#He’s just like me when I have unexpected guests over | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dilemmaontwolegs · 4 months

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Irresistible {3} || CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader Summary: What was once heaven turns to hell with the unexpected arrival of a new house guest. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, smut, cheating, kind of taboo (future stepbrother) WC: 4K F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four

It was late by the time Charles entered your room and slipped into the bed. You had retreated to your room after washing the dishes from dinner, silently passing each one to Charles to dry. When there was nothing left to tidy, he sighed and decided he couldn’t delay the call that was inevitable.

“Are you awake?” he asked quietly as he curled his body around yours.

“No.”

You felt his smile on your shoulder before he rolled you over to face him and brushed the hair back that fell over your face. “I think I made a mistake.”

It felt like a cruel joke but you had heard his raised voice through the walls, but the French had meant nothing to you. You were certain that after one argument he was cutting things off but you asked anyway, “Why’s that?”

“Because I don’t want to be in a relationship with her.” He pressed his forehead to yours and the breath you had been holding was released with a relieved sigh. “And she wants to come to the first races too now.”

You pulled back to see the pained look in his eyes and realised you had relaxed prematurely. “I thought you said she wouldn’t go to many.”

“She usually wouldn’t, but with the new race schedule it falls right into her school summer break.”

You huffed at the idea of having to share him and watch as she got to publicly flaunt him. Okay, maybe you were a little jealous - but it didn’t change anything because he could never be yours. “Does she suspect anything between us?”

“I am living with a beautiful woman that I am not related to, of course she is suspicious,” he stated with a nonchalant shrug. “But she won’t outright ask or she would have to give up on the idea that we are perfect for each other.”

Your fingers traced the shape of his beard that was due to be shaved again and your shoulders bounced with a quiet laugh. “Look at you, you have it all figured out.”

For a second his amusement faded away and vulnerability set in as he looked at your laced fingers resting on his chest. “You haven’t changed your mind about coming with me, have you?” His words were whispered like he was afraid of the answer.

“I don’t think I could if I wanted to,” you admitted seriously, before a teasing smirk lightened the atmosphere. “I think I would miss you too much, or a certain part of you.”

“Ah, of course,” he chuckled, grateful for the answer and a distraction, “you only want me for my dick.”

You ran your hand down his bare chest until it met the fabric of the grey sweatpants he wore and teased over his crotch. “I was thinking about your tongue but I would miss this too.”

“I feel used, really, I do,” he huffed but his cock began to stir beneath your palm despite the joking words. “I am just an object to you.”

“Yes, you are, but you are a pretty one,” you added with the sultry smile that always set his blood alight. “So are you going to let me use you?”

He grinned as he easily pulled you over his body to straddle his waist. “Always, ma biche.”

Lockdown: Week Sixteen

“Hey Daveed, sorry about the stairs,” you apologised as you ordered yet another heavy item online knowing there wasn’t an elevator in the building.

It was an odd world that you found yourself in. You knew the delivery driver by name now, but you still hadn’t seen the bottom half of his face beneath the mask.

“What have you brought now?” Charles asked from the couch as he sent a wave to Daveed.

“I’ll show you if you help me move it.”

Curious, he got up and gently moved you aside so he could pick it up himself, his biceps testing the tensile strength of his shirt sleeves. “Where am I putting it?”

You rushed around the couch and moved the coffee table that was covered with your puzzle magazines before pointing to the space made. “I’ll get the scissors.”

Charles watched his floor space change from hardwood boards to the fluffiest shag pile rug he had ever seen. Everywhere he looked there was evidence of a woman in his home and he had to admit he loved walking into each room and seeing it.

You starfished on the rug after unrolling it and sighed happily at how soft and fluffy it was beneath you. “Lay with me,” you ordered Charles when you opened your eyes to find you smiling down at you.

Dropping down beside you, he stared up at the ceiling and stretched out, sliding his arm under your head. He ran his fingers through the soft material before those same fingers ran down your sleeve and pulled you closer to kiss your temple. “It’s perfect.”

The doorbell buzzed and you both looked at each other wondering who it could be. There wasn’t anything else that had been ordered and it wasn’t as if anyone could just pop around for a visit with the lockdown still under enforcement. You were still frowning at each other when the bell rang again, followed by a shrill call that made Charles stiffen.

“It’s Charlotte.”

You sat up in an instant and all but ran down the hall to your room, quickly snatching Charles’ pillow and tossing it into his room with the other random pieces of clothes that littered your floor. The security chain scraped open before the deadlock was unbolted and you scanned his room to see if there was anything of yours there but luckily most activity had been kept to your space. You hadn’t wanted to sleep in the bed he shared with her, that was about your limit in your morally grey code of ethics.

“Uh, hey, what are you doing here?” Charles asked as he opened the door, his shoulders blocking your view from the hall.

“I thought you would be happier to see me after four months,” Charlotte murmured as she walked around him and into the apartment. She was perceptive of all the changes and was obviously not impressed by them as she set her suitcase down. “My travel exemption came through today.”

Charles frowned at the large luggage bag but recovered enough to kiss her when she leant in. Your exemption had been emailed to him a few days ago so everything was set to go to Austria in two weeks time but that didn’t help him understand why his girlfriend had arrived at his place with the bag. “Are you going somewhere?”

“I figured since I was allowed to travel I would stay here, with you, until we fly out. I can finish my assignment here and we can catch up on lost time.”

Your stomach knotted at the thought but she had put Charles in a position that made an argument almost impossible.

“I would love that, but isn't it a little insensitive to Y/N? I don’t want her feeling like a third wheel in her own home.”

“This isn’t her home.” Charlotte rolled her eyes and you took a step back behind the wall as she looked around for you. “You said she’s just a guest you can’t get rid of because your mum asked nicely.”

You swallowed down the angry words that clawed at your throat and had to watch as Charles wrapped her in his arms, to comfort her.

Your silent steps retreated back to your room and you closed the door before you could hear anything more. Collapsing on your bed feeling displaced, you could smell Charles’ cologne clinging to the sheets and resorted to stripping the bedding off. Not willing to risk being caught in any small talk, you mounded the pile of sheets and duvet covers in the corner of your room and pulled a pair of noise cancelling headphones over your ears.

You drifted in and out of sleep all afternoon, waking once to decline dinner, telling Charles that you weren’t hungry through the locked door, despite the loud growls coming from your stomach. When you woke again night had set in and it was dark outside your window. The growls had turned to cramps and you couldn’t ignore the need for food any longer.

Thankfully the apartment was silent when you emerged from your room and crept down the hall. You could walk the whole house blindfolded if you needed, you knew because it had been a game you played with Charles a few times out of boredom, but you turned a small lamp on in the living room. The soft glow was enough to see in the kitchen and you found a note on the fridge door.

You smiled at the thought of Charles saving a plate for you and grabbed it from inside the fridge. It smelt delicious as you warmed it up in the microwave but one mouthful had to dumping it in the bin. Though your back was to the hall you could feel his presence like the kiss of the sun on your skin and you placed the empty plate in the sink to wash it.

“You should be asleep.”

His steps were quiet across the floor before his hands found your waist and his lips brushed over your nape before he whispered, “Can’t sleep without you.”

You turned away from the sink to face him but whatever command you were thinking of to send him back to his girlfriend was lost when he kissed you. You could taste the apology on his tongue, feel the regret in his touch as his hand slipped beneath your shirt and danced along your spine.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know she was going to show up here.”

His forehead rested against yours and his eyes closed when he felt your hands come to rest on his neck, your fingers feeling his pulse race beneath them. The silence was heavy as he waited for you to say something but you weren’t going to dwell on what you couldn’t change.

“You should be apologising for the pasta, I nearly broke a tooth.”

Charles stepped back with a quiet laugh and combed his fingers through his hair. “You know I am not good at cooking.”

“That wasn’t cooking, it was uncooked,” you corrected him with a smile. “Are you hungry?”

He nodded, having missed your cooking and took a seat on the bench where he could watch you quickly bring a delicious meal together. He never understood how you could do that, how you could look at what was in the fridge and the pantry and create a dish in your head. When he looked all he saw were the individual ingredients but you saw the potential each piece had, it amazed him every time.

The minutes quickly passed and it was effortless to chat with whispered voices while you worked, a complete dichotomy from how his evening with Charlotte went. Conversation with her had felt forced, like he was talking to a stranger, and he had asked how the weather was twice just to fill the awkward silence.

He barely even heard your words, recounting a humorous camping trip with your father where he forgot nearly all of the food. But you had managed to survive for three days inventing new ways to eat sausages. You paused when Charles didn’t laugh at something he should have found funny but he was staring at your lips in a daze.

“Are you okay?” you asked with a wave in front of his face.

He snapped out of whatever trance he was in and you thought maybe he had been falling asleep standing up. You nearly jumped when he suddenly pulled you into his arms and buried his face in your neck. “I love you.” You could feel his smile on your skin before he kissed the column of your neck, whispering it over and over as he made his way to your lips. “I love you.”

Your palms met his chest and gently pushed him back as you wriggled from his hold.

“What?” he asked, suddenly nervous and self conscious.

“You’re just having this revelation now? At,” you checked the time on the oven, “1:11 in the morning while your girlfriend is asleep in your bed.”

“I mean, I’ve kind of known it since the day we met…” He scratched the back of his neck and shrugged apologetically. “I think I loved you the moment you called me a bad driver.”

You balled up your fist and punched him in the shoulder. “You could have told me sooner.”

His forehead crumpled in confusion as he rubbed his arm. “What? Why?”

Stepping back into his personal space, you rose on your toes so you could kiss the corner of his downturned lips. “Because I love you too.”

His smile could have lit up the whole city and it made the unexpected arrival of Charlotte a little easier to bear. It was almost romantic eating dinner with a single candle burning on the table, if it wasn’t for the knowledge that there was an unwanted house guest in the next room. You probably should have eaten in silence to make sure it went undisturbed, there was always more you wanted to know about each other. Sixteen weeks together brought a lot of insight into the other’s psyche but there was still over 20 years of history to learn.

“Did Peter teach you to cook?”

Your laugh was a little too loud in the dead of the night and you shook your head. “He can only cook a steak, and you don’t get a say in how you want it either - it’s always extra well done.” You took a sip of the wine Charles had poured and giggled at the thought of your father teaching you to cook. “There was this old woman who did the payroll at dad’s work and after mum left Betty helped step in for all the ‘girly’ stuff. Make-up, cooking, boys.”

The corner of Charles’ lips kicked up in a smirk as he sat back in his chair and sighed happily with a full stomach and contentment he had missed all evening. “I imagine you were already a natural when it came to boys.”

You mirrored his amusement and leaned your head on his shoulder when he draped his arm over the back of your chair. “Of course, one insult and I had them wrapped around my finger,” you joked.

“Worked with me.”

“But you’re weird.”

Footsteps padded down the hall and you sat up before Charlotte arrived wearing a shirt of Charles’. She froze as she found the cosy scene and the sleepy haze lifted from her face. “What is this?”

You smiled and reached for the bottle of wine to refill your glass. “I was hungry, sorry, didn’t mean to wake you. Would you like to join us?”

She looked at the clock and you were surprised to see it was almost 3am. Time always seemed to slip by unnoticed when you were with Charles, he was captivating that way.

“No, thank you,” she politely declined as she held a hand out to Charles. “We are going back to bed.”

Charles let her lead him from the room but he looked over his shoulder with a pout and mouthed ‘I love you’ before saying aloud, “sweet dreams.”

You smiled as you mouthed the words back and promised, “I will.”

That was the last stolen moment alone. Charlotte seemed to sleep lighter and followed Charles everywhere he went in the apartment. He couldn’t even stream alone in his office, her ever present shadow was there in the background to gate keep him from you. At night, their arguments would keep you awake and your French understanding grew to know nearly every swear word they used.

You could see the misery in the dark bags beneath Charles' eyes each morning at breakfast. Though he no longer sat beside you, there was one perk to facing him with the table Charlotte used as a barrier between you. Warmth ran up your leg and you fought not to react to Charles’ touch, it wasn’t much but it was his quiet reassurance that everything would be okay.

Lockdown: Week Seventeen

You woke to a screech and rolled over to bury your head under your pillow. Unfortunately you weren’t able to block out her voice as it grew louder to the point she was yelling. Tossing your blankets back, you draped a robe around your shoulders and swept out of the room with a mission to find out why your sleep had been disturbed.

“Charles, can you please remind her what an inside voice is?” you asked quietly as you took a seat with him at his piano, watching the angry young woman pace around the living room.

“You live like a pig!” Charlotte growled as she picked up his dirty plate left on the coffee table. “And how hard is it to put the toilet seat down?”

You cast a side eye at Charles to see him struggling to hold a smirk in check. He was clearly enjoying himself but you were confused since he had always put the toilet seat down before, and cleaned up after himself.

“Why are there so many cushions in this place?” Her rant continued as she picked up the floral pieces you had scattered across the couch to bring colour to the room.

“I like cushions,” you answered her rhetorical question, drawing her attention to your presence.

“I know exactly what you like,” she sneered as her eyes darted to Charles before she stormed out of the room, dropping the plate in the kitchen sink as she passed.

“Where are you going?” Charles asked as he made to follow, sending a kiss your way.

“Home!”

You dropped onto the couch, enjoying the way your body sunk into the soft cushions, and listened to the rant continue while Charlotte packed her suitcase. You had to bite one pillow when Charles made a weak attempt to change her mind but then she was wheeling her luggage out the door.

Unfortunately her departing words left you little hope as she promised, “I’ll meet you at the airport.”

The door closed behind her and Charles leaned his back against it with a sigh. You cocked a brow at him before he slid the deadbolt home and all but jumped over the back of the couch, pinning you under his body.

“Finally, I have you all to myself,” he hummed happily against your lips but you tugged his hair back so he could see the confusion on your face. “What? I missed you.”

“You planned all that?”

He shrugged and dipped his head to capture your lips that left you needing more of his kisses and less of his clothes. “I was hoping she was going to break up with me, but I’ll keep working on that. PR can’t be mad at me if it’s her choice.”

You combed your fingers through his hair, feeling the soft strands that were in need of a trim again. “But what happens next? They’ll just set you up with another woman that fits their image for you.”

He shook his head adamantly and pressed his forehead to yours. “I’m done with that. I’ll tell them I need to focus on my career or something to get them off my back. There’s only one woman I want, Bambi.”

You tried not to let his promise affect you but the butterflies in your stomach turned to a burn across your cheeks and you buried your face in his neck. His deep laugh reverberated from his chest as he kissed your temple and started to climb off you.

“Hey, where do you think you are going?” you asked as his weight was lifted from you.

“I was going to bed,” he said with a smirk as he started to walk towards the hall. “Coming, ma biche?”

The cushions went flying as you scrambled to your feet and raced after him. It felt as if the universe had righted itself when you closed your door behind you and found Charles stretched across your bed. For a moment you just leaned back and enjoyed the view that you had missed, but only for a moment - you had better ideas on how to spend your time.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” you pointed out.

“Why don’t you come and change that?” he challenged with a smirk. Making himself comfortable, he tucked his hands behind his head but the movement tugged the bottom of his shirt up to tease you with the deep V lines you wanted to run your tongue along.

“With pleasure.” You untied your robe and let the material fall to the floor before you stalked him down and reached for his sweatpants. You dragged the soft cloth down and he lifted his hips to make it easier, not that it would have stopped you.

You dipped your head down, grazing your teeth over his hip bone and goosebumps prickled across his skin. His breath caught in his chest as the tingling feeling spread over his body and he chuckled at the sight of it. It was a reaction he had never had with anyone else, there was no one else who could possibly elicit such a feeling with just one touch.

“Fuck,” he shuddered breathlessly when you lashed your tongue along one V line. He could feel your breath warm on his cock before it cooled as you climbed higher and he groaned at the smirk on your lips. You were playing with him.

“Be patient,” you warned as you grabbed his shirt and tugged it up his chest.

“It’s been 9 days, Bambi,” he gasped when you nipped his nipple before easing the sharp pain with your tongue.

“Exactly.” You peeked up his body from under your lashes and enjoyed the strained look on his face, his brows pinched together and his hands in fists behind his head. He was struggling not to take control and bury himself in you. “I have to make up for lost time.”

You pushed him to his limit as you nipped and sucked your way across his body from his neck to his thighs. “Please, ma biche,” he finally whined as his hard cock pulsed with the need to feel your wet warmth.

“Since you asked so nicely…” You sealed your lips around the swollen tip and hummed in delight at the taste of him. There wasn’t a word that could describe it but it was an aphrodisiac of the highest strength. Need grew to a throb between your legs and your eyes fluttered shut as you clenched your thighs together.

A deep groan had your eyes opening and you found a wild look in Charles’ before he reached for your arms. You let him guide you up his body thinking he was going to spear you down on his cock but he shuffled down the bed and positioned you over his face. “My turn, mon amour.”

Your fingers clutched at the headboard as his tongue expertly found all the spots that made you see stars. Like you, he hadn’t forgotten how to drive you wild in the long days since Charlotte’s arrival.

“Please, Charles,” you begged as he teased around your clit, keeping you dancing on the precipice of oblivion. He teased and he teased until a growl of frustration tore from you lips and you combed your fingers into his hair so you could grind your hips over his face, taking what you needed from him.

Satisfied and smiling, you were flipped onto your back and Charles chuckled as he kissed his way up your body. “That was rude.”

“You love it,” you fired back with an equally daring smirk that fell away when your lips parted with a soft gasp as he thrust his hips forward and buried himself inside you.

“Fuck, I do,” he agreed with a moan. His breath heated your neck as he kissed your racing pulse, caressing your skin with his lips until he reached yours. “I love you.”

Click here for the next part.

#charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction #formula one imagine #charles leclerc smut

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hyperfix-and-fanfics · 3 months

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Alastor x reader

Alastor reacting to someone threatening reader.

Requested by: @legendofluck

You had been working at the hotel for quite a while now. Everyone at the hotel enjoyed your presence, as you were an absolute sweetheart.

Alastor, especially, had a soft spot for you. You died near the same time as him. You would often dance with him while listening to jazz and gossip and slander Vox and his insecure whiny bitch boys.

You didn’t have any specific job so you just did what was required around the hotel. Right now, you were checking some guests into the room.

You had just checked the last guest into the last vacant room. It was late and everyone was in bed. You often took the night shift even though you hardly got any customers. You sat by the counter idly, humming to some jazz while reading through a magazine when another dinner walked in. Your eyes darted up and you quickly sat up. “Hello sir! Welcome to the Hazbin hotel, how may I help you?” You asked with a gentle smile.

The man sinner glared at you and stumbled through the door, clearly intoxicated. He was a big burly boar demon with large tusks, sharp yellow eyes, and a long snout. He glared at you, a dark glint on his face. Everything about him screamed "caution" like a label on a pack of cigarettes.

You shifted uncomfortably as he trudged closer.

"S-sir...? Would you like to make a reservation..?" Your voice wavered, flinching as he slammed his fist down on the counter.

"Listen here you l-hic-little whore...You better get me a room or I-hic-I'll bash your head into the counter.." He slurred while grabbing your wrist with a vice grip.

You winced in pain and let out a small hiss. Your eyes watered at the retched smell of whiskey and cigars on his breath.

You looked at the man in fear

"I'm afraid that there aren't any rooms ava-" Before you could finish your sentence, you felt a hand grip your hair sharply and you bit back a yelp.

"I said...Get. Me. A. ROOM! Or I'll bash your pretty little head in and watch as your brains cover the walls..."

You nodded weakly, your whole body trembling as hot tears started to spill. You grabbed the phone and dialed in a room number.

"J-just a moment...sir.." You whispered, calling Alastor's room number, praying that he'd be awake.

Ring ring

Silence

Ring ring

Silence

Ring ring

"Unfortunately, room ### is unavailable, please leave a message at the tone."

Your stomach dropped as you frantically tried to think of a way out of this situation. You felt the hand in your hair tighten and suddenly yank your head back. A scream escaped your lips and then a sharp stinging pain shot through you as the sinner slapped you across the face.

"SHUT UP YOU STUPID BI-" He was cut off when a long dark tendril impaled him through his fat beer belly. Blood splattered into your eyes and you were disoriented. You rubbed the blood from your eyes when suddenly you heard a familiar voice.

"Was he bothering you, my dear?"

You stared at Alastor, stunned, before the whole weight of the situation came crashing down on you like an avalanche. You broke down into sobs and crumpled to the floor.

You shook with terror, your vision swimming with hot tears when something unexpected happened.

Alastor hugged you.

The Radio Demon, Alastor, hugged you.

You buried your face into his shoulder as his claws scratched your back gently.

"There there, he's gone now, your safe..." He cooed while picking you up. "I'll go ask Husker to take over the shift. You need some rest and that bruise on your cheek needs some attention."

You nodded weakly, your eyes red and puffy as your sobs simmered down to whimpers and hiccups. As Alastor walked into his room, he set you down on the bed.

"You stay here, darling. I'll be back momentarily."

And with that he melts away into the shadows. You stare at the ground with a detached look in your eyes. When he returns, his smile is a lot smaller and more strained. He gently raises your chin with two fingers and places an ice pack on your bruised cheek.

"Don't cry, cher" He says while whipping your tears with the pad of his thumb. He slowly takes off your shoes and lays you down into bed with you.

"I will...stay with you for tonight, if it makes you feel safer. It wouldn't be very kind of me to just leave you in such a state." He said while pulling you into his arms. You nuzzled closer into his warm embrace and snaked your arms around his thin waist.

"Goodnight mon cheri"

#Hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin #radio demon #hazbin hotel x reader #x reader #requested #alastor x you #comfort #TW #hazbin hotel fandom #fanfic #self insert

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dcxdpdabbles · 10 months

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Alfred's Boy Part 4

"Master Bruce, would it be alright if I had someone over?" Danny's soft voice breaks the chatter around the table. Bruce is honestly surprised to hear the boy speak up without prompting. It takes him a moment to answer how unexpecting the request is.

The boy seems to think his silence is an answer, for he ducks his head and brings up his shoulders. "Nevermind. It was stupid. I'll tell Clockwork to forget it."

"No. No. This is your house as well, Danny. You can invite any of your friends. I'm just surprised Clockwork would allow you to contact guests from your old home." Bruce assures. His eyes flicker to the rest of the table, showing how everyone is focused on their own plates, but all conversation has died.

He is sure half of his children are attempting to develop super hearing with how much they are straining to eavesdrop.

"He's not really a friend, per se." Danny pushes some of his food to one side of his plate. It's a nervous habit Bruce had realized he does when speaking of his old home. Not just food but anything he can fiddle with, as Danny seems unable to hold still when nervous. "Wes and I have....a history, you can say. Clockwork said that he was allowed to visit because he knew what was happening but wasn't too involved with the situation. Not like Sam and Tucker, my best friends, or my sister Jazz. "

A history? Oh no, was this "Wes" an ex?

Bruce looks again at his youngest and fights a wince at Damian's dark sneer as the boy stabs his broccoli. Please let Wes just be anything but an ex. He doesn't want to follow the other kid around to make sure he doesn't have to fight off his children from bringing him harm.

Dick speaks up, likely thinking along the same lines. "I'm glad you can still have someone to see you! When will he be here? Will he be alright with Gotham's....everything?"

A smile is fighting at the corner of Danny's lips, and Bruce swears he can hear his children's hearts shatter as the boy flushes slightly. "Trust me, Wes can handle a lot. Clockwork said he would let Alfred know the details if Master Bruce agreed."

The butler pulls out an old-looking pocket watch. After checking the time, Alfred snaps it close with an impassive smile. "Clockwork will have the boy here in three days. I believe Danny will have a few days off then to enjoy his company?"

It's not really a request, but Bruce still nods. "Of course."

Danny's entire face lights up. It's the most joy he's seen on the boy's face since his arrival. "Thank you, Master Bruce. Thank you, Alfred. Can you please excuse me? I want to prepare his room."

"Of course, dear boy," Alfred nods his head. Danny is gone in a flash, a secret smile pulling at his lips. He waits a few seconds, so Danny's footsteps can fade away before leveling a stern stare at everyone at the table.

Bruce straightens his back out of reflex when that all-knowing stare passes over him. He barely contains a sigh of relief when Alfred slightly lingers on him to transfer his gaze to Damian.

He feels terrible for his son but cannot step between the butler and him. Damian will have to fight this battle on his own.

"I trust everyone here will not give Danny or his guest any grief during his break." It's not a question. It's a camond. Everyone shivers slightly out of fear.

"No."

"You don't have to worry about me"

"I have some stuff to do."

"Of course not Alfred."

Alfred doesn't precisely threaten them, but he does make his eyes a little darker "Danny's guest will not find shadows following him."

A few of his kids look heartbroken, while Jason has an expression of manic glee blooming on his face.

The following night, Danny is asking for ideas on where to take Wes on his tour. Apparently, both are from a small town and are used to having fewer options for entertainment.

"Kids usually either went to the mall or the local burger place. The mall wasn't even that big too, so after a while it got boring" Danny admits.

"You have to take him to Batburger," Jason tells Danny. Bruce fights the urge to leap over the table and punch his child. Jason knows that Danny hadn't gone to the restaurant so a lot of his siblings had been dreaming of taking the boy on a date there.

He's just rubbing salt in the wounds at this point.

"I think I will. I'll take him to museums too. Wes loves history." Danny writes some ideas down in a little notebook. He's taken to carrying it around, brainstorming a perfect weekend there.

Bruce had glanced at it earlier that day, when Danny had been busy cleaning and had read, "Make out point- Dick said the stars are the clearest there."

He almost had a heart attack. For all that Danny was Alfred's boy, Bruce still felt very protective of Danny like his own. He did not want his somewhat son to be going to any place with the name make out point.

No one speaks after that- primarily due to his younger children trying to shift their sobs and the older ones trying to comfort them without letting Danny notice.

Eventually, Cullen gets up from the table, excusing himself with a half-baked excuse of needing to do homework, and Harper chases after him. The two are followed by Tim- whose eyes are glossy- Steph, who looks to be biting her lip. Duke, whose hands are curled into fists, and Damian, who stomps out like a bull about to charge.

Bruce leaps to his feet but is stopped by Dick, who pats his shoulder. "I got this."

"The plot thickens," Jason says before he, too, goes after his siblings. For all his teasing, his second oldest adores his brothers and sisters, so he'll be there in their time of need.

"Is something...wrong?" Danny asks after a moment of hesitation. "I can tell Clockwork and Wes not to do the visit."

"No. You have Wes over. We talk." Cass tells him, giving the boy a wink as she, too, steps away. "Tonight, all ice cream."

"Yes." Alfred sighs. "I do believe that would be best. A frozen treat to soothe the pain of heartbreak. I'll bring up the tubs for everyone in a moment."

Bruce fights the urge to bury his face in his hands as Danny spring to his feet offering to help with the ice cream, unaware he is the cause for the comfort food.

Despite the apparent tension in the manor, the promised weekend does arrive. Danny is beside himself with excitement. He's not wearing a suit for once- he's gotten to copying Alfred in a misguided attempt at a butler uniform- and is wearing street clothes.

Besides, when the first day, Bruce has never seen Danny in street clothes. He's surprised that Danny dresses like a punk rocker- complete with a black leather jacket, big combat boots, and various chains.

He looks like the type of person fathers warn their daughters away from. Bruce hates how that only makes more of his children bestowed.

Danny had given everyone a happy smile when Bruce handed him the keys to one of his sports cars- he saw no reason why Wes and Danny should take a bus to the airport when he had plenty of vehicles to lend him. Alfred had allowed the boy to go alone since Danny needed to go through a particular gate for Wes.

Apparently, Clockwork would be sending Wes on a private plane. It burned not to know who Clockwork was or what he did, but Bruce fought the urge to snoop to get Alfred to stop glaring at him.

"I bet you he's not even that great," Tim grumbles, stuffing a chocolate cookie into his mouth. "Bet you he's ugly."

"With buck teeth" Steph adds stealing her own cookie.

"He likely never even seen a sword," Damian spits.

"Come on guys, I know it sucks, but we can't just dis on Wes 'cause Danny likes him," Duke says though it's not very convincing, seeing as he dropped over the couch in a depressive slouch.

"Why are all the good gays taken?" Cullen sighs, ignoring the meta.

Bruce opens his mouth to offer some comfort or maybe lecture them, but the front door opens before he gets a chance. Everyone sits up only to slump down as Dick strolls in with a cheerful smile. They all glare at him, which makes Dick flauter in his steps for only a second.

"They're waiting for Danny," Bruce tells him. Dicks smile regains his cheer as the oldest throws himself on the couch.

"He's outside with his guest. Lovely guy."

"Is he ugly?" Tim asks hopefully. His dreams are dashed as Dick shakes his head.

"He could be a supermodel."

"Of course, he can."

Jason snorts from behind a book. Bruce knows he is not reading it, simply by the fact he hasn't turned a page in the last ten minutes- his son speed reads whenever he adores a book- and is likely enjoying the show.

The door opens again, this time accompanied by two sets of laughter. An unfamiliar voice wheezes "-Dash then reads out love poems he wrote about Phantom!

"No!" Danny gasps. "Not Dash Baxter. What did the other A-listers do in retaliation?"

"Nothing that's the crazy part. They had poems too!"

The two voices are carrying, so Bruce has a few seconds to prepare himself. So do his kids, who all sit up at attention, a few with not as welcoming expressions as he would like. The voices round the corner, and Bruce looks at Wes first.

Dick was right. He's a handsome young man with ginger hair and flickers of freckles. He is dressed similarly to Danny, but a little less black and slightly more burnt orange to add color to his punk look. A worn-out backpack is swung over his shoulder while the same arm is tugging along a suitcase behind him.

Wes is also holding Danny's hand with a free hand.

Damian makes a slightly wounded sound that digs a dagger into Bruce's heart. His baby's first heartbreak.

Danny looks surprised to see them all, seeing as the family usually prepares to go out as the Bats at this time- but he smiles widely after a moment. "Everyone I like you to meet Wesley Weston. Wes, this is my boss, Bruce Wayne, and his kids, Dick Grayson-wayne, Jason Todd-Wayne, Casandra Wayne, Tim Drake-Wyane, Stephine Brown, Damian Wayne, Cullen Row, and Harper Row."

Wes smiles at them, waving the hand he has interlocked with Danny. Bruce winces as most of his kids give half-hearted greetings. Thankfully Alfred is in the kitchen and misses their terrible manners.

Wes pauses and squits at the youngest of the house before he sighs. "Of course, it happens in this dimension too."

"What?" Danny asks confused

"Danny and I aren't dating," Wes tells the room, ignoring the startled boy he's launched onto. "Danny just needs to have physical contact for his mental health. So we hold hands. He also needs to have someone sleep with him. Otherwise, his core doesn't recharge correctly."

"Wes!" Danny protests. "They don't know about cores!"

"Oh," Wes shrugs, waving his hands at them, "Never mind. Processed as normal, Danny and I will cuddle in his room. Danny lead the way."

Alfred's foster son flushes a bright red but quickly tugs the guest away. Jason shakes from unrestrained laughter as Damian stabs the table on which he is sharpening his knives.

Bruce yells after the two boys.

"The door stays open, Danny!"

"Master Bruce, it's not like that!" Danny yells back, mortified, and Wes breaks into impish laughter.

"I hate him," Duke hisses, and Bruce gives in to the urge to bury his face in his hands.

It's going to be a long weekend.

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Alfred's boy #Part 4 #Wes is just here for the cuddles #Yes Danny is from a different dimension in this.#Everyone from that dimension is hot #Bruce is trying to dad

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acourtofwhatthefuck · 3 months

Text

Practice On Me — Bonus Part — Fin x Reader.

Summary: A reimagining of how things would have gone if Reader had decided she wanted Fin — despite him being her friend’s father.

Word Count: 7.2k

Warnings: Heavy on the smut. 18+, minors dni. Some jealous and possessiveness. Mentions of forbidden relationships/affairs. If the choices Reader makes in this are something you’re against, I urge you not to read! 🫶🏻

Rita’s is like no other place you’ve been — or seen — before.

Is this what you’ve missed out on, trapped within the frozen maw of Windhaven? There is no place like this there, of such vibrancy and euphoria. The music, the coloured faelights, the energy — it all makes you feel…on top of the world.

Like there’s life outside the misery you’ve known.

Mor knocks a shot back, grimacing as she slams the empty glass onto the bar. A sudden burst of giggles leaves her as she says, “My father would have my head if he could see me right now. Literally.”

You don’t doubt that for a second, because Mor looks resplendent, not just in her natural beauty, but her joy. She has danced and drank and kissed and danced some more. And seeing her like this…it makes you glad that she convinced you to come out with her tonight.

“My father would have my head, too,” you tell her over the music. “I’m surprised he hasn’t already.”

At that, she rolls her eyes, and she reaches for two more shots. “Here’s to saying fuck the males,” she knocks her glass against yours. “May they all perish.”

You’ll happily drink to that. With the alcohol that has you in its grip, you’re buzzed on thoughts of storming back to Windhaven and confronting all your demons. Confronting anyone and everyone who has ever hurt you and made you feel less than you are. Your father. Lord Devlon. Azriel—

You banish that thought as the liquid slides down your throat with a satisfying burn. You are in Velaris, not Windhaven. A new place with new people, where anything feels possible. The thought is heady and dizzying.

Someone calls Mor’s name, and she glances over her shoulder, her beautiful eyes lighting up again. You truly don’t know how often she’s able to escape the Hewn City and get away to Velaris, but judging by the amount of friends she’s introduced you to tonight, she’s certainly made her mark here.

“Let’s go dance with them!” Mor yells over the music, grabbing your hand.

You think that dancing might be the answer to everything you’ve never known, and so you gladly follow; gladly throw yourself into the thrall of the busy floor.

But that’s when you see him.

Something…some deep power…compels you to look up. Coaxes your eyes to that area a level above, where the city’s VIP guests spend copious amounts of money on copious amounts of alcohol and drink it from their cushy velvet booths. They’re reserved for associates of the High Lord, a not-so-formal place to meet to discuss not-so-casual things.

But none of that matters. There could be an entire circus up there right now, and still all you would notice is — him.

He notices you, too.

The High Lord’s eyes zero in on you from up above. You watch, rooted to the spot, as he takes in the sight of you, from your braided back hair, to your painted face, your dress and the legs exposed by them. He looks like…like he’s finally setting his sights upon an image that was merely fantasy up until now.

He braces his arms on the balustrade. And he just stares.

You want to know what he’s doing here. Whether he’s at Rita’s for business or…or for pleasure. You’ve heard that there are rooms upstairs for people willing to pay the price. Perhaps there’s a lover up there with him somewhere, waiting to explore every last inch of that glorious, sculpted body—

The bleating jealousy that makes your heart twist is…unexpected. And not ideal; not one bit.

He is Rhysand’s father. Things may have been fucked up royally with Azriel, and you may have been burned by the experience — but Fin is Rhysand’s father.

Your friend’s father.

Your friend’s father who has just so happened to help keep you feeling alive these past weeks. With his layers-deep allure, the sweet, sweet words that roll off his tongue. His hospitality, his generosity. His kindness. All of it, you’d attributed to him being a natural charmer, a High Lord who knows precisely what to say, what to do.

It strikes you in that moment — just how much it’s all sunk its way into your bones and made you feel…dangerous.

He watches you like a cat with a mouse. Watches as somebody grabs your hand and yanks you into the tightly knit dancing bodies. The music pulses through you from head to toe, a frenzied tune of strings and keys that somehow come together to create the feeling of being borne aloft. Being on top of the world.

As you become lost to the sensation of dance, you’re glad to forget all your thoughts about Fin. You don’t want to wonder what he’s doing here. You don’t want to imagine what those strong, rough hands might get up to, where they might venture.

You become sandwiched between two males who dance with you in a way that makes you forget your wings were ever stolen. They touch you and touch each other, and you welcome it all, happy to be someone, somewhere, else. At least for a while.

But there’s suddenly a foreign touch to your shoulder. That of a cold, meaty hand that stills your movements and draws your attention. The two males happily slink away and begin grinding on each other, and you spin on the spot to find a tall, stocky male who looks like he punches people in the face for the hell of it.

“Y/N?” He checks, and you nod. “The High Lord wishes to speak with you. Upstairs.”

You glance over your shoulder, eyes searching for Mor and finding her just as she’s following a male and female to a cloaked-off area at the back. That’ll be her occupied for the remainder of the night. You’re officially going solo.

But not for long. Not as the bouncer juts his chin in the direction of the staircase and begins to lead you there. Perhaps it makes you a fool, but you follow without a word.

He pulls back a rope and gestures for you to go on up, and then he’s refastening it behind you and turning back to train a keen eye on the dance floor. It’s purely the alcohol that hits you with enough of an ego to climb those stairs like you belong amongst the chandeliers and velvet booths.

But you look good — amazing, even. You know you do. And looking like this, things like scars and other insecurities seem so trivial. You’ve taken back the right to feel as beautiful as you are. You wear your Illyrian features proudly, and you’re pretty and lithe and graceful—

And your heel catches on the top step of the staircase, almost sending you sprawling to the floor — if not for the warm hand that catches your elbow.

“Easy.” Fin rasps into your ear, setting you steady on your feet.

Your numbed, inebriated senses are not immune to the effect of his voice, it would seem. The deep baritone, rough as jagged rock, pushes its way into your skin, your veins, and spreads far faster than any alcohol could.

“Pardon me, my Lord,” you answer, and you’re unable to shove down the hysterical giggle that claws up your throat. “Fuck, you’re the High Lord.”

He cocks a dark eyebrow. “And you are drunk.”

“The whiskey they serve here is immense.”

“I’ll be sure to extend your compliments to Rita herself.”

Is that, you wonder, who he’s up here meeting? Perhaps the elusive Rita is a close associate of his. Perhaps they do deals in both business and pleasure.

And taking in your fill of the High Lord right now, in a dark button-up shirt and fitted breeches of a slate grey, you would not blame Rita one little bit.

Gods, he’s exquisite. Rhysand may resemble Roza more than he does Fin, but…with two parents of such stunning beauty, it’s no wonder your friend is as handsome as he is.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” you make no secret of the way your eyes linger on him. Tonight is dangerous, and you’re enjoying it.

“Nor I, you,” he narrows his gaze down at you. “Imagine my surprise, considering that when I left the palace earlier this evening, you were curled up in the library with a book. And yet, here you are. Wearing…” mahogany eyes take in the short cut of your dress, “…that.”

“Mor surprised me with a visit.”

“My niece ought to be more careful not to press her father’s buttons too much,” a muscle in his chiselled jaw ticks. “And I think you ought to be more careful not to push mine.”

“I’ll bear that in mind.” Bold. So foolishly bold of you. You’ll regret it once sober, you’re sure. “Was there a particular reason you summoned me up here, my Lord? I was rather enjoying dancing.”

“I noticed. And I’m taking you home.”

“What—”

Before you can even finish the word, Fin’s gripping your elbow again, and darkness sweeps you away.

Being winnowed while drunk is not a fun experience.

You feel the cosmic, air-light step from one place to another. Your stomach lurches, your head spinning. You can barely get a hold of yourself as you cling to Fin and prepare your feet to touch solid ground.

And then the darkness is gone, and you’re back in the toasty, warm glow of the palace’s library. Your knees buckle, trying to drag you to the floor, but Fin keeps you upright.

“What the…” you gawp up at him. “Why did you bring me home?”

He ensures you’re able to stand on your feet before pushing away from you. Doesn’t even look at you as he commands, “Get to bed.”

“I was enjoying myself.”

“Just as those males were enjoying you, too. You’re drunk and you need to sleep it off. Get to bed.”

He strides towards the door, his knuckles white from how hard he grips the hilt of the sword sheathed at his side. But sword or no, you refuse to give up so easily.

“No,” you say simply. “I will not.”

Fin stops. Goes still. And then he turns back to you.

His temper is clear on his face, but he doesn’t storm back over like you’re half expecting him to. Instead, his eyes shutter, and he seems to take a deep, soothing breath. When he’s looking at you once more, he flicks his wrist in your direction.

And immediately, gone is the haze of the alcohol.

Immediately, you’re completely lucid, completely steady on your feet. Not a lick of inebriation remains, as if you had, indeed, slept it off.

“Did you just sober me up?” you’re outraged by the mere idea.

“Yes.” Fin admits shamelessly. “Now you won’t fall victim to a hangover in the morning — a favour from me, to you, and I ask you in return to get to bed. And don’t even think about trying to venture back out. I’ll know.”

Your blood boils. And the anger isn’t simply because of your ruined fun, but because…because it stings, the way Fin is treating you with such contempt. Scolding you like you’re little more than a petulant child. He’s been nothing but wonderful since you came to Velaris, and yet now, he speaks to you like…like most of the males back in Windhaven do.

It makes you see red.

“What right have you to dictate how I spend my evening?” you snap. “I was under the impression that my free time is my own, and if I wish to go and get drunk and dance like a fool, that is up to me.”

Cold, beautiful anger hardens Fin’s face. He stalks closer, squeezing the hilt of that sword so, so tightly. “What right have I? This is my home. My city. My court. I am your High Lord, and you choose to behave in such a way when I’ve opened my home to you and offered you refuge? When I’ve given you a place to run to and left my resources at your disposal?”

You rock back on the heels of your feet, staring at him. Every word lands a hit — as good as if he’d nocked them in a bow and fired them right at your heart. It stings. Gods, it stings. You want the careless oblivion of the alcohol back.

Because you grapple daily with the pain, the anxiety, of feeling unwanted. And you…you had begun to think that Fin actually cared for you. Actually enjoyed your company as much as you enjoyed his.

You’d begun to care about his thoughts and feelings where you were concerned. And begun to believe that it wasn’t just the hospitality and courtesy that he would dole out to any runt on the street.

His eyes seem to track the way your expression changes, your shoulders slump. You swallow. The anger is replaced, simply, by hurt.

“If I am a burden, my Lord, I apologise,” you rasp. “I don’t intend to be one. I appreciate your generosity, and I…I’m sorry for the trouble I’ve caused.”

You hope you can keep your tears at bay long enough to escape to your room. You’re pelted with shame, embarrassment, hurt. You step forward and hurry past the High Lord, desperate to book it out of there, to get to bed.

But his hand encloses around your wrist, tugging you to a stop. And he says, quietly, “wait.”

That hand on your wrist holds the weight of a thousand unspoken words.

You pin your gaze to the ground, unable to look at Fin. You hear him swallow.

“That isn’t—” his voice is gravelly. “I didn’t mean that.”

You don’t think you can speak. You remain a statue beneath his touch.

But so gently — such a contrast to the whirlwind of his actions before — he’s walking you backwards. Slow and careful. You feel your back hit the wall, and he lets go of your wrist and seems to curl his fists at his sides. There’s a desperation to the action that only then coaxes you to look up at him.

His expression is…pleading. For what, you’re not sure.

“You are the furthest thing from a burden,” he says, quietly, on an exhale. “Your presence here is very much welcomed, I assure you.”

You don’t dare breathe a word. Every last bit of your very sober courage is being thrown into maintaining eye contact. There’s none to spare for speaking.

But your lack of response seems to trouble Fin. His eyes rake over your face, searching for something. He swallows again.

And then his eyes shutter, and he whispers, “Mother above, what are you doing to me?”

You don’t know how to answer him — whether he’s even talking to you at all. He takes in a very slow, very deep breath, as though it’s the only thing that’s stopping him from…doing something. What, you’re not sure.

But you can feel it, sense it — the ferocity with which he’s swallowing down words and holding himself back. Like he wants so badly to say something, but can’t.

His eyes open, clearer than they were seconds before, and he says in a far gentler tone, “Get to bed, Y/N,” he inclines his head. “Sleep well.”

With tense, squared shoulders, he turns — and it’s you, this time, that stops him. You halt him with a hand on his arm, and you could swear you feel the muscles flex under his touch.

“Wait,” you say, not ready to let him go, not prepared to leave things between you like this. “Stay and talk with me for a while.”

His jaw clenches like he’s gritting his teeth. “That isn’t a good idea.”

“Why? We talk all the time, you and I. And there are clearly things you’re holding back from saying—”

Your words are cut short as he suddenly meets your gaze with the intensity of a blazing fire. You think it might burn you. You hope it will.

“It’s a bad idea,” he grounds out, gutturally, “not because of what I want to say. But because of what I want to do.”

“What—”

“You are my son’s close friend. You are Roza’s guest,” he tugs his arm out from under your hand. “You are far younger than I am. I am trying my hardest — I have been trying my hardest — to be a good male. And right now, a good male would take his leave and go to bed, so I bid you goodnight, Y/N.”

“Fin—”

“I hope you sleep well.”

“Fin,” you grab for him again. “What if I don’t want you to be a good male?”

Beneath your touch, he stops. Goes preternaturally still.

Words punch out of you with terrifying gall — and truth. “What if I want you to do those things—”

Quick as a flash, he’s pivoting, and he has the upper hand. Has you pressed so tightly up against the wall, his body boxing you in.

And gods, the feel of it might set you on fire. A brush of your hands, a kiss on the backs of your fingers — they’re nothing compared to the weight and press of his muscles against your body. You want your clothes to melt away, and his, too. You want your hands on his bare, hot skin.

“I don’t think you realise what you’re saying,” he growls.

“I do,” you breathe. “I am completely sober. Completely clear of mind. And I am telling you, Fin, I want you—”

A strangled noise is the only warning you get before the High Lord’s mouth is on yours.

The kiss is pure power. It passes from him, into you, roils through your veins and makes you feel like somebody remarkable. It’s the cloak of darkness and the kiss of sin. Of somebody capable of very, very bad things.

And it’s immediately addicting. You’re not sure you’ll ever be able to get enough.

You claw at his shirt, tugging him closer, closer, and his broad hands cup your face as his mouth devours yours.

This kiss…it’s been building. The need for it has been working its way beneath your skin for a while. All the heated glances, the late-night conversations. All the thoughts, in the dead of night, of what Fin might be doing in his own bed. Wondering whether he was thinking of you.

It’s so, so forbidden. So wrong. But it feels so godsdamn right.

And the way Fin’s tongue slides between your lips and strokes into your mouth — it tells you that he feels it, too.

Your hands glide from his waist, round to his back, and you yank him harder against you. So desperate are you to feel him. Feel what you think you do to him.

He makes another low noise. And then he’s tearing his mouth from yours. But he lingers close, your foreheads touching.

“Better than I’ve been imagining,” he pants, his hands still clutching your face. “Much better.”

“You’ve imagined kissing me?” You know he has.

“I have imagined,” his thumbs sweep your cheeks, “doing all sorts of things with you, Y/N. Things that would make even the most salacious of a person blush.”

Such a relief — to know that it’s not all just some wild fantasy you’ve cooked up in your mind. That you’re not just some wayward, longing young female who craves the affections of an older male to patch her deep wounds.

No, it’s not that. It’s desire. It’s need. And it burns inside your veins until you think you might erupt into flames.

“I’ve imagined them, too,” you say, without a lick of shame.

Once again, his eyes are shuttering. Once again, he takes that slow, steadying breath. And as you watch him do so, you can’t bear the thought of him still grappling with right and wrong. You can’t bear the thought of him squaring his shoulders and walking out of here, leaving your lips bruised, your body aching, your heart hurting. You can’t bear it—

“I want you to do those things,” you lift your chin, gaze unflinching. “I want you to touch me.”

Fin’s eyes reopen.

He stares at you.

His throat bobs.

You have never seen somebody look so wild, so ravenous. There is heat everywhere, in his stare and in his taut body. His eyes flick down to your lips.

That mere glance at them is the deciding factor, it would seem.

He growls, the sound not at all one you’ve ever heard from a person, and he yanks you up into his arms and kisses you again.

So naturally, your arms twine around his neck, your legs locking around his waist. You can feel the strength of him against you, in the way he holds you. You can taste his crackling power.

He doesn’t falter in the kiss nor his steps as he carries you away from the wall, and you’re suddenly being placed down on the library’s desk, sending books and parchment and pens and ink pots flying. They all clatter loudly to the floor, and neither of you care.

But Fin does pull away to look at you, and there’s wicked, boyish charm in his eyes as the corners of his mouth twitch up. He merely says, “Oops.”

You surge up and kiss him again.

He sighs into it, like your mouth is the answer to all his questions. And when heated hands land on your thighs, you part them, allow him to slot his body in between. The mere feel of it has you pushing up against him, finding him hard—

But again, he pulls away. He scans your face and rasps, “Tell me you’re sure.”

You do not balk from his intensity. From the fact that this is the fucking High Lord of your court, who was changing this world and building a reputation long before you were a mere thought in your parents’ minds. You do not balk from the fact that there are a million different reasons that this is wrong.

You think only about the fact that it feels right.

And that translates into your voice as you say, firmly, “I’m sure.”

You think you see the words course through his body. They change something — forever.

“This isn’t about Roza,” he breathes — breathes heavily, like it’s taking everything to tamp down on the desire to devour you then and there. To say what needs to be said.

You shake your head, “No.”

“Nor is it about Rhysand.”

“No.”

“It’s about me and you.” He destroys what little gap exists between your bodies, his hardness pushing through his breeches, right up against your centre. His hands brace on the desk, either side of you. “And gods, I want you, Y/N. I want you so much, I can scarcely bear it.”

“Have me,” is all you manage — before he strikes.

You think, hope, that his mouth might find yours again — but he’s barely brushing it before his lips settle on your jaw. His hands travel up your legs, fingers biting into the flesh. They find your hips, thumbs delivering explorative sweeps. They tug your dress up as they climb, exposing more of you to the warmth of the room. Exposing more skin that you know he wants to lay claim to.

And when the hem of your dress is ruched around your waist, you smile — at your little wildcard exposed. That he finds no underwear hiding what sits between your legs.

Your choice to forgo a pair seems almost foretelling, now — like some part of you knew the night would end like this, and you wanted to be ready.

Fin’s eyes dip to your slick, exposed cunt. The hunger in them is almost intimidating. You open your legs just a little wider—

But his rough hand is gripping your chin, almost hard enough to hurt. And he snarls deeply, “It drove me to madness — seeing those two males dancing with you. Touching you.”

Pleasure bolts down your spine, and from the way his nostrils flare, you know the scent of your arousal is consuming him.

“Did it?” you stare back at him, welcoming the discomfort of his brutal grip.

“I wanted them dead. I wanted to draw my sword and gut them for even looking your way. For touching what I want to be mine.”

That pleasure again — skittering over your skin. His words do something to you. You bite down on a moan.

“It is yours,” you tilt your chin up to him, smiling when he immediately glances to your lips. “Take it.”

“I warn you,” he lowers his face to yours, “I don’t like to share.”

“And I warn you, High Lord,” you watch as your words land, drawing a deep, raw scent from him. “Neither do I.”

With a growl, he snaps. The kiss he gives you is not slow or sweet. His hand continues to grip your face, and his mouth attacks yours, his tongue sliding between your lips. You can’t help your moan, this time, as his taste overpowers you — a taste that you can only describe as pure thunder.

But it ends too soon, as he begins to leave a trail of heated kisses and bites and sucks along your jaw, down your neck, your collarbones. Your head falls back, and the touches are like little zips of lightning — lightning cleaving through the night sky.

“Pretty dress,” he hums against your skin — and that’s all the warning you get before that dress is ripped apart. Torn to ribbons.

No part of you is left to Fin’s imagination.

He tears his mouth from you and steps back to drink you in.

Instinct roars at you to curl in on yourself and hide. To remember that you are scarred, and flawed, and not to the liking of many — including yourself, a lot of the time.

But something about Fin’s weighty, scorching stare stops you from moving a muscle.

You lift your chin and hide nothing as he takes his fill. His eyes travel a journey from the top of your head and down — down your face, your neck, your breasts. Down your stomach, your waist, your hips. Down to that fine dusting of hair on your pelvis that tracks a thin path to—

Fin drops to his knees with a low noise. His hands wrap around your legs and prise them further apart.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he levels his face with the very centre of you, and your breath hitches in your throat at the sight.

The sight of the High Lord on his knees before you — on his knees for you.

As though he senses the direction of your thoughts, his eyes flick up, and he smiles.

And then he dives in.

His tongue wastes no time in sinking between your folds, licking a broad stripe right up the centre of you. At the first stroke, your head falls back, your arms wobbling where they’re braced on the desk.

“Look at me,” Fin growls. “Only me.”

His voice of pure High Lord power drags your eyes back to him. And thank the fucking Mother it does.

You see everything in the way he feasts on you. His tongue laps at your wetness, and it coats his lips, his chin, coats him in you. The damp heat of his tongue is liquid fire. It promises to scorch you, end you, and rise you anew like a phoenix from the ashes.

Your fingers sink into the strands of Fin’s hair and tug. Judging by the noise he makes, the way his pace picks up, you think he likes it.

He utterly fucking devours you, like he’s fought a centuries-long wait to do so. And whatever magic commands his mouth — you know you cannot possibly last against it.

“Oh, gods,” your moan breaks from you, hips bucking up. You think your voice might be loud, but you don’t care. “Fuck—Fin.”

It all happens at once — his name falling from your lips, the growl rumbling in his throat, the flicking of his tongue against your clit and the finger he plunges into you, curls inside you. Every part of it is lightning strikes to your veins, and you come apart, utterly break.

Your climax slams into you and steals your breath. You’re nothing but a gasping, panting, trembling shell. Your mind is somewhere else entirely.

With your head falling back, eyes pinned to the ceiling, chest heaving, you don’t catch the swiftness with which Fin stands, licking your wetness from his lips. With which his clothes are gone in a blink of an eye.

But then he commands, “Look at me.”

It’s the second time he’s said it. Your head lolls forward once more.

You swallow the breaths you’re still trying to get down. Try to stop your body fucking shaking.

But it’s no wonder it does, as you look at him.

Your High Lord is nothing short of exquisite. He is art. Your fantasies have done him no justice.

That golden skin of his seems to attract the glowing light of the room. It bathes him, but it does not steal the attention. It outlines every fine plane of his body, the sculpted muscles on show, the nicks of injuries that have scarred and silvered over time.

There is not a single part of him that isn’t pure, refined power. And when your gaze drops to below his waist…a shudder wracks through you.

His cock stands hard and leaking at the head. You watch, your mouth watering, as he wraps a hand around its length and gives a long stroke.

“Fin—”

“When you look at me like that,” he prowls closer, “there is no way I can consider this forbidden.”

He’s within reach. Your fingers inch towards him. You want to touch him, taste him—

But he curls a hand around yours and stops you in your tracks.

“Not tonight,” he says. Pure promise is laced within the words. “No playing tonight.”

As if he hadn’t just played with you. You want to protest, to get your fucking mouth around that considerable length, but his hand tightens around yours.

And then he’s flipping you over, so fast that you don’t have time to even register it. You land on your front, your belly and breasts pressed against the desk. Fin lays his palm against your back and drags it slowly down. And in the wake of his touch, he leaves kisses. Kisses to your shoulder, your back. They’re…soft. Tender.

“Have I disappointed you?” he murmurs against your shoulder, folding his body over yours. You don’t think it’s an accident that the head of his cock nudges that sweet area between your legs.

It’s all you can do to breathe, “I wanted to taste you.”

“And you will,” he drops the brush of a kiss to your skin. “But now is not time for that.”

You don’t need him to tell you what now is the time for. Not as his hands find the flesh of your hips, and he yanks you to the very edge of the desk, moving with you. The feel of him so close to where you want him is downright cruel.

“Have you thought about me fucking you?” he asks, those hands travelling to rove your ass.

Your nails bite into the desk as you answer, “Yes.”

“Did I make you scream?”

You bite down on your lip at the feeling of him spreading you apart, opening you up to him. “Yes.”

You feel it — his cock sliding between your folds. Not pushing in, but dragging torturously against your sex. From your entrance, up to your clit. The head of his cock pushes against it.

And the moan that rips from you is downright filth, as he rolls his hips and allows your wetness to slicken his length. It feels so fucking good. To you, and to him.

A breath shudders out of him, and he purrs, “Are you going to scream for me now?”

“Fuck yes,” the words tumble from your lips. “I want you, Fin.”

Just like that, his restraint snaps. The High Lord strikes.

He drags his length through your folds and enters you with a single, powerful thrust.

A shout leaves you, and you’re clawing at the desk, trying to keep your grip against the pleasure that courses through you. Fin fills you and stretches you. He pulls out and slams back in to the hilt.

“Fuck me, you’re tight,” he growls, his hands sinking back into your hips. He begins a steady thrusting, sliding in and out of you with a drag that makes you feel every glorious inch of him. “Gods.”

“So good,” you pant. “Want you harder.”

The plea seems to make him groan, and he wastes no time in picking up the pace. His hands bite into your skin as he fucks you faster, harder, your moans and pleas and curses falling from your lips without any nudging from you. The pleasure is all-consuming. In seconds, it’s buried within your veins.

“You like that?” The grit in his voice has you clenching around him. He’s so fucking filthy, so fucking sultry, as he snarls, “you going to be a good girl and come for me?”

Gods, yes, you are. Already, release is coiling tightly within you, and it’s a force entirely of its own right, inching closer and cresting the hill, ready to sink its claws into you. Fin’s cock hits deep, and out of nowhere, his palm is flying through the air and making contact with your ass cheek. That is all it takes.

The pleasure of it all is too much — the sting of the slap, the depth and thrall of his thrusts, the way he growls and grunts as he lays claim to your body, your pleasure.

You cry out, your orgasm blasting through you with unstoppable force. The long strokes of Fin’s cock fuck you through it, through earth-shattering pleasure, through what feels like a mind-altering experience.

“My filthy girl,” he pulls out of you suddenly, and though your cunt still clenches and twitches, desperate for more, more, more, he flips your trembling body onto its back once more and tugs you up, slipping back between your legs. “Fuck, I can’t tell you how relentlessly I’ve thought about making you scream for me like that.”

Past words, you can only reach up and pull his head down to yours to capture him in a kiss. Your taste still coats the tongue that he slides between your lips. It spurs you on to deepen it, luxuriate in the feel of it. And you become so lost in it that you tug hard at the strands of his hair when he enters you again in one great, sweeping thrust.

His arm folds around your back, hand grasping at your shoulder, and it seems to afford him perfect purchase to pound into you. Sounds fill the air of his skin slapping against yours, of the breaths and moans you huff into each other’s mouths. You think the two of you, together, might be loud enough, forceful enough, to bring the City of Starlight to rubble around you.

Fin’s lips tear away from yours, and he buries his face into the crook of your neck. His thrusts are growing quicker, sloppier, reaching a feverous pinnacle that will surely break.

“Fuck, you’re going to make me come, Y/N,” his sweat-slick brow presses against your neck. “Taking me so well like this. Squeezing me like this. You’re going to make me fucking blow.”

You want that — more than anything. To feel the power of him spilling into you.

You squeeze your thighs against his, dragging your free hand — the one not sunken in his hair — down the muscles of his shoulders, his back, his waist — to his ass, where you dig your nails into the tight, toned flesh and encourage him to pump into you harder, faster. The feel of it makes Fin shout.

“Come for me,” you choke around your pleasure. “Please, Fin…want you to come.”

An animalistic growl rips from him, and he slams into you one, two, three more times, and then stills, throwing his head back with a roar that shakes the library. Hot, thick ropes of his seed seem endless as they’re unleashed inside you.

The force of it shatters you both, you think. With his trembling as thorough as yours, your nails are still raking over his skin as his brow presses to the crook of your neck. Strands of hair stick to the back of his. Your fingertips smooth over them tenderly.

It feels like eons that you stay there like that, holding each other up from collapsing under the weight of your mutual release. You want to hold him like this, always. You don’t care what others may have to say about it, what they may deem to be wrong about it. You want him.

He pulls back, as though sensing the thought. Meets your eyes. For a beat or two, he simply studies your face, something like clarity on his own.

And then he dips down and drops a kiss to your brow. Such a tender act, in the wake of such passion.

No words are needed. Not as he scoops you up into his arms, leaving behind the mess the two of you have created. There’s a flash, and he’s winnowed you to your bedroom. A fire roars to life immediately. Fin places you down on the bed.

You watch through hooded eyes as he makes his way into the bathroom. Moments later, he’s returning with a warm, damp washcloth, and he perches beside you.

“Open your legs for me,” he whispers, and you do.

The High Lord of the Night Court is gentle as air as he takes care of you, wiping between your thighs and delivering soft, soothing strokes to your skin. A pleasant soreness sits in your lower belly. He leans down and presses a kiss there like he knows just that.

And then he’s sitting up, and it frightens you — the thought of him walking away, of this ending here and now.

So you lay a hand on his arm, breathing, “Stay with me.”

He pauses, eyes roaming your face like he’s assuring himself you mean it. And then he dips his chin.

“I would be honoured,” he rasps.

And thus, the affair begins.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The need you and Fin have for each other is…insatiable.

Every moment he’s away, you’re thinking of him, longing for the moment he’ll appear in your room and rip your clothes off. If anyone else in the palace — staff, servants, associates — are aware of what’s going on, they don’t give it away. And that suits you just fine.

You can’t get enough. You’re giddy with it. Giddy from the multiple, interesting circumstances you’ve landed yourself in.

Like when you lured him out of a meeting and dropped to your knees in a fucking broom closet, taking his cock into your mouth until he was canting his hips forward and spilling down your throat. Or when he fucked you on the balcony of his personal quarters, your body pressed up against the balustrade, the two of you open to the elements and your moans loud enough to reach the stars above you and the city below you. Or when he took you to watch the ballet, and up in the cushy surrounds of your private viewing box, you watched the performance with him deep inside you, his fingers indolently playing with your clit, his low voice in your ear reminding you to keep quiet.

It’s…exciting. Enthralling. It changes everything.

And as he pulls out of you now, sweaty and panting, and collapses beside you in his bed, you’re not sure you could ever tire of this feeling.

He wants you. He wants you so ferociously, like nobody has ever wanted you before.

As you catch your breaths, he props his head up with his hand and stares at you through hooded eyes, glazed with lust. He leans down and grazes a kiss to your mouth.

“I don’t know how to make it stop,” he ponders as he pulls back, moving a hand to brush his fingers over your breast. “All this need — wanting you constantly.”

You lean up on your elbows, tilting your head, “Do you want it to stop?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “Never.”

Never. Never is a very long time. It makes your stomach flip — the enormity of it.

Fin circles the tip of his forefinger around your pebbled nipple, watching with predatory fascination as he adds, “But this will, inevitably, blow up in our faces at some point. We haven’t exactly been secretive — not that I want to be. But people will talk.”

You lean up to brush your mouth over his. “Let them talk,” you say, and kiss him.

Immediately, he melts into the kiss. Your mouth seems to have an effect on him that you never thought yourself capable of. Always draws a long, pleasured sigh from him as he sinks into it, welcomes it.

He kisses you and kisses you, so greedily, so desperately. His hand snakes up to cup your cheek. He’s already hardening against your leg.

But he pulls away, dropping his forehead against yours. And he breathes, “Make a bargain with me.”

You trace a thumb over his bottom lip. You’ve never made a Night Court bargain before; never had reason to. “What bargain?”

“When this blows up in our faces,” he grips your hand, folding his own over it, “we face it together. You and I.”

“You and I?”

“You and I” he kisses your hand. “I don’t claim to be perfect. I don’t try to be. I can be brutal and callous, and I can lie and play games,” another kiss. “But not with you. Never with you. I will look after you. Take care of you. I’ll be whatever you need me to be.”

Words that you’ve always longed for someone to say to you. Words that should not be taken lightly, should not be said without meaning.

But you know he means them. You can tell he does.

You watch closely as your fingers interlace with his. And you whisper, “Together?”

Fin’s thumb sweeps over yours. “Together. We’ll face it together.”

“Then it’s a bargain.”

A flash of splintering pain zips around your midriff. You glance down to find the tattoo now inked there. The black line that draws a perfect circle around your waist, like a trail of night-kissed lightning.

You look up at Fin to find a roguish smile playing on his lips.

“Oh, I like that,” he hums.

And then he’s leaning down and pressing kisses to that circlet signifying your promise to one another. Kisses the entirety of it, flipping you on your front in the process.

And kisses lower, until you’re screaming for him again.

pom tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-a-girlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd @coralseacourt @towhateverend87 @sspookz @bird-on-the-wire33 @morrie-rose @megwan @catscanteleport @sevikas-whore @thickthighs-sadeyes @hihelloitsbooktimeppl

#practice on me #pom #daddy fin #acourtofwhatthefuck #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar au #azriel #acotar fic #rhysand’s father #high lord of the night court #high lord #acotar x reader #fin x reader

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captainsophiestark · 3 months

Text

Unexpected Guest

Dick Grayson x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: DC

Summary: Dating a vigilante sometimes leads to a few false alarm scares, but Dick Grayson couldn't be happier with how well his partner rolls with his crazy family.

Word Count: 1,410

Category: Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

Crash!

My eyes shot open at the sound of a noise from the living room of the apartment I shared with my boyfriend, Dick Grayson. The man in question still snored peacefully next to me, annoyingly, but a quick glance at the clock told me why. It wasn't quite 5am, and Dick had been out patrolling until one in the morning. I listened carefully for any other noises in the apartment. I didn't want to wake my poor boyfriend up unless I absolutely had to.

After a few minutes of nothing, I heard another crash followed by a tense voice and what sounded like hushed swearing. This time, I didn't hesitate to roll over and whack Dick on the chest, hard.

His eyes shot open and he was half sitting up when I managed to throw a hand over his mouth to keep him from giving away that we were awake. My wide eyes must've tipped him off to something being wrong, because I immediately saw him shift from sleepy to ready for action.

Slowly, I dropped my hand from his mouth and leaned in to whisper in his ear.

"There's someone in our living room. I heard two crashes and someone swearing."

Dick nodded once, then motioned with his hands while mouthing 'stay here'. He hopped off the bed, grabbing his escrima sticks from where he'd thrown them onto the dresser, then stalked towards the door with catlike grace and stealth. After a minute, I decided I couldn't just let him go alone, superhero or no, so I grabbed the bat I kept by my side of the bed and followed after him.

Dick popped out the door, and after a moment without hearing anything, I followed, bat at the ready. I found my boyfriend with one hand on his hip, weapons down, staring into the kitchen. I followed his gaze to find none other than Jason Todd in our kitchen, a mixing bowl and some eggs in front of him and a look with a significant lack of guilt on his face.

"What? I was after somebody and it dragged me all the way to Bludhaven. I needed a place to crash that was closer than Gotham."

Dick and I both shook our heads. As the oldest of a very high number of siblings, his apartment had become a second home base for every single other batkid. When we'd finally moved in together last month, he'd warned me I needed to be prepared for things like this.

"Glad you know to help yourself, Little Wing," said Dick with a sigh, waving one tired hand to Jason before turning and heading back to bed. I squeezed his shoulder and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek as he passed me, then headed into the kitchen with a smile.

"My tax for you making me think I'd have to fight off an assailant with a bat at five in the morning is my own serving of whatever you're making," I said, taking a seat on one of the kitchen island stools. Jason raised an eyebrow at me.

"You're not going back to bed?"

"Nah. Unlike Dick, I got to bed at a somewhat reasonable hour last night, so the adrenaline dump isn't threatening to put me to sleep. I'd rather hang out with you, especially since you're a better cook than Dick and I combined. I'm not missing out on that."

Jason snorted, cracking an egg and resuming his cooking all the same.

"Dick contributes nothing to your combined cooking score," he said. "I'm pretty sure he's burned cereal before."

I laughed. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure you're right. He's gotten better though. We watch the Food Network and look up recipes to make together, and I can trust him with way more than I used to be able to."

"If you could teach him anything it'd be a miracle," said Jason with a snort. I just hummed, trying to pick up some new skills of my own as I watched Jason cook.

"To be totally fair to him, I once forgot what I was doing and strained soup because I was on autopilot for pasta."

Jason barked a laugh, unable to hold himself back, and looked at me with a grin and a raised eyebrow.

"Really?" I nodded. "That's pathetic."

I just shrugged. "Yeah. But at least there's not a lot of places to go but up, after that."

"I guess so."

Jason and I chatted as he cooked and I watched, keeping our voices low so Dick could sleep—although, after the night he'd had, he'd probably sleep through a train in our living room. After breakfast, Jason decided to go down for a nap on the couch, passing out almost as soon as we'd put the last few dishes in the sink. I just smiled, threw a blanket over him, and wandered back into the bedroom to find Dick.

It was late enough in the morning now that my boyfriend was officially up and about, stretching by the bed with his hair still a little messed up from sleeping. I grinned and flopped down against the headboard as he crossed the room to the dresser to pull out clothes.

"How's Jaybird?" he asked. "Still a good cook?"

"Still a great cook. And he's good. He seems a little wiped out from patrols and stuff, though. He's taking a nap on the couch right now."

Dick smiled and shook his head. "I get up and he goes to sleep. Typical."

"Clearly he's avoiding you."

"Clearly."

Dick and I shared a smile, and then he sighed.

"I'm going to take a shower. Hopefully Jason will be up by the time I'm out, because I actually have things to do today."

I smiled, shifting on the bed to pull the covers over myself. "I'm sure you can be quiet if he's not. Wake me up when you're out of the shower, okay? A post-breakfast nap sounds too good to resist right now."

My boyfriend laughed. "Alright, will do. I'll wake you and Jason up when I'm out."

"Mhm. Good luck with him."

"Thanks, I'm gonna need it."

I closed my eyes, getting comfortable and ready for my nap, but before I drifted off I heard Dick's shuffling footsteps crossing the room to stand by my side of the bed. A second later, he sat down next to me, the bed dipping under his weight. I cracked an eye open to squint at him.

"What do you want?"

He grinned at me and chuckled.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to interfere with your nap. I just... I wanted to say how much I appreciate you, and how good you are with my family. They mean the world to me, but I know having vigilantes dropping in at all hours of the day and night can be a little much to deal with. So thank you for being so wonderful about it, and about them."

I sighed, sitting all the way up and propping myself up on my hands to look Dick in the eye.

"Dick, I love you. And I love your family. Sure, it took a little getting used to some of the vigilante stuff, but the longer I know them the more I love them. You don't have to thank me for anything. They're my family too."

Dick absolutely beamed at me, wrapping one arm around my back and pulling me in for a kiss. I immediately reciprocated, tangling one hand in the hair at the nape of his neck. I smiled into the kiss and a moment later, Dick deepened it. We were right on the edge of escalating into something more, but both thought better of it at the last moment.

"I should take a shower," he said, still looking a little reluctant as he pulled away.

"Yeah, and you should stop interrupting my nap."

Dick snorted, rolling his eyes as he finally stood and headed for the bathroom. I grinned after him as he went, flopping back down onto my pillow only as Dick closed the bathroom door.

I took a deep breath and sighed, a smile on my face, as I closed my eyes for the second time. I heard the water start in the bathroom, and a faint smell of breakfast still hung in the air. I was surrounded by people I loved dearly, and who loved me right back. No matter the scare Jason had given me when he'd shown up, I couldn't ask for a better start to my morning than this.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989

DC Taglist: @luv-ghostie

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cattordi · 1 year

Text

a/n part 2 to what i wrote the other day!! glad u guys enjoyed the other

summary two weeks later, it’s memorial day and your parents throw a party. they invite all your friends and family but unexpected guest shows up.

pairings brothersbestfriend!mechanic!bucky barnes x collegestudent!reader

warnings smut, fluff, breeding, praise, not proofread, face fucking, choking, jealous!reader,foul language, orgasm denial, arguing, sir kink, rough sex, etc. 18+ MINORS DNI

part 1

pretty girl

you never thought you’d be more uncomfortable around your family, mainly your brother, than you were when bucky barnes walked in.

it’s been 2 weeks since the car debacle and you haven’t spoken since. until now, “it’s good to see you y/n.” he says absentmindedly.

you force yourself to not roll your eyes and instead give a small smile, “bucky i never got to thank you for helping my girl out the other night.” your dad says and you almost spit out your lemonade.

“no need to thank me. if y/n calls i come.” he says in the smoothest way possible, you wouldn’t suspect anything happened.

more of your family begin to arrive as the day sets in and you couldn’t be more happier.

well yeah you could be, if the most beautiful man you ever saw wasn’t burning a hole in the back of your head.

you could literally feel his gaze as you talk to your cousins by the man made fire pit.

though you couldn’t lie, you’d thought about bucky. a lot more than you’d let on. the feeling of him inside you made you wet just at the thought.

squeezing your legs together, you finally look at bucky and he’s smiling, but not at you.

at your cousin.

jealousy filled you as you took another sip of your drink and set the glass down a bit louder than you intended. “y/n, you good?” your brother ask when the sound of the glass hitting the table; catches his attention.

“i’m fine.” you say in a way so he doesn’t ask anymore questions. “just fine.”

with that, you get up and walk inside; not before sending a look buckys way that your cousin just barely missed.

you hated that he made you feel things. mentally and physically. “what have i gotten myself into?” you say as you walk into the kitchen in search of ice.

“me.” a stern voice says from behind you and you don’t have to turn around to know who it is. “y/n, are you jealous?”

“over you? no. i’m enthralled.” you begin while filling your cup with ice. a warm body comes up behind you, “lose the attitude.”

“i don’t have an attitude, i’m really en-“ you begin but his hand snakes up your chest and to your throat, “that mouth in you is gonna get you in a world of trouble with me, babydoll.”

pleasurable tears brim your eyes as his lips meet you neck. “i’ve missed you and i know you missed me.”

“in your dreams.” is all you can mutter out before you’re bent over the counter.

“what’d i tell you about that mouth?” he ask, with his grip tightening on your neck. “maybe i should put it to better use?”

nodding your head quickly, he looks around the kitchen before placing his hand under your dress and finding your uncovered pussy, dripping.

“no panties… and you’re already so wet for me.”

“yes sir.” you say and he smiles like an idiot. “oou i like that. so tell me, do you want me to fuck that pretty face of yours?”

rubbing your legs together between his hand you nod before a harsh smack is landed on your ass. “words baby. i want words.”

“yes sir, i want you to fuck my face.”

with that, he releases your throat and pushes you towards the floor. when you’re done undoing his jeans, his dick springs out at you: hard and leaking precum.

“open up darling.” he groans. as you begin opening your mouth, he plunges his length into your mouth. more tears fill your eyes as he begins thrusting into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat everytime.

his dick is so long and wide that only half of it fits in your mouth. “y/n your mouth feels so fucking good. so good.”

his movements get faster and faster. “you’re such a good slut.“ he praises and that makes you even more wet. “i’m getting close darling. don’t move.”

he slows his thrust down before removing him from your mouth. looking up at him, your makeup ruined, you pout. “you were close, why’d you stop?”

“because i’m not coming unless i’m in that tight pussy so get up.” roughly, he pulls you up and bends you over the counter again.

he bends down behind you and you can immediately feel his hot breath on your slit. “don’t move or make a sound. you cum when i tell you too. you wouldn’t want everyone outside to hear you getting fucked like a slut.”

“yes si-“ but before you can get the rest of yours words out, his mouth is on your clit, sucking and licking on you every which way.

“fuck fuck fuck fuck.” you whisper to yourself as his tongue gets faster. your knuckles are beginning to turn white as you grip the counter.

very soft moans fill the kitchen as bucky continues to eat u like a starved man. “i’m so close.” you moan and bucky slows down.

“hold it darlin.” he says while moving his head which makes his stubble run against clit. “you taste so good.”

he continues fucking you with his mouth even when you tell him you have to come. “hold it.” is his only reply.

“buck i’m gon-“ you begin but before you finish your sentence he rips his mouth from you. “holy shit darling if you have to come so bad, i wanna hear you beg for it.”

his mouth is back on you before you can reply and you let out a gasp. “can i please please please come?”

“no.” he hums on your clit. you let out a much louder moan which is rewarded with a slap to your thigh. “didnt i say don’t make a sound?”

“yes sir.” you moan out. “can i come now please sir, please.”

“hmm, come on my mouth sweet girl.”

with that, you come in his mouth with moans that are quickly hushed by his hand. “sweetheart you taste so fucking good. so good.” he says all while lapping up all the wetness rolling down your thighs.

while coming down from your high you can feel buckys hands on your waist, positioning himself inside of you. “i’m only gonna remind you one more time, don’t make a sound and don’t move. if you do so, i’m gonna have to bend you over and spank your perfect little ass.”

before you can respond, he’s pushing into you with all his force. you moan into your hand as he begins fucking you so hard every thrust moves you across the counter.

“you’re so tight darling.” he groans, “but you feel so fucking good.” his hips snap into your ass repeatedly.

“i’m getting so close buck.” you moan as his hand snakes around the front of your body to rub your clit; adding fuel to the fire.

he pulls you into his chest making him hit a different angle with every thrust, “oh fuck right there.”

“sweetheart i feel you squeezin’ me so well.” he moans slowing does his thrust.

“i’m gonna come bucky.”

“come for me sweetheart.” he says and you do.

you throw your head back at the feeling of you milking his cock. your moans get louder and louder by the second, causing him to cover your mouth and land a smack to your ass again.

the feeling of the smack makes you tighten around him again. “oh my goodness, you’re so fucking tight. making me come.” he groans as he fills you with his cum.

the warmth you feel inside is like no other as he continues to fuck through his orgasm and your own.

once you’re both down form your high, he slowly removes himself from you and gives one more slap to your ass.

nervousness takes over your features as you guys pull yourselves together. “what’s wrong sweetheart?” he ask and you shake your head.

his calm facial expression turns stern quickly, “what’s wrong?”

“this can’t happen again. my brother would murder you if he found out and my parents would disown me.” you say.

“sweetheart we’re both adults, so who says we can’t do this.”

“i thought it was common knowledge. but whatever, just know this can’t happen again.” you say and quickly head back outside. “make sure not to wait like 10 minutes before going back outside.”

no matter how much you say it’s not gonna happen again, we all know it will.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes one shot #bucky fanfic #seb stan smut #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan x reader #bucky barnes x avenger!reader #bucky barnes x wife!reader #bucky angst #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader

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sanjisprincesswifey · 10 months

Text

miracle ⋆ portgas d. ace x reader

summary: ace gets another chance

♡: non-canonical marineford events. gender-neutral reader. 1,200+ words. sfw content.

your legs shake with each step you take, the thick wood creaking at the contact.

the attempt to alleviate your panicked breathing has long since failed, causing you to seek the only person who could comfort you in a time like this.

you discard the idea of marco scolding you for disturbing ace right now, knowing the desire to see him proved to be too powerful.

you don’t bother knocking on ace’s door, opting to quietly sneak your way in instead.

he doesn’t even move when the light from the hallway fills his room for the five seconds the door was open, but after the battle that had just ensued you were sure he’d be out cold for the next week or so.

making your way over to the bed, you pick up the blanket he had discarded on the floor; a habit he had after particularly tough fights.

the springs of the mattress creak as you dip onto the bed right next to ace, even when he was sleeping, he still produced heat like a sauna. you throw the blanket over the both of you, snuggling up next to him.

thankfully, just being next to him is enough to ease some of the anxiety that coursed through your veins.

you face his bare back, his tattoo barely peeking out from the top of the bandages which were covering almost the entirety of his body.

your fingertips brush ever so slightly against the imprinted skin, his toned muscles gliding beneath your fingers.

with an arm wrapping around his waist, you inch yourself closer to him regaining comfort almost instantly.

as you press your head against him, you could feel his heartbeat through the back of his rib cage, the rhythmic beat sounds so peaceful; so calm. it was as if he had not almost lost his life nearly hours prior.

the intrusive thoughts that fill your brain are dulled out my ace’s heavy snores, but you weren’t exactly complaining about that and opting for the latter.

within the next few minutes, your eyelids grow heavier and heavier, a goal you couldn’t have accomplished without ace by your side.

just as you’re about to drift into a much-needed slumber, ace begins to stir. your immediate reaction is to let go; you weren’t exactly sure how he’d react to an unexpected guest in his bed nor how you’d explain to him why you were there.

as ace flips himself over to face you, his eyes part ever so slightly as you assume he’s trying to make out who the intruder in his bed was.

“y/n?” he mumbles, his voice raspy and low.

your immediate reaction is to panic, but with the procedures marco had performed and the sedatives he had surely used, you assumed ace to be groggy.

“i’m sorry, just go back to sleep,” you assure, smiling as you sit up beside him, pushing some hair back from his face.

ace nods and does as instructed, lying back down and shutting his eyes for a couple seconds. you almost feel like you’re in the clear until ace sits back up, stretching his tired muscles and runs a hand over your cheek. “can’t get rid of me that easily,” he jokes, rubbing his thumb over your skin.

without thinking, you lean into his touch, aching for the feeling of peace you had been seeking out. it was a reaction of pure desperation and though he didn’t say it, he needed it too.

“couldn’t sleep?”

weakly nodding, you do your best to put on a smile for him, but ace sees through your facade.

he doesn’t even bother to ask what’s bothering you, it’s the same thing that was bothering everyone the second you left marineford.

he holds out his arm, motioning for you to come to him. you lean into his chest, his lips finding their way to your forehead as he gently kisses the area. your arms wrapped around his bandaged torso, gripping him with as much force as you could muster.

you can feel his lips curve into a smile against your forehead, “i actually woke up the second you opened the door. i just didn’t say anything hoping it was you.”

“ace…” you cringe, dragging out the syllable of his name. his light chuckle rumbles in his chest as you look up at him in defeat, his tired eyes still so kind as they glance back at you.

“i couldn’t sleep,” you reiterate from earlier, “i, i needed to…i wanted to make sure you were still here.”

you can feel all the emotions from the past twelve hours beginning to bubble up all over again, your voice quivering in response. “i couldn’t lose you, ace. i, i—i need you here…with me,” you admit, holding onto his arm as you break out into a gasping sob.

ace’s hand slip underneath your shirt, bringing you closer to his body as cries of his own fall from

his lips. his other hand runs through your hair, coddling your head to him as he shakily kisses your forehead once again.

both of your bodies shudder against each other as your cries are muffled by the other’s skin. your hands run over every inch of his back both bandaged and bare, still unbelieving that the universe had granted you such a miracle.

“thank you…” he whispers in between choked sobs.

only a stifled giggle falls from your lips as it felt like such an arbitrary thing for him to say right now. “like we wouldn’t come to save you— “

he removes his hand from your hair, now cupping your cheek forcing you to look at him. more of his tears threaten to spill as if his cheeks weren’t already drenched, his bottom lip quivers as he tries his hardest to speak. “no…thank you…for loving me.”

for the first time that night, your heart felt like it was about to beat right out of your chest, but this time it wasn’t from fear.

you glance between his eyes and lips waiting for any sort of explanation, though you knew you didn’t need one. there wasn’t anything you could say in response; you weren’t going to deny it and lie, but you couldn’t muster the courage to tell him the truth either.

“ace, listen…” you try to start, but he stops you before you get the chance.

“y/n, i got a second chance at life today. i’m not afraid anymore; i know that i, i love you…and i know you love me too.” he says it so matter-of-factly, yet so nervously.

you can feel his hand pull you with the slightest of force, you inch closer and closer to him as time moves slower and slower.

“please, say you love me,” he whispers as his lips brush against yours. you can feel the heat emanating from his freckled cheeks as his gaze alone pleads with you to give him the answer, he so desperately desired.

allowing your actions to speak louder than words, you lean in further and connect your lips together.

ace parts your shaking lips with his own, kissing you so delicately, unbelieving that this was reality and not some heavenly dream.

when you finally manage to separate for air, ace rests his head on your shoulder, trembling in your arms.

“i love you too, my angel.”

likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! (✿◠‿◠)

#portgas d ace #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d. ace imagine #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece imagine

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radioscribbles · 29 days

Text

Alastor x Reader - Scaredy Cat

Details: Alastor x Reader; EasilyScared!Reader Warnings: none really, reader is scared of thunderstorms. Author's note: Was inspired by a gnarly storm in my area. Who doesn't like a little comfort drabble? No pronouns used. No use of Y/N. Not beta read as usual! Word Count: 853

Oh, he’s having fun.

When you first arrived as a guest at the hotel, he immediately noticed your jittery nature. Tense and nervous, you promised to be a great source of entertainment for him.

Even tiny unexpected events were enough to get you to jump. A glass bottle shattering in the bar, someone rounding the corner at the same time as you, or even just someone speaking who you hadn’t noticed entering the room. He wondered if your head was just too far up in the clouds for you to take note of your surroundings, or if you had some form of anxiety. Not that it mattered.

He started by sneaking up on you, simply materializing from the shadows when you were least expecting him, earning him a delightful screech each time.

“Well hello, dear! My, you do look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

In the beginning, you tried to avoid him. His daily scares almost gave you a heart attack each time. And even after your heartbeat recovered, you weren’t sure of his intentions despite his chipper attitude. So you quickly excused yourself and scurried away.

After a few weeks of daily scares you realized that he never actually did anything. So for the first time, you stuck around.

Alastor was confused when you didn’t run away as usual, instead asking him if he needed anything.

“No, my dear. I simply wanted to say hello. It’s always such a delight to hear your little voice.” His mischievous grin ever widening.

You eventually got to talking, and while he still startled you on a daily basis, you no longer actively avoided him. In turn, Alastor found your company to be quite tolerable compared to the other inhabitants of the hotel and your encounters became somewhat of a daily ritual.

One evening, during a storm that was particularly rough even for hell, Alastor wandered the halls in search of his favorite little scare-victim. He hadn’t seen you all day and he hadn’t gotten his daily dose of entertainment yet.

The loud crashing of thunder alerted him to a new sound. Soft whimpering coming from…the broom closet? He opened the door and sure enough, was met with a yelp.

There you were, cowering in the corner with tears staining your face. Not jittery, not startled, scared.

He didn’t know why, but he felt something akin to pity for you.

“My oh my, what do we have here? What’s the problem, darling? Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little thunder?” As if on cue, another loud crash came from outside and you buried your head in your knees.

Normally he would have found such a pathetic display of fear amusing, but not in this instance. It just didn’t have the same kick as scaring you. When Alastor scared you, you always quickly recovered and were ready for chit-chat. This was not that.

“Hmm~ I’m afraid this won’t do.”

With a snap of his fingers you found yourself in a different place. It appeared to be one of the hotel rooms, or at least half of it. The other half gave way to a sprawling forest scene looking like something out of a fairy tale with fireflies buzzing around and the leaves softly swaying in the wind.

You turned to Alastor with a questioning look, your tears having stopped with the shock and confusion of the sudden relocation. Alastor informed you that this was indeed his room, and he was willing to share his realm with you for the time being, just until the storm is over.

He helped you up and looped his arm with yours as you walked through the quiet forest. You could still hear the thunder from outside, but it was faint and seemed far, far away. And you were so distracted by the sights around you that you managed to tune it out completely.

Noticing the tension still evident in your posture, Alastor decided some small talk might do the trick. If you two were going to promenade, his companion better be in the best of spirits.

“You know, days like these always remind me of a great joke someone once told me. Would you like to hear it?” His smile stretched at you expectantly, to which you just nodded.

“What do you call a deer in a storm?”

You pondered for a second, but then shrugged your shoulders.

“I don’t know, what do you call it?”

“A raindeer, of course!” Alastor erupted into loud laughter, laughing much harder at his own joke than you deemed necessary, but his antics were contagious and you couldn’t help but laugh along with him.

“There’s that lovely smile of yours.” Alstor sighed and lightly pinched your cheek. It hurt a bit, but you were grateful for his help and gave him an even bigger smile in return.

Maybe your fear of thunder wasn’t so bad if this is what you got out of it. In fact, you kind of hoped for another thunderstorm in the near future. But for now you simply enjoyed walking arm in arm with the Radio Demon and ignored whatever was going on outside of this little realm of his.

#alastor x reader #alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel #my writing

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months

Text

Family Affair

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, cheating, violence, humiliation, biting, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your sister surprises you with good news but you find it difficult to be happy for her. (older, short reader)

Character: Curtis Everett

Note: Happy Curtmas.

For @the-slumberparty Naughty or Nice Challenge.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me 💞

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

Chatter buzzes from the front room as you brace the wall and lift your foot to unzip your wedge boot. You’re late and the guests are already in the throes of their celebration. You wiggle off both boots and set them amid the clutter of many. As you stand straight and gather up your gift bags and purse, you’re met with an unexpected sight.

You lift a brow, slightly confused by the unfamiliar man. He’s tall, his hair is cut short, and dark stubble adds definition to his well-formed jaw. His eyes are a bold shade of aquamarine but are glossed over with an almost indifferent gleam. He doesn’t say a word as your eyes meet and he just as quickly turns into the front room, hands tucked into the pockets of his black jeans.

It’s been a few years. You’re sure a lot has changed. You head down the hall, past the broad archway of the front room, and into the kitchen. As usual, your mother is there, readying another tray of finger foods.

She looks up from her intent work and gives a wide smile, “you’re here!” She chimes, “I was half-waiting for a call saying you wouldn’t make it.”

Her arrow hits the bullseye of your guilt. You haven’t been the most reliable. You can make excuses; the divorce, work, depression. None of that can assuage her.

“Sorry, mom,” you go to put the gift bags down and she stops you with a tut.

“Ah, ah, you go add those to the pile and say hello,” she demands, “you’re not hiding in here.”

You look at her, almost desperate. You love her but sometimes you wonder if that feeling is mutual. As much as she’s right, you hoped she might have some empathy. She’s been through a turbulent split, she’s had to start again, but she expects you to do it flawlessly. As she has anything else.

“Love you, mom,” you give a sheepish smile.

“Love you too, hon,” she goes back to arrange the spiral of cocktail weenies, “make sure you say hello to your sister. She’s so excited to see you.”

You nod and a real smile breaks through. That was the one light at the end of the tunnel. Your baby sister was always your favourite. Despite nearly two decades between you, she’s your best friend. In a way, you feel like a second mother, taking pride in her like you would a child of your own.

The front room is filled to the brim. Aunt Geri and Uncle Val sit on a sofa with their son, Miko. A cluster of similarly aged cousins stand at the edge of the couch chatting. Aunt Maureen argues with Aunt Kaya, and the latter’s husband stands by the window with a glass in hand and his mind a million miles away.

You always found yourself out of place at these things. When you were a child, you were the youngest one in the room. Too immature to understand the dialogue of your elders. As you got older, the other cousins came along and were too young for your angsty teenage self. Now, you’re caught in the desert between the eras; the retirees complain too much and the coeds talk too loud.

You peer around. A set of broad shoulders draws your eye in the corner of the room. It’s that same man you saw before. He has his back to you as he maintains a casual posture. As he leans on one leg, you see your sister, Adeline, gabbing to him. Oh, he must be with her…

As you drop your gifts under the tree, you mull the revelation. You suppose the assumption wasn’t obvious. At first glance, he’s older than her, or maybe he just looks it. She’s still a sophomore in college but you suppose that makes even more sense. These are the years she gets to figure it all out.

You face the room and stop as Aunt Maureen latches onto your arm, blindsiding you with Kaya as they close in like hyenas.

“There she is,” Maureen slurs.

“Not too good for us after all, huh?” Kaya challenges.

“What? No, uh, Merry Christmas–”

“Where’s Benny?” Maureen interrupts. You blanch, nearly choking on your tongue. The mention of your ex-husband has you breathless.

“Maur,” Kaya hisses, “remember…”

“Probably with his new girlfriend,” you say tersely.

“Oh my,” Maureen lets you go and slaps her forehead, “I’m so sorry. The wine…”

“It’s… okay,” you shrug. “Not talking about it won’t undo it.”

“He was such a charming man,” Maureen hums mournfully. You blink at her.

“His loss,” Kaya pats your arm gently, trying to clean up her sister’s mess. You know they all think the same. You had a good thing and you blew it. Even if you told them he fucked his co-worker, you’d be the one who threw it all away.

“Pity you never got a kid outta him,” Maureen sighs.

“Really, divorce has been final for a year, I’m good,” you insist and shuffle past them, “I’m going to make the rounds.”

“Don’t forget to have some wine,” Maureen calls after you, “takes the edge off disappointment, you know?”

You growl and shake your head as you stalk away. You wave hello to your other aunt and uncle, hoping to avoid a similarly humiliating encounter, and weave through the sea of guffawing cousins. You come out on the other side as Adeline beams up at her guest.

Her gaze is drawn by your movement and her face lights up. She bounces in place and throws her arms out. She rushes past the man and has you wrapped up in a hug. It’s kind of ridiculous how much taller she is. You’re supposed to be the bigger sister.

“You’re here!” She rocks you in her embrace, “eek! I’m so excited.”

You croak out a breath as she squeezes the air out of you. She releases you with a giggle, apologising as she steps back. She wears a long tulle skirt and a beaded sweater. She’s beautiful. You could never pull something like that off, even twenty years ago.

“Oh, oh, you have to meet Curtis,” she snatches your hand and tugs you over the tall man as he turns to face you. Those same vague eyes fall upon you, “Curtis, this is my sister!”

“Curtis,” you repeat, “it’s nice to meet you.”

You look between them with a brittle smile. He offers his hand as he returns the sentiment. You shake, his palm rough and calloused. Adeline vibrates with joy.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” he says.

“And I’ve heard nothing about you,” you grin at Adeline, “Addy?”

“I’m sorry,” she cups her cheeks guiltily, a sparkle on her ring finger. Your heart drops. “I didn’t know how to– the divorce and–”

“Ad,” you wisp and nearly sway on your feet, “what is that?”

You point to her hand and she quickly swipes it away, hiding it behind her back. “Nothing,” she gulps, the same way she did when she was a child and you caught her playing with your makeup.

There’s a tense silence as you gape in shock. Your mouth hangs open as you search for the words. Your eyes tinge with hot tears but you swallow them back.

“Congratulations,” you draw her into a hug, “really, I’m happy for you.”

She hugs you back, gentler than before. As you part, she looks nervous. Curtis clears his throat.

“Both of you,” you offer him a fragile smile. “I’m sorry, I’m just a little… shocked. Does mom know?”

Adeline nods as she clasps her hands together. You take a breath, and calm yourself. It’s not anything that she fears, you’re not jealous. You’re nervous, you’re afraid for her. It’s a big thing and she’s so young.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around to share the good news,” you say, “I’d love to help, if I can?”

“We got it,” Curtis insists.

“Oh,” you wince, “I didn’t mean– I could help with the planning or the engagement part–”

“We’re eloping,” he crosses his arms, “we’re not wedding people. Whole lot of money and fanfare for nothing.”

You nod, holding back your surprise as best you can. Nothing? It’s marriage. Even if they don’t want a big ceremony, it means something.

“I could help pay for the trip–”

“I got it,” he enunciates each word as he sidles over to sling his arm around your sister’s back. She looks away meekly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep. She’s my sister, I just want to–”

“If you wanted to help, you would’ve been around the last two years,” he interjects.

Adeline’s head snaps around as she gives him a look. She nudges him with her elbow and whispers his name. He glares at you as you wilt. You’re not sure what you’ve done or said.

“Well, I think maybe me and Addy can talk about that,” you look at your sister, “when you have a chance, of course. I don’t want to spoil the holiday.”

“Adeline,” he corrects you, “Addy is so juvenile.”

The benefit of the doubt splinters as his tone cuts through you. You bite your tongue. Perhaps a twenty-one year old is juvenile to someone his age. You’ll talk to Addy about that too.

“Adeline,” you force a smile, “I… I’m going to go check on mom.” You show a palm in deference as you excuse yourself, “we’ll catch up later.”

As you back away, your eyes meet Curtis’. He watches you with a scowl. You are taken completely off balance. How could she end up with someone like him? She’s so sweet and he’s so scary…

Maybe she’s afraid too.

🎄

Christmas Eve ends much the same as you remember. The elders sit around the dining table to play cards as the kids, now adults, disperse in the living room or outside to entertain themselves. There’s a vague stench near the front door that no one will comment on but everyone knows what it is as it wafts in from outside.

You find yourself in limbo, once more caught in the in-between. You hole up in the kitchen, staring at the kettle as you wait for it to tremble. You won’t be missed if you take a tea up to your assigned room without a good night.

You lean on the counter and sigh, your finger brushing over the brim of the white porcelain cup with the hen on it. Strange how your mother’s house never seems to change but your life is inextricably altered. Your melancholy dims the cheery decor around you as you wallow away from the voices of the merry.

“There you are,” Adeline startles you as she sweeps in, “oh, is there any of the hot choccy left?”

You smile at her question. Everything about her reminds you of the time passed, of her newfound adulthood, yet she’s just the same little girl you always knew. You turn and pull the tin forward, “one packet left, just for you.”

You pull it out and face her again. She pulls out a mug from the cupboard and sets it down. The kettle hums between you as it heats up.

She exhales as you linger in a tense silence. You both have so much to say but neither of you know where to start. She finds her words first. Despite being younger, she was always the more outspoken.

“Do you like him?” She asks.

You poke your tongue into your cheek, “well, I’ve barely spoken to him. He seems to like you though.”

Her cheeks bulb as she grins bashfully, “I love him.”

Your chest seizes as you recognize that glimmer in her eye. She’s genuine, she feels that love so deeply it consumes her. It’s a naive love but real nonetheless. The sort you can’t see for what it is until it turns sour.

“I can tell,” you reach forward to fix the bow on her headband, “I’m happy for you. And my offer still stands. Maybe if it’s not the wedding, a honeymoon, or help with a house…” you wet your lips and steady your voice, “I only want you to be happy, Addy– Adeline.”

“Oh, he’s just… he’s like that. I can’t even call him Curt. He balances me out,” she beams.

“Yeah,” you say noncommittally.

“What?” Her voice dampens.

“Nothing,” you distract yourself with the variety of tea bags in the wooden chest next to the breadbox, “it’s… a lot. I’m surprised, is all. I just hope it goes well.”

She sniffs and lets her breath out long and heavy, “I’m sorry, I knew– he kinda said you’d probably be upset. After Benny–”

“This has nothing to do with him,” you narrow your eyes at her, a bag of chai in your hand, “this is about you. I only want what’s best for you.”

“He’s so good to me, you don’t have to worry.”

“I can worry, you’re my baby sister,” you insist, “and…” You shake your head, refusing to let the thought escape.

“And what?” She challenges, her pitch squeaking.

“Nothing.”

“No, tell me. I can always tell when you’re dying to say something. What?”

You shrug, “it’s just… how old is he?”

She scoffs, “wow.”

“What? I’m just asking.”

“It’s not like he’s old enough to be dad,” she pouts and crosses her arms.

“I know, I didn’t mean– Ad–Adeline, I just— you have time to figure it out. So I hope you’re not rushing this.”

“I’m not,” she snips, an uncharacteristic edge in her voice.

“I believe you… but what about him?”

She’s quiet as the kettle clicks, signalling the boiling point. You turn and drop the tea bag into your cup and pour the water. She tears open the packet and empties it into her own mug.

“Sorry,” you utter, “forget it. I… I don’t know him so maybe I need to get to know him. I’m here, Ad, and I will always be here for you.”

She nods and reaches for the kettle, not looking at you.

“Really, I trust you. I just worry about you,” you clap your hand on her shoulder, “you’re my lil teddy bear.”

She chuckles and looks down at you, your statement made absurd by the difference in your heights.

“And you’re the big grizzly, scaring off the wolves,” she kids back.

“Adeline,” the deep rumble thunders in ahead of the man, making both of you jump. You pull back your hand as Curtis strides in, “hey, I’ve been waiting on you.”

“Oh, sorry, baby,” she preens at him, “I was just–”

“You said we’d call my family after dinner,” he interrupts.

“I forgot,” she squeals, “oh, I’m so sorry.” She glances over at you, “I did promise.”

“Go on,” you try to smile but you’re not sure it’s showing.

She spins and flits over to Curtis. His eyes meet yours over her shoulder. His brows arch as his jaw is set in stone. A chill runs up your spine at the ice in his dark pupils. He grabs Adeline’s hand and drags her out.

You’re left in silence. You look over at the unmixed powder floating in the steaming water. You chew your lip as you stare at it. It’s just hot chocolate but there’s something about her abandoning something she loves so much for him. You try not to let your own failed marriage echo over her relationship, but it just feels off.

Well, Benny always did say you never did handle change very well.

🎄

The night before Christmas is rarely a restful one. Even without the childish belief in Saint Nick, you find yourself awake, anxious but not for presents. You keep replaying the night through your head; not the awkward interactions with aunts and uncles, or the silent judgment from the younger crowd, but Adeline and Curtis. Let it go, it’s none of your business.

You huff and roll on your back. Sleep eludes you. You sit up and bend over the side of the bed. You hold your head. You’ll sneak out the bathroom and hopefully an empty bladder will help.

You drag your feet across the floor, the legs of your pajama pants too long and trailing down your feet. You open the door and yawn as you enter the hall, only to collide with another unexpected barrier. Before you can react, you’re being forced back into the guestroom, stumbling as your fingers claw at the door frame and slip off.

A hand smothers your mouth, rough against your lips, as a foot kicks the door shut with a sharp click. You murmur into the calloused flesh as an arm loops around your back, trapping you as you’re urged further into the dark. You grasp at the cotton clinging to muscular shoulder. You’re kept off balance by your attacker’s certainty.

“I fucking heard you,” Curtis’ silty grit seeps into your ears, “you think I’d hurt her?” He snarls as he stops you at the foot of the bed. His shadow looms over you, breath puffing from his nostrils as he growls like a beast, “I wouldn’t, but I’ll hurt you.”

He pushes you back so your legs meet the side of the bed. You teeter and clasp your hand around his wrist, squeaking as he easily takes you down onto the mattress. He pins you, your legs hanging off the end, kicking weakly as his other hand curves around your throat.

He bends over you, straddling your chest heavily. You can’t breathe. Your heart pounds until your ears throb. Your temples pulse violently and your throat dries to a sandy scrape.

“Stay out of my fucking business,” he snarls, sliding down your body.

You whimper into his hand as he drops his knees off the bed, holding himself over you. He squeezes your neck, choking out your voice as he drags his hand from your mouth. He feels along your chest and flicks open the top button of your shirt. Your eyes wet in horror.

“Fucking show you…” he sneers as his breath scours over your flesh.

Another button undone as his lips tick along your shoulder. You squeak once more as he sinks his teeth into your flesh, biting a mean pinch until you spasm. The pain is unbearable. You feel the skin break as the hot flow of blood mingles with his spit.

He detaches only to bite you again. You can’t make a noise as his grip grows tighter on your neck. Even if you could scream, you’re too terrified and confused to understand what he’s doing. He’s like an animal tearing you apart.

He lays a tortured path down your chest, lingering on the rise of flesh, gnawing into the tenderness there. His nails dig into your side, pushing up your shirt as he scratches hot lines into your skin. You push on his shoulders desperately but he’s too strong.

“Stop filling her head with your bitterness,” he growls before he bites into your nipple.

You shake and beat on his head, shoulders, and back. You writhe and wrestle, trying to free yourself from him. He continues on, down your stomach, lingering on the soft flesh as his fingers hook into the elastic of your pants.

Your panic overflows with your tears. This can’t be happening. Why would he do this? He could talk to you? You would listen. You didn’t say anything wrong, you just want Adeline to be careful.

The very thought of your sister throttles you. Does he do this to her? Is this why she’s so defensive? The idea makes you sick to your stomach.

He lifts himself, his weight centering on your neck. You think he’ll crush your windpipe as he looms over you, snarling in the blackness. He pushes you higher onto the bed, forcing your legs open with his knees.

“Don’t make a fucking noise or I’ll make sure you can’t,” he threatens, giving a last squeeze before slowly slackening his grip.

You hold your breath. You believe him. Your body goes limp and you close your eyes. The bed shifts as he sits back on his heels. He pulls your pants down your thighs and you whine. He hushes you, a harsh tap across your cheek to get his point across.

You let your head drift to one side as you clench the blanket beneath you in tight fists. He keeps your legs trapped in your pants, knees bent as the fabric strains across his stomach. He tilts and movies around, his fingernails scratching the back of your thighs.

“Bet the husband couldn’t stand your fucking mouth,” he snarls as he pushes roughly against your cunt. “Didn’t know how to train you.” He jams two fingers into you, jolting your entire body, “dry bitch like you, he was probably thirsty as fuck.”

You seal your eyes tight, tears trickling through as a sob bubbles in your throat. You want to tell him to stop. You want to ask why. You want to scream. You can’t do anything as your body locks up.

He fingers you meanly, pulling his fingers out only to ram them in again, each time his knuckles hit you painfully. He keeps it up, growling with each intrusion as your muscles knots and pathetic noises rise from your throat.

He forces your legs higher, tearing his hand away from your pelvis. He adjusts his knees and you feel something else against your cunt.

“No…” you whisper right as he ruts into you.

He splits you apart around him. You let out a holler and he quickly silences you with a crack of his knuckles. The back of his hand snaps off your cheek and turns your head to the other side. You gulp and sob, choking back any noise that threatens to bubble over.

He holds himself as deep as he can. He puts his large hands on your shoulders and pins you flat. He bucks, agony rippling up your spine. He snaps his hips, again and again, each time harder than the last.

“This is what you need. So fucking jealous, aren’t you? Dried up old bitch,” he pumps into you as his breath picks up, “why kind of sister are you, huh? Fucking your baby sister’s man. Fucking slut.”

You cover your face and heave. You’re drowned in pain and humiliation. You’re disgusted with him for doing this to you; and yourself for letting him.

“You don’t wanna hurt her, do you?” He growls, “that’s why this is happening… cause you wanna keep her safe, right?”

He puts his hand against your head and pushes it down into the bed, fucking you into the mattress. The frame pounds the wall, matching his furious rhythm. You reach to brace his thick arm, begging silently for it to end.

“Oh, it’ll be over soon,” he rasps as his hand once more frames your throat, “fuck, you got me ready to blow quicker than I thought.” He puffs, each thrust rattling your bones, “I love how weak you are.”

#curtis everett #dark curtis everett #dark!curtis everett #curtis everett x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #one shot #snowpiercer #au #christmas #naught or nice

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deliciousangelfestival · 20 days

Text

Unexpected Trip

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: Some people think you're too good for Bucky, who they see as just a nobody. Little do they know the backstory of both of you from 5 years ago.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

"Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you!" The cheery chorus filled the sunny garden as friends and neighbors gathered around. Balloons bobbed in the breeze, and the table was adorned with a colorful array of treats.

Your son, Tommy, was wide-eyed with wonder at the commotion, his little hands clapping together with glee.

You knew he was too young to remember this day, but the joy on his face was enough to make every moment worthwhile.

Bucky, your husband, stood beside you, a proud smile on his face as he watched Tommy's excitement. "Can you believe he's already three?" you said, leaning over to Bucky, who nodded, his eyes never leaving Tommy.

"I know, it feels like just yesterday we were bringing him home from the hospital," Bucky replied, his voice tinged with nostalgia. "Time really does fly."

As Tommy blew out the candles on his cake, the guests cheered, and Bucky wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. "I'm so glad we decided to have this party," he said, planting a kiss on your cheek. "Even if he won't remember it, we will."

You smiled, feeling grateful for this moment of togetherness. "Me too," you said, watching Tommy's delighted face. "Here's to many more birthdays filled with love and laughter."

As you, Bucky, and Tommy were lost in your own world of celebration, the neighbors, known gossips of the neighborhood, couldn't resist whispering among themselves.

"I heard she got promoted to become the Director," murmured Mrs. Jenkins, a woman known for her keen interest in everyone's business, her eyes darting over to where you and Bucky stood.

Mrs. Thompson, a perpetually nosy neighbor, chimed in eagerly, "Wow, I knew she's a career woman since the first time I met her." Her voice carried a tone of admiration mixed with a hint of envy.

Standing nearby, Mr. Wilson, a retired gentleman with a penchant for spreading juicy tidbits, leaned in conspiratorially. "And she has a perfect house-husband," he added with a knowing nod in Bucky's direction.

The fourth neighbor, Mrs. Patel, a woman with a sharp tongue and a love for scandal, couldn't resist joining the conversation. "I don't want to sound rude, but she's too good for Bucky. He's just a nobody," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

Mrs. Jenkins leaned closer, her eyes widening with exaggerated shock. "And guess what?" she whispered, drawing the others in.

"What?" Mrs. Thompson asked eagerly, her curiosity piqued.

"I heard a rumor that Bucky used to be a driver, like a courier," Mrs. Jenkins revealed,l.

Mrs. Patel gasped dramatically, her hand flying to her chest. "Omg! And he met Y/N? He hit the jackpot!" she exclaimed, her eyes widening as if she had just uncovered a scandalous secret.

Mr. Wilson chuckled, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "I think in Bucky's previous life he saved a universe," he joked, adding to the whimsical nature of the gossip.

Meanwhile, you and Bucky remained oblivious to the whispers behind you, too engrossed in Tommy's joyous laughter as he played with his friends. Bucky had his arm around you, pulling you closer, unaware of the drama unfolding in the background.

Little did the gossiping neighbors know, they were 10% right, at least when it came to the part about Bucky saving someone.

You see, Bucky wasn't just a nobody. He wasn't just a regular driver. To be precise, it all goes back to five years ago.

5 Years Ago

You had just arrived in Russia, alone and shivering from the cold. This wasn't a holiday trip; it was for business.

Unfortunately, your luck had run out, and you were the chosen one sent by your less-than-friendly manager, who knew the bid was a long shot. You were the scapegoat.

It wasn't until you were on the plane, reading the documents, that the truth hit you like a ton of bricks.

Shaking with cold, you reached for your phone and dialed your colleague. "Is there someone to pick me up at the airport?"

"You've arrived? I almost forgot. I suppose someone should be waiting for you. Check to see if there's a sign with your name at the exit gate," came the reply before the call abruptly ended.

"Huh?" You couldn't believe it. The company had tossed you out like yesterday's news, leaving you stranded like a lost child in a foreign country.

"I swear, if I had a lot of money, I'd buy the company's shares and fire every single one of them," you grumbled to yourself, dragging your small suitcase behind you toward the exit gate, uncertain of what awaited you.

As you approached, you spotted a person holding a sign. You gathered your resolve and approached them, saying, "Hi, it's me."

You finally took a good look at the person holding your name sign. He was pretty tall and muscular for a driver, more suited to be a bodyguard.

With a swift motion, he crumpled the paper and tossed it into a nearby trash can. When you finally caught a glimpse of his face, you couldn't help but think, "Damn, he's fine."

He pointed towards your suitcase. "Is that all?" he asked, his voice firm but not unkind.

"Huh? Oh yeah," you replied, momentarily distracted by his good looks.

"Follow me," he said simply, then turned and walked ahead.

You hurried to catch up, feeling a mixture of confusion and intrigue. This wasn't the welcome you expected, but you followed him nonetheless.

After a quick walk, the two of you stopped in front of a black BMW. The design of the car felt straight out of the '90s.

"Get in," Bucky said, opening the backseat door.

You complied, noticing that your driver seemed to be a man of few words. "Um, what's your name?" you asked as you fastened your seatbelt.

"Bucky. Bucky Barnes," he replied, his eyes scanning the surroundings as he started the car.

Then, glancing at the rearview mirror, he added, "Always watch your back."

"What? What do you mean?" you asked, a hint of unease creeping into your voice.

Bucky shifted gears and increased the speed. "Just in case," he said cryptically, his focus on the road ahead.

You couldn't shake off the feeling of mystery surrounding Bucky. As the car smoothly glided through the streets of Russia, you couldn't help but wonder what kind of business you had genuinely stepped into.

Bucky glanced at you through the rearview mirror as the car continued its swift journey through the city. "You came here without knowing anything?" he asked, his voice serious.

"I knew that other countries also put a bid on this project," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady despite the growing unease.

"True," Bucky acknowledged. "Do you know what kind of representatives the other countries sent here too?"

Your voice turned into a whisper, barely audible over the hum of the engine. "Not like me?"

Bucky's eyes flicked to the side mirror, noticing a few cars trailing behind them. " And they've arrived too," he confirmed, his grip on the steering wheel tightening slightly.

Feeling a surge of panic, you turned around to look out the rear window. "Oh, shit," you muttered under your breath.

There was a group of cars following behind you both, and their windows opened. Someone appeared with a gun pointed at your car.

Bucky shifted gears again, the car picking up speed. "Don't bite your tongue, Miss Y/N," he said calmly, his focus unwavering on the road ahead.

You swallowed hard, your heart racing as you realized the gravity of the situation. The cars following them meant trouble; you were right in the middle. Gripping the door handle tightly, you braced for whatever was to come, grateful that Bucky knew what he was doing.

The chase was like something out of a movie, but the fear gripping your heart was all too real. The car Bucky drove was bulletproof, a small comfort in the chaos unfolding around you.

"KYAAA!"

Yet, despite the safety of the car, you couldn't shake off the primal fear that clawed at your chest. This was the first time you had ever found yourself in such a dangerous situation, and the adrenaline surged through your veins.

"Oh god, oh god," you muttered, your voice filled with panic as you clutched onto the door handle, your knuckles turning white.

Bucky, on the other hand, remained surprisingly calm. His hands moved expertly over the steering wheel, navigating through the narrow streets with precision. "Hold on tight," he said, his voice steady despite the chaos outside.

You could hear the sound of gunfire, bullets ricocheting off the car's armored exterior. The world outside seemed to blur as Bucky weaved in and out of traffic, the pursuing cars hot on your tail.

"What do we do? What do we do?" you pleaded, your heart pounding in your chest.

Bucky glanced at you briefly, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Trust me," he said cryptically, before reaching for a button on the dashboard.

With a click, the back of the car transformed. Panels shifted, revealing an array of weapons hidden within. Your eyes widened in disbelief as a gun turret emerged from the rear of the car, whirring to life.

"Oh my god!" you exclaimed, both terrified and amazed at the same time.

Bucky didn't hesitate. He maneuvered the car expertly, aligning the gun turret with the pursuing vehicles. With a press of a button, the turret unleashed a barrage of bullets, hitting the cars behind you with precision.

The sound of metal tearing and tires screeching filled the air as the pursuing vehicles swerved and crashed, their drivers no match for the firepower of Bucky's car.

You watched in awe and horror as the scene unfolded behind you, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins. "I can't believe this," you whispered, your eyes wide with disbelief.

Bucky remained focused, his eyes scanning the road ahead. "Welcome to the world of high-stakes business, Miss Y/N," he said, his voice calm despite the chaos around you.

As you both sped away from the gunfire, the intensity of the moment left you breathless. The adrenaline coursing through your veins made you wonder how Bucky could remain so calm, and how his car seemed to be designed for situations like this.

"Bucky, are you really just a driver?" you asked, your voice filled with astonishment and curiosity.

Bucky, focused on the road ahead, replied without missing a beat. "Most of the time I work as a getaway driver."

"What?!" you exclaimed, unable to hide your surprise.

Bucky glanced at you briefly, a small smirk playing on his lips. "I have a few skills up my sleeve," he said cryptically, his eyes returning to the road as he expertly navigated the streets.

You panted heavily, trying to catch your breath after the intense chase. "Huff... huff... I have to win this damn bid. I almost lost my life. If I win, I will demand a promotion, and for you too, Bucky."

Bucky chuckled. "Thank you," he replied, his laughter mixing with relief as the moment's tension dissipated

Bucky glanced at you, a glimmer of admiration in his eyes. "You know, Miss Y/N, I'm impressed," he said, his voice tinged with respect.

You looked at him, surprised by his words. "Impressed? Why?"

"Because even though you were scared out of your mind back there," Bucky explained, gesturing vaguely to the chaos that had just unfolded, "you still have the drive to win this bid. That takes courage."

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips, touched by his words. "Well, I don't want to go through all of this for nothing," you replied, a hint of determination in your voice.

Bucky nodded, his expression serious. "I understand. And I believe you have what it takes to succeed."

As the car continued on its journey, you felt a newfound sense of confidence swelling within you. Despite the danger and the unexpected twists, you were determined to make this business trip count. With Bucky by your side, you felt like you could take on anything that came your way.

"Thank you, Bucky," you said, gratitude evident in your voice.

He smiled, a reassuring presence beside you. "Anytime, Miss Y/N. We make a good team."

And at that moment, as the city lights blurred past the windows of the car, you knew that this business trip would be far more than just a bid. It would be an adventure, with Bucky as your unexpected ally.

🚗

After you won the bid, you demanded a meeting with the CEO and threatened to sue the company if you weren't promoted.

Asserting your worth, you stood firm, and the CEO eventually relented, granting you the promotion you rightfully deserved.

As you stood in the office, your evil manager and colleague before you, the air was charged with tension. They both wore expressions of surprise and disbelief, clearly caught off guard by your sudden assertiveness.

"Good afternoon," you began, your voice steady and firm. "I requested this meeting to inform you both that your employment with this company is terminated, effective immediately."

The evil manager scoffed, a hint of arrogance in his voice. "You can't do that. You're just a new employee."

You met his gaze, unwavering. "Actually, as of today, I've been promoted to a position where I have the authority to make such decisions."

The lazy colleague chimed in, who answered your call at the airport. Her voice laced with disdain. "This is ridiculous. You're letting power go to your head."

You shook your head, a steely resolve in your eyes. "No, this is about accountability and integrity. Both of you have demonstrated a lack of professionalism and ethics that is unacceptable in this company. And you make me go alone knowing that the trips was a high risk."

The evil manager tried to argue, but you held up a hand to silence him. "There's no need for further discussion. Your actions have consequences, and now you're facing them."

With that, you handed them their termination letters, each neatly printed with the company seal. The evil manager's face turned red with anger, while the evil colleague's eyes widened in shock.

"This is unfair!" the evil manager shouted, his voice filled with outrage.

You remained calm, unfazed by his outburst. "It's the consequences of your own actions," you replied firmly.

Othrr colleague tried to plead for another chance, but you stood your ground. "I'm sorry, but this is non-negotiable," you said, your tone resolute.

As they gathered their things and left the office, the weight of their absence felt like a burden lifted from their shoulders. You watched them go, feeling a sense of relief and empowerment.

🚗

One day, the memories of Russia tugged at your heartstrings, and you found yourself longing to return, this time for a personal visit to see Bucky. With determination, you booked a flight and arrived at his apartment.

Bucky greeted you warmly, a smile spreading across his face. "Miss Y/N," he said with genuine happiness.

"Bucky," you replied, matching his smile. "I couldn't resist coming back to see you."

You smiled, feeling a rush of excitement and nervousness. "I wanted to thank you," you began, gratitude filling your voice. "For everything. You were there for me in Russia, and I couldn't have done it without you."

Bucky's expression softened, his eyes reflecting genuine warmth. "It was my pleasure. You showed courage and determination. I was just glad to be a part of it."

"I wanted to ask," you continued, gathering your courage, "if you would consider coming with me. With my promotion, I have the opportunity to lead new projects, and I can think of no one better to have by my side."

Bucky's eyes widened in surprise, clearly caught off guard by your offer. After a moment of contemplation, a smile slowly spread across his face. "I would be honored," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "I believe we make a good team."

Bucky smiled warmly, a glint of excitement in his eyes as he grabbed his car keys and jacket. "To celebrate, let me pay for tonight's dinner. My treat," he said, his voice filled with genuine enthusiasm.

You couldn't help but feel gratitude and happiness at his offer. "That sounds wonderful." you replied, a smile spreading across your face.

That's how the love story between you and Bucky started.

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ohdeerfully · 5 days

Text

Mutual Dilemma (ii)

Alastor x Reader part i part ii(you are here!) TW: None! Other than a pretty ooc alastor (,:

join my discord!

◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈

Morning couldn’t come slower as you anticipated the trip to Rosie’s Emporium. You managed to get a few licks of sleep throughout the night, though nerves kept waking you. As soon as the time was reasonable, not too early as you worried to bother Rosie if you came right as she opened her shop, you quickly got ready and left the Hotel. You gave brief excuses as you hurried by Charlie and a few of the other guests lingering in the lobby—Alastor was notably gone.

“Welcome t- Oh! Hey you!” Rosie’s thrilled voice filled the Emporium as a light bell dingled when you pushed the door open. She swept you up in a tight hug, trapping your arms uncomfortably against your sides as you breathlessly laughed and said your own greetings.

She held you out from herself, both hands firmly planted on your shoulders. You noticed a strange look in her expression—a light quirk in her brow and a sly curve to her smile that implied she knew something important.

“How lucky to see two of my dearest friends in the same 24 hours,” She sighed theatrically, and you knew she had to be referring to Alastor—just the demon you were here to talk to her about. She was, unsurprisingly, able to pick up on your uncomfortable demeanor and her smile dropped into a comforting grin as she led you away to a table against the wall.

“Rosie,” You groaned after sitting, putting your forehead against the cool wood and covering your head with your arms. “I’m so fucked.”

The Overlord held one of your hands softly and comfortably, encouraging you to continue but remaining otherwise quiet.

“You’re going to call me nuts, and don’t worry I already know, but, I, ah,” You grimaced. Saying it out loud was somehow even harder than accepting it within yourself. “I think I really… really like Alastor. Like I want to kiss him.”

Rosie’s hand tightened briefly against yours and you heard her intake a sharp breath while her other hand flew to cover her mouth. You turned your head so your cheek was flat against the wood as you peeked up at her. You couldn’t tell if she was smiling or not behind her hand.

“An odd place to be, certainly,” She nodded after a minute, though a small smile remained. You released a breath when you were certain she wasn’t about to laugh at you or scold you for being so stupid as to be attracted to Alastor. She stood up, pulling you along so that you stood next to her. Her hand still held yours, lifting it and cusping her other hand around it. “These feelings are normal, I think. I mean, look at all the cannibals in town that constantly swoon over him! He’s positively charming—I couldn’t blame ya! Though I have… the strangest feeling you have nothing to worry about.”

What a weird thing to say, you frowned curiously at her words, but your thoughts were cut short as you saw her expression perk with an idea she refused to share. You didn’t like when she got that sly look in her black eyes.

“I have a few errands to run, but why don’t you meet me for lunch later? At the diner down the street.”

You nodded and the two of you shared another hug before you left. You crossed your fingers the whole way back to the hotel that you wouldn’t run into Alastor.

◈

Right, that’s what ended you up here. It seems crossing your fingers means absolutely nothing in Hell. You stood frozen, hand violently clenched into a fist against your thigh. Across from you, just a few feet past the wire table, stood Alastor, a similarly shocked look in his eyes though he somehow managed to look more relaxed. You pinned it on the decade of manipulation in Hell that trained him to look so natural in weird situations.

“What an unexpected pleasure to see you here,” Within a blink he was back to his usual demeanor, approaching you with a pleasant tone; the radio effect in his voice was heavier than usual, which you knew was usually caused by stress or frustration on his part. You decided not to think too hard about the fact he was upset at seeing you in a desperate attempt to protect your heart.

“I’m… I was gonna get lunch with Rosie,” You explained, trying not to cower underneath his looming figure. Did he do this on purpose? Loom?

Alastor tilted his head at you, quirking a brow. “Curious, I was too.”

You both didn’t say anything for a moment. Your mouth opened to say something, but you honestly weren’t sure what to say so you just closed it again.

A familiar cannibal demon—you thought you recognized her as an aid in Rosie’s Emporium—bustled up to the two of you and threw out her arm, manicured nails nearly pinching holes into the paper. Her hands shook slightly as she held her head low, casting a few glances Alastor’s way. It was endearing, almost, the effect he held on all the equally deranged cannibals in the town. Though, you suppose you weren’t any better than them at this point.

“Thanks, Remi,” Her name came to you in a stroke of luck as you took the note. She nodded and scampered away with a light squeal, and you noticed a small huddle of girls waiting for her return with expectantly bated breaths. You heard them all run off giggling as you read the note.

“It’s from Rosie…” You explained in a slight mumble as your eyes trailed over the paper. Your lips spread into a thin line as you grimaced. You pinched your fingers against the bridge of your nose as you handed Alastor the note. Of course she’d do some shit like this. “She got caught up in something. I guess. She told us to hangout instead.”

Alastor hummed as he read through the note. He folded it neatly and tucked it away in a shirt pocket.

“Well, seeing as I cleared some time in my schedule for this… I’ve nothing better to do.”

You nodded, agreeing with a similar statement. So much for girl-talk therapy.

You both approached the table and he, always the gentleman, pulled out the chair for you to sit before he took his own seat. The silence was unbearably awkward—for you, at least. He probably had no care in the world. There was a light hum rumbling from his throat, and he glanced around, watching the surroundings. Every time his eyes met yours, you would both quickly look another way.

You had noticed a few different waiters rush by your table, side-eyeing Alastor in particular before scrambling to, at least you assumed, find another waiter to cover the table. You sighed and idly played with a hole in the wire-mesh tabletop.

“So, how’s our dear Charlie’s new plan coming along?” Alastor finally decided to carry the weight of striking up a conversation and you perked up a bit. You loved to talk about Charlie and her ideas—you cherished her friendship and kindness with your whole being. Plus, you were also just excited to interrupt that painful silence.

“Oh! Good so far! At least, on paper,” You rubbed your arm sheepishly. You tried not to stumble over your words as you saw how intently he was watching you, red eyes almost glowing in intensity. “They… never really turn out as planned… as I’m sure you’ve noticed…”

He responded with a bitter laugh, and your shoulders suddenly felt less tense as a more natural flow of conversation started. It was still, obviously, a bit strange and there was still a sense of unease considering the nature of the Overlord you spoke to, but you nonetheless appreciated the relative ease of getting along with him.

A waiter came and went during your conversation, and you had to interrupt your laugh at a joke Alastor had made to order yourself a tea. Alastor got himself a coffee.

“Would you look at the time,” Alastor suddenly said after you sipped on your drinks for a while. He didn’t carry a watch with him; instead, he had cast his face up to the sky and observed it was getting rather dark.

“Holy shit!” You looked at an actual watch, realizing the two of you had been chatting for ours. Your chest felt weightless and you held back a wide smile when you saw how long you were able to just sit and talk to Alastor. “Damn, yeah, Charlie’s probably worried by now.”

Alastor stood and, just as before, pulled out the seat for you as you stood. The two of you walked next to each other at a slower than natural pace, as if you both wanted to linger just a bit longer in each other’s presence—though, that was honestly probably just you. He was likely just being polite.

“Maybe it’s good our plans with Rosie didn’t go as… planned…” You said slowly, carefully, peeking at him from the corner of your eye. You were somewhat starting to doubt if he had equally enjoyed your time together, or if he was just playing along since he knew Rosie was keen on you.

“Agreed,” He simply responded. He was quiet for a beat before he continued. “Surprisingly I find your company quite enjoyable.”

You decided not to comment on the ‘surprisingly’ part and just flashed him a light smile before focusing your attention on the sidewalk, kicking at a rock with each step. It was silent again, but this time it was more comfortable. Alastor was humming again, and you felt a prickling of goosebumps as you listened to his voice.

You wished it could always be like this. You and him. Though you were certain that was an impossible reality—it was Alastor, after all. You tried not to think about it in order to enjoy the experience now.

A misplaced kick at the rock made you trip, and you mentally cursed yourself as you stumbled forward. How fucking embarrassing was this going to—your scrambled thoughts were interrupted when Alastor caught you, his surprisingly strong arm snug around your torso as he pulled you steady.

A tight-lipped smile and a quiet “thanks” was all you could awkwardly do in return. It took you a moment to notice his arm was still around you, and once you looked down at it he seemed to realize this too and slid it away. Are you going crazy, or did he seem reluctant to let go? You wanted to smack yourself till your mind cleared, but the ghost feeling of his arm against you was sending a fire through your skin.

“You walk like a fresh-born fawn,” He joked, averting his face away from you as he straightened the cuff of his sleeve. “Watch where you step. I might not be able to catch you next time.”

You didn’t respond and just kept walking, face hot from shame after tripping over such a minor thing. Alastor now walked notably closer to you, his hand almost brushing against yours with every step. At some point the back of his hand did graze against your own, and had you not been expecting it you probably would’ve jumped. Alastor, on the other hand, did seem to stiffen at the contact but he didn’t move.

Finally the hotel was in sight, and before you knew it the Overlord was pushing open the door and offering you to enter first. He led you to your room and you both stood in the hallway, your own breath bated with anticipation as you rapidly tried to find something to say. You didn’t want this to just be a one-and-done deal.

Silence again.

It didn’t help that his eyes had a red glow in the dark of the silent hall—anybody else would find it intimidating, but… man… you felt your cheeks get a bit hot.

Did he just take a step closer? You honestly couldn’t tell, but the buzzing in your ears from his radio afflicted being seemed to grow in intensity and he seemed to be looming over you a bit more. There was a sinister look in his eyes, but you couldn’t tell if it was due to malice or… something else. You really couldn’t tell, but you couldn’t find yourself scared of him.

Maybe you should be.

Something about being against the wall with the looming figure of the Radio Demon, who you honestly couldn’t tell if he just made another step closer, made you feel like prey being toyed with by a cruel hunter. You would be lying to yourself if you said it wasn’t thrilling.

“Maybe I can pencil in a regular lunch with you every week,” He said suddenly, breaking the growing tension. “Despite your average looks–” Okay, rude. “–you are quite the character.”

“Uh, yeah, I’d like that,” You said, averting your face to hide the growing heat on your skin that gave away your current mental state. If Alastor noticed, he made no indication of it as he clapped his hands together once.

“Well, then, goodnight!” He said, all too cheerfully given the atmosphere barely thirty seconds ago. “We can talk about it tomorrow.”

You nodded wordlessly before bidding him goodnight and reaching behind your back to turn the knob. You stumbled back into the empty space as you waved bye, him reciprocating with a small wave back, before shutting the door with a soft click. You pressed your forehead against the wood, quietly catching your breath you didn’t even realize had been held that whole exchange.

The aura of radio static seemed to linger at your door for a little longer than necessary, and you assumed Alastor was still standing there. It was maybe a minute before he finally left. Your legs felt weak and wobbly as you walked to your bed, falling face first into the sheets. You grabbed a fistful of pillow, screamed into it, and stood back up to get ready for bed.

A feeling of giddiness rose in your chest as you looked at your reflection, and you couldn’t help the grin that crept up your lips. You wouldn’t overthink it too much—you didn’t want to lead yourself astray—but… if you didn’t know any better… you could almost say Alastor felt at least a fraction of mutual feelings towards you.

You just hoped you wouldn’t screw it up.

#ohdeerfully #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #fluff #alastor x you #i feel like its impossible to not write alastor ooc when its a romance fic #sorry not sorry #teehee #hazbin hotel alastor

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middlepartmatt · 20 days

Text

After Party

“so i love when you call unexpected, 'cause i hate when the moment's expected. so i'ma care for you, you, you” — EARNED IT, the weeknd

SUMMARY: you and chris have been best friends since childhood, and nothing more. that is, until one night you are the last two people awake after a party and you're both in the mood for something more.

WARNINGS: smut, switch!chris, switch!reader, oral (male & fem receiving), grinding

AUTHOR’S NOTE: writing chris and matt fics on wattpad has actually made me TERRIFIED of the sturniolo police so this is scaaaaary. anyway lmk what u think and if u don't like this, don't read it thx

────

It's currently 4:30 am, and the party has long since died down. Everybody left about two hours ago when the police showed up and kicked out all of the guests because of noise complaints, but the group had decided to stay awake and talk for an hour until Nick complained he was tired, and everybody else mumbled in agreement. They're all asleep now, besides you and Chris, the only two left downstairs.

You're bored out of your mind, sitting and staring mindlessly at the wall while Chris scrolls on his phone. Your eyes unwillingly drift over to him, your gaze comfortably settling on him on the other side of the couch. He's wearing grey sweatpants and a basic white tee, his hair messy and covering his eyes slightly where it's hanging over his forehead. You hate the feeling you get deep in youe stomach as you look at him, illuminated only by a few candles and the light from his phone screen.

Like he can feel your eyes on him, Chris then puts down his phone and turns to look at you. His blue eyes seem muted and sleepy, though there's a glint in them you can't seem to ignore.

"Wanna watch a movie?" he suggests, and you just nod. He picks up the remote and begins scrolling through Netflix. Despite yourself, you study him closely as he looks through the plethora of movies available for the two of you to watch. You suddenly feel the room getting warmer and push the fluffy blanket off of yourself.

Chris settles on a movie, not bothering to ask you if you even want to watch it on before the opening credits begin playing. You leans back against the couch, occasionally finding yourself glancing over at Chris to see his reaction to the movie. Though his face remains the same, barely even showing any signs of amusement. It's almost like his mind is completely elsewhere.

So is yours, clearly, as he's all you can focus on.

You roll your eyes at yourself and decide to start actually watching the movie. It's a stupid Adam Sandler comedy with a bunch of dumb scenes and even worse jokes, though you find yourself amused all the same.

"This movie is so dumb," you chuckle, and Chris turns around to see you, a smile on his face.

"Can't be that bad if you're laughing," he replies quickly, and you kiss your teeth. His eyes remain locked with yours and you suddenly feel nervous, so you decide to look away. You pick up your glass and take a sip of water, before leaning back with the glass still in your hand.

"Well anyway, you must be disappointed about tonight," you say to Chris, who raises an eyebrow.

"What do you mean?" he asks quietly.

"Come on, Chris," you says, rolling your eyes. "I think tonight's the first time you've been at a party and not had your tongue down some girl's throat at least once."

He furrows his eyebrows and presses his lips together.

"Maybe I didn't want to," he says quietly, like he's contemplating something. It irks you though, because you realize it's the first time you've struggled to figure him out. Usually you can always tell what he's thinking, but tonight has been impossible.

"Or maybe all of the girls at school have finally realized how ugly you are," you say, your voice laced with sarcasm. Chris scoffs loudly, like it's the most outrageous thing he's ever heard.

But then, all of a sudden, he twists in your direction and places his hands on your waist, pulling you onto his lap. Chris' grip tightens, fingers brushing against your skin as he sits you down onto his crotch. Your smile falls, and Chris grins as he leans closer and whispers into your ear: "Maybe this is what I was waiting for."

You tense, barely able to move or even think as you register what is currently happening.

"That's funny," you reply, your words coming out weaker and quieter than you wanted.

"Almost as funny as you trying to convince yourself you don't want this," Chris replies instantly, as if without a thought.

The movie continues playing in the background, but neither of you are paying it any attention whatsoever. Chris is just looking at you, his hands still firmly planted on her waist. Every single word has left your mind.

"If you hate this, you can always leave," he shrugs, leaning back but keeping his hands exactly where they are. You could slap him for saying something like that when you're literally sitting on his lap and can barely even think because of it.

When you doesn't speak again, Chris just continues: "Last chance, baby," he says softly.

You don't want to leave. Heat rises to your cheeks, and his eyes darken as he looks down at you.

"I'm not going anywhere," you whisper, and Chris immediately grins before leaning forward to kiss you. It's is full of need.

He kisses you slowly, deeply, his lips pressing hard against yours as he reaches around your waist to pull you closer to him. You return the gesture, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him even closer to you, to which Chris responds by smiling against your lips.

From there, your hands move to his neck, your skin burning hot against his as you moves further upwards, running your fingers through his hair. As you do so, Chris pulls away slightly, his chest moving up and down as he breathes heavily.

"Fuck, baby, you can't-" he pants, but you cuts him off.

"Can't what?" you grin, and he presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek, almost in disbelief at your words. His hands then trail upwards from your waist to rest on your neck, right as he leans forward to kiss you again.

You kisses him back, your lips moving in sync with each other. Your mind swirls with a million thoughts; you're now realizing how badly you want this and the fact that you've wanted it for a long while.

Chris leans back against the couch again, you leaning forward to deepen the kiss, your breath hitching slightly as he puts his hands on your waist once more. Throughout the kiss, he fiddles with the hem of your tank top, his fingers brushing lightly against you skin, making your heart beat even faster.

You decides that enough is enough and if he's going to mess with you like this, then you're allowed to do the same. His hands are still on your hips as you brings her hands back up to run through his hair, feeling the softness of it against your fingers.

Chris uses his hands to pull you closer, and you can feel your body responding to his actions as you kiss him harder. You practically melt into him as your hands now find their place on his neck by his collarbone. Unable to stop yourself, you tug his bottom lip between your teeth before kissing him again. Chris chuckles mid-kiss, and you're struggling to believe that this is actually currently happening.

Your thoughts immediately disappear when you feels his erection pressing against your core, and you can't help the grin that forms on your lips. You press herself against him, rubbing your body against his, feeling his cock throbbing against your skin.

Chris groans in response and bites your lip. You feel his hands slide down to cup your ass, squeezing gently. Then he lifts you slightly so that he can sit up straighter, with you still straddling his lap.

You rub your pussy along his cock through his pants, and he whimpers softly. You slip your hand inside his pants and finds his hard cock, stroking it slowly.

"Fuck," Chris grits out, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

"Yeah?" you hum in response, reeling in the way he throws his head back against the couch cushion just at the sound of your voice. "You like that?"

He nods and arches his hips upward, grinding against your hand. You laugh softly and kiss him again, still stroking him.

You pull away from the kiss and slide off of him. Chris sits up and reaches for you, but you shake your head. You first pulls his shirt off over his head, tossing it to the side before leaning forward and kissing him again.

Chris moans into your mouth, his hands sliding down your sides to your hips. He lifts you slightly so that he can pull your shirt up and off of your torso.

You shiver as his fingers brush against your bare stomach. You gasp softly as he kisses your neck, his tongue darting out to taste your skin.

Before he can do anything else, you quickly move away and bend down, your eye level the same as his knees. His hard cock is bulging out of his boxers, and Chris looks down at you longingly.

"Touch me, baby, please," he begs. You grab his boxers by the waistband and pull them down, revealing his throbbing cock. You smile at him wickedly and drop to your knees, taking him into your warm mouth.

"Fuck," Chris repeats, looking up at the ceiling. "Oh God, ma."

Chris moans loudly and closes his eyes, enjoying the feel of your plump lips wrapped around him. You begin to move your head back and forth, tongue swirling around his dick. You moan softly as you suck him, your hand moving up and down his length. You glance up at him and see him watching you, his hands gripping the couch cushions tightly.

You use your hand to stroke him gently while you suck his dick. You love the sounds he makes, and you moans softly every time you take him into your mouth. Chris groans and runs his fingers through your hair, pushing you closer to him. You moan and take him deeper into your throat, your nose pressed against his stomach. He lets out a shaky breath and pushes your head further onto him. You let out a surprised sound when you feels him hit the back of your throat.

You gag slightly and pull back a little bit, but Chris holds your head there, his fingers tangling in your hair. He moans loudly and continues to fuck her face, his fingers digging into her scalp. You moan, other hand gripping his thigh as you tries not to gag. Throughout all of this, you feel yourself getting wetter with each thrust of his cock into your mouth.

You whimpers, loving how he makes you feel. Chris moans and leans back, his cock twitching as he cums into your mouth. You swallow it all, before your eyes widen in surprise as he pulls you up off of him. Chris smiles and pulls you close, kissing you hard.

He pulls away before grinning: "Your turn, ma."

Chris pushes you back against the couch, so that you're laying down before him.

He kneels between your legs and pulls your skirt up, revealing your white lace panties. Chris smiles and slides his hand into her panties, feeling her wetness.

"So wet," he muses. "Is this all for me, baby?"

"All for you, asshole," you reply breathlessly, barely able to think straight. He moans softly and slides his fingers along your slit, teasing you. He pulls your panties to the side and finally slides his fingers inside you, finding your clit instantly.

He rubs it slowly, smirking as you moan softly. He slides two fingers into your tight pussy and finger fucks you. You release a short whimper and bite your lip, closing your eyes. Chris smirks and slides a third finger inside you, making you moan louder this time. He continues to finger you and rub your clit, and your body starts to shake.

"Woah, calm down, ma," he murmurs. "I've only just got started with you." His words alone make you even wetter, if that's even possible. Your legs spread wider for him and he moans as he slides a fourth finger inside you, stretching you wide open. You cry out, thighs clenching together

Chris then pulls his fingers out of you and licks them clean, before leaning down and sliding his tongue along your slit. You moans and now spread your legs wider, so desperate for his touch. He sucks on your clit gently, and you writhe, unable to control yourself.

"Chris, stop," you manage. "If you keep going, I'm gonna-"

Chris suddenly stops then, and stands up, pulling your panties back over your wet pussy. Your eyes widen as you're left lying there, longing for his touch.

"Chris," you plead. "Please."

He grins at your desperate state, a cocky smile playing on his lips.

"What was that?" he teases. "Say it again, baby, I couldn't hear you."

"Fuck you, Chris," you say, your voice strained as you press your legs together for any sort of friction.

"I thought you'd never ask," Chris grins, grabbing your arms and pinning them above your head. He kisses you hard, then slides his tongue into your mouth, tasting you. You moan into his mouth and try to pull away from him, but he holds you tight, pressing himself against you.

His tip grazes you soaking pussy softly, and you spread your legs wider for him, looking up at him pleadingly. You moans and push your hips towards him, begging him to enter you. He smiles and eases his cock into you, making you gasp. He groans and slowly slides his cock further into your tight pussy, filling you up completely.

"You're so fucking hot, ma," Chris whispers, grinning. Moans leave his mouth as he begins thrusting in and out of you, fucking you hard. You groan and grind against him, your pussy throbbing. You arch your back, needing even more of him.

Your body trembles as his thrusts get faster, more out of control. You bite your lip to stop yourself from crying out.

"Moan for me, ma," Chris tells you then.

"Chris," you whimper, and he moans as you say his name. With every thrust you get closer to tipping over the edge, your groans growing louder with every movement.

Your body shakes, your pussy pulsing around his cock. Chris doesn't stop though, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to your lips.

"Cum for me, baby."

You do as he says, letting out a moan as his cock hits the back of you one last time. You hold him tightly, your nails dragging sharply down his back, though Chris doesn't mind. He loves seeing you unravel like this in front of him, knowing it's all his doing.

"Good girl," he whispers into your ear.

"Your turn," you whisper back, suddenly grabbing his hips and thrusting yourself onto him one more time. Chris tips his head back, groaning as he finishes.

He pulls out of you, looking down at you, his best friend, with a smile on his face.

"Bet no one else has ever made you moan like that before, huh?" he grins smugly. You bite your lip, shaking you head. "Thought so."

"Shut up," you reply, getting up from the couch and reaching out for his hand. "We should get cleaned up," you tell him.

"If you wanna have shower sex, you can just say so," Chris shrugs, and despite yourself, blush forms on your cheeks.

"I'll take that as a yes," Chris answers, taking your hand and leading you to the bathroom.

────

AUTHOR'S NOTE PT. 2: i am a y/n hater for life you will never catch me using that so drop more pet names in the comments because i can't be overusing "baby" and "ma" LMFAOOO

#sturniolo #chrissturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo smut #player chris

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cryptidghostgirl · 2 months

Note

Yo can you do a part 3 of Cover Up where y/n is introduced to the rest of the members of the hotel.

A/N Yes?? I love me some fluff like that. I also had another request for a part three to this series but yours came in first so I am going to make that one a part four and because you didn't super specify anything you wanted besides intros, I am gonna spin this to line up with that request. I hope that is okay.

Cover Up pt. 3 (Alastor x Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Previous Parts:

Cover Up (Human!Alastor x Human!Reader)

Cover Up pt. 2

Warnings: mentions of murder, Angel briefly flirts with you, jealous/minorly possessive Alastor. I think that is it, please correct me if I am wrong.

Word Count: 1,885

Master Lists:

Master Lists

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Alastor Master List

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

Once Alastor had given Y/n the full tour, she had absolutely insisted that she be allowed to meet the rest of the guests. Alastor could never say no to her and so, he had taken her by the arm and walked her back into the lobby. It did not come as a surprise to him that in the short time they had been away from the hotel's central area, Charlie had managed to set up a welcome party for his darling wife. Y/n on the other hand, gasped in shock when everyone jumped out from behind the various couches.

"I literally... okay, I have no clue who any of you are but thank you? This is so sweet? I..."

Before Alastor could do a thing about it, Y/n was whisked away from his gentle grasp by Charlie. The demon Princess brought Y/n to the center of the room, Alastor watching from the sidelines with crossed arms. She seemed to happy, so absolutely filled to the brim with joy. As much as he wanted to take her away from the crowd, to be alone with her, he allowed the party to occur. Her joy had always been his priority, first and foremost. There would be time.

"Everyone!" Charlie excitedly announced, "This is Y/n! She is going to be our newest guest. Our cook? Our newest maybe guest who is going to work as a cook."

Y/n laughed lightly at Charlie's confused words. She took a slight step forward.

"Hi everyone." she waved with a soft smile.

"Oh she's good." Angel Dust muttered and Husk elbowed him in the stomach, catching the glare Alastor had shot the spider demon's way.

"Ow!" Angel exclaimed, rubbing the spot the cat demon had hit as he turned to him, "What was that for?"

Y/n chuckled a bit uneasily, looking over at Alastor and his wide smile. Vaggie quickly stepped in, breaking the tension she felt slowly building in the group.

"I'm Vaggie." she announced in an unfounded and unexpected display of friendship, "Charlie is my girlfriend, we run the hotel together."

Y/n lit up at her words, shaking the hand Vaggie held out to her enthusiastically.

"I didn't realize she had a partner in all this! And in afterlife too, I guess. That's so sweet!"

Vaggie smiled, letting out a light laugh as Charlie stepped up behind her, placing her hands lovingly on her girlfriend's shoulders.

"She is just the best." Charlie warmly noted as Y/n and Vaggie released their clasped hands, "I wouldn't have been able to come this far without her or any of the other sinners we have working with us."

"I thought everyone else here were just guests." Y/n mused aloud and Charlie shook her head.

"No, no! We tried doing it on our own in the beginning... but then Alastor showed up. He brought along some friends and, well, he's really been such a help. We are so grateful to have him and them on our team."

Y/n shot her husband a sidelong glance, smirking mishceviously.

"You really know how to work magic, princess." she hummed, "Getting Al to be a team player? I'm impressed."

"Oh, no!" Charlie frantically waved her hands, desperate that Y/n not get any wrong impressions, "We didn't pressure him or anything, he showed up of his own accord, actually."

"Really." Y/n laughed lightly as she fixed her gaze back on Charlie, "Well, I'd love to meet these alleged 'friends' of his he brought along."

"Of course!" Charlie exclaimed, smiling brightly once again as she stepped to the side with Vaggie, "Husk is our bartender and Nifty is our maid. She was our cook too but, I suppose you'll be taking care of that now."

Husk nodded his head in polite recognition of the introduction Charlie had given him. Nifty on the other hand, was incapable of such restraint and, her curiosity getting the better of her, rushed up to Y/n. In a split second, she had climbed the demoness' body like a ladder and was perched on her shoulder, messing with her hair.

"You smell nice." she hummed, smiling and Y/n's cheeks flushed slightly pink.

"Why, thank you. That is very sweet of you to say."

"Will you help me in the war against the bugs too?"

"Come on, Nift." Angel sighed before Y/n could respond as he walked over to the pair and grabbed the smaller demon, "Don't freak her out."

Nifty made grabby arms towards Y/n as Angel lifted her into the air and Y/n's smile only widened at the sight.

"No, please don't worry. You didn't freak me out, Nifty. I am actually looking forward to working with you, I like your enthusiasm." Y/n sent Nifty a wink and the little demon's smile grew as her feet found solid ground again.

She shot a look up at Angel, nodding her approval as Y/n fixed her gaze on the spider demon as well.

"And you are...?" she prompted and Angel immediately fell into character.

Stepping forward, he leaned down towards her, running a hand through his hair while resting one of his elbows on her shoulder.

"Angel Dust is the name, but you can call me whatever you want."

He expected her to be flustered, to at least blush a bit. He waited for her to take a step back or even to be teased or jabbed the way Husk did when he was like this, but nothing of the sort came. Instead, Y/n's eyes glinted in the light, narrowing with intended mischief.

"Oh yeah?" she asked, taking a step closer to him and batting her eyes oh so prettily.

"I... uh..." Angel stuttered, completely taken aback.

Y/n dissolved into a fit of laughter, hands clutching at her stomach as she doubled over.

"I'm sorry!" she wheezed, "I couldn't help myself. I'm actually taken."

"You are?" Angel asked, growing more confused as she straightened back up, wiping a stray tear from her eye.

In a split second, Alastor was behind Y/n, his claws wrapping around her shoulders.

"She is." he replied and though his voice was calm and even, it sent shivers down Angel's spine.

Angel took a step back, scratching the back of his head as he looked away in discomfort.

"Oh, uh, sorry. Didn't realize you and the strawberry pimp here were an item."

"Strawberry..." Y/n laughed again, craning her neck to look up at Alastor behind her back, "I am not letting you live that one down."

Angel smiled, regaining his composure and placing his hands on his hips.

"Oh yeah? You shoulda heard what that girl who was in here a few days ago called him. 'Tall dark and creepy' was it?"

"And what girl might that be?" Y/n asked after a moment, crossing her arms over her chest as she sidled her way out of Alastor's grip, turning to face him.

"Mimzy." Husk answered before Alastor could reply, "She's just some lowlife who always hangs around when she needs Alastor to take care of some trouble she's caused."

Y/n let out a gasp.

"Mimz is here?" she asked excitedly, bouncing on her toes.

"She's here, darling." Alastor replied, "But she is no longer welcome in the hotel. Caused quite a bit of trouble for us when she visited after all, can't have her ruining my newest project."

"Well, can we go visit her? I miss her so much!"

"You know her?" Charlie asked, her voice laced with confusion.

Y/n turned to face Charlie, nodding intently.

"Yeah, she introduced us actually."

"Introduced certainly is a word for it." Alastor admitted and Y/n chuckled.

"Back when we were alive, she used to throw these 'singles parties.' As it turned out, Al and I both were using them as a hunting ground so to speak. When we met, he offered to walk me home and then pulled a knife on me. Of course, I already had my gun trained on him so we found ourselves in a bit of a sticky situation. It was so romantic." Y/n wistfully replied.

"Uh, yeah." Angel laughed, "Romantic. That's the word."

"So you guys knew each other when you were alive?" Vaggie asked.

"Yeah, we did." Y/n nodded, "You guys can ask whatever but first, I think there is one more person I have yet to meet?"

She turned expectantly towards Sir Pentious who up until this point had been standing quietly near the back of the group. At the redirection of the rooms attention, he felt his cheeks grow warm.

"This, Y/n, is our other guest." Charlie announced, gesturing towards the snake demon with an outstretched hand.

"Sir Pentious." he bowed lightly, "It is an honor to meet a demon as... as stunning as yourself."

There was a heartbeat, a single tense moment of silence. Then Y/n laughed, waving him off cheerily.

"Oh you, what a charmer."

"So you guys knew each other when you were alive? And you're... you're together?" Angel cut in, drawing Y/n's attention back to him as he lead her by her arm over to the bar.

They sat down beside one another, Husk slipping behind the counter and pouring them each a drink.

"Yep." Y/n replied, downing her drink and meeting Angel's eyes.

"How?" he prompted after a moment and Y/n laughed.

By now the rest of the gang had brought themselves over to where the pair sat and were listening intently. Alastor stood near the edge of the group, all the seats near his beloved having been snatched up before he had the chance. He crossed his arms over his chest, his patience beginning to wear thin.

Nearly one hundred years. It had been a lifetime since they had seen one another and the brief tour of the hotel he had given Y/n earlier was not enough to satiate the rabid hunger in his chest. Still, for her, he tried.

"Well, it was a ruse at first. Just a partnership. I watched for cops and he provided me with the brute strength I lacked. We were actually in the middle of chasing down one of his victims when he finally asked me out."

"You were a killer?" Pentious asked, enthralled.

"I was." Y/n nodded, "Until Al died and I was under too much suspicion to do so anymore."

"So you..." Charlie trailed off, counting on her fingers in deep concentration.

"Have been married for a hundred years give or take? Yep."

"Wait, hold on!" Angel exclaimed, "Married?"

"Did Charlie not tell you anything? More importantly, did Al never talk about me?"

Y/n raised her eyebrows, meeting her husband's gaze across the crowd. Alastro looked away, nearly bashful under her persistent gaze. It was Husk's turn to step in now, taking a sip of his own drink as he leaned across the bar.

"Alastor has enjoyed keeping his secrets." he candidly stated, "But there were one or two times he drank a little too much and let your name slip."

Alastor glared at Husk and Y/n grinned at her husbands reaction to the revelation.

"Always the troublemaker, that one but, god, do I love him."

-----

Next Part -> coming soon

Tags:

@willowshadenox @i-love-jafar @elfyeet @reader3 @lazygirlfanfic0-0@kahlan170@wendyphan01203-blog @fairyv-ice @clarakainda @lunaramune @mcueveryday @luxky-aish @peterpankat @corvid007

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wannaeatramyeon · 1 month

Text

Goo Kim x Reader: Cat

G/N. Silly. Fluffy.

"You lil shit!" Goo yelps, sharply retreating.

It's a millisecond too late. His reflexes are beat. Fresh scratch marks litter his hand.

Eyes narrowing behind his glasses, he snarls "I'll kill y-"

And is cut off by another swipe, missing his face by a whisker.

"Yeah sorry he does that, he's a menace." You're half apologetic, half grinning that your other menace, the newly acquired blonde delinquent, has finally met his match.

It's an adversary Goo never expected: your fluffy little feline companion.

Goo's not heartless, okay? He's not completely resistant to cute charms (yours, for example). One second the cat had rolled over, exposing its impossibly soft and fluffy belly and who was Goo to turn down such an adorable invitation?

It turns out that the belly was as soft and fluffy as it looked.

For a brief moment, Goo and your cat were mutually (or so he had thought) enjoying the experience... The next-

Well.

Shit. This hurts.

He's had way worse directed at him, yet he didn't expect those little tiny claws to sting so goddamn much. Goo knows you shouldn't harm animals. Still, he couldn't help asking-

Nursing the scratches on his beautiful skin, "I can't kick it right?"

Judging from the glare you gave him, it's very much a no.

The cat is out to get him.

If cats were capable of plotting and scheming, which this one is, it absolutely is trying to get rid of the other being now taking up your time.

(No, Goo is not batshit and paranoid, thank you.)

Goo eyes the cat with distrust, currently purring in your lap.

"Sweetheart, I wanna put my head there!" he whines, and is given nothing but a chuckle in response as if he's joking.

To add insult to injury, he swears that stupid cat smirked at him too.

"No, not yet," You push Goo off you, the playful kisses now having taken a distinctly non-playful, and very much hot and heavy turn.

Readjusting his glasses, "Huh, why?"

"My cat’s there," You nod somewhere over his bare shoulder, and his head turns to follow your eye line.

That stupid cat is right fucking there.

"Shoo him out, sweetheart," Goo murmurs, lips grazing against your neck once more.

"I feel bad."

Goo stops. Looks at you with an arched eyebrow. Barely manages to repress a disgruntled sigh.

You know you sound crazy, and you know your cat won't hold it against you. Nevertheless, with a grimace, you tell him, "It's his bedroom too!"

Turns out it is the cat's bedroom, and also the cat's apartment.

Which it showed by arching his back and hissing everytime Goo appeared in his periphery.

Perhaps only when Goo was with you, did the cat tolerate his presence. Then you got called away for a couple weeks and Goo, like a lovesick idiot, offered to stay and look after your pet for you.

Now with him just on his own, he is proving to be very much an unwanted guest in claimed territory.

Luckily, the hostility and hissing from both sides calmed down after the first few days, eventually turning into an uneasy truce.

Only after feeding the cat, and offering treats (not that Goo wanted to, it was only under your instructions) during the first week did it seem to accept the blonde's presence. As if it somehow knows that this idiot is its final defence before starvation.

So the cat tolerates Goo, even if it is still a bit frosty and begrudging.

The most unexpected and surprising point though, arrives towards the end of your absence.

Soft meows stirs Goo from his slumber.

He wakes in time to see the cat pounce onto the bed, kneading his paws into your pillow.

"You miss Y/N?" He asks, and receives another meow.

It sounds distinctly like a yes. All frostiness, in the quiet darkness, has melted away.

"Me too," he murmurs.

Maybe it's because Goo is almost asleep again and his defences are down, or maybe they both just miss you. But when he reaches out to stroke the cat's head, he receives, for the first time, a purr.

A low rumbling, contentment. Gentle pressure, nudging against his palm.

Finally-

A shared understanding as they both eagerly await your return.

#god i absolutely love this old panel of goo. the swagger and confidence #lookism #lookism headcanons #lookism x reader #lookism hc #lookism webtoon #lookism manhwa #goo kim #goo kim x reader #kim joongoo #kim joongoo x reader #wannaeatramyeon

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bbygirlpascal · 1 year

Text

Unexpected (Pedro Pascal x Fem Reader)

18+ NSFW: Please do not interact with my posts if you are under 18.

Summary: Your called-off engagement has left you dating shitty men and having even shittier sex. Luckily, your best friend Pedro is always there to cheer you up and keep you entertained.

You always thought of Pedro as a friend, nothing more. Someone you can hang out with at the ungodly hours of the night when no one else was awake, you could count on him to be up. Ever since you’ve been living on your own in your home you’ve felt lonelier than ever. Your engagement to the man you thought was your soulmate had been called off almost 5 months now but it has yet to get easier.

Mindless, no strings attached flings here and there surely kept you occupied, but never pleased. Going out on dates with men you knew only wanted one thing, and spoke big game on their performance but always failed to deliver when you actually fucked.

Tonight was no different and you just wanted this guy out of your house. He was jabbering on about something you weren’t even paying attention to, you were just nodding your head and zoning out.

“Listen, I don’t feel so good. I think I want to lay down and sleep the night off. I’ll call you tomorrow, ok?” you said to him.

“Sure, no problem (Y/N), it was great meeting you,” he sheepishly smiled as you walked him over to the door. Not giving him any ounce of a hint that you needed or wanted a goodbye kiss. Turning around and slumping onto the couch, you grabbed your phone and called Pedro.

“Hey Pedrito,” you said to him and chuckled.

“Hey mama, what’s up?”

“Just ended my date, he was going on about some bullshit like crypto or something I almost fell asleep, no joke and he kept staring at my tits all. night.” you turned around and laid on your back, “Are you up to anything tonight? I’m bored.”

“No I’m free, I’ll be there in about 20,” he hung up and you pushed yourself off the couch to get yourself unready for the night. This part of your night was your favorite, almost ritualistic when you thought about it.

You were in the middle of brushing through your hair and you heard your doorbell ring. Making your way to the front door you opened it to a smiling Pedro, holding a bottle of your favorite liquor.

“I had some of your favorite so I figured I’d bring it with me,” he stepped in to the door and gave you a peck on the cheek, “Good to see you.”

“You too. I’ll get us some glasses.”

Pedro made his way into your living room, the glow from the pool in your backyard reflecting onto the ceiling, making silver ripples bounce and dance on the wooden beams. You walked out with glasses in hand and Pedro was standing in front of the sliding glass door looking outside at the pool.

“I think we should go for a swim.”

“What about a float swim? I don’t want to get my hair wet,” you said, recalling the labor you just went through to get your hair to its current state.

“What is a float swim?” he chuckled and raised an eyebrow.

“You know...just sit on our floats in the water. No swimming involved,” you said to him, “A float swim.”

“Ah, make sense. I’ll meet you out there.” he scurried to your guest bathroom to get changed.

You made you way into your bedroom to put on your bathing suit. Most of your suits barely covered anything on your body, your ass was out and your breasts peeking out of the sides of the triangle shaped fabric that hardly covered them.

You and Pedro floated around for awhile, sipping on your vodka martinis and laughing about the stories you told each other. Soon you felt too prune-y and figured it was time to get out, plus it was getting a little chilly. As Pedro so lovingly pointed out and joked about your nipples being hard enough to cut glass.

You stepped into the guest bathroom to go pee and hang up your bathing suit, your normal routine since you didn’t have room to hang up your bathing suit in your master bath. Naked and drying yourself off, you heard the door knob move and turned around to see Pedro. He didn’t even realize you were in there until he looked up.

“Oh god, sorry (Y/N), sorry,” he swiftly moved to step back out of the door frame. Slightly embarrassed but not enough to make things awkward, you finished drying yourself off and wrapped your towel around yourself.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t notice the light was on, I should’ve knocked.”

“Pedro,” you walked over to him and placed your hand on his arm, “it's okay. I think we’re bound to see each other naked at some point.”

You’re not really sure why you even said that, the vodka was definitely speaking more so than you thought.

“Sorry, that came out differently than I thought it sounded in my head,” you chuckled nervously, “but seriously, don’t worry.”

Pedro moved closer to you, “So, you want me to see you naked?”

Your cheeks felt hot, you could feel his gaze on you and you tried to avoid eye contact with him.

“Have you thought about me like that, (Y/N)?”

You nodded your head yes. Pedro was inches from your face now, he used his finger to tilt your chin up, your faces nearly touching. You inhaled his scent, his familiar scent. He caressed your cheek with the back of his hand, you leaned into his hand fluttering your eyes closed. Nerves and bubbling excitement coursed through you. Never did you think you’d be in this position with Pedro of all people. You’d thought about him romantically, sure and when you first met him you had a crush on him, but he was taken – so friends it was. But now, it was different.

Pedro came closer to you and kissed your lips. Gentle but with so much passion and want you could hardly contain yourself. You ran your hands along his bare arms, still droplets of water on them from the pool. You laced them into his hair, nudging his head closer to your face. He pulled away and looked into your eyes.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he looked at you intently, “Cause if we do this, I don’t think I’m going to be able to stop.”

You bit your lip and looked into his eyes as you crashed your lips back onto his. He backed up and you both made your way into the kitchen. He grabbed you by your waist and plopped you on top of the counter. The cold ceramic counter against your bare ass make you squeal but you kept your lips locked. Sloppily tonguing at each other, letting saliva coat each other’s lips.

Pedro made his way down towards your collar bones, stopping to lick and suck on the sensitive part of your neck. Giving you goosebumps all along your body. He lowered your towel and exposed your breasts instantly latching his mouth around your nipple. Cupping your breast and kneading it with his calloused hands. You threw your head back letting out small whimpers as he teased the sensitive bud and send waves of pleasure to your core.

Subconsciously spreading your legs to rub your pussy on him, needing even an ounce of friction to ease the pleasurable pain.

“Patience baby girl, I’ll help your little aching pussy soon,” he growled as he continued to suckle on your breasts. You could see his hard on in his swim trunks, you certainly didn’t think Pedro was small but you never thought he was that big. You thought about his thick cock entering you and bit your lip.

“Pedro, please baby,” you begged him, your cunt dripping with wetness. Pedro grabbed your legs and lifted them up, your pussy off the edge of the counter, totally exposed to him and he was aching to devour you.

“So pretty baby, your pussy is so pretty,” he said, looking you in the eye as he licked his tongue from your entrance up to your clit, “Mmm, and you’re so wet for me mama.”

You were practically already about to cum at his words. You mercilessly rubbed and rolled your hips against his tongue as he sucked and lapped at your clit. The wet, obscene sound filling your ears was like music. He slid in two of his fingers into your entrance, you could hear how wet you were and he was fingering you so perfectly you were on the verge of screaming.

He continued at his pace, licking and sucking and fingering you into oblivion, until you couldn’t take it any longer. “I’m gonna cum baby,” you whined to him, gripping his hair.

“Cum in my mouth mama, come on,” he talked you through it and your core contracted around his fingers, the pleasure bursting from your belly. He continued fingering you through your orgasm, “Yeah that’s it baby. Cum for me.”

You breathlessly propped yourself up, ready to please him and aching to have his cock in your mouth. Your lips locked once more as he grabbed you from your ass and led you to the bedroom. Sitting down on your knees on the carpeted floor, you pulled down his swim shorts.

His cock spring out, his head glistening with drops of pre cum that made your mouth water. You puckered your lips onto his tip, swirling your tongue around it before deep throating his length into your mouth. He practically growled as he dropped his head back, shallow breaths escaping his lips every time you bobbed your head up and down.

“Yes (Y/N), your pretty little mouth feels so good,” he said to you, gathering your hair into a ponytail in his hand, “Sucking on my cock so good, my little slut.”

He thrusted his cock into your mouth, drool dropping onto your tits as it spilled from the sides of your mouth. You crept your hand up to cup his balls, Pedro straining to not cum right then and there.

He pulled his cock out of your mouth and you rose up off of your knees, towards the bed.

“Turn around mama,” you obliged and Pedro gently nudged your top half to the mattress. You stuck your ass up and buried your face into your duvet. A sharp smack to your ass made you yelp and Pedro let out a soft hum as he rubbed the reddened area. He ran his tip along your folds, collecting your wetness before plowing himself into you.

Your walls stretched out to accommodate his size, almost painful at first but the pleasure quickly overpowered it as he rolled his hips and stuffed his cock into your pussy.

“Pedro, oh my god baby,” you said to him, gripping the comforter as he plowed into you, hitting your spot perfectly every time.

“Baby, I’m gonna cum. Holy fuck. You feel so good, so big.”

“Cum on my cock princess, I wanna hear you scream.”

Your moans were feral, your walls clenched around his cock. You were seeing stars and you could feel the heat of his seed coating your walls and he smacked and gripped your ass. You lifted the top of your body up, leaning back into his chest. Taking in his scent and feeling his chest heave up and down quickly.

“That was...amazing,” you said to him, thighs shakily trying to keep yourself up.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that,” he said and sensually kissed your neck, leading his way to your lips and wrapping his arms around your waist as he squeezed you tightly.

#pedro pascal fanfic rec #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fluff #the last of us #hbo tlou #the last of us hbo #the mandolorian #hbo the last of us

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