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some-bunniii · 3 months

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Lucifer confessing to an artist reader

・❥ Lucifer gets jealous, and has to prove his love for you

x: WOW this was a rollercoaster to write. Alastor being petty, a musical number, and.. 😏 you’ll have to read and see!

warnings: Mild swearing

“Mreow?”

You stirred slightly under the covers in your bed, waking from the noise. You were so warm and cozy, in your little nest of pillows that you hugged to your chest. Stilling yourself, you strained your ears, listening for whatever had awoken you.

“Mreooow,” came that needy, animalistic cry again.

“KeeKee?” You whispered hoarsely.

A high-pitched chirp answered your question.

Grumbling in protest, you grasped the sheets and pulled them from your face. Squinting at the morning light emanating from the large windows on the other end of the room.

You rubbed a hand down your face, in an attempt to squeeze out the exhaustion still fogging your mind. With a sigh, you pivoted, placing your feet on the cold, wood floor beneath.

Now where was that furball?

You scanned the room, before your eyes landed on the small black and white cyclopean cat. She sat on your nightstand, her tail swishing with happiness as you answered her call.

“You silly kitty, what do you want so early in the morning?” You questioned her, and received another chirp as a response.

You always found it fascinating that the small feline was actually the key to the hotel, created by Lucifer’s magic as a gift to Charlie when she took over the place.

You could feel it, even now, that warm crackle of energy as it flowed off KeeKee’s fur. It was faint, but so familiar. If you buried her face in her fur far enough, you could even smell traces of his scent.

As you and Lucifer grew closer, so did KeeKee. She had started following around the hotel, always a few steps behind as you traveled the halls. This morning routine of hers wasn’t new either. Before, you’d open your door and find her sprawled out on the ground on her back, her belly exposed as she greeted you.

You started leaving your door cracked after that, allowing her to enter whenever she pleased. She’d make her bed on the same cushion Lucifer was so fond of while you painted, and drift into sleep.

Sometimes, you’d use her for practice sketches. Although you could only do so while she dreamed, as she was not as good at sitting still as Lucifer was.

It was almost as if she sensed the connection between the two of you, mirroring your bond with her own loyalty. With a soft smile, you reached out to pet KeeKee, feeling the comforting vibrations of her purrs resonating through your fingertips.

Rising from the bed, you made your way into the small bathroom. Twisting the sink handle, you let the fountain of water flow into the drain as it is heated.

Your eyes landed on the object next to the faucet, and you smiled unconsciously as you picked up the yellow rubber ducky.

“Your new soap dispenser,” Lucifer had stated one evening, “Easily compactible to take it on the go and.. with the scent of apple pie.”

He demonstrated by softly squeezing the sides of the toy, and a small glob of soap left its mouth and landed into the palm of his hand.

You had taken it from him and lifted it to your nose, inhaling a deep breath.

“Delectable.” You teased, before placing it on the table beside you.

After his little performance at the art studio, Lucifer’s affection towards you grew bolder by the day. He often arrived at your room with a gift or two, even more than his silly little ducks.

Once, he brought you a small violin, the color pure angelic white with golden strings. You had stared at it in awe when he set it on the table.

“It’s white for you to paint,” Lucifer had explained, “Whatever little fantastical ideas you have to cover this instrument with, I just know it’ll be amazing.”

You had blushed, before letting your fingers glide across its smooth surface. Tracing its frame, memorizing its shape.

“I was going to get you a fiddle, like my own. But, I believe this best suits the musical pieces you are so familiar with.”

You sat across from each other at the dining table in your room, arms resting lazily on its surface as you sipped from your glass of Spiced Apple Wine.

That was another gift he had brought you. Claiming he only enjoyed the taste of fine-aged wine from his personal cellar. You had gotten used to its slightly sour taste by now, but you were glad for that slight pinch on your tongue. It kept you from ogling Lucifer for too long.

The only light emanating from your room was the candles placed around you, their flames dancing, casting shadows across the walls. The soft ting of piano keys thrummed in the air, flowing from a small brown radio on your dresser.

Not too long ago, Alastor had given it to you for your personal use. A very rare gift from a demon like him. You had just assumed it was his way of getting you on his side, your unease of him must’ve been apparent enough.

Your years of attempted swindling by potential buyers for your pieces created a sixth sense, the ability to smell when someone’s words didn’t echo their intentions.

Even though you had no animosity towards him, and spoke to him frequently enough that you did not feel any kind of negative intentions from him, his mysterious past and psychopathic tendencies struck you as odd. His presence was dark and cold.

Nothing like Lucifer’s, who’s aura was so warm and energetic you could get drunk off of it.

Alastor’s? That would sober you up in an instant.

Why didn’t you feel the same about Lucifer? After all, he had the same charm that swooped those around him off their feet.

‘His ability to love,’ you concluded in your head, ‘that was why.’

He showed deep care for the people close to him, while Alastor always held people at arms-length. Literally and figuratively.

Your personal feelings didn’t mean you weren’t going to use the radio, so whenever you’d hear Lucifer nearing your room, you’d switch it to polka. Learning by now that was one of his favorite genres. It played in the background as you discussed the violin.

“I think it’s best if you taught me how to play, I might have some knowledge on musical history, but that doesn’t mean I know anything about the instruments themselves.” You had conceded.

He shook his head at that, “Nonsense. If there is anyone I know that could pick up skills like this quickly, it would be you.”

“What makes you think that?” You had laughed.

“Because, you’re amazing. Talented, with passion that could take on the world. You and my daughter have more in common than you think. A drive that I wish I had.”

That had stopped your train of thought, your cheeks heating once more. Most times you would try to brush off his comments, and continue on to the next subject, even if those words made it hard for you to fall asleep that same night.

But this time, you let his words linger in the air between you. The faint glow from the candles illuminating his face, his angelic features intensifying.

It was your turn to make a move, you couldn’t let him have all the fun.

Slowly, your hand traveled across the table, until your fingers grazed his own. Lucifer never pulled back, instead, he accepted your advance. Lacing his fingers with your own.

The two of you didn’t speak, you didn’t need to. The day could be filled with laughter and quick-wits. But, the night? That belonged to your silent bouts of affection.

Just two pairs of eyes staring out through the large open bay windows, the flickering lights from the city your own little TV.

What was he thinking about? You had wondered. You were aware of the divorce of his wife years ago, and the fracture of his family still weighed on him. Even if his relationship with Charlie was improving the day. Did he blame himself for his family splitting?

You had never pried him on such things, there was no reason to bring him more pain. He’d open up about it when he was ready, he always did.

Was that why he was slow to actually ask for your kindness? Your care?

Your love?

He was a showman, with a drive to impress strangers around him, to win them over with his charm and flare. But you weren’t a stranger, not anymore.

There was this tiny parasite that gnawed at the back of your mind, whispering such horrid things of him leaving you if you made the first move.

‘His pride is too great to let him be swooned completely by a lower demon,’ it hissed, ‘He just wants something casual, nothing truly real,’

Was that true? Would he reject you and move on? Surely, there were much stronger, much smarter demons than you in Hell that he could choose.

Maybe, you’d just have to grow a backbone and ask him.

‘Soon’, you promised.

The calming scent that wafted from the candles around the room pulled you away from such thoughts. Instead, you used your free hand to lift the wine glass to your lips, downing the remaining liquor. Your body blooming with warmth as it traveled down your throat, and your head turning fuzzy with bliss.

A gentle thump as KeeKee landed on the counter pulled you back to reality. You finished washing your face, and placed it into the cool embrace of the small towel in your hands.

Turning away from the sink, you walked back into the main room. KeeKee trailed you as you rummaged through your dresser, plucking out items of clothing as you began to change for the day.

“Come, KeeKee,” You called, clicking your tongue at her as you strided to the doorway of your room.

She responded with a chirp and raced past you, out into the hallway. You watched her scurry down the stairs as you headed for the lobby. You were supposed to finish the season of RuGaul’s Drag Race this morning with Angel Dust, and honestly, it was a pretty good show.

Unfortunately, the raised bump in the carpet right in front of your foot had other plans.

“Fuck!” You hissed as you fell forward, your arms instinctually raising to catch your fall.

You hit the ground with an oomph. Luckily, you caught yourself in time to not face any serious injury. Except the sting of your pride. You lay there defeated for a moment, the ache in your arms subsiding slowly.

“Well, hello down there, my friend!” Came a familiar call, static trickling from their voice.

“Hello, Alastor.” You greeted the Radio Demon with a painful sigh.

“It appears you’ve gotten yourself into a bit of a pickle, hm? Let me help you with that.”

Black tendrils gathered around you, they were unnaturally cold and you squirmed against their touch.

They tightened around you and lifted you up, up, and up until the soles of your feet were steady on the ground. They flowed off of you, disappearing like a shadow into Alastor’s form.

“Thank you, Alastor. That was very kind of you,” you spoke as you brushed dust off your clothes. You’d need to talk to Nifty about coming to your side of the building more often to clean.

“It was no problem, my friend. I could not just sit by and allow you to take such an attitude from that silly carpet.”

Alastor snapped his fingers, and the tiny lump in the carpet that had delivered the tripping blow vanished. Leaving behind a nice, smooth surface.

His head snapped back up to you, that large smile still plastered on his face. You were about to open your mouth again when his gaze landed on something behind you, past the railing.

“Ah, I see you have finished another one of your paintings! What a wonderful piece this is, yes, truly remarkable!”

He walked forward, and placed one hand on the railing. On the opposite side of the room, at eye level to the second floor, was a painting depicting a very large, glittering lake. A tall forest surrounded it, with massive snowy mountains as the backdrop.

Small winged-angels sat near the waters, feasting on grapes and wine as they enjoyed the summer sun. Some stood near white-freckled fawns as they fed them fruits and nuts, their faces lit in joyful smiles.

“Yes, it took me forever. Water is a pain to get perfect. Do you.. think it fits?”

“Of course it does, my dear!” His enthusiastic voice not missing a beat, “I think Charlie choosing you for this job was a marvelous choice! You must have taken much inspiration from some of the classic artists.. Perhaps Edgar Payne?”

A look of surprise crossed your face. He knew about the famous western landscape artist? Alastor didn’t seem like a fine arts kind of man to you.

“I used some of his techniques, yes. I didn’t know you had such knowledge, Alastor.” You responded, a hint of questioning in your tone. Prompting him to speak more about the subject.

Alastor waved his hand in the air in a brushing motion, as if it was no big deal.

“Oh, here and there. When I was alive hosting my radio show I once toured an art gallery for an advertisement. His pieces were on display, and I suppose his work has been imprinted in my mind ever since.”

“That’s very interesting, actually. I shouldn’t be surprised though, you seem to be in favor of many classic mediums.”

“Mm, yes. I just can’t stand the way modern society has seemed to falter from its most creative forms. I’m sure soon they’ll just start paying robots up there to make art for them.”

You doubted that, people using robots to make art? What was the point of it if not created by the human hand?

It was then you caught his eyes darting to something behind you, towards the staircase. Did his eye just twitch?

Alastor’s toothy grin widened further, which you thought couldn’t be possible. Before you could turn around and get a look at whatever had captured his attention, his gaze landed back on you.

He quickly sidled much closer to you, and placed his free hand on your shoulder. Your eyes widened at the touch, he’d never been brazen like this before. Let alone being this close to you.

Suddenly, he let out a loud, boisterous laugh at nothing particular. His head slightly shook from side to side like he just heard the funniest story in his life, which made you lean back slightly at his very odd actions.

“Oh, my dear, you are such a charm. Truly. I always enjoy our little talks about your ideas. You are so very passionate about your work.”

Your eyebrows raised in suspicion at his behavior. What was this man up to?

“We should definitely continue our talks sometime, perhaps, in the comfort of your study?” He questioned, placing his other hand on your shoulder, “Maybe, you could even teach me some of that history you have trapped in your noggin, mmm what was that era called.. the Renaissance?”

Your mouth parted slightly as you contemplated his words. He wanted to learn from you? You had never graced anyone with your teachings other than Lucifer, and you kind of liked it that way.

“Well.. I don’t know if-”

“Ahem.” Came a familiar, male voice from behind the two of you.

Your words caught in your throat. Uh oh.

You watched Alastor’s grin deepen into a knowing smirk. His eyes snapping to the figure behind you, eyebrows raised.

You pivoted, seeing the familiar pale face staring intensely at you, practically into your soul. You tried to smile at him, your teeth clenched painfully as you stood besides Alastor. His hand still on your shoulder.

You tried to speak through your eyes, desperately trying to tell him this was not something you had asked for. You weren’t sure whether he could read it.

Lucifer’s gaze diverted to the hand on your shoulder, and you could feel a crackle of scorching hot energy in the air around you.

“Why, hello there, your majesty.” Alastor greeted him with mock enthusiasm.

“What a surprise to see you here,” Lucifer responded, a slight growl in his voice. He straightened his back, leaning slightly forward on his staff, as though the scene before him was not a bother. He was terrible at hiding it though.

“Indeed. My dear friend and I were just discussing their paintings, aren’t they a wonder?”

“Of course they are.” Lucifer responded.

“We have such good conversations, you know, about their vast knowledge on the subject. It makes me envious really.”

He released your shoulder from his grasp, and you scooted an inch away from him.

“Perhaps, one day, you would care to join us? But I'm sure their line of work isn’t something you are interested in, hm?” Alastor’s words left his lips, and Lucifer’s teeth bared at that.

Alastor’s smile intensified as his own energy filled the room, an invisible dual of power was beginning to emerge between the two demons. It reminded you of what happened when Lucifer had arrived at the hotel for the first time, when they had fought for the position as Charlie’s father figure.

Alastor wasn’t an idiot though, Lucifer could eradicate him at any moment. Was just simply irritating the fallen angel his only motivation?

Was Alastor’s initial conversation with you just to pull the strings of what was happening now? Did he know Lucifer was coming to see you? That sly asshole.

Alastor turned away from Lucifer’s glare, and met your gaze.

“How is that radio doing that I gave you? I hope you’ve been putting it to good use, I was trying my hardest to

think of the perfect gift for you, and I just knew that you would be interested in it.”

“It was.. nice, thank you.. Alastor.” You responded, afraid what would happen if you ignored his question.

“My pleasure, dear friend. We’ve been through thick and thin, you and I. It’s only right I share with you a piece of my.. admiration towards you.”

Admiration?

Lucifer stalked up to the two of you, staring daggers in Alastor’s back. Clearing his throat, he let out a dark chuckle.

“I’m sure your little relationship is over-exaggerated,” He said, his tone passive aggressive, “I’ve hardly seen you in the same room together, let alone have such meaningful conversations.”

“But, of course we do! I was there the first day they walked through those doors. I was the one that welcomed them to their new home, and it was I who furnished their room in the first place. Seeing as barely anything has been changed or moved around, it is safe to say our connection is much deeper than you may think.”

You heard Lucifer growl again. His eyes flickering to a shade of red.

“Well, it’s too bad your gift is useless now.” Lucifer hissed, “They have an instrument of their own, which I have provided them.”

Alastor’s ear twitched at that, and he turned to you in mock fascination.

“Oh, an instrument? Did you know I used to play in a band?” He turned to you, his questions armed with ill intentions, “I would love nothing more than to give you a lesson or two!”

“I am going to teach them, actually.” Lucifer snapped, “I couldn’t imagine the terrible noises that would come from you plucking strings like a tone-deaf banshee.”

Alastor laughed at that before reaching out and grabbing your hand. You had the growing itch to rip it away, but his stare whispered dark things, and you relented. Allowing him to grip your wrist loosely.

“Well, this has been fun, and I would like to continue our talks,” He addressed you, “But I have important business to attend to within the hotel, as your faithful hotelier. Perhaps, later tonight?”

Your smile faltered for a second, giving him a slight glare. You weren't going to let him think you were falling for his games.

“Such a shame you have so much attention on you from so many others, those demons on the streets really look at you with such enamoration. My word, just practically begging for your attention! If only you would share all your ideas and knowledge with just me, you’d know how fantastic of a listener I am.”

“Others?” Lucifer asked incredulously.

Alastor ignored him, instead, he did something that you never expected.

He gingerly pulled your hand closer to his face, before leaning down slightly and placing a quick peck to your knuckles. You gasped, placing a hand over your mouth to cease it quickly.

It was meaningless, you could tell. An act to simply further spur on Lucifer’s rage.

“Why you pompous little fucking-!” Lucifer roared, but was cut off by Alastor’s maniacal fit of giggles.

Suddenly, the red demon evaporated into a large green cloud of smoke. A gust of freezing wind rushed you as he vanished. Behind you, Lucifer’s large hat was carried with the gust of wind, and he was left practically frothing at the mouth, his hair disheveled from the wind. His eyes still a dark sickly-red.

You strode up to him, placing a hand on his arm. Trying to get him to look at you.

“I promise you, we were not talking genuinely just then, Lucifer.”

“Do you have conversations with that creep when i’m not around? Have you been telling him the same things you’ve shared with me?”

You rolled your eyes, letting out a breath of hot air.

“Don’t be ridiculous, he’s just getting under your skin. I’ve barely spoken with him.”

“What did he mean by ‘others’? You have suitors that i’m not aware of?”

You leaned back, confusion spreading across your face. Was Lucifer.. jealous? Was the thought of other demons trying to get intimate with you.. bothering him?

“What? Well, I don’t know, maybe. It’s not like I-”

“It’s me who knows almost everything about you. I’m the King of Hell, what can anyone offer you that I can’t?”

What was this? He’s never spoken a word about courting you, which is why your feelings towards his affection were mixed. But now, he wants to?

“And here I thought I could make it to the overlord meeting in time,” He growled. Before his gaze was renewed with fresh determination.

He grabbed your hand, pulling you closer, and snapped his fingers.

Before you could blink, the area around you melted and transformed into a beautiful restaurant. You were sitting at an oak table, candles lit around you. A wine glass in front of you.

Lucifer materialized at the seat across from you in a very tight, clean black tuxedo with a red bow tie around his neck.

He gave you a playful smirk, before another figure strode to your table. You looked up, and saw.. Lucifer? Again? This time in a classic waiter outfit, an apron tied around his waist. He held a plate of food in one hand, before setting it down before you.

“You’re favorite dish, catered by yours truly.” Waiter Lucifer spoke confidently.

You looked down at the foodstuff on the plate, your mouth watering. It really was your favorite dish. You reached out to grab it, before you were thrusted into darkness again.

Where were you now?!

You were sitting on a very comfortable cushioned chair, and as you whipped your head around, noticed that there were rows and rows of the same kind of chairs.

“What the hell is going on?!” You yelled to the scene, but received no answer.

Placed in them were more.. Lucifers? They all whooped and cheered, clapping at whatever was in front of you. You turned your head, taking in the sight before you.

It was a lit stage. The curtain was closed, so you were unable to see what was on it. Suddenly, the curtain lifted, and there was Lucifer again, he held a Violin, similar to the one he gave you, but this time in pure gold.

He looked at you before gliding the bow across its strings, the echoes of its chords filling the room. You perked, recognizing its tune.

It was ‘Innsbruck, I must leave thee’! The same one he had asked you about when you caught him humming that one time.

Did he learn it… just for you? Your heart fluttered. Was this grandiose display just him trying to prove that he cared about you and your interests?

It continued for a moment longer, the strings on his instrument singing with raw power. It was a beautiful sound, and for a moment you were lost in it. Emotions from your past bubbling inside of you.

And then, he let go of the violin and it began playing on its own. It floated in the air gracefully as its tune continued. He leapt off the stage and landed right in front of your seat. He extended his hand, waiting for you to take it.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of where you would be taken next.

“Luci..” You said, giving him a questioning look.

He only smirked at you, his eyebrows raised playfully. You shook your head, a smile blooming on your face at his theatrics, and laced your fingers with his.

Instead of being thrown into darkness like before, gold flashed around you as he teleported you somewhere distant.

This time, you were on the roof of a very tall building, you shook your head to rid yourself of the dizziness before taking in the sights around you.

You were in Pentagram city, Heaven high above you, it’s white glow helping to light the rooftop like a stage.

Your hand was still gripping his, and he did not pull away. Neither did you.

Suddenly, a tune began once more. Unfamiliar this

time, and you twisted your head to find where it was coming from, but to no avail. It seemed to be emanating from the entire space around you.

Was there a faint musical number playing in the background, or was that just your imagination?

Lucifer pulled you closer, his classic red and white hats by vest clung to his frame. His hat and overcoat nowhere in sight.

“Lucifer, what are you…” You trailed off, right as he opened his mouth and started to.. sing.

With treasures untold and riches divine,

I offer you the world, to make you mine.

His voice was like velvet, that boisterous playful demeanor apparent as he circled you around, you turned with him, never releasing his hand. He continued, his eyes never straying from you as he sang.

I can offer you kingdoms, castles of gold,

Mountains of riches, for you to behold,

Diamonds that shimmer, like stars in the night,

With every breath, with every sigh,

I’ll lavish you with riches, until the end of time.

His singing ceased, and you were rushed back into reality. You looked at him in awe, enamored by that pretty voice of his. It was ethereal, just like God has designed him to be.

You stood there for a second, eyes fixed on Lucifer’s hand as it entwined with yours. Your gaze traveling to those big, beautiful golden eyes that practically begged for your response.

In that moment, as the sun above illuminated his pretty face and his shining hair flowing in the gentle breeze, you realized how much you adored- no, loved this man.

Summoning all of your willpower, you answered. Your lips parted as your tongue began to form words of your own design. You didn’t call up any lyrics from pieces of past design. These words needed to be yours. Needed to say everything you desired and more.

I don’t want your magic,

I don’t want your gold,

I want your eyes on me,

Until we grow old,

The words left your lips, soft and buttery, as your confession rang through the air. You desperately hoped your voice didn’t sound like nails against a chalkboard, that it held some resemblance to his own angelic vocals.

His eyes widened for a moment, before they softened. A sparkle shining in them that wasn’t there before.

A genuine, heart-melting smile crossed his face as he listened to your words flowing from your tongue so gracefully, like water cascading from the Fountain of Youth.

You took his other hand, pulling him backwards, as you danced across the narrow rooftop, like ballerinas, your footsteps synced and graceful.

Suddenly, he turned you towards the edge, your heels mere inches from the ledge of the roof. For a moment, you felt like you’d slip and plunge into the depths, but those eyes of his held you steady in your mind.

Until his wings appeared behind him, beating softly, giving you air as he spun you slightly off the rooftop. A pulse of warm energy hit you, and your legs lifted out from under you. Like you were Jane with your Peter Pan, and his magic fairy dust was going to send you gliding off to Neverland.

For a moment, you felt like you had wings of your own. That feeling of absolute freedom, unchained from the ground as you floated for a moment before Lucifer pulled you back to reality.

Your feet hit the rooftop once more and you were breathlessly aware of your heart beating in your throat. Your gaze snapped back to Lucifer once more, and you felt one of his hands lowering to your hip, the other still entwined with yours.

Lucifer leaned forward, and you with him. Your back curved into an arch as he leaned above you, your lips inches from brushing against each other. You felt like exploding, those butterflies fluttering wildly in your stomach threatening to burst.

Both your mouths opened at once, and your words entwined with his as your lips moved once more.

Your caring touch abundantly clear,

It’s all i’ve ever known,

With you my dear,

I surely fear,

My heart will never be my own.

As your song ended, you felt your heart and mind clear instantly as your truth had finally been told. The look of pure adoration in his eyes was enough to have you trembling under his touch.

Lucifer pulled you back onto your feet, his breathing heavy and the feathers on his wings ruffled.

With both hands on your hips, you reached forward and cupped his face. Heat spread across your body as your fingers grazed across the small wisps of hair that curled around his ears.

“Darling, I-”

Before you could let him finish his sentence, you squeezed your eyes shut, and planted your lips against his. He froze for a moment, his breath hitching, before his hands around your waist tightened and he deepened the kiss.

You moved your hands from his face and instead wrapped your arms around his neck, grasping at his shirt collar with hungry desire.

His scent washed over you, and you drank it in with desperation. A sweet, crisp dose of apple cinnamon mixed with faint traces of roses. You thanked Heaven in that moment, for releasing them from their grasp, and right into your arms down here in Hell.

Your knees hit the ground the same time as Lucifer’s, and you felt the soft touch of his wings as they wrapped around you. Blanketing the two of you from the prying eyes of all the realms.

He pressed his face harder into yours as he cupped the small of your back. His teeth grazed the bottom of your lip, and you parted your mouth slightly, locking the two of you together even more intensely.

His lips left yours, and he planted feverish pecks across your cheek all the way to your earlobe. He bit tenderly on it, and you had to squeeze your lips together to stop from whimpering. He continued, trailing down your neck with hungry kisses, before burrowing his face into your shoulder blade.

You felt his teeth graze the artery in your neck, and you gasped, grasping at his hair desperately as pleasure coursed through your veins. His breath hot against your skin, tickling it.

“Fuck,” You moaned, and his response was to push you farther into bliss as he suckled on your neck. Waves of pleasure hit you once more, and you began to sloppily kiss the top of his shoulder, slightly exposed from your roughhousing.

Lucifer tightened his grip around you, pulling you as flush to his body as he could manage. You both sat there on your knees in a mix of breathless gasps and hums of pleasure.

You did not want this moment to end. Finally, the both of you had opened yourselves up to your true feelings. You smiled at the thought, and planted a kiss on his earlobe as he lifted his head slightly from your neck.

Suddenly, the watch on Lucifer’s wrist buzzed violently, and you heard him curse under his breath.

“Is that for your meeting?” Your voice came out in a hoarse whisper.

“Unfortunately,” He grumbled, before switching off the noise. He didn’t move from his position though, and you realized he was going to try and skip out on it.

“You should go.” You spoke, almost a command.

“Why? They’ve been fine without me for this long.”

“You’re the king,” You retorted, meeting his gaze sternly, “Go do your job, i’m not going anywhere.”

His look of distraught at having to depart sent another wave of butterflies into your body. You couldn’t help but smile before giving him another quick peck on the lips.

“Go.”

“Fine.”

You both stood up, and his wings uncurled around your body, disappearing into his back. His fingers still with yours, as he reached down for his hat that lay on the ground beside you. You released his grip and fixed his bow tie. Pulling his overcoat back neatly onto his frame, and adjusting it slightly.

You wiped the sweat off his forehead and smoothed down his hair. Attempting to tidy him up as quickly as you could so he wouldn’t be late. He smiled warmly as you fussed over him.

“Now, if you don’t mind,” You spoke softly, batting your eyelashes at him, “I need a way off this roof.”

He smirked, before grasping his staff and tapping it against the ground.

A flurry of gold wafted around you, and that same energy tickled at the back of your neck just like it did at the art studio. His face blurring from the cascading waves of warm light that wrapped around you.

“See you soon, My Love,” His voice echoed as your eyes shut and you felt that pull of energy. That feeling of floating on thin air hit you again, as you were warped away.

“There you are!” Angel dust threw his arms in the air in exasperation a few feet away from you, as the particles of gold that floated above you disintegrated. You blinked a few times, letting your eyes adjust to the lights in the lobby.

“Where were you this morning? I had to watch the final episode all by myself!”

Shit. That’s right. You placed a hand on your forehead, berating yourself silently for forgetting. Although you weren’t too regretful about missing out on it for Lucifer.

“I’m so sorry, Angel. I just got.. busy, I guess.”

He shrugged, brushing off his slight irritation.

“It’s alright, ain’t nobody hurt from it.”

He was going to turn away, towards the bar where Husk was readying drinks for the two of them, before his gaze narrowed in somewhere on your figure.

“Wait, what the fuck is on your neck?” He asked suddenly, his eyes giving you a questioning stare, as he motioned towards it.

You looked at him confused, before reaching up and running a few fingers down the side of your throat. Your eyes flew wide open in surprise, and your hand cupped your mouth as you felt it. Your cheeks set on fire instantly.

Apparently, as a final gift, Lucifer had left a rather large hickey in the crook of your neck. Both Husk and Angel leaned in to get a better look at it, their eyes widening in surprise.

“That dickhead finally did it, huh?” Husk spoke up, a knowing smirk on his lips as he cleaned glasses behind the bar.

Angel’s eyes lit up in delight, and he squeezed his own cheeks as realization dawned on him.

“Fucking finally! Does that mean you two are a thing now?”

You contemplated for a moment, before meeting Angel’s gaze once more. A smirk growing on your lips.

KeeKee appeared at your feet, rubbing at your ankles in greeting. You gingerly reached down and picked her up. She was so soft to the touch, and you caught the faint scent of Lucifer once more as she nestled into your chest.

“I guess so,” You finally replied once you situated the cat into your arms, “Now if you excuse me, gentleman, I need a breather.”

Angel whistled flirtatiously behind you as you walked away, and you couldn’t help the growing heat that hit your cheeks once more.

——

a/n: let me know your thoughts!! i almost didn’t added the little singing bit but i cracked my knuckles and summoned the lyricist in me to have some fun. I mean, it can’t be Hazbin Hotel without a song right?

tag list: @ohnoivefallen @doodlebob2726 @coleisyn @loslox

#lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar #i’m tired y’all i’m taking a nap #im writing this fic like im getting paid for it 🤣#over 6k words too?!#hazbin hotel

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fushic0re · 1 year

Note

rafa with a partner who is really into gardening,plants and having a garden

tHIS IS SO FUCKING CUTE???/ UGH YOUR BRAIN I'M DEF WRITING THIS

#i can totally see him just being lovestruck like wow finally someone else who understands the art of planting #where is the nearest chapel so i can marry her #˚₊· ͟͟͞➳❥ honey answers #secret admirer ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

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sugarcherriess · 2 years

Note

Went Xmas shopping with my sister today and all I could thunk whilst in my wheelchair was how much fun Jacob or chanhee would have wheeling me around and gasping, picking up all the pretty things and making me hold them till I get a basket to fill up.

That and the only issue today was that I had massive panic attack on the escalator because hate those things to all hell because I'm scared ill trip and fall and hurt myself and my sister literally just yanked me on whilst I was crying ... not a good moment and everyone was staring st me. Fucking hated it.

But then to think of how nice and caring the boyz would be and how even Jacob or eric would carry me up it and let ne hide my face in their chest

I'm fucking squealing like a high-school girl over her crush rn and im ashamed

Have this - a penny for my thoughts

JJ 🍉

Its so terrible that it happened are you okay my friend? ☹️ escalator anxiety is so bad because not only are you in public but you also have to keep going no matter what like you never catch a break 👍🏼

BUT BESIDES THAT. You know the first thing that came to my head? Newcob pulling you away from the rest of the group to the décor section and trying out whether they like them or not on your chair making you a portable Christmas tree momentarily. And the rest run around in circles trying to find you three and when they do they see chanhee covering you in various ropes of tinsel and jacob scolding him for basically drowning you in plastic WHILST LOOKIGN FOR WHICH STAR GOES BEST WITH YOU. The rest scolding them for tiring you out with their constant arguing over the theme while eric whisks you away to go look at which cookie cutters you should get i 💔💔💔💔💔💔

A jj themed Christmas naur im gonna sob goodnight this was enough for me 🥹🙏🏼

#˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Adonis Speaks #˚₊·➴ My Lovely Jj #in school i had a friend who celebrated Christmas and she had to use a wheelchair most of the tiem due to some health comcerns #she invited me to go Christmas shopping with her #and we spent half the time turning her chair into a Christmas tree #it was a work of art ngl #our combined effort #lovely memory #but we also got scolded by her mother in the end 💀💀#we were little so we didn’t understand the concept of not opening packaging before you decide that you want it 100 percent🗿🗿🗿🗿

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aethelwyneleigh27 · 6 months

Text

TF141 Scenarios and Headcanons

(Them interacting with the mini and pink version of Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley) Inspired by my previous post

Credits to @puff0o0 for this wonderful art that I requested and all the other art that's used in this post, she delivered and slayed. I genuinely love your art style because the textures looks like crayons were used and it's just so cute, thanks so much Puff <3

Pairings:

Ghost x Wife!Reader

Justice for Soap? Poor guy has been a victim in this entire set of scenarios.

ꕥ HOPE YOU ENJOY! ꕥ

❥ Simon bringing mini Ghostie for her to interact with the Taskforce again. Safe to say Soap got hit at the back of his head for even trying to make fun of the pink carrier (that you, his loving wife bought for the baby), while the little one was fidgeting with the red bow that decorated the front of the strap carrier.

❥ Ghostie didn't earn the nickname till the second time Simon brought her with him bringing the mask along and she proudly wore it. They actually went through the effort of getting her a tailored camo print uniform with a little patch embroidered with the words "youngest recruit" and "Riley" embroidered on the back of the shirt.

❥ Mini Ghostie keeping herself busy with the crayons and papers provided by uncle Gaz, drawing herself, her dad and the other Taskforce members then proudly showing it off to them after they're done being busy. (It earned a spot on the base's fridge, Price bought a magnet for that purpose alone because it was held up by tape for the longest time)

❥ A little visual for you guys provided by my favorite and beloved mutual @puff0o0:

❥ Ghostie and Gaz exchange drawings on a basis, more oftentimes it's funny faces that Soap makes. Soap saw them..

"I DINNAE LOOK LIKE THAT"

*Gaz raising a brow at him while Ghostie was giggling at Soap raising his voice*

❥ And yes, Gaz was responsible for the shrekified version of Soap that was on the fridge.

❥ Soap tried to draw something as an insult towards Gaz but it backfired and little Ghostie ended up loving it and taking it home to display it on the wall of her room:

❥ Gaz tends to be pursuaded by every little pout Ghostie gives him, probably the reason behind him being her favorite uncle. Ghostie made a drawing of Gaz once with an outlined heart around the picture, he now has it framed on his desk.

❥ Safe to say that Ghostie was amused by Soap getting hurt in any way possible, at first it started with her dad playfully punching the sergeant that made her giggle but then it slowly started to turn into her taking matters into her own hands and actually hitting uncle Soap herself. (Poor Soap)

❥ Little one constantly either slaps Soap or pulls on his mohawk. Yeah Ghost probably taught her that, she loves seeing her dad amused and giggles when she makes her dad chuckle. (Cue annoyed Soap noises)

❥ Uncle Gaz calls her "Boo" sometimes because he thought it was fitting and yes he took it from that one animated movie character, more likely sets his phone up and let's her use it to watch Disney movies because he's the only one who has Disney plus. (Frozen and Mulan were playing non-stop and now they all know the song "I'll make a man out of you" word for word)

❥ The idiots encouraged little Ghostie to chug a bottle full of milk as if she was chugging beer while cheering her on, Simon sipped on his whiskey not knowing he'd regret it later on, they all had to deal with a massive spit up because they made her drink too much and too quickly. (Soap had to wash that shirt 3 times before the smell of milk became more faint)

❥ Little Ghostie calls Price her grandpa and nobody's correcting her even if she genuinely thinks that Price is her dad's father. Price was definitely the one who had a uniform tailored for her but it was Gaz's idea.

❥ Believe it or not, Little Ghostie is loved by almost all of the recruits. Lieutenant Riley has a DAUGHTER?! He has a wife..? Yeah that was their first reaction. But ultimately they loved her because Little Ghostie was a sweet bundle of joy who loves giving flowers to female recruits and uncle Gaz.

❥ Despite all the bullying uncle Soap has been through, he still loves that kid to death and couldn't be more prouder when L.T. Riley and his wife chose him, Roach and Gaz to be godfathers.

❥ Speaking of uncle Roach, him and Ghostie get along really well. Even though there's not much of a verbal conversation going on, they still manage to cause chaos together. She likes to fidget with the makeshift antennas that come with the helmet of his tactical gear.

❥ Nobody can stand it when she's crying, she's not even loud, she's almost so quiet when she cries but gosh is it heart breaking. Especially for Gaz, Ghostie's teary puppy eyes looking up at him while her arms are in the air. "Uppies uncle, please" she hiccups.

❥ Gaz is the one always carrying her around, if everyone's being honest then I don't think she was ever down on her feet at some point unless she was playing around with the recruits.

❥ If Simon was being honest, he enjoyed the sound of Ghostie's feet thumping around base.

❥ Ghostie loves handfeeding her dad, she does it all the time. Technically she still has a difficult time using utensils so hands would do for now.

❥ Roach gave the little thing a sip of his coffee and she was practically bouncing off the walls. Yeah that wasn't a very bright idea.

❥ She was a late teether, Soap was the victim. Not only was she caught chewing on the strap of his tactical gear, Ghostie actually bit him with her baby teeth that were only halfway out when he tried to swat her away.

❥ Uncle Gaz and grandpa Price taking out the little one for ice cream so her need for sugar is satisfied and to cool her gums off.

❥ Ghostie's uncles taking her to the park/playground. (Gaz was the one recording)

❥ Soap got in trouble for teaching mini Ghostie how to curse, you weren't too happy about that because now your daughter is saying "bitch" endlessly in the wrong context.

A/n: I hope you guys liked it, I put a lot of effort into this and the last post. Please check out Puff's account if you don't know her yet, I promise she is the sweetest person and her CoD content is a big hit.

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xxblairexxss · 9 months

Text

༉‧₊˚. Charles Leclerc ༉‧₊˚.

•·.·''·.·• Tradition •·.·''·.· (Fluff)

You came up with something for Charles before his race and he liked it. It could be a new tradition between both of you, right?

•·.·''·.·• Cherry tomato? •·.·''·.· (Fluff)

You pulled a prank on Charles and he almost fainted.

•·.·''·.·• Everything shower •·.·''·.· (Fluff)

You accidentally exposed your boyfriend to the public which shook the internet.

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ •·.·''·.·• Smitten •·.·''·.· (Fluff)

•·.·''·.·• Revenge •·.·''·.· (Angst)

You were caught in trouble for trying to do thing on your own.

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ •·.·''·.·• Part 2 •·.·''·.· (Fluff)

•·.·''·.·• I’ll be back before 10 •·.·''·.· (Angst)

Pierre forced Charles to go out on a date behind your back but he didn’t want to betray your love.

•·.·''·.·• Pastries •·.·''·.· (Angst, fluff)

You got into an argument with Charles because you couldn’t take a joke.

•·.·''·.·• Pick me up •·.·''·.· (Fluff)

Charles got a call from Monaco prison and he wished you took it more seriously.

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ •·.·''·.·• Part 2 •·.·''·.· (Fluff)

•·.·''·.·• I’m sorry •·.·''·.· (Angst)

Just a timeline of Charles’s girlfriend throughout the years, how she went from a girl who migrated to France when she was 6 years old to becoming a girlfriend of the Formula 1 driver, Charles Leclerc.

•·.·''·.·• Supersede •·.·''·.· (Angst)

Charles’s was your brother’s best friends. You had a crush on him since you were a kid but he replaced you, all of sudden, for no reason.

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ •·.·''·.·• Part 2, Part 3 •·.·''·.· (Angst, fluff)

•·.·''·.·• Flushed •·.·''·.· (Angst / fluff)

Your attempt to move on from your ex went terribly wrong.

•·.·''·.·• Duty •·.·''·.· (pregnant!reader) (Angst / fluff)

Charles never allowed you to attend any of his races when you entered your third trimester but you begged him as it could be your last time before your little girl arrives. Will he regret his decision for saying yes?

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ •·.·''·.·• Part 2 •·.·''·.· (Fluff)

•·.·''·.·• Saving your bacon •·.·''·.· (medic student!reader) (Angst / fluff)

•·.·''·.·• Go to sleep •·.·''·.· (Angst / fluff)

•·.·''·.·• Wrong guess •·.·''·.· (Fluff)

•·.·''·.·• Subjectivity in art •·.·''·.· (Fluff)

•·.·''·.·• A fresh start •·.·''·.· (Angst / fluff)

In which Charles had a crush on the new member of the team without knowing he was already a good friend of her toddler.

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ •·.·''·.·• Part 2 •·.·''·.· (Angst / fluff)

•·.·''·.·• We’ll be fine •·.·''·.· (Angst / fluff)

Relationships aren’t all sunshines and rainbows. Charles and you were trying so hard to maintain this long distance relationships but everything seemed to be going the wrong way. Was it the miscommunication, the lack of reassurance or was it because of your job?

•·.·''·.·• Who are you? •·.·''·.· (Fluff)

You got into an accident on your way to work with a guy who drove Ferrari Pista 488 with the number 16. Weird thing was that everyone kept calling his name as if he was a celebrity.

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ •·.·''·.·• Part 2 •·.·''·.· (Fluff)

•·.·''·.·• She’s in a good hand •·.·''·.· (Angst / fluff)

•·.·''·.·• Fluffy child •·.·''·.· (Fluff)

༉‧₊˚. Series! ༉‧₊˚.

•·.·''·.·• Doudou •·.·''·.· (Fluff)

Charles was your first love but something happened and he walked away one night, throwing away your 12 years of friendship and 5 years of relationship. Does he deserve a second chance?

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ •·.·''·.·• Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 (Charles’s ending) , Part 4 (Lando’s ending) •·.·''·.·

•·.·''·.·• Jealousy •·.·''·.· (Angst)

You were accused of flirting with other man and he refused to listen to your explanation.

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ •·.·''·.·• Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4

•·.·''·.·• Hunt game •·.·''·.· (Angst, fluff)

༉‧₊˚. dad!Charles ༉‧₊˚.

•·.·''·.·• Ice cream date •·.·''·.· (Fluff)

•·.·''·.·• Belief •·.·''·.· (Angst / Fluff)

•·.·''·.·• Naughty stone! •·.·''·.· (Fluff)

•·.·''·.·• Little legs •·.·''·.· (Fluff)

•·.·''·.·• Little guard •·.·''·.· (Fluff)

•·.·''·.·• Daddy’s girlfriend •·.·''·.· (Fluff)

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #f1 imagines #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagines #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥blaire’s msterlist

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soshiros · 11 months

Text

𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 ༉‧₊˚.

prince julian loki wants more than to stay cooped up in his fancy castle of his; sometimes, he just wants to be a regular person just like you.

.ೃ࿐modern prince au! gn, fluff.

˚ ༘ ❤ prince!loki who sneaks out of the castle to buy mcdonalds in the middle of the night with you.

˚ ༘ ❤ prince!loki who despite is royalty will give you his expensive branded blazer when it rains if it means you don’t get wet.

˚ ༘ ❤ prince!loki who invites you to royal parties, and when he sees you get nervous, will put an arm around your waist and massage you with his thumb to calm you down.

˚ ༘ ❤ prince!loki who will sneak you into the castle so many times that the maids and guards that work during the time know you by name, and are already friends with you.

˚ ༘ ❤ prince!loki who sneaks away from his bodyguards after school and practices just to walk you.

˚ ༘ ❤ prince!loki who always invites you to walk in his garden, planting those flowers he heard you mention that you loved when you first met.

˚ ༘ ❤ prince!loki who has read every letter his fans have given to them, sometimes even reading it with you.

˚ ༘ ❤ prince!loki who ditches his royal studies to sneak out the car to pick you up after work with flowers in hand just as your shift is about to end.

˚ ༘ ❤ prince!loki who will wear the tie you bought him to any formal event; or just looks for excuses to wear it since it was from you.

˚ ༘ ❤ prince!loki who he will call his princess in front of the entire student body so everyone knows you're his.

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elliesflwrgirl · 11 months

Text

cw, top!ellie, bottom!reader, jealous!ellie strap on usage (r receiving), dirty talk, public sex, bathroom sex, petnames (sweet girl, baby, etc)

summary: college!ellie and u go to dinner with some friends, one of which ellie is incredibly jealous of, so jealous bathroom sex! who cheered? i know i did.

if u enjoy this like and reblog please!! love u.

.·:*¨¨* ・❥・ ≈☆≈ ・❥・*¨¨*:·.

you and ellie had been going out for about a year now, everyone in your friend group knew from the moment ellie had laid eyes on you that you were completely and utterly hers. and you were more than okay with that. ellie has always been jealous when it came to you, so everybody knew not to get too touchy with you. well, besides the new girl in the group, cassie.

according to ellie, cassie was always gawking at your ass, or staring at you for a second too long. you hadn’t noticed, and neither did any of your other friends. ellie made the conscious decision to never let you hang out with her without ellie being with you. you thought it was cute how protective she was over you, always defending you, always there to back you up.

when you told ellie you guys were invited to a dinner with your friends she politely declined, as she normally does, ellie’s not really into the whole socializing thing. but, when you mentioned cassie would be there, suddenly she was all about this dinner.

the second you guys walked into the restaurant ellie’s arm wrapped around your waist and she kept you close, you knew this was all out of jealousy, but it also was extremely hot to you. to watch her get so possessive.

you made your way to the table, ellie sitting directly beside you and cassie and dina sitting across from you guys. jesse was running late, as always. “we missed you guys,” you beam and ellie nods her head as her hand finds its way to your thigh. she loved when you wore this black dress, it rode up on your thighs when you sat and she thought it was making room for her hand.

“god we missed you, you’ve been like a little hermit crab all cooped up in your apartment.” cassie says and you laugh, but ellie does not. she gives a cocky smile and mutters, “we’ve been busy fucking.” which nobody heard besides you but it still made your cheeks feel hot. ellie grinned seeing you get all flustered, she rubbed her thumb back and forth over your thigh.

“well, how’ve you been?” you ask the table and dina fills you in on the latest about her and jesse’s on and off relationship, and cassie tells you she about her day to day, nerding out about classes and whatnot. and as she talked ellie’s hand slid further and further up your dress. “anyway, how’s life been for you?” as cassie asks you feel ellie’s finger slowly run up your clothed cunt.

“uh,” you struggle to think for a moment as ellie slowly tortures you with a slow up and down motion of her fingertip. “it’s been so good,” you give a short answer and ellie grins beside you. “why don’t you tell them about the art museum we went to last weekend baby?”

you stare at her with a pissed smile as she pulls your underwear to the side, “i’d love to hear about it.” cassie beams and you nod your head. “yeah, um we saw so many… uh,” you lose train of thought as ellie slowly circles her fingers over your clit. “so many what?” ellie teases and you gently push your hips against her fingers, “so many gorgeous paintings,”

dina looks between the two of you and furrows her brows, “you alright?” she asks you and you nod quickly, “i’m okay.” you answer quickly. ellie grins as she teases your entrance with her fingers. “she’s just kinda foggy today, she didn’t get much sleep. we were up late.” she tells them while somehow making it abundantly obvious exactly why you two were up so late.

you bite your lip to stop a soft whimper from coming out, “i’ve gotta go to the bathroom.” you say suddenly and ellie looks at you. almost a silent confirmation that you want her to meet you in there.

you slide out from the booth, quickly walking to the bathroom. you squeeze your thighs together as you lean up against the wall, waiting for ellie.

she comes in a couple moments later, and as soon as you see her you pull her close. you grab the waistband of her pants and pull her to you, smashing her lips against yours. her hands find your waist and grip at your hips, as she pushes you up against the wall. she kisses down your jaw, lightly nipping as she does. “i can’t stand the way she looks at you,” she whispers as she leaves dark hickeys all down your neck.

you whimper softly as you lean your head against the tile of the bathroom. anybody could walk in and see this dirty sight but you couldn’t care less. ellie’s hand pushes your dress up past your hips, thrusting her hips up against yours. making you feel the silicon beneath her jeans. she pulls your dress off your shoulders, laying sloppy kisses on the tops of your boobs and on your shoulders.

you quickly start undoing her jeans and she grins against your neck, “someone’s needy.” she teases and you eagerly tug down her jeans, revealing her strap. ellie pushes your underwear to the side as she gently circles her fingers over your clit. you wrap your legs around her waist and pull her close.

you grab her strap and align it with you as she thrusts into you. a moan leaves your lips and your hands bury themselves in her short hair. “you always take me so well, sweet girl.” she murmurs into your neck and you whine softly. “faster,” you beg and she thrusts into you faster and deeper. you claw at her shoulders and bury your head in her neck.

“fuck els—“ you whine softly and she grins, “i know baby, your doing so good for me, taking it like a good girl.” she praises and you moan into her neck.

she grips your thighs tight, nails digging into them, “wish cassie could see us right now, see how much of a complete and utterly useless slut you are for me, wish she could watch me fuck you dumb.” she mumbles and you toss your head back against the tile, “oh my god—“ you whimper as ellie hits that spongy spot deep inside of you.

“just like that, god, don’t stop.” you moan quietly and ellie watches as your eyes roll back, the way your body completely relaxes as she fucks into you. “nobody else can fuck you like this, nobody else can make you feel this good, isn’t that right?” ellie murmurs in your ear and you nod.

“say it.” she urges and you whine softly, “nobody else fucks me like this— god,” you whine as ellie hits that spot again, “only you can make me feel this good— fuck i’m so close” you moan loudly and a cocky grin spreads over her face, “that’s right, sweet girl.”

ellie watches as your body completely collapses against hers as you cum, profanities leave your lips along with ellie’s name.

ellie kisses your forehead and gently pulls out of you. “did so good for me baby.” she hums as she zips her pants back up. you tug your dress back down as your legs shake slightly. “how am i gonna cover these up, els?” you groan as you see the red marks down your neck. “don’t.” she grins.

.·:*¨¨* ・❥・ ≈☆≈ ・❥・*¨¨*:·.

#ellie williams #tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou2 #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams fanfic

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abelladxnna · 5 months

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has anyone else suddenly felt attracted to their own OC? No? Just me?

#// I miss writing & drawing her #but one piece (specifically sanji) has taken over my brain #【 🎨 ❥❥ artwork 】#【 art by mun 】

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brilium · 7 months

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❥ K I N K T O B E R 2 0 2 3

Masterlist

➽──────────❥

❥ DAY 2. Voyeurism! with Mikasa Ackerman

Summary. Your organized roommate hates your messy ways to live but, a little mistake with the closet door might lead her to break those walls on her.

Content Warning. Fem! reader, no use of Y/N, all characters are adults, smut, fingering, masturbation (f. recieving), pillow riding, slight corruption kink i guess?

Word count. 2,236.

Author's note. I'm posting it so late i'm sorry:( I had it prepared but i was so busy all day:(((

MINORS OR AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT !!

Mikasa always tries to keep her side of the dorm all clean and tidy, maybe with some socks here and there but she has some firm boundaries after being an only child all her life.

Her skincare is carefully placed in a small tray in a corner of the bathroom, always trying to not splash out too much water and her bed has to be strictly done just after cleaning her face to change into the clothes she prepared previously the night before.

Is not that her parents weren’t really strict, she was actually very organized since she was a child.

Meanwhile, her roommate was…

Not the total opposite, but there was a considerable difference between their lifestyles.

If Mikasa is the kind of girl who wakes up early to get ready in time, you’re the kind who goes to sleep when her alarm is about to ring in half an hour because you pulled another all nighter working on assignments.

When she brings her clean laundry smelling like lavanda to fold it, the first thing she sees when she opens the door is you swearing between your teeths because you accidentally dropped an oil paint on your bed sheets… Again.

She doesn’t hate you, you both actually get along pretty well. But there’s a small hint of annoyance every time she’s calmly reading on her bed and you open the door in your jumpsuit stained with paint of every color, it is in the small dried drops on your face what makes her entire body chill like she just saw a giant spider coming through the door.

In one of her psychology classes she learned about Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, and she’s starting to think that she’s getting that thanks to her Arts Major roommate.

One day, while you are probably in class, she’s checking her jackets in the closet if she left one of her favorite lipsticks on the bags. The closet of the dorm need a little maintenance because you both always complain about how it always stucks when you try to open it, so when she gets on the tips of her toes to look inside because the door is not sliding more to the side, her foot slips and makes her fall inside and the door violently slips to close with a “click”.

“No, wait!” Her fingers try to get through the border between the door and the frame to slide it, but it’s even harder from inside without anything to grab it and pull. She tries to scratch it and pull but nothing works.

She sighs resigned and looks on the bags of her jeans to grab her phone but there’s nothing. The soft sound of her ringtone coming from her bed calls her attention, causing her to rest her forehead in the rails of the closet as she whines.

Finally, after trying all to open the door and failing in the try, she sits uncomfortably on the floor hugging her knees around the jackets and shoes that you both save inside. There’s even a shirt of yours on the floor beside her. Mikasa takes a look at it to, obviously, find stains of paint.

She grabs it to look at it but the sound of the dorm door opening startles her.

She calls you out for help but the music blasting through your headphones isn’t helping. Mikasa raises her hands into fists to hit the closet and get your attention, but her movements get interrupted by the surprise of seeing how you lift that baggy shirt above your head and toss it somewhere around the dorm.

By living in the same dorm, you both are used to seeing each other in underwear, so she is not surprised at the sight of you undressing. It’s the fact that you chose to not wear any bra today, so your bare tits are displaying right in front of her eyes.

Mikasa has seen herself naked a lot of times, but there's something on how your breasts are slightly different to hers.

They seem so soft and the way they bounce everytime you move around is so hypnotizing, it’s until Mikasa blinks when she notices how her eyeballs are starting to get dry from staring so much.

Her cheeks get red immediately and tries to shake the thought away in embarrassment when you disconnect the headphones, bringing her back to reality.

It’s now, she has to hit the closet now to get your attention and you’ll finally put something on to cover yourself.

Don’t you think that someone might see you through the window?

Or someone inside the closet?

But, Mikasa keeps still when she observes in detail how you also get rid of your leggings.

She has to cover her mouth with her hands to hide her gasp.

You’re facing your back to the closet, so she can see perfectly how your ass bends over in her direction, showing how good that cream color lace lingerie grabs tightly to your cheeks.

No, no, she can’t be enjoying this. That's gross.

Her breathing is getting heavier as she tries to ignore the wet spot forming in her clean underwear.

If she calls for help now, she’ll have to admit that she kept watching you get naked without saying anything. What would you think about her?

By being roommates, that would make everything awkward. Mikasa just a bit annoyed by your messy ways, but you she actually believes that you are really nice.

And, right now Mikasa's hard breathing doesn’t show any sign of annoyance with your dirty clothes spreaded on the floor.

You lie nonchalantly in your bed just like that, scrolling through something on your phone while Mikasa hides her face between her knees trying to think of a coherent excuse to call for your help without making it weird.

But, surely, you know how to make it weirder.

Some lewd sounds start to come out softly from outside the closet like a far echo.

At first, Mikasa doesn’t notice it, thinking that it’s just some movie that you’re watching. But when the bed sheets move constantly and there’s a small sound of clapping sounding slightly far, she raises her head to look and find the last thing she wanted to see after getting turned on by just seeing your body.

"F-Fuck…!" You muffle softly.

Your body is moving around on your bed caused by the constant rubbing of your two fingers around your clothed core while the other hand keeps the phone beside you with your eyes locked firmly at it, just like she was before looking at you.

The high volume of the video playing in your phone resonates fully, letting the girl hidden in your closet get a clear idea of what is happening outside.

The way that your chest goes up and down so heavy with those perked nipples, attracts her total attention.

With a crunching guilt waving through her body, her hand travels down her body to start rubbing up and down softly her fingers through her panties. Mikasa doesn’t want to do this, she’s not okay with the idea of touching herself to the sight of someone enjoying their own intimacy.

But the sound of your soft whimpers combined with the dirty loud moans of the girl in the video that you’re watching are just pushing her so hard to the edge of breaking her firm morals.

The struggle of how you try to keep rubbing yourself down there and interleaving it with squeezing your tits, tents her to call out your name.

But not with the intention of stopping this, she wants to help you down there; with her fingers, with her mouth, she needs to do something about what you’re causing in her.

Mikasa never thought of being attracted to girls, but when she shyly watched something to touch herself from time to time, she constantly found herself enjoying the clips where she could see the face of the girl almost crying of pleasure.

And you look so good giving yourself all those pleasure.

The way you have to shout your eyes when you put the panties aside to slide in and out your finger and let out a shaky moan causes Mikasa to tremble in her uncomfortable position, mirroring your action and sliding slowly her finger inside, she has to bite her lip to hide her own moan, trying to do it slowly so you won’t hear the wet sound of her pussy clenching to her finger.

“This is so wrong” Is the only single thought in Mikasa’s mind, but that isn’t stopping her from sliding another finger and arching her back in response.

She should cover her mouth with her free hand to at least stop torturing her poor lip, but that hand is a little bussy lifting her sweater and pulling her bra down to start pinching softly her nipples and squeezing her breast.

How would it feel to hug you like this? Your tits grinding against each other, the hard nipples rubbing and making it feel so much more sensitive.

You stop fingering yourself with shaky movements to open the drawer almost violently. Mikasa startles, scared of the sudden ramble, turning to you confused as to why you stopped.

The drawer turns into a bigger mess when you look around for your vibrator with lipstick shape, making you swear on the low when you click the small button on it and noticing that the battery is dead.

“Fuck it” You throw it inside annoyed with yourself for forgetting to charge it. Your mind works quickly because of the hard need to release and you have to grab one of the pillows in the corner of your bed to put it between your legs, causing you to shiver and whimper softly when your soaked entrance touches it slightly. "Fuuuuck…! Just like that"

You’re now again facing your back to the closet, giving your cute stalker a good view of your ass going front and backwards riding the pillow.

Mikasa has to stop squeezing her breasts and cover her mouth in surprise to realize the reason why you just never let her use that pillow when you both do movie nights, insisting that that pillow is too uncomfortable and you’ll throw it in the garbage soon.

But you don’t seem so uncomfortable as you ride it so insistently, grabbing your sheets with hard fists and moaning so sweetly against your bed.

This is it. This is Mikasa’s limit, she puts inside another finger without any issue due to how wet she is now, actually, she’s really close right now.

Her moans are getting so hard to cover and her hand finds the shirt of yours that she was criticizing just before you arrived, her first instinct is to put it above her mouth to cover the moans and that’s just a worse decision to hide her sounds.

That shirt still has that sweet scent of yours, that scent of your lavanda soap combined with the smell of the oil paint it’s just making her push her fingers inside so much more rougher.

Your moans get harder as you ride the pillow, the soaked spot on the fabric getting bigger when you feel the climax hitting you, causing you to grind your hips harder against the sweet border of the pillow as the orgasm hits, finishing with letting out the fantasy playing right now in your mind through moans.

“Fuck! Mikasa… You move so good!”

That sentence makes her eyes open wide as the orgasm hits her too, the fast movement of her fingers on her wet folds is not hiding anymore the wet sound of her juices coming out when she also mumbles your name against the shirt covering her mouth.

Her body is still trembling and her cheeks are completely red hoping that your after orgasm tiredness didn’t let you hear her. She wants to enjoy how good that orgasm felt, even alone or with someone, she has never come this hard.

She has closed her eyes to rest a little, unfortunately, the closet door sliding harshly to the side and exposing her to you. You’re still naked, with slightly glossed thighs from how wet you got touching yourself is turning her on again. How low is she falling today?

But, when you girn widely at the sigh of your clean and tidy roommate all fucked out on the closet floor, with those big tits exposed and her wet fingers resting on her thigh. You get on your knees beside her to grab her chin and make her look at you with those sleepy eyes and swollen lower lip.

“How cute a roommate I have. Do you think that I didn't hear your whimpers?"

Mikasa stops breathing instantly, but you caress her chin.

"Come on, let's get on your bed now. Mine is a mess".

Mikasa is the kind of girl who always keeps all her stuff in their place.

Even herself, avoiding bad decisions and not knowing how you make it to survive everyday being that mess.

That hot mess kissing her so sweetly that she feels like she might cum again right now, finally feeling how your tits feel against hers. And loving it.

So, when she nods repeatedly against your lips. She feels like this is the first day she might have to get a little out of the routine.

🏷️@softlilpeachxx

#aot smut #attack on titan smut #snk x reader #snk smut #attack on titan x reader #mikasa smut #mikasa ackerman smut #aot x reader #mikasa x reader #mikasa x you #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #brilium

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mirnilop · 8 months

Text

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

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

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

♡ word count: 5,310

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

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

There’s a rose on your vanity.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are ya sure?”

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

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

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

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

“Promise ya’ll play nice?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, I’m heading out!”

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Gene. Have a good one.”

“You too!”

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

“Hi Howdy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mx.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’d love to.”

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

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

“Do you remember the night we met?”

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

“How could I forget?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It's alright, Barnaby."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I knew because of your eyes.”

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

“Pardon?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I see…”

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

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

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

“A neck?”

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

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

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

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

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

No.

“Wh– what? Settle down how?”

“To get married, silly.”

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

“Get married? You mean– to me?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Perhaps sensing an opening, Wally continues.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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pterodactyl-hater · 2 months

Text

Just not him

・❥・ Your situationship doesn’t like that you were seen with another man

・❥・word count: 1.2k

・❥・warnings: Homelander and The Deep (they’re their own warnings), fade to black smut, Homie is a little toxic, supe!reader

・❥・I don't write smut because I'm not good at it, but I'm not good at it because I don't write it, a viscous cycle.

Also sorry if this doesn't make much sense I was in and out of consciousness while writing 😝

"No. No way am I doing that."

"(Y/n), your sexuality is part of your brand. May I remind you your approval rates are going down by the minute." Madelyn sighs.

"Yeah, I get that, but you expect me to go out there and flirt with The Deep? I'd be making a fool of myself." Your cheeks are hot as you try to defend yourself.

"Ah, ah, you'd be making a spectacle, and that's exactly what we need right now. Drama, scandal, rumors."

"And it has to be him?" You deadpanned. "It can't be anyone else? What about Homelander?" You felt yourself becoming desperate.

“Homelander? And you?” A smile breaks out on her face, but she tries to hide it. “I don’t mean any offense, but you two aren’t an ideal pair up.” She talks to you like you’re a child. You fight the urge to tell her that you and Homelander are actually a very good pair. “Anyways, recently you and The Deep have been trending, as a couple.” You scoff.

Recently on a podcast with some man you’re sure is very popular in a different crowd, The Deep confessed that he found you to be the most attractive member of The Seven. Ever since then a burst of videos were posted of cute moments between the two of you, which turned into edits, which turned into fan art, which turned into fanfiction. You fought the urge to gag, who even makes that stuff? From a marketing perspective, it made for great business, a romance angle brought new eyes to the scene. To you, it was demeaning.

“Fine. But I’m not going to take this any further than a few flirtatious remarks at tomorrow’s gala.” You remind yourself it’s not good to anger someone like Madelyn, she’s scarier than she lets on. Madelyn nods and you walk out of her office, much more embarrassed than you were when you entered. As you stormed down the hallway to the safety of your own home, none other than The Deep greeted you.

Speak of the devil and he shall arrive.

“Hey! How are you doing today, cutie?” He starts. He practically salivates as he walks beside you. You feel like you’re gonna be sick.

“I’m not in the mood right now.”

“C’mon, why don’t you let me take you out for a drink or two? We’re supposed to be all over each other tom-“

“Not in the mood!” You cut him off. Your walking increases to practically sprinting until you reach your home. You slam the door shut behind you. You shrugged off your clothes and crawled into bed. No way in hell were you getting out of bed until the last possible minute.

You stood, still as a statue. You wore a deep purple outfit. The silks enveloped your body in a sexy, yet elegant way. You had never felt more bored in your life. The Deep had his hand positioned on your lower back, where it had been all night. You had already talked to everyone important, you made sure the photographers got enough shots of you coquettishly whispering in The Deep’s ear, or leaning on him while being in conversation. You had taken notice to the fact that Homelander had yet to arrive. The gala would be ending soon, and without an appearance from the leader of The Seven himself. His absence further ruined your mood.

You and Homelander were in a bit of a situationship. There was no official label for your relationship. He’d come to your house just to sleep with you one day, then act like you two were strangers the next. You had learned to accept that nothing serious would come from the relationship. But there was still a part of you that wished he had come tonight.

“(Y/n), big smiles.” The Deep reminded. “Why do you look so fucking depressed?” His voice was low enough that it would look like casual banter to any outsider. His hold on the small of your back grew tight.

“Back off and mind your own business.” You said through gritted teeth. You forced a coy smile and blush onto your face as if he had just said something really flustering to you.

“Hey you two!” You felt your brows furrow. Sometime between two minutes ago, when you last scanned the room, and now Homelander had entered, and without you noticing. Your fake smile melted into a real one.

“Homelander.” You greeted. The Deep pulled you in impossibly closer. He didn’t say anything, just nodded. You had a feeling he was scared of Homelander.

“Do you mind if I borrow them?” Homelander asked The Deep. All of you knew it wasn’t a question, just a thinly veiled demand. “You seem to have them chained down.” He laughed, referring to the vice grip currently on your back. After a second the hold was gone, The Deep had already walked off to get himself another drink.

It was just you and Homelander now. He moved close to you to whisper in your ear.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He asked with a plastic smile. You felt your stomach drop.

“My job.” You shot back with an equally fake smile. You watched as his cheeks turned red with anger.

“No.” He grabbed your wrist. “We’re leaving.” You planted your feet in the ground.

“Excuse you?”

“I said, we’re leaving.” He hissed.

“They’ll have my head if I’m seen leaving with you.”

“They can fucking suck it up. I’m The Homelander. I get who I want, when I want. We’re leaving.” He dragged you by the wrist to pull you out the back doors. You were acutely aware that all the photographers turned away their cameras after seeing the expression on Homelander’s face.

The cold night air curled around your exposed skin, but you had no time to even breathe it in before your head hit the wall behind you and Homelander’s lips were on yours. His hands gripped your waist as he pulled you closer to him. You push him away, sucking in deep breaths.

“What’s gotten into you? Why are you acting like this?” You ask breathlessly. You can’t say you don’t enjoy this possessiveness, but he’s never made such a scene for you before, especially in public. He doesn’t answer before pulling you back into another hungry kiss.

He pulls away, his breath hot against your neck. “You’re mine. All fucking mine. No one else can have you, especially not that fucker Deep.” He pants. His grip tightened in a way you’re sure would bruise if it wasn’t for your invulnerable skin. “Fucking say it. Say that you’re mine.” A tone of pathetic desperation creeps into his voice. You smile and curl your fingers in his hair.

You wish Madelyn could see you now. Not a good pair, as if.

“I’m yours, Homelander.” You assure him. He whines against your collarbone. You’re sure tomorrow he’ll go back to pretending none of this happened, but for now you revel in his attention. “Why don’t you show them that I belong to you?”

It’s so petty, just a cheap way to stick it in Madelyn’s face. Homelander grins as he tries to suck a hickey on your neck. Both of your smiles quickly faded at the realization that there’s no way to bruise invincible skin. “Shit.” You cursed under your breath. Homelander looked up at you with his big blue eyes. You run your fingers through his hair.

“I’m sure you could show them in a different way.” You smirked.

#the boys x reader #homelander x reader #homelander #request #pterodactyl hater

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