get together.”

[secretaccountlol]

Loud!Reader x Mark.

This is inspired by this loud!reader by the wonderful and lovely : Nympheagaina

This is SMUT, 18+ only.

Synopsis: you’re quiet during sex, not because your boyfriend isn’t good, just wasn’t in your nature until now.

Words : 2,710!

Warning? : Soft!dom Mark x Sub! reader, sex toys, Mark does pin the readers hands, Reader has female body parts.

Uhmm proofread by my dyslexia ass plz don’t yell at me for typos! I always love readin’ yall comments and reposts!

Author note feel free to skippp :

Oh my god bro, I’m so rusty on writing and I was having such a hard time trying write mark “dom” - like because I just think he would show more thru actions then words .. also don’t think he’d ever be a “hard” Dom, always a soft Dom at that, coaching you thru it, or talking you thru it but also getting choked up as well? Yeah.. I love man whose crying while topping lol. Anyways enjoy.

Supple skin collided with his ears, your thighs flinched as his slippery tongue glided over your clit, one of your hands bury into his head, soft hair tickling between your fingers. 

Strings of salvia still connect you and Mark as he pulls away from your cunt. 

“H—hey?” Mark’s voice calls to you soft hums slip through your lips.

“H-hm?” your eyelashes are heavy as you stare at him, hazy.

“Am I good-?” He thumbs your clit, hiccuping a gasp from you, his brows tense as he watches your reaction.

“I-hm? Mark.. What do you mean?” Your spine crunches as you prop yourself up, head tilts to hold his gaze.

“Well- uh, you never y‘know moan when I go down on O-or even when I’m— fuckin’ you..” His fingers scratch his non-existent beard, his pouty pink lips make your fingers flex instinctively.

Your pupils shine in regret as you slide your hand under his chin, your thumb strokes his cheek. 

“Aw Mark, baby no you—you’re wonderful, I’m just — quiet..” your lips chap as teeth bite into your flesh. 

“Quiet?” 

“Yeah— I just…” heat builds up in your cheeks, as your voice squeaks.

“We’ve been together for a year now— you can tell me if I’m not good! I can improve, I promise!“ Mark’s pleads reel in your heart.

“ Aw, Mark, no honey. ‘m sorry I’m so used to being quiet after years of living with roommates and stuff, and I was like— using a dildo or vibrator so.” your body shifts as you bite your lips once more. 

“I— you’re the first person I’ve been with so, I’m still learning too. ‘m sorry again.” 

“Nononoo— I’m glad you told me, I’m just happy to know my stroke game isn’t weak.” A grin peeked through his mouth as you giggled at his stupidity, you planted a soft kiss on his toothy grin. Mark’s grin turns inquisitive as he hovers at you. 

“Hey, can— we try something?” 

“Depends? What do you wanna try?” Your brows furrow.

“Where’s the toy chest?”   

“I— Mark..?”

“Come on, Just— indulge me, hm?” 

Your hands pat his arms before motioning your head down, “U—Under the bed.” 

“Thank you” his body slinks off you, tentative hands slide the box from its hiding place. Eyes scanning your choice of toys, your body trembling as you watch him judge.

“Hey, why are you so nervous?” His hand caresses yours, snapping you out of your trace.

“It's just me, your lovable boyfriend.” He flashes another smile, disarming you, just a tad.

“Well, my lovable boyfriend won’t tell me what he's about to do plus- I— god. It’s embarrassing watching you fondle my toys!” Your butt wiggles against the bed as he giggles. 

“Oh, you mean like this?”

 Your hands slap over your eyes as his eyebrows wiggle, picking up a soft pink dildo, fingers sliding up and down its shaft.

“Yes! Like that!” Your back flew down to the bed, curling on your side away from your boyfriend. 

“I’ve never seen you this shy before, this is new.” He straddles you, turning your hips flat. 

Your hands pry off your pretty face as his breath ghosts against your ear, “I— I kinda like it.” 

“Maaarkkk! Plea—hn” A soft lick placed upon the shell of your ear ruptures a shiver down your spine.

“That was a pretty noise.“ Mark plants a kiss on your cheek, nuzzling your nose as he plants another on your lips.

“Yeah. A small one.” Your arms cross and an unimpressive frown adorns your face. 

“See, that’s what we’re gonna work on today, using your words— or uh, noises” 

You giggle at his shifts of confidence, “Hm, okay Mister. Make me scream then.” Your grin sent a surge down Mark's nervous system. 

 “Oh, you just fucked up biiig time.” His hands find your waist.

“Really? Did I noOW-!” You yelp as his hand yanks your ankle as he pulls your legs up, cold air hits your pussy as he watches your legs crack wide open, hands grip the back of your thigh. 

“Mark!” 

His saliva glistens against your pussy as languishing licks start assaulting your clit.

 “Mar-nnhn” your fingers grip your arms as your head tilts back. A whimper escapes as Mark plants more kisses upon your clit. 

“Mark- please your—“A sharp moan threatens to bubble your mouth, and a pleased hum escapes Mark. Nimble fingers circle your hole before one eases into your aching hole.

“Maa-holy shit.”

“Think you can handle another one?” It wasn't really a question, just an attempt to get you to speak.

“Yesyesyeyyes please-“ 

Torture wasn’t a good enough word to describe what was happening to you, your mind clouded your skin was running hot, too much, and not enough stimulation. A delicate huff falls from your mouth as his second finger stretches your cunt out. 

“Feel nice? Wan’ another?”

A high-pitched whine leaves your mouth as you nod rapidly. 

“You have to tell me what you want, I won’t know

If you don’t tell me..” He whispers your name at the end, earning another whine. 

“mor—!”

“Good..good you’re doing good! Keep talkin’ just like that.” 

“Pleaase!”

Your back arches off the bed as his third finger enters you, and your head throws back as your lips press into a thin line suppressing another moan.

“Oh go-“ you hiccup cut off with another whine. 

“You’re so wet, baby..”

The heat and pressure bubbles from the depths of the soul as Mark’s fingers pump in and out, “m— hnm, Mark! I—I can’t!”

“Can’t what?” His thumb rubs harsher circles on your clit as you buck up.

“ ‘m cu— oh—! “ your hands leave a bruising grip, as the world fades white and your hearing turns fuzzy.

Mark’s fingers slowly pump as you come down from your high.

“You.. okay?” His digits pull from your body slowly as you whine from the loss. 

“ ‘m great..that was— that was good.” 

“Really?”  

A happy sigh vacates you, as you lean to scratch his soft hair. 

“Yes, really good baby, thank you.” 

“I’m not done with you yet.”

Your hands slide to his cheek, as your brow furrows. “Mm, round two already?” 

“Mm, yeah haven’t made you scream yet.” 

Soft kisses elicit humming noises as hands roam against silky skin.

Mark’s velvety voice calls your name, “ Can I put it in?” 

You giggle as you nod, “It fuckin’ kills me with how sweet you are.” you press more kisses on his nose as he trails kisses down your tummy. 

His tip brushes against your clit, covering his cock with your arousal.

“Stoppp teasin’”

“Impatient.” 

Frustration peaks from you, “Shut u—!”

 Mark’s cock stretches your cunt as you watch your face twist in pleasure, mouth in a silent ‘o’.

“Cute..” His fingers rub circles on your hips, gripping them, pulling you flush against himself. 

Your knitted eyebrows relax as he draws back before slamming back into your hole, your hands fly to your mouth muffling your sounds.

“You moaned.”

You heaved before letting your fingers tighten then release from your mouth. 

“Uh- yeah, I’ve been moaning this entire time, Mark!” 

Mark smirks, like a full-blown grin, “no no no noo! You full-blooded moan— no little whimpers or whines. You moaned.”

“Wha— yeah! That’s what happens when you feel good!”

“Mmm—, I wann’ hear more please?” he captures your lips before slamming back into you, your breath hitches as you try to move your hands back to your mouth. 

Mark’s hands catch yours, his fingers intertwining before pinning them to the bed, his eyes hang low as he pulls back to look at his work. 

“Nuh-uh..Not this time!” A touching kiss was placed on your tender skin as your body wiggled under his body.

“Mar—!” your eyes flutter as the sound starts to rise from your pit.

“Pleas—“Another slam of his hips into yours makes you choke out a sob. 

“Co-come on, fuck—..hhn..” 

“I- I can’t— “ Heavy pants fill the room as Mark pounds into you harder.

“You— fuck… you can do it, baby? Plea-please for me? Please? Hhn—“ his hands release yours, both softly gripping your face. His hands steady your face as his eyes burrow into yours. 

Soft pink lips seeping soft breath against your breath as you stare back. 

“Please— I—I’m gonna lose my min— ah!” 

You see stars as your hands slide over his as your head tilts back. 

A beautiful cry of intoxicating velvet silky sound caresses Mark’s ears, a falter into a stutter, his eyes widen before they turn low in a sultry stare, his hands slip from your face to your hips as he leans back on his knees to take in your body. 

“Holy fuck..”

“Hu-? Mark why'd yo— HHN!” Your wrist shoved together held in place by one of Mark’s hands as his hips piston into you. 

“Oh- fuckfuck—! You so-sound so so good..fuck please I wann’ — wann’ hear m— hhn” Mark’s teeth graze your neck as his pink lips latch on, your body shudders as he sucks a purple bruise onto your neck. 

“Ma— ahhn! Plea— “ Your words seep in and our broken streams as you stir against the hold your boyfriend has on your wrist.

“You look, ah-  so fucking beautiful right now, oh god.” Mark whimpers as his hips snap into you, causing another burst of moans. 

“Yesyesyes— please..gimm’ mor—“ Mark’s whines cloud your ears as your eyes flicker as your mouth hangs open another moan rips through your throat. 

“M— I’m —“ 

“Yes, yes—  giveittome, please please—“ Mark’s buzz through your body as your head tilts back as your walls clench, “ohfuck—“

Your hands tighten into a fist as his seed spills into you. 

He milks himself through your high as your moans die down to soft whimpers again.

“Another round?” 

“M..Mark, god! I—.. Jesus just caught my breath!” Exasperated sighs hummed from your throat. 

“Please?“ Mark's brows furrowed, his face was more akin to a puppy than a human, his hands clasped together in a prayer hand. 

“Marrrkk…”

“Y-you just sounded so good, please, pretty please? I jus-just wann’ hear it again. Just one more round.” 

“One more round.” 

“One more r—“ your breath hitches as his dick swells in you again. 

“Damn your stupid vil—“

Vision grows spotty as his cock thrusts into your g-spot, his fingers dig delicate delight bruises into your hips as your sobs echo throughout your apartment. 

A loud knock freezes both of your movements. Mark’s eyes glance to yours, fingers pressed into an “Shh” as he pulled out of you, throwing on your pink robe that was hung on the door. 

You gather all the covers to your chest as you try to peek through the door, hearing persons mutter then Mark’s trademark embarrassed laughter, then your door groaning shut. 

His face comes back into your view, his face flustered as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“What was that about?” 

“Uhh— haha, your neighbor.. was worried about you— I explained we were ..uhm in an.. intense— ‘workout’ asked for us to be.. lil quieter with our ‘workout’. Also, she asked for the workout plan, so you’ll have to send that to her.” his shoulders shrug off your robe, putting it back on your door rack before shuffling onto the bed again. 

“Oh my god” your face buried into your covers, “I’ll never ever be able to look her in the eye.” 

Marks lips grace the top of your head before, tackling you back down to the bed.

“I mean, she was worried! I think that’s sweet.” His nose bury into your neck, inhaling your scent, then soft kisses peppering your skin.

“Just means we’ll have to be a tiny bit quieter.” 

“Wha- Mark!”  A wonderful hum slips through your lips as his finger rubs circles against your pearl. 

“You’re still soaked..”

“Mark, ahh-..” a whimper eggs him on as he watches your face twitch.

“Mark—“ your back arches as a sudden buzz assaults your clit, your hand searches for Mark’s wrist as he pressed the vibrator harder against your sensitive parts. 

“Oh— ! Markkk- ho-how’d Wher—?” Your hands slap his arm feebly. 

“Mm, when I put your robe back, I saw your toy chest in the corner,  I totally forgot I had wanted to use a toy on you. “ 

Another groan of frustration and desire slams out of you, “Please, show me more. I love hearing you like this.”

Your ears flicker between the buzzing between your thighs and his words as your body convulses in pleasure another shaking orgasm,

“Thatsss’ it, fall apart for me, please for me. baby?” Your hands clung to him like air, your sobs hiccuped through your throat as his vibrator still attacked your sweet spot.

A hazy waft over you as your body hums, breath swallows as you feel a familiar sensation of his cock.

“Ma..Ah!” Nothing prepares Mark for the blistering  harmonious moans that danced from your mouth as his cock buries into you.

“Good baby..Fuuckkkk, you’re perfect.” His thumb finds your clit as your back lifts. 

“I— can’t-!” 

“You can— fuck.. you can take me—“ 

His thumb applies delicious pressure to your knob, tears brim at your eyes as another yelp releases. “God, baby— I’ll have— mm!” Mark’s breath halts, “You don’t want your neighbor to—mm— come back right?”

Your head shakes as you whimper, “Noo..nonono— fee— good” 

“I know, I know. Can’t be — ahh.. Too loud, an-anymore” 

“I.. I- can’t! S’its too much-“ Your legs wrap around his waist as you sob his name more and more. 

“Mm, t—too much but you're wrappin’ your legs around me?” Mark’s chuckle sends another high-pitched wail from your mouth. 

“If y-fuck..! If you keep bein’ so deliciously l—loud I’ll have to gag you,” baby.” 

 “Can’t— s’quiet- Ma—“ your legs shake as another plays on the horizon. 

“S’loud- I’m—“ 

Mark’s fingers stuff themselves into your mouth, your tongue sluggishly engulfing his digits.  

Mark’s eyes burn with ferocious appetite, his hips stammer to a stop as he ogles your lewd display. 

“You really want to fuck the shit out of you, that’s the way to do it.” 

“Pleas-uh— ‘arder” Your head lifts to take his fingers deeper into your mouth, gagging on them before pulling away, “Mo—mooruh—pleas—“

“God” a stroke of his cock makes your head throw back Again, tears fall against the creaking bed, “W-who am I  to den— deny you that pleasure, hm?” 

More choked sobs are muffled through fingers as Mark’s punishing pace ruins you further, his breath ghosts the shell of your ear, nipping it with his teeth,

 “I hope you aren’t doin’ anything to—mmm—orrow, because I don’ think I’ll be able to s—stop tonight.” 

Another plea of mercy from you ignites to Mark’s dick. 

The sounds of your sloppy cunt drenches the room as your arousal pools on the bed sheets, your legs and Mark’s member sticky with endless sexual fluid. 

“Just one mor— gimmie one mor—“

It’s filthy, only whines and pants as you come again. Your mind is gone, filled with Mark and his cock, how it feels as release inside you finally, your tears have run dry. You can’t remember how many times he came in you, or how many times you’ve come either. 

“Maru—fuh” 

Mark's fingers leave your mouth with a pop, “Shh, I got you.” 

Open-mouth kisses decorate your face as you faintly as your chest rises and falls. 

“I’m gonna run a bath, okay?“

You hum in response.

“ ‘m sleepy..”

“I know, I’m sorry”

“You… owe me a massage tomorrow— imm’ be so soooree”

“I promise one massage coming up” 

——

A few weeks later. 

“Hey, You!” Your neighbor bumps your shoulder gently as you head up the stairs. 

“Oh! Hi Julie, long time no see!” 

“I know! Listen, I need your workout plan! You’ve been lookin’ sooo good lately, like glowing’ and I, sooo need that in my life right now. Oh and do you need a partner for it? I know you and your boyfriend usually do it together. I always know when he comes over now since the walls are sooo thin haha!” 

“I—“ your mind blanks, “Uh— I’ll send you the workout video!” 

You scurry to your door as you give a quick wave goodbye. 

Now, that was mortifying.

[danikamariewrites]

Working Through the Pain

Xaden x reader

Warnings: period/period pains

Gritting your teeth and breathing through the pain you try to keep up with Ridoc. Your movements are slower today thanks to the pain in your body.

“Stop.” Xaden calls from the side of the mat. Dropping your arms you let out a relieved sigh. They feel so tired. Like two weights have been glued to your hands. Your whole body is tired. Your cycle came this morning and it completely threw you off. In mood and routine.

You look over to Xaden to find Garrick staring at him with a raised brow. He ignores Garrick, marching over to you and dismissing Ridoc with a nod. Ridoc scurries away to join the rest of your squad mates by the exercise equipment. Terrified to get in the Wing Leader’s way when it comes to you.

Moving your neck side to side you work your jaw trying to unclench and relax. Xaden stares down at you with an inquisitive look, trying to figure out the problem without asking. You take calming breaths, working through your annoyance at Xaden’s need to fix everything. Or at least thinking he is.

You shoot him an annoyed look. “What? Just say it dude.” You snap. Xaden’s cool and collected mask slips at your outburst. “You looked…not like yourself. Tell me what’s wrong.” He seems to struggle for the right thing to say. You feel bad. Your boyfriend just wants to help and all you feel like doing right now is screaming at him.

Letting out a heavy sigh you let your body slump forward a little. “Can we talk about it somewhere else? Alone perhaps?” Xaden nods, leading you out into the halls of Riorson House. Walking a good ten feet from the doors Xaden stops you.

Exhaling, you lean against the cool wall, letting your body relax. Your grateful Xaden didn’t drag you all the way to your room. That’s too far of a walk and you probably wouldn’t make it without collapsing.

“What’s going on?” Xaden asks softly, reaching out to caress your cheek in his large hand. Your chest tightens at the care for you in his voice. The regret from snapping at him catching up with you, making tears sting at the corners of your eyes.

You pull at your bottom lip with your teeth. Xaden tuts at you, pulling at it with his thumb. He’s been trying to break you of the bad habit along with biting your nails. Taking a deep breath you lean into his warm palm. Xaden’s shadows flow from his forearm to rest at the back of your neck. Cooling the sweat from your hair.

“My…my cycle-” you stutter with a frustrated groan. You could never get the words out no matter how comfortable Xaden makes you feel. “My cycle came this morning and I’m in pain,” you rush out.

He gives you a sympathetic look. Pressing a small kid to your forehead Xaden murmurs against your skin. “Go back to our room, I’ll be right up.” Your cheeks flush when he says ‘our room’. While being at Riorson House is temporary you could get used to waking up next to Xaden.

You nod, pulling yourself from the wall having absorbed all of its cold. Trudging back to your room was a chore. Your legs were exhausted as you slowly pushed yourself up the stairs.

Taking a quick bath you steal what little Xaden has of comfy clothes and curl up in a tight ball, taking up the middle of the bed. You’re not sure how long it takes for Xaden to join you, but you’re aware of him when his shadows gently curl around you to comfort you.

Xaden slips into bed behind you, pulling you to his chest and resting his large hands on your abdomen. He digs his fingertips into where your cramps are worst and starts massaging. You let out a relaxed sigh, melting into Xaden’s touch. This was all you needed.

[callsign-swan]

I’ve never asked before but could you write a fic with Bob Reynolds, where the reader has severe weather anxiety and it’s storming out and he comforts her? I had extremely bad weather anxiety AND it’s storming bad here and neeed more Bob fics to read🥺

Oh bless you love! Of course I'll write it for you! (keep these requests coming, im in love with this man)

The clouds surrounding the watchtower were so damn dark, she knew something was coming.

Maybe being in one of the tallest buildings in the city, with so many big windows, wasn't the best idea. But she was transfixed by the dark clouds.

When said dark clouds started rolling in, everybody else looked at Bob. Made sure he was still their Bob, not the other side of him.

No glowing eyes, he was still Bob.

This wasn't him.

The wind howled around them. She pulled her knees up to her chest and stared at the window, waiting for something more. Snowfall, a flash of lightning, she couldn't tell just yet.

The first flash in the distance, the grumbling of thunder came later. Her heart was racing in her chest as she looked around at everybody else.

They were calm, doing their own things. Not bothered. Yelena was filing her nails, her legs tucked beneath her, John and Bucky were watching some military movie (and arguing about it), and Bob was reading.

Together in some capacity.

As if sensing her stare, Bob turned in his seat. You okay? He mouthed.

There was a moment before she registered what he had said. But, as soon as she nodded her head, Bob was on his feet.

"Hey," he said gently as he sat beside her.

She glanced up at him, made a noise of acknowledgement.

So, Bob kept going. "We used go get storms back home a lot," he said, fiddling with his fingers. "' used to crawl under my bed when I was a kid."

She blinked at him, brows furrowing. "Did it help?" She asked, releasing her grip on her knees just slightly.

Bob furrowed his brows. "I dunno," he answered. But then he stood and offered her his hand. "Wanna find out?"

They couldn't fit under her bed. They tried, Bob attempted to shimmy under the bed. But the frame was too close to the floor. Maybe if he went feet first, but his broad shoulders would have gotten stuck.

Taking hold of her hand again (Bob had nice hands. Large hands that engulfed all of hers. That in itself was comforting enough), Bob led her through the Watchtower. He took her to his room instead.

Bob had nothing. Some clothes in his wardrobe, a few books on his desk, a tv that hadn't been properly set up. But that was it. Nothing more than that. He hadn't yet made the room his own.

She climbed under his bed first. Crawling beneath it, she waited for Bob to climb in beside her.

They were pressed in, shoulder to shoulder. Bob's sweater was warm against her, soft when she accidentally brushed her fingertips against it.

"This is nice," Bob said, facing forward. He nodded, his hair bouncing with it.

She swallowed. But the clap of thunder had her shaking. Bob's arm found its way around her shoulders, pulling her in. "Did you get to meet Thor?" He asked.

"If this is you trying to distract me-" She turned, laid on her side to face him properly. "-it's not gonna work."

Bob shrugged his shoulders. "Worth a try," he mumbled.

There was a moment, another clap of thunder. Her entire body trembled and Bob pulled her closer.

"I did meet Thor," she answered, pressing her face against his chest.

(Bob had stiffened up. But she needed this, and, in a way, Bob needed to help her. So, he continued to hold her).

"Cool guy. Weird guy," she answered.

"Dangerous?" Bob asked and she shook her head.

"Not unless he needs to be."

She got then where he was going with it. Thor, God of thunder, the guy who dealt with storms, wasn't dangerous. By that logic, this storm wasn't dangerous. By that logic, she had nothing to be afraid of.

Lifting her head from his chest, she pressed a kiss to his jaw. "Thank you, Bob," She whispered and settled back against him.

His breath caught in his throat. "Any time," he managed to choke out.

They stayed there until the storm passed, perfectly content in each others company.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Brain got to thinking about 'Viltrumites are actually aliens au' + ViltruWives. And the fact that the eggs get larger with size and/or age. (It's scratching parts of my brain I didn't know existed until I stumbled upon your delightfully captivating works. Genuinely, thank you so much for that.)

*Bites knuckles* Isn't Thragg 7'ft something and nearly 400+ pounds in the comics? With Conquest coming in at a close second? Fuckin woof.

Also, consider... Nolan at least had his time before with Debbie to get used to having his egg times with a mate around. But the other three having had thousands of years without... If the Wifeys hit an egg season all at once, would reader end up as the polar opposite of the 'shriveled up raisin in bed' guy meme? Just, belly full of eggs. Full on flipped over turtle mode. Resigned to not moving properly for a while even if they weren't rung out. Or not until they can either push some out or naturally re-absorb. At least they got four big, now very happy viltumite partners that'll cuddle with them in the meantime.

viltrumwives in the viltrumites are actually alien au

under cut cuz i wrote more than i expected

yes i used that gif on purpose, lmao

Nolan would be smart enough to tell the reader about their egg season, cuz he remembers being with Debbie and the chaos that was. Guy probably has to make a whole guide or powerpoint explaining it and the process to the reader, and being like “if you dont wanna be full of eggs... find somewhere to hide out”, at least the first couple of times until all the viltrumwives realize “hey, I can carry my clutch myself”. 

Thragg canonically fucks if I remember correctly, so he's had mates but with them it was just to reproduce. Now he actually has a partner he wants to do it with for pleasure and love? Crazy new experience for him. Hes got the largest eggs I think, because he's the strongest and biggest. For some reason I'm vizualising his eggs looking almost like those bright orange fish eggs, but they're much bigger, and solid. Like those hard rubber balls you throw around, the size of golf balls. They kinda look like amber, tbh. 

Conquest has the next biggest and his clutches are bigger, just from the fact that he hasnt had past mates. So now his body is overproducing cuz “we are old, must have as many as possible, now”. Lowkey think he would be the first to be like “I'll just carry my clutch myself, worm(affectionately) get on me now” kinda situation. His eggs are about as solid as Thragg, they're still a little squishy but you can't crush them easily. His eggs would be a deep red which turns a deeper crimson in the middle. 

Kregg has the smallest eggs, but they are still bigger than average thanks to age and strength, but I do have a feeling he would have had mates in the past, cuz of their whole culture and all that. He has most control of himself during egg season, claims it's because he wants to stay clear headed, but its cuz he gets embarrassed thinking about becoming a panting drooling begging mess like some others do. His eggs are a soft yellow with a warm center color. 

Nolan has the most experience and the latest experience, so he doesnt go as wild as the other three cuz he knows the limits of human bodies, after much experimentation with Debbie. This means his clutches aren't as big as the other three, and his eggs are squishier, but not weak or anything. Kinda like squishing an eraser between your fingers. His eggs are a lighter blue, like cornflower blue, with a deeper purple center. 

All in all, reader is getting stuffed the first couple of times unless hes really really against it, you know? And yeah, the viltrumwives are gonna be showing off too, so there are eggs on the bed, staining the sheets, on the floor, they're everywhere. After the first time yall have to set up designated “egging” areas cuz it was a nightmare to clean up. 

At least they all get extra chuffy and cuddly when their brains are like “yes, yes, clutch laid, must cuddle and comfort mate for healthy clutch”. They give great massages. 

[heartsoul101]

Azzi being scared of the dark when going to get a drink and waking up Paige to come with her

Sorry its short!

Ever since Paige and Azzi started dating most nights they would be sleeping in the same bed. When Paige wasn't there Azzi always had a night light. She wasn't ever open about being scared of the dark because at her grown age you would think she would be over it by now. Well she was far from over it. 

“Bro I want to do this tik tok so bad.” Paige said as she handed her phone over to the girl laying next to her with a book opened, now facing down on her chest to look at Paige's phone. “First of all ‘bro’ is CRAZY. I'm literally your girlfriend, not some person you just met.” Azzi said. “Bro is loving!” Paige responded. “Oh so you love Geno like you love me?” Azzi said blankly. She loves poking fun at Paige in the most loving way. “Yeah yeah watch the tik tok will you?” Paige flicked Azzis forehead. The trend was- a boy who was jacked and kind. “Babe this was like 100 years ago.” 

They scrolled through tiktok for another 45 minutes. 

“I'm tired.” Azzi said. At this point Paige was lying on her back and Azzi was laying her head on Paige's shoulder, her arm around Paige's stomach. With a nod, Paige rolled over and placed her phone on the nightstand and turned off the light. Azzi rolled over hoping that Paige would get the hint. And she did. Paige wrapped her arm around Azzis stomach and Paige's stomach was up against Azzis back. Paige rested her chin on Azzis shoulder and they closed their eyes. 

Azzi woke up thirsty. The kind of thirst that makes you forget how much you love water. She was about to get up when she realized how dark it really was. Her night light… off. 

“Paige… Paige! Wake up.” Azzi said, tapping Paige on her back. “Wha- What. Are you okay?” Paige said her eyes shut and her voice tired. Azzi forgot how hot Paige sounds in the morning. “I need water.” Azzi said. “Well then go get it?” Paige said confused as to why Azzi needed to wake her up to tell her this information. “I need you to come with me.” Azzi was almost ashamed to admit that she was scared. “Baby, why? You're grown, you can do it.” Paige said humor laced in her words. “No- I…” Paige interrupted. “You’re what?” “I'm scared.” Azzi said reluctantly. And just like that Paige got up. See paige did think it was stupid but she also would NEVER argue with Azzi when Azzi needed her. Paige would walk through hell's fires if Azzi needed her to. 

Paige opened the door and followed close behind Azzi. She got her water and never really looked Paige in the eyes. Azzi did feel bad when she woke Paige up. 

“I'm sorry I made you wake up for this.” “Azzi I love you and you know that. So of course I will wake up to get water with you. I just wish you would tell me what you're scared of.” Paige said, pulling Azzi into a hug. “It's the dark. I have a nightlight that I always use and I forgot to turn it on tonight. Normally it's not a problem but it was so dark and quiet tonight that I just couldn't do it. I know it's stupi-” Paige interrupts her with a kiss. “Baby it's not stupid we all have our fears. Now let's get to bed.”

Azzi followed Paige back to the bedroom. Azzi turned on the night light and they fell back into their spots. Paige pressed up against the back of Azzi and her arms wrapped around Azzi. 

From there on out when Paige noticed that Azzi forgot to turn on a light on the night light that lit a path in the hall she would go and turn it on. 

Hey y'all! I need more people to send one shots! I love writing them!

[wigglermansblog]

REFORGED

[ Transformers x Marine! Reader ]

Next

------------------------

A/n : This is more of a crossover between two shows I like. Transformer x One Piece. This will be a review chapter and if the story gets a lot of attention , I'll keep it coming. For the Transformers, I don't choose any continuity and build up my own universe.

Also, sorry for not being active. I've been busy with work for the past months.

----------------------

P R O L O G U E

----------------------

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I have to do this— please, forgive me!"

The man beneath you wailed, his hands trembling—slick with your blood. The kitchen knife is buried deep in your heart.

He stumbled backward, collapsing onto the floor, his sobs loud and broken. Tears streamed down his face like a waterfall, his body wracked with guilt. You’d seen that look before—the hollow, haunted eyes of someone who had been forced to commit an unforgivable act. Someone who had been cornered, crushed under the weight of desperation.

"It's... okay..." you rasped, copper flooding your mouth with each word. "It's not your fault. Please... don't blame yourself..."

Your voice was weak, your breath shallow. You smiled through the pain, your lips trembling. His breath hitched, eyes wide with disbelief as he clutched his chest.

"Take care... of yourself… and your family..."

Your body lurched forward and crumpled to the cold floor, the metal of the blade clinking softly as it slid free. A pool of blood expanded beneath you, warm and spreading.

The man’s cries were the last sound you heard—raw, anguished, broken.

And then—

.

.

.

.

You expected darkness. An end. The peaceful embrace of the Sanzu River, where perhaps your family waited on the other side with open arms.

Instead, you felt cold.

A biting, unnatural chill.

And the low hum of something mechanical.

.

.

.

Your eyes snapped open.

Cold metal surrounded you. Panels of glowing glyphs pulsed in hues you couldn’t name. You were enclosed in a pod, dimly lit from within by an eerie blue light. It hissed loudly, and with a mechanical clunk, the hatch released.

HSSSSSH—

The pod’s door split open. You stumbled forward and crashed to the ground with a heavy clank. Disoriented, you looked down at your hands—except they weren’t hands.

They were metallic. Sleek and angular, with glowing lines of energon coursing beneath the plating.

Your fingers moved, jointed and smooth like a machine. You gasped, the sound rattling through a new, unfamiliar throat. You scrambled back in shock, metal scraping against metal.

"What in the—"

Your voice sounded distorted. Echoed. Then suddenly, your vision was flooded with glowing symbols.

[ Welcome Online : XXXX ]

[ Body Status : Stable ]

[ Energon Levels : Medium ]

[ Alt-Mode : None ]

The glyphs flickered, then disappear. You blinked rapidly, trying to comprehend what just happened. The text was alien—but somehow, you understood it. Like the knowledge had been placed into your mind without permission.

You turned your arms over, inspecting them. Your limbs were metallic, the plating smooth and sharp-edged. Your movements were shaky, like a newborn deer testing its legs.

What happened to you?

What happened to your human body? Why were you metal? What are you?

You barely had time to think when—

BOOM!

The entire structure shuddered from an explosion above. Dust and sparks rained down. You tried to stand, only to collapse again. Your legs weren’t used to supporting this frame. The second explosion shook the floor beneath you.

BOOM!!! CRASH!!!

This one was closer. A portion of the ceiling gave way, a massive chunk of debris crashing down only a few meters away. Instinct took over. You scrambled to a nearby pipeline running along the wall and used it for support. Your metal fingers gripped tightly as you hauled yourself upright.

You staggered forward, each step heavy, your balance unsteady. But you didn’t stop. You couldn’t afford to.

Up ahead, a stairwell.

You took the stairs slowly, gripping the rail. Metal creaked beneath your weight with every step. When you finally reached the top, you shoved open the door—

And the sight that greeted you took your breath away.

A night sky, vast and star-strewn—but not peaceful. The city was in ruins. Towers burned in the distance, their skeletal remains glowing with molten steel. The air smelled of smoke, ash, and scorched metal. The ground trembled with distant impacts.

Then—something zipped overhead.

You looked up. Two sleek aircraft zip across the sky. Its engine roars very loudly like an enraged beast and they weren’t like anything from your world. They twisted mid-flight, their bodies shifting, contorting—

—Transforming.

With grinding, mechanical grace, both aircraft morphed into towering humanoid machines. One was bulky and bristled with armor. The other, leaner and faster. Sparks flew as they collided mid-air, exchanging blows with thunderous force.

Your eyes widened.

Robots.

Living, sentient robots.

Another explosion rocked the ground near you, snapping you from your shock. You dove behind a fallen pillar as debris rained down, one hand shielding your head.

The battle raged around you, echoing in your ears like a storm. Lasers streaked across the sky. Missiles detonated in midair. Metal clashed on metal in a brutal ballet of destruction.

You gritted your teeth and pulled yourself up, limbs shaking.

This… this was a battlefield.

Not unlike Marineford.

Except you were no longer a human Marine.

You were something else now. Something forged in metal.

But your heart—whatever it had become—still beat with purpose. You had no allies for now. You have no idea who was fighting who. But one thing was certain. Firstly....

You have to get out of here.

.

.

.

[ End of Prologue ]

[innorality]

imagine fucking clark kent... mid air.

this probably—most definitely—wasn't your brightest idea.

but it's not everyday you get to fuck and fly with superman now, do you?

you had to convince him to do it. he loved you, and loved being intimate with you, but this was—and he was sure of it—one hell of a bad idea. so it took you weeks, actual weeks, of begging and convincing, talking about it, mapping out every reason why you thought this was genius.

"please, kent, please! it'll be so fun and refreshing!" you sat on his lap while he was laying down on the bed, looking up at you, shaking his head. "people will notice and see us, sweetie." you ran your hands up his chest, "if you go high up enough, they won't even see a thing!"

finally, after two weeks of not touching you (because you refused to let him do so unless it was to take you mid air), he agreed.

you were tightening your silk robe around your waist, waiting for him by the balcony. you obviously weren't wearing anything underneath it, considering the main goal was intimacy. he arrived, in his own black robe, and grabbed you firmly yet delicately by the waist.

"are you ready, pretty?" he asked, voice low and protective. your knees buckled a bit, but you nodded. "of course." and he tightened his grip around your waist before jumping up in the air, and holy shit-

you were flying.

then, you noticed his hand wonder. the hand that he hadn't used to grip you was snaking its way inside your robe, brushing against your boobs and hardened nipples, before migrating all the way down to your cunt.

"f-foreplay? mid-flight?" and he chuckled, his eyes darkening with lust. "when did we think we were gonna do it?" and before you even has half the mind to answer, you felt two of his thick fingers press against your entrance, sliding inside.

he pumped inside you and your legs felt like pudding—half from the whole flying thing, and the other half from the fact he was fingering you mercilessly just like he knows you like. his palm is slapping against your clit and your legs tremble at every impact.

"w-when are we stopping?" and he paused for a second, before giving you that grin that tells you you're knees deep in this mess. "when you cum."

the simple sentence made a moan bloom from your chest, walls clenching down on his fingers. "y'wanna cum for me, baby?" you nod, "yeah? yeah? wanna give me one before the real thing?" and his dirty talking is throwing you off the edge, white droplets of cream dribbling down to his hand as she moaned his name as loud as she could. who cares? they're in the sky.

finally, the movement comes to an alt. they stop flying, stop moving.

you're still delirious, but smiling victoriously when he undoes his robes, hard cock revealing itself for you.

you salivate and bite your lip, feeling his dick rub against your sticky folds, jumping a bit when his mushroom top bumps into your clit. "this is so..." he trails off and you finish, "filthy?" and he hums while nodding, eyes closing while he loses himself at the sensation of your wet pussy.

finally, finally, he starts pushing himself in. it's scary and surreal, the thought of fucking in mid air turning you on more than it should. you love how you can see the birds flying next to you guys and feel his big veins hitting all the right spots inside you. he's so focused, focused on not letting you fall, focused on not being too rough, focused on making you feel good.

and fuck, the adrenaline rush heightened your senses and you could feel every fucking thing.

the way his vein bulged everytime you moaned in his ear, how tightly he was holding onto you, the cold breeze caressing you exposed skin, the sound of his heavy balls slapping against you..

you were close. dangerously close.

your own hand snaked down between your legs and you rubbed your clit softly, making yourself twitch in pleasure. "f-fuck, clark!" your voice got louder and louder with every string of sweet sounds getting pulled out of between your plush lips and he couldn't get enough.

your orgasm hit you like a train.

the adrenaline and stress of falling made everything feel ten times more intense, your walls clenching rapidly around him. cream started dribbling down your hole, forming a ring around his girthy base. "oh my fucking-" was really all you could coherently say in such a situation, every other word melting with eachother.

"baby- baby, shit- yes-" you had the man of steel stuttering and drooling, the sensation of your mushy walls clamping down on him too much for the poor man. he quickly let himself go, his cum coating your insides in a thick, white and milky layer.

he gasped, breath hitching when he felt the warmth of his cum fill you up. he pulled out slowly, your name slipping out of his mouth, while still catching his breath.

the flight back home was full of panting and quick dirty jokes you threw at him to fluster him.

bonus : bruce wayne noticed superman flying up in the sky.. up.. and up... and then stopping? wait.. he's with someone.. what are those movements–oh. they're fucking. this is officially none of his business anymore.

[mistress-skywalker]

Okay so this is based off this tiny little thread and slight request from @speaknow-sw 🤭 it got a little away from me but I hope you like itttt <333 I NEED JAMES SO BAD

Warnings: SMUT (obvs) || afab anatomy/fem reader || unprotected sex || cum || dom James || idk if I forgot anything

The chain is tight between his teeth, stretched taut as James fucks into you like he’s trying to carve himself into your bones. His arms cage you in, elbows sunk into the mattress on either side of your head, your body caught beneath his like a thing he owns. Uses.

His eyes are wild above you, narrowed and dark, but he doesn’t speak, not yet. His mouth is full of those worn metal tags, clenched so hard they creak as he grinds his teeth around them, jaw flexing like a predator fighting the urge to bite deeper.

The sound of skin slapping, the soaked suck of your cunt dragging along his cock, that is the music, and he’s fucking you to its rhythm.

You gasp, body arching. “James, I—I can’t—”

You barely get the words out before he snaps his hips forward hard enough to make you yelp, the impact knocking the air from your lungs.

His low growl vibrates around the chain, and then he pulls the tags from his teeth just long enough to spit out, “You can. You fucking will” He grits out, “Say it,” he growls. “Say whose pussy this is.”

“Y-Yours—fuck—it’s yours, James—!”

He doesn’t give you a chance to say anything more. One of his hands wraps around your throat, not choking, just there, a filthy promise, and the other slides under your thigh, hooking your leg up until you’re bent open for him, all slick and trembling and helpless.

His mouth never leaves the chain. He bites it again, tighter, snarling around it as he slams into you, cock so deep it makes your vision spark.

“Listen to that,” he grunts, voice muffled by metal and spit. “Listen to how wet you are. So fuckin’ desperate. So full.”

Your fingers clutch at his back, nails raking. “Please—please—James—”

“Fucking begging now?” he laughs, brutal and breathless. “You like this? Being under me like a good little fucktoy, with my tags between my teeth while I wreck you?”

The word wreck hits you like a lightning strike. Your legs shake. Your mouth falls open, but nothing comes out—just broken gasps and the sound of the headboard banging the wall.

And he loves it. He feeds on it.

He draws back just enough to watch your slick stretch around him, his cock glistening, angry red, coated in you.

“Fuck,” he hisses through the tags, spitting them out to let them slap against your chin. “Look at you. Can’t even speak. You’re so gone on my cock you can’t fuckin’ think.”

Then he’s all the way in again, brutal, claiming, and you scream this time, sharp and high-pitched, and that’s it.

He growls, louder now, head dropping beside yours as his hips grind deep, grinding like he’s trying to leave part of himself behind.

“You’re mine,” he pants, the tags swinging between you. “Fucked full of me. Just like this. Every time.”

You’re still twitching around him, body trembling, soaked and stretched wide, when James pulls out just far enough to watch your cunt clench on nothing, glistening and swollen, still begging for more even if your mind can’t catch up.

But he’s not done. Not even close.

His dog tags clink as they swing between your bodies, the chain still clenched tight between his teeth. His eyes are blazing now, sweat dripping from his temples, jaw flexed with the effort it’s taking to keep from completely fucking losing it.

“You think I’m done with you?” he pants around the metal, voice muffled and mean. “Nah, sweetheart. You’re not gettin’ off that easy.”

He grabs both your thighs and shoves them up, pressing your knees toward your chest until you’re wide open for him, exposed, dripping, twitching.

“You’re gonna take it again,” he growls, lining himself up and pushing back in. Your back arches, your cunt is soaked, painfully sensitive, and it makes him groan deep, like the sound is being dragged out of him from somewhere primal.

“James, I—I can’t—”

“Yes you can,” he snarls, thrusting in deep, watching your face twist, mouth open in a silent sob. “This pussy’s still fuckin’ sucking me in. You want it. You need it.”

His hands wrap around your hips, holding you in place like a doll, and he starts to move, deep, hard strokes that knock the breath from your lungs, cock dragging across every swollen, sensitive spot inside you. The tags swing with each thrust, slapping your skin, sometimes your mouth, your chin.

“You hear that?” he pants, dog tags rattling between his teeth. “That’s you. That messy, sloppy fuckin’ sound. Ruined.”

You whimper. Your nails dig into the sheets. Tears slip down your cheeks from the sheer intensity, the overload of sensation.

And he loves it.

“Cry all you want,” he growls. “You’re still gonna come for me again. Gonna make a fuckin’ mess all over me, just like the filthy girl you are.”

Your body snaps, legs shaking violently as your second orgasm hits, louder, messier, wetter. James moans when he feels it, dropping the tags finally as they fall against your throat and chest, soaked with sweat.

He doesn’t even try to pull out.

Instead, he buries himself deep, cock twitching, hot and full, his breath ragged.

“You take it so fuckin’ good,” he groans into your mouth, kissing you with filthy, wet heat. “Every fuckin’ inch. Gonna stuff you full. Keep you like this, dripping. Mine.”

You barely have time to breathe, your body limp, shaking, utterly wrecked beneath him, when James starts moving again.

Not fast. Not hard. Just a slow grind, hips rolling deep and slow, dragging his cock through the mess he’s made of you. His dog tags stick to his chest with sweat, and his hand cradles the side of your face now, calloused thumb dragging under your eye to smear away the tears he put there.

“Still so fuckin’ tight,” he murmurs, voice rough like gravel, like the edges of a man holding back the storm. “So sweet like this… fucked dumb and still squeezin’ me like you want more.”

You can barely speak, just breathy gasps and broken whimpers. But your hips twitch. Your thighs try to close around him instinctively.

And that’s all the permission he needs.

“Oh, you do want more,” he laughs, voice dropping darker. “You want me to break you.”

He presses in, deeper this time, slower still, and grinds, grinds into that perfect, swollen spot until your eyes flutter back and your mouth opens in a silent moan.

“Gonna fuck you through it,” he growls, slipping the chain of his dog tags back between his teeth like it grounds him. Like it holds him in place while he loses himself in you. “You hear me? You take it. You keep takin’ it.”

His hand finds your throat again, not choking, just there, present, and his rhythm returns, harder now, faster, the slap of skin on skin echoing through the room like a war drum.

Your cunt’s so raw, so sensitive, every stroke feels like too much, but it builds anyway. That sick, delicious burn that curls in your gut, crawling back up from somewhere you didn’t know could still feel pleasure.

“Fuck, I can feel you trying to come again,” James snarls, dog tags bouncing wildly now, his breath hot against your ear. “You’re gonna make a mess all over me, aren’t you?”

“Please—James, I—” you sob, voice caught between bliss and delirium.

“That’s it, baby,” he grunts. “Come on. Come for me. Let me feel it. One more. Be a good fuckin’ girl and let go. Now.”

And you do.

Your body convulses, legs jerking around his waist, back arched off the sheets as you scream, this third orgasm ripping through you like it’s tearing something loose. You soak him, loud, messy, gushing around his cock as he pounds through it, relentless.

He loses it.

With a growl muffled around his dog tags, James slams deep one final time, cock throbbing as he spills inside you again, hot and endless, fucking it into you like he wants it to stay there forever.

He doesn’t pull out.

He just collapses forward, sweat-soaked chest against yours, dog tags cold where they press into your skin.

“Fuck,” he breathes, finally letting the chain fall from his teeth. “You’re never getting away from me. You know that, right?”

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

//Taglist!! @zapernz @moonlightkb @anisangeldust @xx-ttamaraa @estranged-girl (lmk if you wanna be added or removed!!)\\

[rottenk1sses]

I was thinking about how I used to feel so out of place in church when I was younger, I felt so unworthy and sinful just being in there. I didn't understand how people felt in peace in such a place, all i could feel was shame. And I wanted to belong so, so badly! Wanted to prove that I could be truly good, be decent and worthy, that I wasn't filthy and disgusting for being the way that I am.

Now I know that I never belonged there, and I never will. Because I am filthy. I am ugly and disgusting in the most beautiful and intimate way. I'm not afraid of being unclean and obscene anymore, I want to be disgraced and consumed by what truly loves me.

this isn't exactly an ask, i just had this in my mind and thought it could be an interesting concept of a reader in a preacher's son!art fic! in a way that she purposefully tries to stain herself as an act of defiance, and uses art to do so. maybe she's a little jealous of him for fitting in so perfectly there, maybe she wants to corrupt him to prove that is all a facade, that he is as sinful and filthy as she is.

i hope this is understandable, english isn't my first language so it might look weird idk aiebjdkdjd anyway love u, and your writing girl kisses and happy easter!!

cw (18+) : corruption, briefly described handjob and thigh riding, religious themes, mutual orgasms

touching art at the back of the church was a test. a test that yielded monumental results — ones that would forever change how you felt about yourself, the church, your body, your existence.

your hand down his pants and your cunt pressed to his thigh, your mouths clashing stickily as noises you’d never heard before spilled from his wet lips. “ohhh”s and “aaah”s and shaky cries of pleasure that filled your cheeks from his lungs and forced you to swallow down the reality of your predicament.

you were touching him in a way that you knew your religion deemed “wrong”, but nothing in your life had ever felt so right. you felt like a rotting corpse reanimating from the dirt; a filthy street dog licking its wounds; a venomous spider digging its microscopic jaws into a dry beetle, tearing it open for the sun to finally be let in before the feast. yes, you thought as you rutted your crotch against his limb, palming his shaft, yes, this is what life is supposed to feel like — this is what ive been denying myself for all of this time.. how could i have refused my being this beautiful grotesqueness? what is life if i cannot consume?

you dragged your lips from his face to his neck, letting your canines dig into his flesh, enough for him to mewl. he grabbed the back of your body, encouraging you to hump him more feverishly as he tried with all of his might to resist the temptation to let everything go. while he was riddled with nauseating guilt and the onset of an earth-shattering orgasm, you were finally freed. everything in your lower stomach squeezed tight as the band of salvation snapped inside of your frame, a wave of burning warmth washing over you before several more collided in the very marrow of your body’s structure.

yes, yes, yes, yes, oh please, don’t let this end..

art choked on a moan as he felt your hips stutter over his leg, your release found, and buried his nose into your pulse as he was thrown into one of his own. hot, thick, inescapable; torrents of ecstasy running through the both of your veins.

your youth was spent cursing your own mind for wanting something so simple and so organic; there was no way you could go back now. everything felt as if it had come to a peak, as if there was truly no other path you were meant to take — that this one was inevitable. how good it feels to let yourself bathe in the nakedness of desire. oh, how joyous it is to be alive and gluttonous and with purpose.

“thank you, thank you, thank you,” you murmured into art’s shoulder, your teeth still scraping his skin as you writhed.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry,” he moaned, tears spilling down his cheeks to meet you. his voice full of elation and shame. his cock pulsing into your touch.

two bodies; one experience; no sinners.

—

its funny to me because human sexuality was never unclean or unnatural, religion just socialized the masses to feel that way. youre wonderfully lewd and that’s perfectly okay — being sexual is not indicative of how “pure” you are. purity is bullshit. fuck who you want, kiss who you want, bite who you want. just be safe and respectful to whoever else is involved in the act of intimacy. that’s really what matters. much love to you, anon.. your words speak to me. also please check out the film “yes, god, yes” if you’re looking for a depiction of a similar experience surrounding religion and sexuality and coming-of-age. highly recommend.

[livingmybestfakelife]

Birds Of A Feather

Elijah “Smoke” Moore x Annie Moore, Elias “Stack” Moore x Annie Moore (Platonic)

The usual sounds of moaning, cussing, gambling and headboards banging up against the walls were currently being replaced with a Hoover vacuum picking up every crumb, dust and dirt on the Moroccan imported rugs that laid on the first floor of the mansion. A cleaning crew of six went to work as scheduled to freshen up the house. Every Sunday at 8 o’clock on the dot, the men and a few women of Harrison’s Housekeeping had entered L’Étalon to do a deep cleaning of vacuuming, dusting baseboards, sweeping and mopping the hard wood oak floors. Sometimes when bed linens pilled up, they would even take that down to their laundromat and wash them for an extra fee, which was no issue for Miss Annie.

Annie Moore née Walker, had inherited the stunning mansion by her late mother Juanita, who was also a madame. She taught Annie everything she knew on how to run a business like this and how to keep your gigolos and their tricks in check. It wasn’t a career field she’s ever dreamed about, but it’s what she was good at. And the same was said about the Smoke Stack twins. The handsome men and voluptuous woman had all grew up in the gritty Delta that had various ways of survival, and that was either racketeering, hard labor in the fields, scrubbing laundry for rich folks, or turning tricks. And the twins were very good at the first and latter options. Stack especially enjoyed the fucking, that much was obvious, and he thought he might as well get paid for it so why not. That’s when he went into “business” with his dear old friend Annie. Doing four nights in the week, he had a decent amount of frequent customers who paid a generous cut for him to fuck them good into the mattress, it was no surprise that he was one of the fan favorites.

While the rest of the house was being cleaned. Annie was in her en suite soaking in her clawfoot tub. The warm water of the bubble bath heated up her soft skin while the fireplace was beginning to heat up her bedroom. She added some drops of lavender oil within the water, a fragrance she’s loved as long as she could remember. As she scooted herself up, some heavy footsteps made its way behind her. It belonged Stack. He had sat down on a plush cushioned foot stool and began to run his fingers through her hair. She moaned at the feeling, loving the treatment from one of her dear friends. He soon began to separate her hair into sections and took his time to oil her scalp. He never rushed this process, it was one of their bonding moments. He did it for her every other day and she would be the only person he trusted to shave him. Some moments later they began to sing a tune together, it was their song.

“My girl, my girl , don’t lie to me, tell me where did you sleep last night, in the pines, in the pines, where the sun don’t ever shine, I would shiver the whole night through”

He picked up her boars hair brush on the little table next to the tub. It had a sterling silver handle with flowers and vines engraved, a gift from Smoke when they got married. He gently brushed her soft tight coils. The feeling almost made her drift off to sleep. He ended the grooming session with a kiss to her temple and stood up to walk to the mirror in front of the sink to spruce himself up. Today was the only day of the week he got to visit Smoke, the inmates of Haywood Detention Center allowed twice a week visitations and only one person was allowed to come at a time, he used one day and Annie used the other. Stack always liked to look his best, even if it was just to visit a jail. He pulled a little comb out of his sweater pocket and combed his facial hair, he would wait a little while longer for Annie to shave him, liking the slight scruffy look for now. He topped off his own grooming with a few dabs of Florida Water that Annie kept in the mirror cabinet.

“Anything you want me to update him on?”

“No…it’s been slow this week, not much going on”

“It’s because of that new police chief in everyone’s business, scaring off folks from round here”

She sighs at the reminder. Vernon Hanley was steady “cleaning up the streets”, and one of the ways he was doing that was slowly cracking down on the red light district part of Clarksdale. Which was bad for business. He was part of the reason that Smoke was locked up now, though it was unrelated to the hoeing. He got caught up in a racketeering conspiracy which would’ve been five years, but with the help of a smooth talking yankee white lawyer, it was able to be talked down to just a year and four years probation. Which meant Smoke would have to have no parts in his and Stack’s casino business. He was screwed on that part, but it was better than the chain gang and not being able to see his wife and brother everyday

He nods and goes to walk out of the bathroom, but not before turning around and letting her know about the decision he made. Last week Stack had discovered Annie’s emotional affair with one of her workers, Lonnie. He’s been working there for three years and managed to fit in well enough, though Stack never warmed up to him as much as everyone else. Annie tried hard to convince him to leave him be, that she’ll fire him and make him leave town, and most of all, that it never got sexual. But Stack didn’t care about none of that, to him, Lonnie was a threat to the already built in family, he told her that he’d think about it, but that was just to calm her down for a while, he already made up his mind the moment he found out.

“I’m sorry Annie….but he had to go”

She begins to shed some tears, looking at him with the most devastating eyes, deep down inside she already knew what Lonnie’s fate was, but she still wanted some hope, how silly of her.

“Did you make him suffer?”

“Nah, it was quick, don’t worry”

She nods and sniffs and looks in the opposite direction to compose herself, if she saw his face a little bit long she was bound to get sick.

“Smoke will forgive you, he always did, and always will….I do too, I mean with Smoke been tangled up in this shit you needed a shoulder to cry on, a woman can’t be without her man for too long, it’ll make her crazy”

“Elias, please…”

He walks over and crouches down in front of her, he gently grabs her chin to look at him.

“It was always just us, the three musketeers against the world, you really thought I was gonna let a muthafucka come between us like that Annie?”

“All we did was talk, I was hurting and alone-“

“You come to me then! You talk to me, not an outsider”

He wipes her tears and rests his forehead against hers.

“This whorehouse, the casino, none of this shit makes us Annie, we’re bigger than all of that, whatever temptations that come from it we fight through it, we’re all that matters, okay?”

“Okay, yes alright”

He gives her a forehead kiss and leaves for visitation. Annie hasn’t felt this much guilt in a long time, she felt like she could’ve tried harder to keep Lonnie at a further distance, keeping it more professional, no matter how hard he wanted her attention, she should’ve tried harder, but she couldn’t. It was too little too late to turn back now, Lonnie was probably buried in the woods somewhere, waiting to be consumed by whatever type of nature consumes him.

@sinnersappreciation

@childishgambinaax

@uzumaki-rebellion

@browngirldominion

@tforpresz

[6slux]

.ᐟ+18, pregnancy, lactation kink, nsfw-ish??, husband! onyankopon

clingy men with oral fixations >>>

thinking thoughts about onyankopon who can’t keep his hands or lips off of you.

for the most part it starts innocent—a harmless obsession with his addicting wife and her comforting pecks. but then his love develops as does your marriage and pregnancy.

say he comes in from a lonely day out. maybe he was chilling with his homeboys, maybe he’s coming in from running a bunch of errands. regardless, it was too many hours without you on his tongue. too many hours of not being able to check in with you. he’s not the most expressive when it comes to voicing his feelings, so he would rarely outright declare, “i miss you”. as if the plastic bag filled with your favorite snacks on his arm doesn’t speak volumes.

instead, he creeps into your dark bedroom to find you snuggled up in your padded duvet. at this hour of the night it’s often illuminated by a ceramic side-lamp. you’re either tuned in to your favorite series or your neck is in a New York Times bestseller. he comes in without a word and strips himself of his outside attire. his chiseled body soon bare with the exception of its never-ending ink and boxer briefs. you both don’t officially acknowledge each other until a dip weighs down the empty side of the bed.

onyankopon is a gentle giant— upper body leaning over until he catches your puckered lips. a sweet kiss or two is placed against the plump skin before he settles in. that means dominating the remote control and shifting the channel to something more…his speed. like ‘BMF’ or ESPN highlights. somehow, each low chuckle he belts out brings him closer and closer to your side. before you know it, he’s bridging that drift in the center of your mattress with his wide body.

it’s nothing you’re not used to—captivated by a fantasy the story in your lap tells, yet tilting your neck to give your husband access. a heavy palm rests on your breastbone while onyankopon nips at your neck. his plump lips swirl and suckle softly; only applying enough pressure to elicit soft moans from you. it’s not enough to break neither of you two’s concentration; his darkened pupils still side-eyeing the mounted flatscreen. this type of need can go on for hours and hours if you allow it to.

eventually, his tastebuds grow insatiable. he notices the way your nurturing palm nestles your raised belly every flip of a page. he knows this whole first-time pregnancy thing has been everything but easy on you. he acknowledges how your hormones run wild one half of the time, and your growing body aches the other. you find your little time-passers and hobbies on your own, though. and when onyankopon finally gets back home from providing, you’re always willing to let him consume you.

he mumbles against your skin, “hope my son ain’t give you no issues today”. his head then picks up to find your glassy gaze. your features read tired, yet a small grin weakly tugs at your plump lips. you never fully confirm or deny, unless you felt overtly ill. onyankopon will then pick up the hand that lays on the raised skin, and bring it to his face. he places ghastly pecks into the back of it—along your knuckles and over that big, shiny rock on your ring finger.

he’s so proud to call you his wife, and he’s even prouder that you’re bearing his child. in return, you’ve got this new, radiant glow to you and a confidence to match. this lengthy journey only strengthening your patience and domesticity. it was the next step in building the big, happy family you both desired and deserved.

onyankopon makes it to your wrist—and then he stops. a pregnant pause meaning mischief is brewing in that mind of his. he gently drops your palm and his digits trail to the collar of your shirt. bypassing the small stammer of his name, he tugs until your breasts spill out.

“these givin’ you any pain? they done got a little bigger on me,” your chest is swollen, breasts sitting a little bit lower than the last time. his calloused palms take ahold of both of them to massage you beneath his fingertips. the heaviness from your upper half is relieved as he kneads into the doughy surface. his bottom lip sucked in by his pearly whites as he works out those knots. until—a sudden dampness pauses onyankopon‘s touch. he swears this was meant to be a simple gesture. a way to check on his lady and then head to the shower. onyankopon hesitantly retracts to watch as the eggshell liquid rolls down your mound. he can’t just let it go to waste, so the tip of his tongue laps the drop upwards. right back to your sore nipple that is immediately enveloped by his lips. vibrations buzz around the sensitive skin as he sucks and drinks—your body miraculously seeping out milk the more he encourages the supply.

“you taste like heaven”, he groans out an incoherent phrase, a soft sigh falling from your lips as you lay your head back onto the headboard. your hand abandons the downturned book in your lap, and you drag your nails over onyankopon‘s waves. it’s an intense combination of pain and pleasure as he sloshes your nipple around his wet mouth. he’s careful not to neglect your other nipple—ping ponging back and forth between the two. the man’s got a large appetite and just when you think it’s enough, his palm slides further down past your hump. “what ‘bout right here? i need to taste all of you…,” he stops at your covered center, unlatching from your nipple.

[itwdoris]

toji being obsessed with beer butt he suddenly runs out so he puts it directly on your pee hole and makes you piss inside the bottle and drinks it with gusto after 😍😍😍😍

sometimes even fucking you with the bottle 😩😩

oh toji making you spread your legs and expose yourself well to him, using his thick fingers to caress your folds before opening them again, stretching to have a free way, guiding your hand so that you replace his. you can feel yourself throbbing in anticipation as he takes the tiny tube, kneeling between your legs.

he's always careful, looking at you before going deeper to kiss your clit, nose rubbing against you, he spits it out and rubs it with his thumb on your piss hole. all because his favorite beer has run out and he needs more, so he's ready to take some more from you and fill his bottle.

rubbing the tiny lubed tube against your urethra lightly, caressing around your clit to relieve you, starting to insert it calmly, little by little. you feel shaky, even after doing it so many times, looking at him who seems so concentrated as he begins to shove more inside you, you bite your lips and whimper.

"it's good... hm, pretty?" toji runs his hand down your leg to calm you down as he finishes inserting the tiny tube into you, kissing your thigh. "i'll open it and put in the bottle, 'kay?" he murmured and you nodded, gulping as you saw him pick up the empty beer bottle and put the tube in.

he looked at you then, satisfied as soon as he saw the stream passing by and falling straight into the bottle, filling it up. well, after making you drink so much water, after filling your with the rest of the beer he had, fushiguro expected at least half the bottle to be full... ah, you can do it for him, can't you?

his cock is throbbing just from watching, listening to you whimper as you use another hand to rub yourself a little, liquid still leaking out, his mouth salivates just remembering the taste, your taste. but his thoughts are distracted when you stir a little, his eyes seeing that it's about to end, even if there are still a few drops dripping, he doesn't want to waste anything.

the almost full bottle "weighing" down his hand as he grins at you and pulls the tube out of the bottle, placing it between his teeth as he rests the bottle on the side table, concentrating now on getting you free again. calmly removing the tube from you, listening to your whines, a mischievous smile on his face as you shiver and gushes out a few more short jets before it's really over.

moaning with relief, you relax against the mattress, just watching him pick up the bottle and bring it to his mouth to take a long sip, his eyes closed with the pleasure, something inside you stirring, making you hotter.

then toji pulls the bottle away from his mouth and licks his lips, a sigh coming out, he looks at you again, approaching his hand, rubbing the bottle's mouth in your hole with a grin. "so good f' me..."

-------

ok i had no idea how to write that, even though i looked it up, but i hope its at least readable. </3 // anyway,,, i don't like porn, but i found this video while i was researching and i think it's kinda good ?? kinda hot ok

[quintells]

Hii! I love your works, they’re super good and you’re an amazing writer! I was wondering if, perhaps, you could write a one-shot of maybe a human Alastor x fem! Reader who’s his wife but also the daughter of Candyman? The Daniel Robitaille one.

Maybe they’ve been happily married for some time but suddenly she gets glimpses of her father, her sanity slowly unraveling until it’s to the point of no return and she’s constantly talking about candyman and how he’s her dad and so on.

What would Alastor’s reaction to it all be? Watching his wife’s spiral downwards?

Perhaps it could start off as more of a fluff piece but slowly turns into more of an angst?

If you can’t do it, that’s fine! I hope you have a great rest of your day! ^^

~ 🕷️

A/N: EEEHHH!!! I literally squealed reading your request, thank you (ToT) I feel super happy hearing that! An excellent request that I hope to meet your expectations! I love Daniel Robitaille’s Candyman, I wished they had gone with the original storyline where it was gonna be a bit romantic but it still delivered! I didn’t know how to exactly plan it out since Candyman takes place in Chicago and Alastor lives in New Orleans but I hope my attempt is still enjoyable :) It’ll take a bit to get to the Candyman relation but just hold on.

Warnings: Murder, Violence, Reader’s mental health spiraling, self-inflicted wounds, probably OOC Alastor but it serves its purpose

7.5k ~ Words

Synopsis: Alastor lives a double life, one of tranquility and one of… carnage. Making sure to not entangle them, he takes great care of his beloved wife, ignorance is bliss. But the whispers to herself start to alert him, has someone been harming his darling wife? Why is she screaming at night? Does she know of the terrors he’s committed… or of someone else’s?

When you had first arrived in New Orleans years ago, Alastor thought you seemed utterly clueless. Standing in the middle of the street with just a suitcase in hand while looking around, probably for any open rooms to accept a singular woman, clearly not from the south, his brain queued in an idea. It being that he could use you as a cover up, being a 20-year-old unmarried man and of his looks along with success, it would become a suspicious image, one he didn’t need, plus, the bachelor life didn’t suit him, all the parties and suck-up conversations bored him, leaving little time for his hunting activities.

On the other hand, it was true, you were looking for a room, any room. You had traveled all the way to New Orleans with all you had left behind whatever was left of yourself in Chicago, a place up north that only brought up pain and suffering if mentioned. Walking ahead while still looking around, you felt yourself collide against a chest, looking up you saw what you could only describe as the most darling looking young man that you had seen in your years of living. He smiled down at you, his hand at your waist, holding you close incase you were at risk of falling. You had an alluring appearance to say the least, to him, you looked like a lost doe in finding a strong stag to protect you, serve you, to care for all your needs, you seemed innocent. Weirdly enough, he’d come to think of you as his only gift from Heaven. 

“I had not a clue in the world that angels fell all the way to New Orleans.” He spoke softly, his half-lidded eyes staring down at you, still holding you in place. 

Your ears felt hot from the interaction, your face soon joining in, perhaps you could blame the heat. You smiled back at him, “Lucky day you’re having, ain’t it?” Your humor was something he’d come to enjoy, clicking with him instantly.  Finally clicking out of the moment (but not fully), you both stood a couple of inches apart, offering your hands to one another. Looking down at them, you two laugh then shake hands. 

“___, it’s lovely to meet you, sir.” You introduced yourself, tugging some hair behind your ear. 

“You may call me Alastor, sweetheart. It is a pleasure to meet a beauty like you.” He said, raising your hand to his lips and giving it a small kiss. 

You went from being in the guest room to being in his bedroom, sleeping soundly at his side, married within months. It wasn’t as quick as it may seem, Alastor wanted to truly give you a romantic suave story for you to tell others of his charms and mannerisms, so they could be truly be captured by his doting husband persona, however, his true attitude did become that, he had relinquished the title of heartless for he had found his heart once again after his mother’s death, Alastor was lovestrucked by you. He couldn’t exactly pinpoint when his feelings developed, when he stopped pretending and truly acted upon what his heart commanded, perhaps it was how you’d slither into his office, carrying a cup of coffee made to his specific liking, if not better, you invited yourself into his space, initially not enjoying your presence like a cat but as you continued to come and even announced your creative ideas, he was more than pleased and willing to inform you he’d be in his office, leaving the door wide open for you to come. People in town started speaking, whispering amongst themselves that the handsome bachelor had found himself within arms reach of the new bachelorette, making others jealous or curious. 

Taking leisure walks outside only brought more attention, you’ve never felt so famous… only infamous before but who’s to focus on that now? No one in this town knew that of you. Rumors were going around, specifically from the other ladies that grew envious of your essence, were you the mistress of an old lord back in your hometown? Thrown out due to shame? Did you capture hearts for fun, for luxury, for what?

On a more positive note, you were respected even with no title, people flocking to you for fashion advice, you became part of the elite by association, your job literally being your presence. This boosted Alastor’s pride, using you here and there for deals he would make with others, an unspoken agreement you both had. He made sure to never involve you physically though, after all you were his bride to be! (you didn’t know this yet though) Yours and his charisma combined were just as fatal as a bullet, hypnotizing any ogling dumbass or desperate idiot. 

“What if we use candidate Orwell?” He asked for your opinion. 

Removing your cigarette holder from your lips and letting out a puff, you grumble while thinking, looking out the window of Alastor’s study. “No, he won’t do, darling. I had asked Mimzy to find some details on him and let me tell you…” You leaned down, pulling one of his drawers and taking out pictures of the said senator. “He’s deadweight, his money runs low ‘cause he’s busy pounding hookers and buying drinks that are sure to make his liver look like rocks.”

Alastor shook his head, his curls swaying side to side. Leaning your cigarette at him, he held it and took a puff, recognizing in his mind that your lips had just been on it. His hand went through his hair, pushing it back, “Maybe he’ll be easier to move around?” He said, studying the pictures on his desk, your bottom sat at the corner of it, he felt tempted.

You closed your eyes, sighing, unwrapping a piece of candy that you had grabbed from Alastor desk. “No, I do not like him one bit. That’s not the only thing Mimzy uncovered…” Your hand moved to soothe your temple.

His brow raised, “What is it that you mean, mon cher?” He noticed you tense up, his smile faltering a bit. Has this man disturbed you?

Not looking back at him, you play with your hands. “Mimzy said he beats them, the hookers… til they’re all bloody, hardly able to get up.” Your shoulders slumped.

Your heart was his grace. Your morality never ceased to amaze him, you were fine with fucking up the lives of others (as long as it wasn’t death) but you still had a better understanding and a grasp of empathy than most when it came to certain situations. Alastor reached out, caressing your back. 

His smile widened, unbeknownst to you. “I see, do not fret. I won’t deal with him, dear.” Only that, he will be dealing with him in some other way though. 

Alastor wasn’t particularly fond of it, but he could not risk you waking up in the middle of the night wondering where he’s at. Before heading to bed each night, he’d fix you up a drink, swearing that it would help with your insomnia. It did, but you weren’t going to like the idea of you being drugged here and there for his sake, for his murderous sake. While Orwell hadn’t physically harmed you, he did hurt you still, and that does not run well with Alastor, any harm to you, emotional or physical, will be cleared by him. So that night after putting you to sleep and placing a kiss on your forehead, he snuck out through the back, the woods calling him again. The next morning, you prepared breakfast, Alastor reading the newspaper out loud to you, a routine you both grew accustomed to while either of you cooked. 

“And~ ____ makes another fashion shift with her elegant and buoyant looks! Do you see the way she carries herself? It is enough to make a pious man seek her, even within the confinements of Hell, itself. A radiance follows her anywhere she goes, had it been later times one would think her beauty is a curse! A witch! But no, for you see dear readers, that is beauty constructed by God Almighty, the angels choosing to bless us, gifting us a belle from the Heavens. A queen bee.” Alastor read, dramatically, his hand gesturing upwards. 

You rolled your eyes while flipping an egg. “Oh my, how theatrical.” You turned to him, placing the eggs on the tray. “Do you make them write all that?” You ask, turning back to the stove, taking off the apron.

Alastor laughed. “No, they come up with it all by themselves… if it was me, it would sound better.” He whispered the last part. 

You purse your lips, not catching the last statement. “What was that?” Sitting next to him, your chairs were always skewered so closely.

Shoving his coffee to his mouth, “Nothing, just commenting on the tastefulness of the meal.” He stated.

You rolled your eyes, smiling. “Why thank you, Al. Hopefully they’re good enough to find me a husband.” You commented comically.

Behind his drink, he frowned. He didn’t think it was that funny, or funny at all. The idea of you sitting so close to a man that wasn’t him made him feel… jealous. He had already forgotten his initial reason for attempting to court you, now it was in full truth. He put a smile back up, setting his drink down. 

“Well, have there been any?” He asked, almost wanting to jab the butter knife into his throat.

You hummed, cutting a slice of your hotcakes. “Mm, maybe, maybe not,” Were you pushing his buttons on purpose?

He brought the newspaper up again, covering his expression, his smile sharp and expressing irritation. “Well, out with it…” He pressed on.

You hadn’t exchanged a look his way, clueless to the violent imagery he was having of this mystery man. “He’s a real charmer, a businessman, the ladies would hate me even more, but I believe it is worth it.”

Alastor stayed silent, you were killing him with how long you were dragging it, did you perhaps want to join the man’s fate? He would kill out of jealousy. His knuckles turned pale, scrunching, ripping the newspaper that he wasn’t even reading at this point. 

“You know Alastor… have I ever told you… of my arrival to New Orleans?” You questioned, still avoiding his eyes, continuing to pick at your breakfast. 

He took a deep breath, attempting to relax. Why the sudden change of topic? It seemed important either way, “No, dear. People come and go, I used to think you would too.”

Finally looking at him, your head turned quickly. “Do you want me to leave?” You questioned him, your voice becoming quieter at the end. 

Alastor put his paper down, quickly, throwing it to the side, his hand reached under your chin, his thumb rubbing it. “No never, ___, I adore your company. You have proven to be the only one who can bring me true peace…” His eyes stare deeply into yours. He genuinely meant it, he was good with words but when it came to being in love? It was his first and only time, he felt clueless as to how to truly sway you, especially now with another man in the picture. 

Your hand reached out to the one under his, you placed a kiss on it. “My dearest companion, I must confess so much to you…” You look at him again. “I love you, Alastor.” You delivered the line with all the truth that you found in your heart. 

The brunet stayed quiet for a moment. It was him? He was imagining gutting himself, dismembering, and burying the body, only to find out it was him who you loved. Alastor stood up holding you close, spinning around as he laughed joyously. 

“Mon amour! You made me worried for a second there!” He spoke, stopping his spins to look at you, his hands to your cheeks, feeling the warmth of your face. Alive you were, and him too, even killing didn’t make him feel this content.  “I love you too, ___” He confessed back, leaning his face forward, your lips connecting. It felt as though it were the first time he got his first radio, gifted from his mother, but with a hit of ecstasy. 

The disappearance of Orwell went over everybody’s heads, especially after the fine announcement of the beloved duo, Al and you were all that New Orleans could talk about, even spreading outside the city, beyond borders. Newsboys up-selling any announcements that featured you both in the cover page, other lower-end radio hosts inviting others who claimed to know you both best to discuss the wedding. Alastor would avoid talking about anything personal in radio, but here and there, he’d let his listeners tune in to your lovely voice, telling jokes, giving small opinions, both of you entertaining the audience. 

You were both orphans at young ages, ones who managed to become very successful not just in business relations but as well as looks and personalities, and now you were together, a story that people liked to share amongst themselves. Children and teenagers filled with giddy when copying anything that resembled the married couple, they wanted to be just like you two, but one shouldn’t trust image so easily. 

Years had passed. You became the Mrs. Radio of Louisiana even if it hadn’t been your thing at all, Mr. Radio, Al, loved the title. Traveling here and there, either for Alastor’s business ventures or for your fashion shows, the only place you ever avoided was Chicago. It only ever brought memories you did not want to relive, Alastor knew that feeling so whenever he’d have to travel to the bustling city, he would only inform you once, and that was all. As far as he knew, you had come from an abusive orphanage, one that would leave you starved for days, beat you if you made a creak, nothing good or worth remembering. He did wonder how such a kind heart like yours ever made it out, if it had been him… he would’ve felt the warmth of the orphanage but through the flames he’d have set. 

“I’ll accompany you.” You said, folding Alastor’s clothing into a suitcase.

He stopped tying his bow-tie, turning away from the mirror to look at you. “And you are sure of this?” He questioned.

You nodded, setting stuff down and walking to Alastor, hugging him. “I cannot stand the thought of not seeing you for weeks… each time you go… I get these nightmares.” 

He leaned further into the hug, his chin resting on your head, his hand moved to soothe your back. “What are they, love?”

You whimpered. “I don’t want you to deem me insane.”

You feel him shake his head. “No, never, if I have to meet your insanity, then that I will, my love.”

“He calls to me… my father. He is in Hell, I see him burn and scream, cry my name out, saying that I’m next.” Tears begin streaming down your face, sobbing. “I don’t know what I’ve done, I do not seek him, I do not mourn him. I simply wish to forget.” You choke out. 

Alastor’s soft smiles again, for the second time with you in his life. Nightmares? They have your body trembling, this was torment. He holds you closer if possible, “I’m here, dear. I’ll be with you forever.” Except in death, a voice inside his head spoke.

 The travel to Chicago had been spend nicely, that is until one sunny day out in the shade while drinking sweet tea a bee had stung you. You groaned in pain, waving your finger around. Alastor laughed and you shouted in pain. 

“It is not amusing at all, Al! It genuinely hurts.” You told your husband. 

Alastor grabbed some ice within his cup, holding your wrist and placing the ice cube on your index finger. “Let us just hope you are not allergic to some fuzzy insect, mon amour.” 

You grumbled, wiping tears away, your other hand shoving a piece of candy into your mouth. “And on my last day here too! How cursed am I?” You spoke, moving the candy around in your mouth.

He shook his head, clicking his tongue, he loved how dramatic you were. “You’re acting like Louisiana has no bees.” 

“They’re much nicer, showin’ southern hospitality of sorts.” You groaned out.

Back home, Alastor observed some differences. You seemed downer than usual, not even bothering to fix yourself or anything, not that he minded your natural beauty whatsoever but it was unusual for you to be so… not yourself. The first sign might have been the one night he woke up to go out for his hunt, only to find that you weren’t next to him in bed. Alastor slipped on his robe, holding a candle as he walked around the townhome you both owned. 

“My dear?” He spoke out to the darkness, an uneasy feeling creeping into his gut, something very unusual as well. Very.

He heard whispers, yours, frequent. Finally walking around the corner of the hallway, he saw your form staring out the window, a full moon illuminating you, you seemed holy even with your frantic whispers. 

“Candyman, Candyman, Candyman, Candyman, Candyman, Candyman…” You repeated, looking out the window. 

Alastor’s hand reached out, tapping your shoulder, causing you to jump. A confused smile adorned his face, his head tilted to the side. 

“Are you alright, ___?” He questioned, genuinely worried. 

Your eyes were half-lidded, turning your head to look around. “Wh… what am I doing here?” You asked, heavily confused. 

He wasn’t sure what to answer since he had no clue either, he did drug your drink, right? This would be the first time he’d forgotten if so. Moving his free hand to your waist, Alastor guided you to the bedroom. “Let’s sleep, my doe.” Was all he could say. 

Alastor decided to stay in that night, there was something happening, a feeling of worry crept into his heart, but he could only hope it had been a one time thing. Once morning hit, Alastor prepared breakfast, you had come down after resting a bit more, noticing that he had made your favorite. You let out a giggle and hugged him from behind. His smile grew, turning his body to you and his arms caging you in. 

“Good morning, sweetheart!” He said. “Morning, Mr. Radio.” You spoke softly, letting go of his hug and sitting down. 

As Alastor joined you, he looked at you cut into your meal. “Dear, who is ‘Candyman’?” 

You stopped completely. “Why do you ask?” 

He smiled nervously, another sign things are not normal. “It’s just that… last night when I found you in the hallway, you repeated it.”

You looked at him, your expression serious. “Is that all I said?”

He nodded.

You move back to cut your food, “Then it's nothing to worry about…”

Alastor furrowed his brows. Clearly it was something to worry about, but maybe he was being too much of a doting husband, maybe his worries were nonexistent. How he wished he pushed further. 

The nights grew longer, pushing his kills even further, his thirst for blood growing. Night after night, he’d wake up to your screams, your cries, he came to find out that the drugs, no matter the dosage, wouldn’t work. Your hands would reach out above you, towards the ceiling, your eyes straining backwards as you shouted once again. “CANDYMAN, CANDYMAN, GET AWAY FROM ME! PLEASE! STOP! NO!” You’d sobbed.

He grew alert each night, ready to hold you in his arms, the only thing that would calm you down, but slowly. First you’d try to fight him off only to find out it was your beloved husband holding you, he’d shush you reassuringly, petting your hair back, wiping the cold sweat off you. Your body trembling, jumping, it took hours of comforting you for you to finally slip into sleep again, only in his arms, if he left you for even a second, he hears a wailing outside the door. Nights were harsh. The daytime was much easier to handle, yet, you’d only walk around the house, doing small activities to distract yourself while Alastor worked.

You stood outside your bathtub, the door left open as your husband requested, the steam escaping the room into the hallway. You could only sigh tiringly, you felt weak to even put a towel on. Looking in the mirror, you saw eyebags appear onto your skin, sunken eyes accompanying the look, you didn’t feel like Mrs. Radio, you felt… weak. During breakfast, you could tell Alastor was hiding away a section of the daily newspaper from you, growing suspicious, once out of sight, you had taken a look only to be informed about the public wondering about your whereabouts, many guessing a pregnancy. You’d rather say illness first but all these townspeople were good for was gossip and that’s it, they had meaningless lives so their only source of joy was someone who had something they don’t. You open your mirror cabinet, looking for a formula to give you back your glow, but once you closed it, he was there instead of your face. Your father.

He stared back at you, menacingly. Raising his hooked hand, “Join me in Hell, ___. It will be more familiar than you think!” 

You shook your head, stepping backward hurriedly as you swung at the mirror with the glass formute in your hand, breaking the mirror into pieces. You screamed in great fear that he’d crawl out of it and come get you. Your nude back met the wall, your legs still attempting to scoot away as you scream echoed throughout the house.

Alastor had been hosting from home ever since… your illness began to act up more. His broadcast stopped abruptly, a scream interrupting his announcements. He was sure the mic picked them up. He stood up, looking out his door. 

“Ah, just a moment folks, I���ll be right back.” He informed, switching to a random repetitive hit song. 

He ran downstairs, jumping a couple steps, turning to you from the stairs, running quickly to your dishevelled form. He kneeled down, clinging to your naked body, turning his head to the bathroom where the shattered pieces of your skin care and the mirror layed. Leaving you to grab a towel, he kicked any shards near you away.

“Alastor, Alastor! Don’t leave me!” You shouted.

Grabbing a towel and covering you as he rubbed a part of it into your wet face, a soft concerned smile looked back at you. “No, no, I won’t leave you no matter what. Just explain to me what happened, dear.”

You pointed to the now destroyed bathroom cabinet, “He was there! Candyman… My father! I want him to leave me alone! He wants to drag me to Hell with him!”

He felt a jab in his heart when seeing you in such pain, you were so sweet, what in the hell was punishing you so much? Was this God’s doing? Your deceased father hunting you from the grave? Alastor dabbled in the dark arts, he knew about souls, spirits and such, his family studied voodoo afterall, but this may be different. This is a haunting. His thoughts leaned back, he didn’t want to assume it was that right away, maybe there was still a chance that an illness had befallen you, something curable he hoped. Alastor carried you to bed, dressing you in a loose nightgown, he checked your forehead, cold, sweaty, your breathing slow. He held your hand, walking you to his office, sitting you down on a couch that faces his controls/desk, Alastor held a blanket over you, hunching over and petting your head. 

“Rest here, just be silent like… a doe.” He spoke softly.

Your eyes look up at him, your head nodding slowly. “Okay…” You whispered. 

He resumed his work once he sat back down, he could feel you eyeing, almost like you didn’t blink at all, he hadn’t caught you doing so at least. Is this how his prey felt? He’d stop to give you a reassuring smile here and there, but you’d just return it with an expressionless look, very unlike you. You were completely silent, as though nothing had happened, even before you’d whisper little risqué jokes at him that would get him going, something he'd look forward to after his sessions. It’s not like it was your job to please him whenever he wished, it was the other way around, and he wouldn’t have it any other way, so this lack of ‘you’ made him feel so concerned. He wondered back to his listeners, the scream, if it is true that they heard it, he knew the newspaper would have a run with it, regardless though, he’d still be there for his wife no matter what. 

“Well, that’s all for tonight folks, may you all have a lovely night and remember to tune it for tomorrow!” He said in a singing tone, shutting it off completely. 

Alastor picked up a pen, dipping it in ink and scribbling some things down on a piece of paper. “Are you feeling better, dear?” He asked.

You stayed silent for a moment. “Will you be going out tonight…” Your voice asked coldly. 

He stayed still for a moment, the ink of his pen creating a big drip on his paper. There is no way in Hell he heard you right. “Excuse me?”

Your head leaned on your palm that was set on the couch’s arm. “My father… he spoke to me… he told me you need to go out, by yourself.”

Dropping the pen down, “Is this… ‘Candyman’ you are speaking of?” He questioned, his eyes focused on your figure. 

“Yes…” Was all you said.

Lips were sealed, his smile faltering but still remaining, it became hard for it to stay put nowadays. “... I don’t know what you mean, my love… I reside my nights aside you…” 

You stood up, walking out the door. “Liar…” You whispered to yourself.

Alastor tilted his head, not catching what you had said. “Speak again, my dear?”

You turned to him in the doorway. “I will be going to sleep.” Walking away to what he hoped was your shared bedroom. 

He noticed he was hunched over, straightening his back into the chair, he took a deep breath, hands rummaging through his hair. A previous night, he heard you whisper a name… Daniel Robitaille. Only that, this introduction wasn’t through your voice, but that of a man. Alastor reached into his drawer, one in which he kept most secrets of information, grabbing a letter that had arrived from Chicago, Illinois. He threw the letter on his desk, grabbing a letter cutter to open it. Within it he read the information of a man, the one you claimed to be your father, Candyman. Reading the man's history, it initially seemed like another misfortune, killed due to hatred and love. But as he continued to further investigate within the sheet of paper in between his thumbs, he learned of the hauntings, the one thing he had hoped wasn’t true. 

Deaths upon deaths, and the man wasn’t even alive. Bees were a sign, and well, the candy, it’s always been there, you had a sweet tooth, always carrying candy with you to either eat or give away. Had it all truly begun when that bee had stung you? Was it your father doing? If so, what a miserable bastard. Alastor crumbled up the paper, throwing it somewhere in the room, he became frustrated that you were being tormented, and now, he also had a snitch at bay! He didn’t want this all to stress you further but it’s becoming impossible to hide, especially with how many days he’s gone without hunting. Alastor stood up from his desk, rubbing his knuckles, he must get rest while he can. Entering the room quietly, there you laid, soundly for the first time in a while. He laid next to you, holding your hand in his, dozing off to sleep.

A scream woke him. Yours. You thrashed in the bed, the moon once again lighting you, Alastor saw you claw open your nightgown, your scratched harshly at your chest, blood dripping everywhere. Alastor panicked, shouting your name repeatedly for you to break out of the trance. You could only scream, your throat burning, you had to get them out, they were inside you, buzzing within your chest, prickling your heart and lungs. Alastor held you, his nails digging into your shoulders, shaking you as hard as he could without breaking you. He needed you to snap out of it, reaching for your hands, attempting to stop them from tearing your chest open. 

“___ WAKE UP! HE’S NOT REAL! WAKE UP!” It’s like you couldn’t hear him.

Deciding there was nothing else to do, he raised his hand up high, slapping you across the face, causing you to wake up from the torment. You cried out to him, what have you become? You’ve made your sweet loving husband do something you knew would torture his heart. Alastor pressed you against his body, muffling your cries. He kissed your forehead as he apologized. 

The doctor had come in, binding your wounds with cloth. Alastor stayed inside, forbidding the man from even thinking of asking him to leave. The doctor checked your pulse, it was faint but it was there, you seemed tired, as though you had gone through labor. Your husband could only stare at the scene, speechless, his smile was gone for tonight. Standing up and walking up to Mr. Radio, the doctor held his case, sucking his lip in momentarily.

“She is not well…” He spoke.

Bringing his hand to his head, he looked to the side, “No shit, of course she’d not fucking well, no one who’s well would make a bloody mess out of there chest.” He replied frustrated. 

The doctor took a moment, hesitating, “Why don’t you send her to… a specialised hospital?” 

Alastor turned back to him, sharply. His hand grabbing the man by the collar and bringing him close, “Do not ever, EVER, suggest that…” He threatened. 

The doctor had sweat dripping down quickly. “My apologies, sir.” He quickly moved to leave.

The brunet glared as the old man scurried like a coward, how dare he suggest even more distress upon his beloved? Why he oughta gut him. Alastor walked towards you, restraints had been put on you in order to deter you from hurting yourself. He wasn’t pleased by the sight at all, but he didn’t see any other way to stop you. The doctor hadn’t helped much besides bandaging you and treating your wounds, something he could have done himself, he would’ve too if he knew the doctor would be completely useless. He kneeled next to your sleeping body, the doctor had given you strong medicine to fall asleep. Alastor laid his head next to your body, holding your hand. What could he do? 

He bit his lip, thinking. What could he do? Contact your father perhaps but he doubts he’d take kindly to such an approach… What was the harm in trying though? Alastor checked if the restraints were tight, a rope tying you to where you both usually laid, to rest and to love. Gathering some items from his study and putting them in a bag, he headed back again to you, untying the rope that held you down to the bed and carrying you out into the car, seating you behind the passenger seat. Alastor moved quickly, throwing the bag upfront, next to him, driving immediately to his hidden cabin, one he had told you nothing about. It was a risky move but it was all for you, for the love he had for you, if you finding out all his secrets was the only way to liberate from all this mess, then he’d do it, no questions asked. The streets were surprisingly empty, New Orleans was a constant party so seeing no one out should have been a sign that something was going to go wrong. He paid no mind to this fact, only focusing on your breathing, the only thing keeping him sane. He drove past the long woods, making his own road of dirt, then stopping. Slinging the back over his shoulder, he turned back, you were still unconscious, and hopefully it stayed that way for the remainder of this hour. He laid a long kiss on your forehead, then made sure you laid as comfortably as possible.

“I will be back, my love.” He whispered. 

Alastor left the car, walking to the cabin, he entered in a rushed manner, as soon as he was able to enter, he hurried to the basement, where all his deals and black magic occurred. He had just been here last night, thinking he wouldn’t be back so soon. Could he make two deals at once? Probably not, but maybe there’s a chance he could offer something. He placed the bag down, unzipped it, his hands reached in, grabbing a mirror and setting it in front of him, reaching in again, he sat some of the candy you’d usually eat ahead of the mirror. Soon, he began his incantation. 

“Candyman, Candyman, Candyman, Candyman, Candyman, come forth…” You bastard, he thought.

It really didn’t take much, perhaps his father-in-law was awaiting this moment. 

Daniel Robitaille presented himself, the same glare growing more intense as his eyes laid upon another sinner. Alastor smiled at him, mockingly. He snuck his hand inside his dress shirt, revealing a locket with a picture of his wife inside. He presented it to the man within the mirror. 

Alastor leaned forward, “She is my pride and honor, my one and only love. The only thing in this cruel forsaken world that brings me warm feelings, regrets, joy, and so much more.”

Robitaille remained unmoved. “I do not care.” He spoke.

His brows furrowed at his comment. “Well I do, and I’m here to do whatever you want for you to release her, let her be back to her normal self, happy and unharmed.” Alastor said, a hint of desperateness in his voice.

Candyman squinted his eyes, “You think, I am here for her soul? I want nothing of that sort,... I simply want my child.” 

What the hell does that entitle him to? “I fear I do not follow.” 

“Trust me child, I am gifting people a greater story. I am aiding her before you even know it. Heed my words… leave it all be.” He spoke in a whisper.

Everything he said made Alastor enraged at all the confusion. “Stop it with these damn-”

“Do you not realize it is too late? She is on the move! Nothing you can do to stop it!” He laughed at the sinner in front of him. 

Alastor dropped his locket, hitting his chest. His eyes widened as he ran up the stairs, the booming laughter echoing throughout the cabin. Running out, he saw the car's door wide open, your restraints ripped apart. Alastor began running into the woods, shouting your name but only the return of crickets could be heard. The bayou nearby did not make it any safer. His heartbeat wouldn’t stop, the adrenaline pumping through his veins as he tried to find any clue of you, the moon was hidden this time. All that repeated in his head was the laughter of the man who claimed to be your father, Candyman.

You couldn’t find your mind, being in the woods didn’t make it any easier. Your bare feet covered in mood and cuts, the nightgown you wore had tears at the ends. You groaned repeatedly, moaned in pain, all you could hear was the annoying incessant buzzing of bees. You wanted it all to stop, to go back to Alastor and sleep, but that seemed impossible. Your father was calling to you, demanding your presence in Hell. You were terrified of what you could do, if you harmed your beloved husband, yoo could never forgive yourself, so away you must, even if it pains him. 

Two men sat near a fire, their guns next to their sides as they ate out of their canned beans. It had been like this every so often, the two brothers would go out hunting for deer, sell it in the market, using everything it had to offer. One brother swiped his mouth clean with his sleeve, taking his hat off to air himself. He looked at his brother in front of him.

“I’m gonna take another look ‘round here…” He said.

The younger brother nodded, scooping any leftover beans from his can. The older one standing, holding his shotgun, walking into the forest. Today's hunting trip hadn’t been as fortunate, the two had spent hours here but no deer had shown up, perhaps it truly was a quiet night. A moan echoed in his area. The brother turned around, setting his can to the side as he quickly grabbed his gun. He had a bad feeling that caused the hairs of his neck to rise. Pointing the gun into the night, sweat dripping down his temple.

“Who goes there? Ain’t want no trouble.” His voice trembled.

The bushes swayed from the wind, shaking even after it had stopped. Aiming his gun at the spot, he put his finger on the trigger, ready to pull it. He had to be prepared for whatever was coming. A hand popped out of the night, your form appearing slowly, shakingly falling to the ground on your knees and palms. The man's eyes widened, recognizing you from the newspaper he’d see around town, immediately pushing his shotgun to his side and hurriedly picking up your fragile form. He held your body, noticing how cold you were from simply wearing a dishevelled nightgown. Seating you on the broken tree bark he sat on before, he studied your form. 

You were completely out of it. “Are you well, miss?” He asked.

Your eyes focused on the fire, reminding you of the Hell your father promised. You were left dazed, unable to think straight. 

“Miss?” He called out again. 

Your head turned to him, staring at him dead in the eyes, he felt frightened by your cold look. You threw yourself at him, pinning his shoulders to the ground. 

You growled, “GET. THEM. OUT. OF. ME!!!” Your nails dug furiously through his clothes. 

The man became petrified as you opened your mouth, a large amount of bees pouring out.

Alastor shouted your name, running as fast as his legs could take him after hearing your voice. “___! ___! DEAR! STOP!” He could only say, finally arriving at the scene.

The man’s face became covered in bees, his cries muffled by the loud buzzing. Alastor’s eyes moved to you, your mouth stretched wide, a size that surpassed humans. God fucking Hell, he knew demonic shit existed cause he dealt with it but he’d never seen something like this, out of this world. He could only think about hurting, did you know what you were doing? This would pain you if you did. Alastor ran to you, pulling you with all his strength. It was hard, your body just clung onto the screaming man as more bees exited your mouth. 

“___, stop! It’s Candyman! Not you!” He shouted through his struggle. He didn’t want to lose you.

Your head turned to him, your eyes a crimson red. “FUCK OFF!” You screeched, your arm swinging backwards and throwing his entire body into the forest.

He couldn’t react quick enough, before he knew it, his back hit a tree, the air being completely knocked out of his lungs. And before he knew, all he could hear was the sound of a shotgun going off, and then another one, a piercing scream heard.

The man’s older brother had heard the commotion, he ran quickly only to come across a scene that involved Satan himself. A woman straddled his brother's body as her mouth stretched open, bees flying out and onto his brother's head. He was horrified as he aimed the shotgun, a bullet hitting your ribcage, a wide wound pouring bloodied bees out. You stood up, angrily, a monstrous shriek frightening the man to shoot again, this time at your chest, he turned to run. Your hand reached to the bullet wound, near your heart, you began shaking, finally feeling the pain, the buzzing had ended. You gulp, falling to the ground on your knees, then your body dropping down backwards, you stared at the moon.

Alastor ran again, his wounds forgotten about, “___!” He shouted, sinking to your side. 

You couldn’t respond, you felt much too tired now that you thought about it, but at least the buzzing sound had stopped.

His hands go in to hold you close, noticing the wounds, you were surely to bleed out. His voice quivered as he repeated no, tears falling from his eyes onto you. 

“Alastor… I love you...” You spoke slowly, the air escaping. Your tears drown your eyes, creating a blurred vision.

He could only shake his head, “Don’t. leave. ME!” He spoke the last part through his teeth, burying himself into the crook of her neck. 

You couldn’t feel your legs, your arms, you now noticed how much strength it required to keep your eyes open, strength you didn’t have. You stare at Alastor one last time then closed your eyes, slipping away.

Alastor let out a loud sob, shaking. His fingers clung onto you close, not caring for any grim or blood, your body was all he had. He sat there close to you, breaking down at the realization that this was it, you were not coming back. Tomorrow there won’t be a breakfast you have together, no inside jokes, no you. You died leaving him behind, you were his soul, the only thing that made him feel human rather than just a monster. You were no monster, you were never insane to him, all of this was your fathers fault, dirtying your name. He picked up your body, walking to the fire and laying you down near it. He walked to the man's body, his face filled with open wounds and bumps, puss and blood out in the open. Alastor didn’t want to hear any slander of you, this wasn’t you after all. You were delicate, kind, and sweet, not a murder like him or your father. Grabbing the man's feet, he dragged him through the forest, thinking about hunting the other son of a bitch, dismembering him alive, making sure he’d feel everything, and even then, that pain couldn’t amount to yours or what Alastor felt. 

His nails dug deep into the ankles of the man’s body, “I’ll fucking kill you…” He whispered to himself, as he thought about the coward that ran away. 

And then he heard, his laugh, Candyman’s laugh. Alastor looked around furiously, a stick crunching at his feet, then he heard the click of a gun, but it was all too late for him as well.

---------

Somewhere in Hell -

“But yeah, that’s how we died!” Your hand reached out to hold Alastors, his smile staying consistent as he drank his coffee.

Alastor sighed, “A true love story all the way til the end!” He said joyously. 

You both sat in separate chairs, right next to one another. Angel had been sitting on the floor next to Nifty, he raised a brow. “Did you guys even fuck?” He asked.

Alastor’s eyes widened, what an atrocious question. “How is that even a necessary question?” He asked, unamused at the spider's antics.

Your small wings fluttered, you were used to it but it did leave you a bit irritated. “Well, anyways, my father will be visiting the hotel this afternoon, so please, please, don’t mention that in front of him.” You pleaded to Angel. 

Husk rolled his eyes, he hated that guy. “Why does he even bother? Listen, I enjoy him doggin’ on Alastor, I mean the guy needs some humbling…” Husk said as he looked at the Radio Demon, the red man’s eyes switching to Radio dials, Husk cringed. “But, he becomes everyone's pain in the ass.” 

Everyone nods their heads in agreement, including you, your antenna’s moving so cutely in Alastor’s perspective. Charlie squealed, seeming to be the only one happy for his visit. 

“He’s not that bad! He’s well respected in Hell! So maybe good old Candyman can get us some… uh… good free advertising?” She replied, holding her index finger up. 

Alastor waved his cane at her. “Why would we need him when we have moi, here?” He was feeling himself too much. 

Husk took a swig of his liquor bottle, “Humble…” He whispered to himself.

You let out a chuckle, leaning to give him a quick kiss on the cheek, some things never change.

A/N: I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS!!! Started at work, finished it at work, hehe. Gosh but seriously anon, thank you so much for requesting this wonderful idea, I hope that I managed to make it enjoyable. I just wanted to give some lil joy if anyone decides to read the last part, I just thought that the idea of the reader being a bee in Hell was kind of cute (probably haunted her for a while though) Keep those request coming!

[talesfromawannabewriter]

The Cold Never Bothered Him Anyway

@things-arent-what-they-seem66

Adam sighed heavily as he tried to walk away from his sister. But Emily was persistent.

Emily: Addy please stop!

Adam: Emily I’m not discussing this any further.

Emily: Your killing souls Adam! I think this is something you and I need to discuss.

Adam stopped and ran a hand through his face. Though in the end Adam had gotten what was planned and the exterminations would follow in a month it was still quite a disastrous meeting.

Especially now that Emily had found out about what he and his girls did.

He turned towards her and instantly regretted it when he saw the look on her face.

It was a mixture of disappointment and anger directed completely at him. Never once had they known each other had she ever looked at him like that.

What was worse was that she had a hint of disgust behind those eyes. She didn’t understand the whole picture. If it wasn’t for him sinners would be going rampant.

Adam: Emily you don’t understand-

Emily: Darn right I don’t! How can you be willingly be alright with the slaughter of these poor souls let alone leading the charge!?

Adam: ….Poor souls? Emily trust me when I say that these souls are far from innocent. If they could find a way they would kill us back without a second thought.

Emily: But still killing them!?

Adam: You just don’t get it and never will. Especially an angel of your standing.

Emily: …..Is this the reason you have been cold for the last two hundred years?

Adam’s eyes narrowed: Emily.

Emily: This isn’t the brother I know! The Adam I know is a sweetheart who loves music and sharing his talent with others!

Adam: People change Em.

Emily: You haven’t just changed your not you anymore! You’ve become a…..

She stopped herself from finishing that sentence. But he knew what she was going to say. He was a monster in her eyes.

Adam: If you really hate me that much then maybe I should just leave and never return. Would that make you happy?

Emily: What? No!

Adam: Because it sounds to me like I’m no longer your brother!

Emily: That is not what I meant Adam and you know it! You hardly smile anymore, you’re always irritable and closed off. And you’ve shut everyone and anyone out! You’re even cold to Abel.

Adam: Don’t you dare bring him into this. In fact I’m done with this conversation entirely. I have an extermination day to plan out.

He turned to leave but gasped when he felt Emily grabbed onto his hand and when he tried to rip himself away from her hold he only sucked in allowing her to take his glove off.

Immediately he brought his bare hand close to his chest and covered it up with the loose sleeve of his robe.

If there was one thing Adam hates more than anything it was his own skin.

Adam: Give me my glove back!

Emily: Adam please, PLEASE, I can’t live like this anymore! Being shrouded in secrets and betrayal! By my own family no less!

Adam: ……Then maybe you should leave. Because that is just how Heaven is and never will it change its ways.

Without another word Adam turned on his heel and started walking over to the court’s exit.

Emily: ……WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS!?!?

Adam: Enough Emily.

Emily: NO! Why are you so set in your own ways!? Why do you think this is the only way to protect Heaven!? I’m sure if we could find another way-

Adam: Emily-

Emily: We can come up with a more humane solution-

Adam: Emily-

Emily: Because I will not stand for my own brother turning everything I believe in to absolutely nothing!

Adam: Emily please-

Emily: No, why do you think this is good for the people!? Why do you go through with it!? Why have you been shutting me and Mom out!? What are you so afraid of!?

Adam: I SAID ENOUGH!!!!!

Emily and Adam both stopped in their tracks. Both angels felt their hearts thumping against their chests.

Emily stared at Adam’s back with tears forming. In all of her years never once had he ever spoken to her like that.

Adam: …..That is enough Emily.

Unfurling his wings he took flight and made sure that the young seraphim didn’t see the tears in his eyes.

Emily was left standing there trying to not shed any tears as she gripped tightly onto the piece of material belonging to her brother.

For little did she know that would be the very last time the two would speak to each other in the Heavenly realm.

[gezelligs-world]

Come Back To Me

(Bada Lee x Fem!Oc)

Summary: While enjoying your life being single, destiny decided that it’s time for you and Bada to meet again.

Part 2 of Crawling Back To You

Reminder: This work is purely based on the author’s imagination.

Warning/s: Slight NSFW, swear word

Being single is probably one of the most enjoyable things to experience as a human being. There’s no problems at all, all you had to do is worry about yourself.

That’s also one of the annoying traits as a single person.

“Damn it. Why now?” Sara groaned as she went out of her car and inspected it. She was on her way home and was about to start the engine but it did not budge. Sara open the hood and take a look at the different parts.

“I might bring this to my mechanic…” She groaned as she took a picture of the different parts incase her mechanic ask for one.

Sara looked around the parking lot and saw not a single car there. She looked at her phone and saw that it’s already midnight. She overworked again. Overworking is already a normal thing for Sara, at least before she met a certain woman who never let her stay awake after 10 in the evening.

Sara sighed and looked at the sky while leaning at the front of her car with her eyes closed. She’s not even annoyed or mad like earlier. She just wants to rest and take a deep breath.

Bark! Bark!

She opened her eyes and saw a dog, sitting in front of her while wagging its tail.

Wait… the dog looks familiar…

“Arin!” Sara jolted her body when she heard a familiar voice.

‘No! It can’t be! But this dog is amazingly similar to Bada’s dog! Let alone its name!’

Sara took a deep breath and turned around as met eyes with her ex girlfriend, Bada Lee. Bada’s reaction is what Sara is expecting to be. Who wouldn’t be so shocked when you met your ex girlfriend? Let alone the one you spent your life for five years?

“Hey. Arin’s all grown up.” She smiled politely as she carried Arin and approached Bada. Sara doesn’t know why she chose to carry the dog and gave it Bada when she can just stand there and wait for Bada to go there and grab Arin.

“Uhm yeah.” Bada politely grab Arin from Sara, intentionally avoiding to brush their fingers against each other.

Arin whimpered at the loss of contact with Sara. One can say that a person’s pet is the reflection of their owner’s true emotion.

Bada stared at Sara for a moment and glanced at her car. She can already tell the Sara’s car has problems as of the moment.

“Car is busted?” Bada asked as Sara glanced back to her car and looked back with a sigh.

“First time in years.” Sara lightly joked making Bada smile a little.

‘Still the same.’ Bada thought.

Bada glanced down at Sara’s clothes and frowned. She’s still on her work clothes. Bada glanced at her watch and saw that it’s already past midnight.

“You’re overworking again?” Sara’s lips formed a thin line at Bada’s question.

“Yes. The office had a contract with another company so all of us are busy as of the moment.” Bada’s frown went deeper when she heard her response. She then glanced around the parking lot.

“You said all of you are busy yet you’re the only one still present here.” Bada stated.

Sara wished she could just end of the conversation and go home already. Her heart continued to ache at every vibration of Bada’s voice. Her voice. It’s poison.

“I was just about to go. I’ll probably stay at a friend’s house since I already missed the last train.” Sara replied politely.

Bada hummed at Sara’s reply as she caressed Arin’s head that was snuggled on her chest.

“I see. Did your friend already replied that they agreed to let you stay?” Bada asked. Sara mentally closed her eyes in frustration.

‘For goodness sake! Stop caring! We’re not together anymore!’ Sara thought.

“Yes.” Sara replied shortly even though she still hadn’t messaged her friend. Bada stared at her for a moment bur reluctantly nodded.

“I’ll stay until your friend arrives.” Sara looked at her in shock.

“No. You don’t have to—!” Bada chuckled at Sara’s panic reply.

“No intentions included. Just want you to be safe. Don’t want you getting kidnapped, right?” Sara stared at Bada for a moment but reluctantly nodded. It’s not like she can win over Bada. Her words are absolute.

‘Just want you to be safe, huh.’ Sara thought.

Both Sara and Bada are leaning against Sara’s car as they waited for Sara’s friend to arrive to pick her up. Arin, Bada’s dog, is also lying comfortably on the ground.

The atmosphere is somehow comfortable but both of them know there’s a hidden tension behind it.

Sara glanced at Bada who is looking the other way, admiring the lights around them. It’s already two in the morning yet the city is still awake.

Sara couldn’t but admire her ex lover’s facial features. Her structures somehow became more mature than ever. She wondered how she’s been doing?

The worst thing about their relationship is that they never knew each other’s side. Did they miss each other after all these years? Did they stalk each other’s socials to see how they are doing? Did they reminisce their moments? No. They will never know.

Sara once again glanced at Bada when she heard her cleared her throat.

“How are you?” Bada’s question echoes around Sara’s brain. Sara doesn’t have an answer for that. Sure, she’s living what she’s dreaming for but something’s missing. Someone’s missing.

“Good.” Sara’s response remain flat, trying to stay nonchalant.

Bada knew that her response is just a facade. After all, their five-year relationship did not go to waste. Bada knew Sara like the back of her hand. And Sara knew that very well.

“Yeah? That’s all?” Bada asked making Sara nod in response.

A gush of wind suddenly flows making Sara exhale because of coldness. Who wouldn’t thought a 2am wind would be this cold? She felt Bada shuffling and a warm fabric around her shoulders. Sara looked up and looked at Bada in confusion.

“Wouldn’t want you to freeze.” Bada smiled as she put back her hands to herself again.

Sara was about to object when they heard a car horn. Both of them looked towards the sound and saw that Sara’s friend has finally arrived.

Bada stood up completely and fixed her cap.

“Keep the coat, for now. Return it if the one wearing it is ready to come back to me.” Bada walked away with her dog leaving a speechless Sara in the parking lot.

Sara managed to regain her thoughts and approach her friend’s car.

“Hey, are you alright?” Min-ju asked as soon as Sara went inside her car.

“Yes. Thank you for replying to my message, Min-ju.” Sara thanked her friend as she buckled her seatbelt.

“Not at all. It’s rare for you to message me this early which is why I knew something is wrong.” Sara chuckled in response as Min-ju drove to her place.

Three weeks. Three fucking weeks. That’s how long it took for Sara to finally lose her mind. Her mind always drift off to what Bada told her three weeks ago.

“Return it if the one wearing it is ready to come back to me.”

She missed Bada like a crazy woman. Her touch, her kisses, her fave, her affections. Everything.

Sara is sitting on the floor, at the edge of her bed, with her phone on her hand. She’s been staring at it for a while with Bada’s number on her screen. She looked at the coat that was hanging on her desk chair. It still has Bada’s signature scent.

She sighed and pressed the call button. It rang for at least five times until it got picked up by none other than Bada.

“Ready to come back?” Sara put away her phone from her mouth in order to exhale shakily at what Bada just told her. She didn’t even know she has been holding her breath at that moment.

“Yes.” Sara replied. The line became silent for a short moment until Bada replied once more.

“My place tomorrow if you want to return my coat.”

“Should I go back…?” Sara whispered to herself.

She is now at the parking lot of Bada’s apartment complex. It’s still the same building as it is years ago when they were still together.

The buildings around her are luxurious. Bada’s dedication as a choreographer and dancer seems to have payed off. Now she is popular nationally, even internationally.

“It’s now or never.” Sara mumbled and went out of her car. She opened the driver’s seat and grab Bada’s coat to return it to her. She took a one last breath and walked to where Bada is staying.

The elevator ride up to Bada’s apartment is deafening. There’s two or three people with her along the way but as of the moment, she is alone now.

Her shoes made a continuous tapping sound as the elavator got nearer and nearer to the designated floor. Sara felt like her heart will pump right out of her chest because of how fast it is beating.

Relax and stay calm. That’s the words haunting her mind right now. But this is their first official conversation as ex lovers. What will happen along the way? Will they clear up some matters? Will they act as if nothing happened in the past?

Sara jumped when the elevator dinged and the door opened. She gulped and went out, she’s now at the hallway, couple of meters away from Bada’s apartment. Her steps are heavier as she got closer. She mentally hoped that she is not sweating.

Finally, she is now in front of Bada’s door. Sara took a deep breath and pressed the doorbell. She doesn’t have to wait long because she can already hear the person from the other side opening the door. The door opened and damn, it’s those slow motion scenes you watch at the movies.

Their eyes stared at each other, like a silent communication. Both of us know we have a lot to talk about. As people. As ex lovers.

“Come in.”

She opened the door and Sara went inside her apartment. She can feel her gaze on her while Sara took off her shoes and went up to the platform of the main floor.

“Here. Your coat.” She held up her two arms that are carrying the coat to her. Bada looked at the coat and back to Sara. She slowly stepped forward, making Sara step back instinctively.

“Are you playing with my feelings?” She continued stepping forward until Sara’s back hit the wall behind her. Bada both of her arms on either side of her head, pinning her to the wall completely.

“N-No?” Sara maintain her eye contact with her.

Bada tilted her head and leaned in closer, making Sara lean back but her action is completely useless because of the wall behind her.

“Do you remember what I told you back at the parking lot?” Bada leaned in ever more closer as she said those words. Sara can already feel Bada’s chest going up and down because of how close they were.

“That I will return your coat if I want to come back to you.” Sara said as exact words she told her but in different form. Bada remained silent as she continued gaze down at her. She is waiting for Sara’s explanation. She is making sure that she knew to herself that her intentions are well-thought-out before deciding to come here in her apartment.

“What I said through the call yesterday was true. I want to come back… to you.” Sara saw through Bada’s facade, the way her eyes soften up when she heard her response.

“I missed you—” Her words got cut off when she felt Bada’s soft lips on hers. God, she missed this feeling.

Bada’s kisses went down from her jaw to her neck, showering her skin with butterfly kisses and marks that will be there long enough for everyone to know that Sara is hers again.

“Jump for me, sweetheart.” Bada mumbled through her lips. Sara obligated her words and jumped, wrapping her legs around Bada’s waist and Bada’s arms around her thighs.

Bada went to her bedroom while carrying Sara in her arms. She gently lay down Sara on her bed, with one of her hand behind Sara’s head.

She stood up straight and bit her lips. What a sight for sore eyes. Bada hovered Sara as their eyes met.

“Are you sure about this?” Bada asked as she caressed Sara’s cheek. Sara nodded repeatedly, not wanting to wait any longer.

Bada stirred tiredly as the moments earlier that evening came flashing in her mind. She instinctively smiled and reach up to Sara’s figure but frowned when she felt nothing but the blanket.

She sat up, still naked with the blanket wrapped around her until it reaches up to her chest.

Bada heard her bedroom door opened as Sara walked in carrying Arin, Bada’s dog in her arms. Her breath hitched when she realized that Sara is wearing one of her shirts. How she missed this view.

“She’s been scratching your door earlier. I also fed her already.” Sara smiled as she sat in front of Bada. Bada leaned in and gave her a soft kiss on her lips. She pulled Sara closer, cuddling her close to her warm body, with her arm around Sara’s shoulder and Sara’s head nuzzled onto Bada’s neck. Arin automatically jumped off Sara’s arms and settled below their bed.

“Arin missed her mommy.” Bada stated, caressing Sara’s hair.

“Well, she doesn’t get secret treats anymore. Can’t blame her.” Both of them laughed at what Sara had just said.

Bada stared at Sara for a moment and leaned in to give her a deep kiss. The kiss is full of emotions, the secret yearning and torture they had gone through the years of them being separated.

Sara gasped when she felt Bada pushed her gently on the bed, hovering her once more. Chest to chest. Hands intertwined.

“Are you ready for round 2?” Sara chuckled and leaned in to give Bada a kiss.

Your sign that love is sweeter on the second try 🫶🏻