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some-bunniii · 2 months

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My Charming Red Savior [5]

・❥ You make a deal with Alastor, uh oh?

| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |

x: i actually enjoy alastor’s room a lot, esp that little pocket dimension he’s got going on. thought we’d take a chapter and play around with it!

~ 6.1k words

When you stepped into Alastor’s room, the last thing you expected to see was the opposite wall divulging into some swampy void of tall, dark trees as fog rolled across the grass. You swore you could even hear the faint sounds of bullfrogs calling across the flooded expanse.

A bayou in the middle of the hotel? Alastor must have done this, no doubt. Stopping just past the threshold to the large room, you pointed a questioning finger towards the swamp.

“What is that…?”

“Just a place to test my powers,” Alastor brushed past you, and the soft, orange lights nearby flickered to life as he entered beside you, “Somewhere the consequences of my actions won’t affect the outside world.”

“Consequences?”

“Correct,” Alastor seemed to be enjoying educating you on magic and what he was capable of, as he continued to undo his coat near the doorway as you explored, “The limits of my powers continue to expand, and anyone with a good head on their shoulders would do well to understand the potential risks involved when playing around with demonic forces. This is a sanctuary I can do that without causing chaos inside the hotel… and a quaint little view as well.”

“Is it real?” Your gaze skimmed across old black-and-white photos of demons you didn’t recognize.

“An illusion carefully crafted with years of work. I’ve fine-tuned it to display scenes closest to my memories from before.”

“It must remind you of home,” you said softly, eyes tracing an alligator skeleton nailed to the wall, a string of small, flickering lights snaking around its ribs and up its tail.

Even if Alastor never mentioned it without a little prodding, it seemed as if his old home on Earth was something he continued to keep close to him. He still had a passion for music, for southern food, and his drive to keep everything the way it was only further displayed his fondness towards his life on earth. What wasn’t there to miss when you’d end up in a place like this for eternity?

“Indeed,” Alastor nodded slowly, and you watched his signature red suit slip slowly down his back. Underneath, a crimson dress shirt shimmered softly in the ambient light. Thin, leather straps hugged tightly across his chest and back, before wrapping around his shoulders for one and down his sides to latch tightly on his dress pants.

The chest suspenders accentuated his slenderness, shaping the pointish frame of his suit to lovely lines like the noticeable curve of his hips. His thin, feminine waist was as prominent as ever with the straps keeping his shirt nestled tightly against his skin, revealing a more sophisticated figure than what his tuxedo suit had to offer.

Wowie.

You prayed Alastor would turn around to face you, only so you could see how yummy he looked from the front while he placed his signature red coat onto the hanger next to the door. You struggled to keep your eyes up as they traveled farther and farther down his firm back until—

Wait, a second. Was that small, dark red tuft of fur that was nestled against the small of his back, actually what you think it is?

It jutted out from the top of Alastor’s pants, relaxed against the tight fabric. As the demon walked towards the bookshelf, arm raising towards a vintage radio, it swished cutely behind him. You zoned in on the ball of fluff, mouth slightly agape.

TAIL!

Heat instantly crept onto your cheeks, your fingers twitching, itching to reach forward and wrap your fingers around the plush fur. Alastor’s tail looked as soft as his ears, and that made your face only boil hotter as you imagined how his hair must feel similar. The thought of burying your face in him like a pillow made you smile dopely, before the realization of what you were thinking made you clamp your lips into a thin line.

Smacking a hand over your face, you tried to hide your embarrassment as Alastor moved a few feet further away, completely oblivious to your flustered figure ogling him.

What was wrong with you?! Here you were supposed to be helping him with his wounds but instead you were too busy drooling at how pretty he was!

Alastor’s tail was much more reactive than his ears, and as his fingers fussed with the radio dial, the increasingly audible jazz tune that began to waft through its speakers had that tuft of fur beginning to rise. White peaked from his underfur, as it slowly lifted in a silent expression of pleasure from the demon, as the music began to pour from the radio crystal clear.

You could understand why he was so intent on keeping it hidden underneath his suit. It didn’t seem like Alastor had complete control of his tail, and there was no doubt he saw it as a ‘weakness’ that other powerful demons could use against him somehow.

You thought it was adorable, and somehow, you’d convince Alastor of that too.

A gentle jazz beat with words you didn’t recognize wafted through the air, as Alastor turned to face you with a satisfied grin. Your eyes instantly shot up to meet his own, but not in time for the demon to notice your strange, heated demeanor and the way you cracked a quick, innocent grin.

He definitely caught you staring at his ass, and now you had other things to stare at with how snug that leather strap was across his upper body, and the way it seemed to only make his chest puff out even more. You definitely weren’t having a hard time controlling your gaze as Alastor sidled to the desk, a playful glint from his monocle as his eyelids lowered slightly.

“Find something of interest?” He hummed, cracking a charming smile as he slid his claws gently across the oak desk’s surface, tracing lines downward until he landed at the top drawer. Pulling it open as you averted your gaze, eyes searching for anything of interest.

“Why, yes,” you nodded, putting a hand to your chin in dramatic thought as your attention landed on the bookshelf Alastor had just moved away from, the rows of books on full display, the titles unreadable in the dim light.

“You love to read, unsurprisingly.” You smiled as Alastor pulled a small medical kit from the drawer, turning to face you slowly, “Do you have a preferred genre?”

“Murder mysteries are a favorite of mine,” He nodded, striding over to the twin vintage cushioned chairs that sat next to the fireplace, “The fear and the adrenaline that spikes through the protagonist as they try to find the killer before the killer finds them, a thrilling hunt from both sides.”

Alastor giggled at that, placing a hand to his mouth as if recalling a fond memory as you slowly joined him next to the fireplace. It flickered with bright green light, licking at the metal railings keeping its size in check as Alastor stood beside the chair, gesturing you to sit.

“You’re the one injured,” you frowned, plopping down into the chair as you took the medical kit from his free hand, “It should be me doing these things for you.”

“Manners don’t go out the door just because there is blood present, I am still a gentleman,” Alastor replied with a waggle of his finger, before he took a seat near you, his claws tapping against the chair’s arm rhythmically with the jazz music.

The warmth from the fire had your eyes drooping slightly, exhaustion tickling the back of your scalp. Even though it was technically still early afternoon, almost getting blown up multiple times, meeting the king of Hell who also saved your life, and being in the center of the two power demon’s bickering had drained you.

Alastor’s room was very serene, the soft jazz lulling you into a tranquility that had you sinking further into the chair. The deep brown, neutral tones of the antique furniture that framed the room, along with the orange lights that flickered softly along the walls were easy on your eyes, and you smiled softly as you unclipped the medical case’s lid and opened it slowly.

With invisible hands, Alastor’s chair moved forward without effort, scraping softly against the dark red carpet beneath before stilling right as his legs were about to brush against your own. Skimming through the contents of bandaids, your attention landed on packaged tiny alcohol wipes and thin white gauze. Placing the two items on your lap, you leaned over and placed the medical kit on a side table nearby.

Lifting a hand towards Alastor, you beckoned him forward and he slid his fingers into your palm. He leaned forward as you pulled his hand into your lap, one elbow against the arm of the chair, a hand cupping his chin as he watched you tenderly dab his cuts with the alcohol wipe. The smeared blood against his skin was cleaned off as you worked, and Alastor only silently judged you on the strange, affectionate behavior.

Why would you care so much about a few scratches on his hand, when it meant nothing in the long run. It's not like the rose was made out of angelic steel, yet you fretted simply because he could still feel the sting of the thorns on his tender skin.

For any other demon, Alastor would have slapped them across the face with a tentacle for suggesting to look after him in this way. Why would he reveal any kind of weakness to someone who could use it against him, or view him as what, fragile, delicate? That was not something The Radio Demon could have for his image.

Except, your intention was nothing but pure since the first time Alastor had met you. Even Charlie, the sweet and naive woman he’d come to grow fond of, still had her reasons for treating Alastor with great kindness. He was beneficial to her hotel’s success, and as long as he felt welcomed, he’d help her turn her dreams into reality. Since he began climbing the political ladder of Pentagram City, anytime someone wanted his presence was to use him.

You, on the other hand, had no ulterior motive. Even when you learned from your friend the terrible things they claim Alastor committed, your curiosity and kindness towards him never faltered.

You had never asked for his help, even going so far as to deny his assistance when it came to putting that snobby boss of yours back in line. Every time the two of you had crossed paths, it had been him initiating the meeting, him making the first moves for you to notice his presence, him seeking you out.

And now, even seeing Alastor in any kind of vulnerable state, your soft and gentle demeanor didn’t waver, didn’t dull knowing he wasn’t a second-to-none overlord that could take on any threat as he’s so valiantly demonstrated before.

You didn’t value him any less for his injuries, and in truth, your image of him only improved knowing he was just a man in demon form. Someone with insecurities, human emotions like pain and jealousy, and a good eye for flora.

Except, Alastor wished you’d be paying less attention to his grievous wounds, and instead of focusing on the question you were rudely interrupted trying to answer this morning.

“Come to a decision on your stay at the hotel?”

Your hands halted in mid-air, the gauze between your fingers while you had been finishing up wrapping his fingers with the white tape. You had been thinking this whole time about different haircuts to subtly introduce Alastor to improve the only slightly lacking feature on his figure.

“Well–I, um, about that…” you started, grimacing at the way the words fell out of your mouth were scrambled under his intense gaze, “I have been thinking, but I mean, there’s a lot to think about. First off, while I believe Charlie really has something going on here with the hotel… I don’t think I fit the criteria.”

“Of course you do!” Alastor chuckled, as if you had just said the silliest thing to have graced his ears, “If a harlot and that slithering simpleton have a chance at leading a virtuous existence, then I'd say the cards are in your hands for that too!”

You were about to open your mouth, before he leaned back into his chair, slipping his bandaged hand out of your grip and back to his side to inspect it carefully.

“And, I’m quite confident you could find a more fulfilling job here at the hotel, instead of under that spineless wretch of a man,” Alastor continued, reclining back into the chair as he tilted his head in thought.

“Probably…”

“Not to mention, complimentary room and board? My, you’ve got a very tantalizing offer right in front of you, any sorry bloke off the street would be jumping at the opportunity you’ve been given.”

Was that true? Alastor was really selling this to you, and you reached up a hand to soothingly scratch your neck as you thought. Would it be so bad to stay here?

Your thoughts from earlier this morning replayed in your head. There wasn’t anything specifically keeping you from denying the offer. You worked a dead-end job around people you were uncomfortable with, the place you were renting was small and falling apart, and you had nobody holding you back. Your friends were there, but weren’t close in your circle. Which kind of meant you didn’t have a circle… except these new demons at the hotel. You were warming up to them, and they weren’t too bad.

Did you really have a shot at redemption? Were you worthy of eternal happiness?

What if having such made you a laughingstock, what if joining these people made you a target of Heaven? That wouldn’t be good, and you were a nobody with no power that

“Al…” You sighed with a groan, placing your head into your hands. Why did you have to be so indecisive?!

“Why don’t we make a deal?” Alastor's smile cracked wider, the curves of his lips becoming sharper as an unreadable expression crossed his eyes.

“A deal?”

“Just a simple thing,” He smiled innocently, leaning “No contract or handshake necessary, I believe you are trustworthy to hold up your end with just words.”

God, he was super close to you now, practically nose to nose as he looked at you expectantly. A playful glint shimmered in his red monocle, and your breath hitched at his proximity.

“What kind of deal?” You finally whispered, heat creeping onto your cheeks.

“You want to learn my interests, want a peek into my life above, hm?” He inched closer to you, smile widening as you leaned backward, “If I take you directly to the source, show you life as I lived it, then you must move to the hotel and stay for one month.”

‘Source’? What did he mean by that? And, if you agreed, you had to stay for a month? But, he was going to open himself up and share his past life with you, which meant a lot to you.

His eyelids lowered again, something you had noticed earlier when he caught your ogling. Were they lowered in amusement? Some amateurs attempt at bedroom eyes? You could hardly think straight with how close he was to you, a hundred routes of where things could go next skimming through your mind.

Maybe that was just a delusion of yours, wanting Alastor to show more interest than just pretty flowers and a ring that he seemed to sport on you just for show. You barely knew the man, but his kindness and, oh, and that voice… you were just so impatient.

Alastor wasn’t a big physical romantic, you could tell. Which meant you needed to take things slow, respect his space and his pace. He flustered so easily when you complimented him, obviously new to the whole romantic thing in general, and that only made you want to do it again.

Which meant, it would be you that would have to make some moves this time. Even if they were small, it seemed any act of affection would send the deer demon into a tizzy. A kiss on the cheek? Too brazen. A flower crown for his antlers? A little too cottage-girly for him, perhaps.

“I enjoy your excitement at my proposition,” Alastor broke you from your thoughts, as he smiled widely at your dopey expression again, “But I’ll need you to agree with words, darling.”

You really needed to learn to keep your facial expressions in check, it was embarrassing how easily Alastor had been able to catch you mid-daydream so easily.

“...Okay.” You finally whisper, and energy crackles inside the room right as the words leave your lips.

“Wonderful!” Alastor beamed, rising from the chair in one smooth motion, his good hand wrapping around your forearm suddenly before pulling you up beside him.

Blinking, you felt him slip an arm around yours before tugging you across the room. The jazz from the radio seemed to increase in volume the closer the two of you stepped closer to the pocket dimension a few feet away.

You halted right at the edge, the croaking from the frogs, and distant calls of the owl grew louder as you lifted your head towards the looming trees. The sky was starless, a large, dark blue shadow masking the scene at night as the fireflies danced. What was Alastor planning?

“Just a moment, I need to grab my cane,” he left your side, walking back to the fireplace as your gaze stayed frozen on the swampy atmosphere ahead.

You leaned forward, trying to get a better look around the weird little pocket-dimension. Even the air inside changed, you could practically taste the humidity in the air as it began to stick to your forehead.

Did the grass still feel like grass, even in a powerful illusion like this? You had no idea Alastor was capable of this kind of magic, especially such vivid scenery. Slowly, you lifted a foot over where brown wood melted into greenery, still hesitant to touch the strange grass.

You held a breath as you crossed the threshold, the sounds of grass crunching beneath as you walked into the wetland. You could feel the water in the soil squelching as you walked slowly, towards nowhere in particular as you twisted your head at the unfamiliar area.

Thick, swampy vines curled around large trunks and snaked into deep, mucky waters. The way was illuminated by the flickering bodies of fireflies as they danced almost rhythmically to the soft jazz in the background. Sometimes, the surface of the water nearby would ripple, and you swore the shadow of a long body of something stalking underneath the surface passed right next to you.

When you turned to face the line of trees in the distance, two pairs of glowing, yellow eyes met yours. A silhouette of a four-legged creature, tall with branching antlers that tickled at the leaves above its head. The two of you locked eyes for a few moments, and you opened your mouth slightly in awe as it stood elegantly before you.

“My, you are quite a wanderer!” A chipper voice exclaimed behind you, and you pivoted with a yelp to face the static-laced voice smiling softly toward you.

“This place is really amazing,” you laughed, twisting your head to find the buck had disappeared, “It actually feels like we’re back on Earth, almost.”

“It gets better,” Alastor hummed beside you, extending a hand that you accepted with gentle fingers as he grasped you softly.

“Well, how do I look?” He leaned closer to you, puffing his chest slightly as you skimmed across his pretty figure.

Your hands tentatively lifted to adjust the slightly angled black bowtie near his collar, and Alastor only watched you carefully as you fixed it back into place.

“Perfect,” you sang with a smile, and he mimicked your expression with glee.

“Always a charm, my doe.” Alastor winked, before he slid his arm through yours once more and stood shoulder-to-shoulder beside you.

His smile was playful, as he glanced at you standing tense beside him. You had a sneaking suspicion he was going to teleport you again, or do something magically stomach-twisting that had you wishing for a paper bag on the side.

“Now, close your eyes…”

You followed his instruction, squeezing them shut with a deep breath.

You barely had time to exhale before the wind around you turned to a deathly chill, and the humidity was zapped from the air as that familiar feeling of weightlessness had you tightening your hold on Alastor.

You felt him shifting beside you, although you couldn’t imagine into what as your eyes stayed shut tight, cold gripping at your shoulders. It felt like the ground was alive, transforming right beneath you with barely a tremble as you held your breath tightly.

Then, your ears popped and you felt the grass beneath your feet shift to firm, rocky pavement. There was music, jazz again, but this time the words were audible as women's voices sang with the bumping rhythm.

‘I’m just a little Jackie Horner,’

‘Since I met my sugar cane,’

“Are you going to keep your eyes shut the entire time?” Alastor prodded beside you, his tone laced with amusement as you relaxed slightly at the sound of his voice.

Taking a deep breath, you crack an eyelid, the darkened atmosphere easy on your vision as you slowly open your eyes to reveal a scene straight out of a history book.

You were standing in the middle of a cracked, paved road, illuminated by a stretch of tall lamps that cast warm orange tones across the street. Buildings with tall shutters for windows beckoned an invisible finger for you to follow, as spicy, southern food hit your nostrils and the sounds of riled entertainment reached your ears.

‘I left a light lamp on that old corner,’

‘For the moon in lover’s lane,’

They all held porches that spanned the entire front of the house-sized buildings. Darkened, silhouetted figures laughed above your head, as you stood there in awe.

There were a few cars parked on the sides of the street, with thin, flimsy wheels reminding you of distant times when vehicles were just starting to reach the public eye.

It really felt like you had stepped into the past, everything reminisced to a world before TVs, social media, and WiFi. When newspapers and radios ruled supreme, people came together and danced on the streets instead of dancing behind the camera on silly apps.

‘When I take my sugar to tea,’

‘All the boys are jealous of me,’

“Welcome to New Orleans in Roarin’ Twenties!” Alastor beamed beside you, gesturing to the long row of storefronts, the air humming with lively energy and pulsing with vibrant rhythms of tunes long forgotten.

You jumped at the sound of a baritone horn blaring from beside you. A steamboat filled with flickering lights and singing, boisterous voices chugged past you, its large wheel churning as water cascaded from the paddles.

A figure turned to you, masked in shadows before they raised an arm and waved across the water towards you. Your lips curved wider with a smile, before lifting a cautious hand and returning the gesture.

‘When I take my sugar to tea,’

‘All the boys are jealous of me,’

You felt someone bump into your shoulder, another one of those mysterious figures that filled the street.

“‘Scuse me, miss,” the stranger tipped his hat apologetically to you, bowing slightly as he brushed by.

‘So I never take her where the gang goes,’

‘When I take my sugar to tea,’

You twisted your head to finally get a good look at the strangers around you, before your eyes widened at the sight of a doll-like man, his mouth sewn into a wide smile. Black buttons glinted at you from where his eyes should have been, as the man placed his hat back on and turned away.

You didn’t have time to process the sight before Alastor was pulling you down the street, a live band played outside one bar, the paint mashing keys to a much faster rhythm as two women swung each other across the sidewalk with laughter and the clicking of heels.

Alastor pulled you along until the two of you stopped at a bakery storefront. Shadowed puppets flowed around you, as your eyes landed on a steaming plate of deep-fried goodness sitting patiently on a table right outside the doorway.

“Beignets,” He hummed, handing you a pastry, “A cultural classic in these parts.”

‘I’m a rowdy dowdy, that’s me,’

It reminded you of a tiny pillow, sugar coating its surface as you squished the crunchy delicacy before lifting it to your lips.

Taking a bite, the warmth of the bread bloomed across your body as the food traveled down your throat. Your tongue reached out to swipe at the leftover sugar hanging on your lips, as you smiled with pleasure.

‘She’s a high hat baby, that’s she,’

Alastor only watched you with a soft expression, a hint of amusement in his eyes as he watched you fill your mouth.

“You seem to be enjoying that,” he remarked, a hint of satisfaction in his voice.

You nodded enthusiastically, your mouth still partially occupied by the delicious treat. “It’s amazing! I’ve never tasted anything like it before,” you exclaimed, your words muffled by the pastry.

“Well, there’s a lot of things you have yet to experience, my doe!” He sang, before tugging you along with a static-laced chuckle.

As the two of you strolled down the bustling street, your eyes caught a small crowd surrounding a man in a tall, black hat as he smiled charmingly at the audience.

The magician, dressed in a dapper suit adorned with intricate patterns, stood before a small crowd, his hands moving with precision and finesse as he dazzled onlookers with his feats of magic.

Curiosity piqued, you and Alastor paused to watch the spectacle unfold. The magician’s fingers danced across a deck of cards with effortless grace, manipulating them in ways that seemed impossible. Cards vanished into thin air only to reappear in unexpected places, leaving the crowd gasping in amazement.

Alastor only glanced at you unamusingly, and you laughed softly at his facial expression. Magic card tricks were nothing in comparison to what he was capable of, and you were sure he could wow this illusionary crowd in a heartbeat.

The two of you turned, halfway down the street now, as Alastor pointed at a few different sights. He even introduced you to instruments you’d never heard of before as the two of you continued on.

“Have you ever performed?” You turned to him, another southern treat in your hand as you kept pace underneath the gas-lit lamps above.

“On the streets? No, not like this,” Alastor shook his head, his nails clicking against his cane rhythmically with the music wafting from a bar nearby as the two of you stood near the edge of the river.

You had gotten your hands on a small cup of Duchess Potatoes, a light, creamier version of the classic spud. Placing a small spoonful in your mouth, you swirled the flavors across your taste buds as you watched Alastor stare out at the open expanse of water.

“Once in a while, I’d stop at an old friend of mine’s jazz club, and on the nights I had a few extra drinks in my system, I'd lend my voice to the flappers as they danced.”

“That sounds like fun!”

“It was,” He nodded, recounting the memories with amusement, “Mimzy would always tease me that I'd make better use as a flapper than a radio host. Sometimes, I think about life if I would have

You laughed softly, imagining such a scene of Alastor dancing in a high skirt and fishnets.

It wasn’t until the doors to a bar at the end of the street burst open, and large instruments were dragged through the threshold and out into the streets. Men gathered, readying their musical weapons for another nightly show as onlookers turned their attention to them.

“Do you hear that?” He asked with a large, devilish smile as he turned to face the small crowd gathering. Couples glided in, teasing each other as they paired around the pianist and his band of stringed instruments. You watched his ears twitch slightly, twisting towards the rising noises.

“It looks like they are all going to dance!” You replied next to him, and Alastor turned to see interest gleaming in your gaze. He watched you for a few moments, before his crimson eyes landed on a trolly that was moving its way down the large street and towards the band.

You felt fingers lace around your wrist, and the gentle tugging from beside you as you met Alastor’s mischievous gaze.

“Let’s make sure we don’t miss it, then!” He winked, before he pulled you towards the lumbering vehicle.

With wide eyes, you watched Alastor take a running start and gracefully leap onto the back of the trolley, hanging tightly to the railing as he beckoned for you to join.

You watched for a moment, before taking a deep breath and running to catch up with the trolly. Laughing, you reached out a hand to grasp Alastor’s as you closed in on the back of the vehicle.

You felt a sizzle of magic drag you an inch forward, and your fingers laced with Alastor’s as he pulled you beside him. He snaked one hand securely around your waist as you leaned out from the side of the vehicle, the wind whipping against your face as you watched the street lights flicker past.

“I used to time myself on how fast I could make it on,” Alastor’s voice broke you from your awe, and you turned your head to meet his gaze, “I’m not sure if I've improved since my younger days.”

You only smiled softly, the proximity of his touch hot on your mind, but you didn’t speak a word as the trolley continued on its path, the bar’s lights flashing with life as you beelined towards it.

The trolley was fast, as it sped by the large steamboat, which honked as if in greeting to the passing vehicle. The trolley replied with a jingle of its own, before the boat disappeared farther down the river.

The trolley began to slow a few feet from the band, which you were thankful for, unsure if you had the physical form to tuck and roll successfully had you needed to make a quick exit.

Alastor landed on the pavement with a thump, twisting his grip so he could help you down with both hands firmly placed at your sides.

“Let’s hurry before we miss it!” He sang, before pulling you along towards the crowd. The pianist thrummed the keys, inciting the dancers to twirl faster and they were lost in a hypnotic bustle of bodies fluidly maneuvering against each other. The sounds of shoes hitting pavement echoed along with the drumming beat, twisting in a tune of its own creation as you and Alastor moved closer.

But, why did it look like he was going to pull you in the center? Weren’t the two of you just going to stand back and watch?

You didn’t have time to answer your own questions before you were in the center of the dancing couples. You froze with the spotlight on you, the jazz ringing in your ears as your shoulders softly pumped to the music.

Alastor took your hands carefully, his legs beginning to move in practiced motion as you stood there awkwardly.

“I can’t dance!” You squeaked.

“It’s the Charleston, darling!” His voice cut through the romping rhythm, sending you a charming grin as he began to move his feet, “It’s not too hard, just follow my lead!”

Taking a deep breath, you tried to steady your nerves as you focused on Alastor’s movements. His feet moved with precision and fluidity, his body swaying effortlessly to the beat of the music. You tried to mimic his steps, clumsily at first, but with each passing moment, you found yourself growing more confident as you fell into sync with his rhythm.

As the music swirled around you, you lost yourself in the dance, allowing Alastor to guide you with gentle precision. His hands were warm and reassuring against yours, his touch sending shivers down your spine as you moved together in perfect harmony.

The sounds of shoes hitting pavement echoed in time with the drumming beat, creating a hypnotic melody that seemed to envelop you in its embrace. The world around you faded away as you focused solely on the dance.

With each step, each turn, you felt yourself letting go of your inhibitions, allowing the music to flow through you like a river. You spun and twirled with glee, lost in the intoxicating energy of the moment, a smile spreading across your face as laughter bubbled up from deep within your chest.

As the song reached its climax, you and Alastor moved as one, your bodies intertwined in a symphony of movement and sound. In that fleeting moment, there was no past or future, no worries or doubts – there was only the here and now, the exhilarating rush of the dance, and the feeling of Alastor’s touch against your skin.

As the music faded into the night, you found yourself breathless and exhilarated, your cheeks flushed with exertion and excitement. You turned to Alastor with a grin, your eyes shining with newfound confidence.

“I can’t believe I just did that!” You exclaimed, the thrill of the dance still coursing through your veins. Alastor chuckled softly, his gaze warm and affectionate as he tilted his head towards you.

“You were marvelous, my dear,” he replied, his voice filled with pride. “But then again, I wouldn’t expect anything less from someone as extraordinary as you.”

You returned the smile, a breathless laugh escaping your lips as you swayed next to him. The music was beginning to die, the scene slowly falling away as the grass began to replace the tiled, stone pavement under your feet.

Never did you imagine you’d find yourself dancing near glistening waters, eating the delicacies that the human world once had to offer.

Never did you imagine, Alastor would be such a good dancer! And, dancing with you, no less!

“I think my hunger for information has been quenched, for now,” you smiled playfully, eyes locked onto Alastor as the world around you shifted.

“Good,” Alastor smiled satisfactorily, before a mischievous glint reflected through his monocle, “Now… I believe it's time to hold up your end of the deal.”

Right. The part where you had to move into the hotel. One month. Not a year, not forever, just one month. Couldn’t you decide by then?

Yes, you could. You could come to a decision now, honestly, but something else was itching at the back of your mind. An act of affection that would no doubt get a reaction from the demon in front of you.

“I think you’re onto something…” You nodded slowly, pulling Alastor's hand toward you with a sly smile.

Alastor’s eyebrows furrowed at your behavior, as his fingers lifted closer and closer towards your lips.

With gentle reverence, you pressed a soft kiss to each of his fingertips, your lips lingering against his skin for a moment longer than necessary. Alastor’s breath caught in his throat, a startled look crossing his features as he watched you with wide eyes.

Finally, the roles had reversed.

For a brief moment, the world seemed to stand still as you held his hand in yours, your lips leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. The touch of your lips against his skin sent a fire igniting inside Alastor, one he was struggling to contain.

A flush of color spread across his cheeks, a rare display of vulnerability that took you by surprise. His usual composed demeanor faltered for just a moment, revealing the depth of emotion hidden beneath the surface.

“Y-you…” Alastor stammered, his voice barely above a whisper as he searched for the right words. But before he could find them, he was interrupted by the sound of laughter echoing in the distance, the moment broken by the world slowly shifting around you.

Clearing his throat and regaining his composure, Alastor withdrew his hand from yours with careful movements.

“Well, I suppose we should be getting your things,” he said, his tone carefully neutral. But the faint blush on his cheeks betrayed the lingering effects of your gesture.

Behind him, the fireplace illuminated the non-magical side of Alastor’s room, the vintage clock displaying arms that had barely moved an inch since you left on your little adventure.

“Seems so,” you replied with a honeyed tone, batting your eyelashes at him as he adjusted his bowtie with clumsy fingers.

If you had looked down while flustering the poor man, you’d have noticed his tail high, white fur on full display behind him. Instead, you brushed past him and back into the confines of normalcy.

awwww man, we made it, alastor finally has his girl staying at the hotel! and a lil kissy kiss :3

i hope you guys could understand what was going on lmao i spent like an hour or two looking up pictures of new orleans, southern food, and steamboats 😂

thank you with your patience on this part, have a great day! 🤍

tags 1/2 🏷️

@the-tortured-poet @anonymousewrites @coleisyn @froggybich @chewbrry @watchinthestarz @mechanicalmari @luxmessorem @kottenox @cherry-cola-100 @the-shark-named-sharon @rae-pottah @just-trash-yeah-thats-it @corpsebridenightamare @pweewee @nijiru @ourfinalisation @anuttellaa @nonetheartist @bunnypeew @cryptidghostgirl @hxzbinwrites @lunaramune @enigmatic-blues @thytorturedpoet @vanhelsingsbigtoe @mixplara @blue122 @zardward @loser-bby @sirens-and-moonflowers @diaouranask @luzzbuzz @theredviolets @the-attention-whore @girl-nahh-two @moonmark98 @asianfrustration13 @fairyv-ice @missam @beezgobuzzbuzz @valentique @dory-98 @mo-0-o @willow404 @karolinda007-blog @nightreverie @luujjvi @amoraneuro @kimmikreates

#hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor x reader #hellaverse

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charcoaldustonmyfingers · 6 months

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My take on a biblically accurate Raphael! Alligator snapper turtles look terrifyingly prehistoric, skin like a thorn bush, head like a dinosaur, limbs like a bear, it’s crazy. I’m already scared of common snappers, I can’t imagine meeting one like this! Such a polite boy, yet with the raw power to punch you through a wall even without powers lol

It’s hard to give turtles facial expressions considering they don’t really have facial muscles, but it’s a fun exercise! Perhaps their face could work like a bird or dragon, where the beak is stiff but the corners are flexible, idk. Maybe in their mutation, they developed some more mammalian traits to better communicate nonverbally, like a brow bone and muscle, a flexible nose bridge to wrinkle if disgusted or angered, and flexible cheeks to smile and frown.

I kept them more animalistic just for fun! No teeth because turtles have none, the ability to walk on all fours because their limbs are proportionate for it, and plastron more accurate to their real counterparts rather than the more human torso looking kind. Alligator snappers are funny because their arms are so huge but their plastrons are so tiny just to fit them!

[Leonardo] [Donatello] [Michelangelo] [Extended Family]

#rottmnt raph #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #biblically accurate turtles #turtles are actually so hard to pose omg

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goldenamaranthe-blog · 1 month

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NEXT STOP: HUMAN WORLD!!!

Hazbins Visit The Zoo!

Angel: *dressed in as flamboyant gay clothing as he can, swiping his dirty blonde hair back, and sucking on a lollipop* How the fuck did Charlie get Lucifer to agree to this?

Vaggie: *brushes her dark brown bangs to the side as she checks her tanned reflection in her phone's camera* I honestly have no idea. But you gotta admit that this is at least interesting. Even with the human disguises.

Husk: *looking like a stereotypical bartender in a high class bar with a white button up, black slacks, suspenders, black hair with white and grey black beard with a grey stripe going down the right side of his chin and olive skin tone* Okay, but why did she want to bring us to a fucking zoo???

Vaggie: What? Dont like being around the other bears? *watches as a blonde haired, blue-eyed Charlie rushes around with a pack of children on a field trip through the zoo* She liked the zoo in Heaven, apparently.

Alastor: *still wearing a red suit, light brown skin, dark brown hair, and sporting his usual smile* Hmmmm.... I wonder if the elk enclosure is open.

Vaggie: Alastor, no! No hunting the captive wildlife.

Alastor: Then perhaps the alligators. I have missed seeing their shining eyes from the bayou.

Hazbins: *slowly enter the Safari exhibit*

Angel: Hey, Husk! Look! It's the King of the Jungle! *points to one of the two male lions laying lazily in the exhibit amongst a pride of females*

Husk: Hmph.... lazy bastard's more like it.

Angel: Awwww, don't worry, Whiskers. You'll always be the king of MY jungle~ *gives a little kitty claw in the air* RRRRRawr!~

Random Mother: *covers her child's eyes and carries them away*

Vaggie: Ugh!.... *rolls her eye so hard that it nearly disconnects from her skull* Angel, can you be a little less horny right now? We're in a family friendly venue- *looks around* Where did Charlie go?

Kid: Mommy! Mommy! Look! *points down into the lion enclosure* There’s a girl in there!

Vaggie: *groans* Oh.... no.... *peeks into the enclosure and plasters her hands on the concrete wall* CHARLIE!!!!!

Charlie: *giggling as she gives belly rubs to the second male lion laying on its back* Vaggie! He's so soft!!!

Male Lion: *grumbles happily as it brings its paws up and cuddles Charlie to his chest, giving her licks*

Charlie: *laughs* And cuddly!

Vaggie: *jaw drops as she watches the rest of the lions all flock to Charlie for scritches and kisses*

Angel: *taking a video while playing "The Lion Sleeps Tonight" by the Tokens on his phone* I stand corrected. CHARLIE'S the Queen of the jungle.

Vaggie: *pinches the bridge of her nose* Shut up, Angel.

Charlie: *giggling and giving scratches and nose kisses to all the lions in the enclosure.*

#next stop the human world #hazbins visit the zoo #zoo #lions #bears ha #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel incorrect quotes #alastor #angel #husk #vaggie #charlie #huskerdust #chaggie #human disguises

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biblical-sense-and-sensibility · 8 months

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Whispers on the Water

A lesbian faefucker adventure

It had been nearly a year since she had moved in with her grandmother to care for her in her old age, taking over what once was the spare bedroom in the woman’s almost cottage-like dwelling on the edge of the swamp. She had always found her grandmother’s home to be a very cosy space, all tucked away from the main road with vines of jasmine overtaking the outer walls and the gentle sounds of nature always playing in the background. It was peaceful out here by the swamp, and all the fond memories of childhood visits came back to the forefront of her mind as she settled in. Her grandmother’s warning was the same thing it had always been: don’t go into the swamp. Why not, she refused to say, but her granddaughter had always heeded the warning.

Except, the older she got, the harder it became to resist the call.

She hadn’t told anyone about the call, although her grandmother definitely knew something she wasn’t sharing with the rest of the class, so to speak. From the first visit she ever remembered all throughout her childhood, every time she had been to her grandmother’s house she felt the swamp calling to her, beckoning her closer, trying its best to lure her in. It wanted her to get her feet wet, let the water wash over her like an embrace and caress her, to touch her hands to the bark of the great cypress trees. When she was a teenager she started having dreams of the swamp, and even sometimes back home in the city the swamp would call to her in her sleep across all that distance, and whenever she awoke from one of these dreams it left her for the rest of the day with a strange sort of melancholic nostalgia, an almost physical longing for the lazy blink of the lightning bugs reflected in the murky water, unable to stop thinking about the feeling the swampy air left on her skin, the phantom smell of azaleas in her hair every time she turned her head, haunting her with a bone-deep ache, a bone-deep need for the gentle curtains of Spanish moss framing the fringes of her vision and the gentle lap of liquid against her bare skin. The dreams, and the pull to the swamp that accompanied them in her waking hours, left such vivid impressions in her psyche - she could practically feel the sensations of that peacefully eerie scene as if she actually stood at the edge of the water, even all the way back in her air-conditioned bedroom in the city.

She had had the dream every single night since she moved in with her grandmother, and finally the pull toward the swamp grew too strong to ignore. The serene, lethargic pool invited her closer, closer, let me touch you, let me caress you, let me envelop you. Finally one day she lost the battle, unable to resist any longer, and went and rented a canoe to take out on the water while her grandmother laid down for a nap. Tremblingly she put one foot in then the other, the boat rocking slightly as she shifted her weight, and then she took off, not entirely certain of any purpose or goal but to explore, to weave in and out of the cypress trees and listen to the insistent buzz of the cicadas. Some of the Spanish moss hung so low that it tickled the top of her head as she made her way through the trees, her oar making gentle swishing sounds as she dipped it in the water, and the further in she got, the greater grew the sense of peace that descended upon her. Being in the swamp felt so right.

She felt like maybe she should have been concerned when the sounds of cicadas buzzing and wind ruffling the leaves and other little noises stopped altogether, leaving her ears ringing in the silence, but she couldn’t find it in her to be all that worried about the lack of activity; she was content, almost sleepy, and the quiet did not bother her.

Her boat bumped upon land - a little island in the middle of the swamp. Intrigued, she pulled herself all the way onto the shore and disembarked, exploring the place. An alligator sat on a rock, pure black, and when it saw her approaching it stood up and began to walk away; she could have sworn it beckoned with its head for her to follow.

So she did.

It disappeared behind a fallen tree, and when she walked around the whole length of the thing and to the other side a woman-like being of some sort sat atop the trunk, a soft smile on its face.

“You’re late,” it said in a croaking voice, and when it opened its mouth it revealed crooked white alligator teeth. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s rude to keep people waiting?”

It took a while for the spirit’s words to register; she was too busy taking the sight of it in - pitch-black eyes, hair of Spanish moss, skin a rich brown like the soil beneath their feet with arms and legs that became rough and dark with alligator scales, its hands clawed and its feet more reptilian than human, with a thick tail sprouting from its lower back. It was naked, one hand playing idly with the Spanish moss between its legs, muscular arm crushed against a full breast with a dark, erect nipple. She roused herself. “Umm. What?”

“Oh, my darling,” the creature stood and walked with outstretched arms over to her, caressing her cheek with the back of a scaly hand. “Why did it take you so long to answer my call?”

“Y-your call?”

It smiled again, “I know you heard it. I know you received the dreams I sent you. And yet you did not come.”

“That was you?” Her brows furrowed, and she put her own hand atop the one the creature had rested on her cheek.

“It was, my darling,” the spirit confirmed, stroking her cheek with its thumb and bringing its other hand up to her shoulder. “I’ve been waiting for you for quite some time.”

The spirit’s grip was strong, but not necessarily painful, and she swallowed, “Why were you calling me?”

“You never guessed?” It sighed. “Oh, my love . . . ” and it kissed her. Short, sweet, a pause, then again, with its tongue this time, and she groaned into its mouth, entwining her arms around its neck. Its hair was soft and fluffy, claws sending pleasant shivers up her spine as they raked lightly up and down her back, eventually dipping underneath her blouse to avoid snagging the fabric. The soft black scales of its palms were cool and smooth against her skin, dry and silky and gliding so easily down her stomach, down her ribs, pushing down the waistband of her skirt. She gasped for air as the creature took its lips from hers and trailed them, feather-light and teasing, down her jaw and throat, nuzzling its face into the dip of her shoulder, squeezing a nipple between sharpened teeth ever so delicately, the careful pressure sending shivers down her spine and a trembling sigh from her parted lips. Adrenaline burst through her system deliciously, and she tightened her fingers in a fistful of hair in response, almost involuntarily arching up into its mouth. It trailed its claws down her back, ass, thighs, threading through her pubic hair; the pad of one satiny thumb pressed directly on her clit, and she gasped, tears springing to her eyes from the intensity and suddenness of the sensation - she felt the spirit smile on her chest.

“Darling,” it crooned against her sternum, stroking her ass gently as it continued to rub circles into her clit, grinning into her skin as she writhed underneath its ministrations, hands raking through soft strands of Spanish moss. Its other thumb found its way to her suddenly very wet opening, and it laid her down against the fallen tree as it slid in, biting her other tit to her almost whimper-like moan as her eyes fluttered shut. It massaged her entrance for a bit, then jammed two fingers in up to the knuckle, pressing right against her G-spot, and she choked out an even louder moan, chest heaving. She had never blushed this hard - she had never felt this good. Her cheeks throbbed with the rush of blood from her pounding heart as the creature kissed her nipple again softly and relaxed its hand, sliding its fingers in and out of her more slowly, more gently, pressing lazy strokes with the other hand across her lips, over the clitoral hood, through her pubic hair, then back down, back and forth. She swallowed and closed her eyes, writhing against the trunk of the tree, pinned in place by the spirit’s hands, not literally, necessarily, but with the sheer pleasure of it, the overwhelmingly sweet sensation. Its hair was so soft as she ran her fingers through the curly strands of Spanish moss, guiding its head across her throat and breasts trembling and pliant as the rest of her was, wracked by sluggishly moving waves of euphoria, washing in and out, in and out, like the lazy shore of the swamp, like the languid thrusts into her throbbing cunt. It built slowly this time, the creature being more careful and deliberate in its movements, until finally it spilled over like one drop too many dripping into a glass, and she gave a loud cry, arching up off of the tree as she clenched around scaly fingers before her whole body relaxed, come dripping down her leg and the back of the spirit’s hand. It let her catch her breath as the aftershocks washed over her, kissing her breasts and stomach gently as it stroked her thighs, and she slid onto the cool earth with a sigh, running trembling hands down its back as she looked into the sky, fading with the first hint of orange sunset.

“My love,” it sighed again, and she pulled it in for another kiss, stroking the base of its tail as she did so. It groaned into the touch, vibrating against her swollen lips, and before she knew what she was doing she had pushed it onto the ground and spread its legs, diving between them with a little half-growl.

The noises it made were delicious.

She stuck her tongue as deep up its slit as she could get it, scooping up its slick without a care in the world; it tasted like citrus and grass with a kick that made her whole mouth tingle and sent a spark shooting down her throat straight to her clit, making her clench her fingers tighter into smooth dark flesh, and the claws in her hair tightened in response. The little bush of Spanish moss tickled her forehead ever so slightly as she ran her mouth up and down every fold and crease she could get her tongue into, to delightful little croaks and bellows that rumbled down the creature’s torso almost like a purr. Its powerful alligator tail flicked like a twitching nerve, whipping the backs of her legs in a strangely pleasant way as it thrashed back and forth, thumping against the earth with every little whimper that came out of its mouth in between the more beastly sounds it made. When it finished, they sat back in the earth together, her face resting between its breasts, and closed their eyes.

When she awoke, it was morning.

She sat up with a gasp, calling out, “Grandma!”

The spirit sat up to see what was the matter, watching her search frantically for her clothes. “What is it, darling?”

“I only meant to be gone an hour or two, I left my grandmother alone all night!”

It simply watched her as she dressed herself.

The spirit escorted her, hand-in-hand, to where she had left the rented canoe, and as she got in it said, “You must come back soon, my darling.”

“How will I find this place again?” she asked.

“Trust in the water,” the spirit smiled. “My magic will guide you. I will see you soon, my love.”

“Goodbye,” she smiled back, and it kissed her one last time before pushing her boat into the water.

She thought, occasionally, that she saw a black alligator surface alongside the boat.

When she got home, her grandmother was at the table drinking coffee, a shawl pulled around her shoulders. “There you are!” she said as she caught sight of her granddaughter. “Where in the world have you been, young lady? You were gone when I woke up from my nap, and you didn’t come home for dinner.”

“I’m sorry, Grandma,” she sighed. “I didn’t mean to be out that long.”

“You didn’t go into the swamp, did you?”

Silence.

“Did you?”

A very quiet, “Yes.”

Her grandmother sighed through her nose, a long sigh, and took a sip of coffee.

“What do you know about the swamp, Grandma? Why don’t you want me to go near it?”

“Sit down,” the old woman gestured, and her granddaughter obeyed. She gathered her thoughts, then began, “I suppose it’s about time I tell you this. You see, when I was a girl, my older sister had a friend who was fascinated by the swamp. She told us she felt as if the swamp was calling to her. We all told her not to go in the swamp, our parents told her not to go in the swamp, it was dangerous, she could get lost, she could drown, she could get eaten by an alligator, she could get her boat caught on something and get stuck and be unable to call for help. But she didn’t listen. She went often into the swamp; at first it was only for an hour or two at a time, but then she started disappearing for longer stretches of time, even a few days, and eventually one day she went into the swamp and just . . . never came back. People went out searching for her, but they never found her, no living girl, no body, not even her boat. Eventually they pronounced her dead, although we never came to a satisfactory conclusion on what had happened to her; it was like she had ceased to exist altogether. My sister was convinced that the call she heard came from the spirit of the swamp, and that her friend had been killed by this swamp fairy. But we’ll never know. But what I do know is that the swamp is dangerous, and I don’t want to lose you like we lost that girl.”

It was silent for a bit.

“What did you see in the swamp?”

“Nothing,” she shrugged, her heart beating faster at the lie. “Water and trees and Spanish moss.”

“No swamp fairies?”

She laughed. “I’m going to go take a shower.”

“All right, dearie.”

So she did.

The very next day, she left to go take a walk while her grandmother was visiting with a friend and wandered back to where she had left the canoe, bringing it again to the water’s edge. Trust in the water, the spirit had said. So she let the boat go with the languid current, and she found her way again to the island, and there the creature was, waiting for her.

“My darling,” it smiled with open arms, greeting her with a gratuitous kiss. She began to speak, but it shushed her, taking her by the hands and leading her to a bed of soft moss, laying her down to a peal of sweet kisses, unbuttoning her shirt as it went. Its sharp-toothed grin at the discovery that she wore nothing underneath sent her heart aflutter, and she sighed at is ran its fangs teasingly along her tit, swirling its tongue around her nipple and hiking her skirt up to her stomach to reveal her bare pussy ready and waiting; it flicked her clit eagerly, and she sighed again, bringing a hand up to tug softly at the creature’s nipple as her eyes fluttered closed.

It bit her breast, clenching its jaws just barely not tight enough to break the skin, but tight enough to sting deliciously and push a little whimpering moan past her lips as it swung one leg over her hip, smooth reptile armour sliding sensually across her bare flesh. It did the same to her other tit, then licked into her mouth with a fury that made her groan in earnest as it rocked softly against her, causing a delightful friction between their legs, and they bounced softly in the springy moss. She threaded her fingers through the spirit’s hair and hooked one leg around its back, on top of its tail, teasing its scaly ass with her foot as it crushed her breasts against its palms. They were both dripping with pleasure at this point, their slick making everything slide together so deliciously as the creature’s tail went thump, thump against the ground, those same croaking bellows rumbling pleasantly in its throat and chest, almost soothing, especially paired with the way they rocked back and forth. It refused to take its mouth from hers, not that she would have let it go, her hands tangled tightly in the Spanish moss of its hair, and everything turned slow and warm.

They came at the same time, then the creature relaxed on top of her, its head on her heaving breasts, and she reached a trembling hand up to stroke its hair as they caught their breaths together, the creature’s tail still softly twitching against her legs.

Eventually she piped up, “Do you have a name?”

“I have many names and no name,” the spirit shrugged, sitting up and getting off of her to allow her to do the same. “I am simply the swamp,”

“Well, that’s fancy,” she laughed, hugging her knees to her chest. “What does that mean?”

The spirit shrugged again. “You could call me after the swamp, I suppose, but the essence that is this being you see was never given a name.”

“Could I give you a name?”

“If you like,” it smiled, pulling her in for a kiss, smooth scales sliding around her waist. “But do we need names?”

“Hmm,” it had successfully distracted her with those claws trailing lightly across her ribs - but not entirely. “My grandmother knew a girl who disappeared into the swamp,” she said. “Do you know what happened to her?” and she told the story.

The creature sighed through its nose, stroking its own thigh as it thought.

“Do you know where she is?”

“I do,” it smiled. “She is me.”

“What?”

“A part of me, at least.”

“What do you mean she’s a part of you?”

The creature pulled her into its lap, threading its reptilian fingers through her hair as she relaxed into it. “Every hundred years or so, I must renew my powers, or the swamp may falter.”

“How do you renew your powers?”

“I must absorb a willing life into my own.”

“Like . . . you kill them?”

“No,” it shook its head. “We merge our essences into one, and she becomes one with the swamp, another piece of the composite being that I am. The girl your grandmother knew, she lives on, in a way. Her legacy of preserving this magic is her survival, even if she no longer exists in a form recognisable as her. When you look at me, my darling, you look into the eyes of the swamp itself, shining with the light of thousands of women who loved it enough to dedicate their lives to it.”

She pondered for a beat, indeed studying the spirit’s pitch-black eyes. “Will you do that to me?”

“If you like,” it winked. “But it won’t be necessary for me to do so for another few years; your grandmother’s friend will sustain the swamp for a little while longer.”

“Okay,” she reached up to push its hair out of its face. “So, why did you call me, then?”

It chuckled softly “Why do you think, my love?” and it pulled her in for a kiss.

It felt so nice, the slide of its scales against her bare skin, the keen drag of alligator teeth along her throat, the tail thumping against her legs as it pushed her down on her back again and dove between her thighs like a prayer, that guttural growl vibrating directly against her clit and making her moan, unabashed, unashamed, uninhibited, just pure pleasure in the moment and not another care in the world. They made such pretty music together, the two of them, little wet sounds of its tongue slipping in and out of her cunt and her soft moans set against the backing track of its rumbling bellows. It pinned her in place with scaly hands, claws digging lightly into the flesh of her stomach, and she hiked one leg up over the creature’s shoulder, rocking up into its impossibly soft lips, her own dull fingers grasping for purchase on the spongy moss, eyes closed in bliss. Her cheeks felt so warm, next to the cool of its scales, her rapid heartbeat throbbing in her face, her bits, her tits, and before she knew what was happening she was clenching around its tongue with a loud cry, then she deflated, going limp like a wet rag, breasts trembling weakly as she caught her breath, reaching a shaky hand up to rest on the head of the spirit which migrated up her torso with a trail of sticky kisses, pinching one nipple delicately between its teeth.

Then suddenly its breasts were in her face, and she opened her mouth like an obedient toddler, sucking softly at woody flesh which tasted of salt and grass and something almost smoky, those claws running encouragingly down her cheeks and shoulders.

“Oh, my darling,” the spirit breathed, rocking gently as it straddled her hips.

Nothing else mattered. Nothing else existed. The whole world was just the two of them on this island in the middle of the swamp, embracing each other as the lightning bugs slowly began to blink to life against the setting sun.

#monsterfucker #faefucker #fae fucker #monster fucker #nsft #monster lover #lesbian

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workingforthewidow · 10 months

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Woah look at me actually posting 2 things within the same month lol- this is a part 2 to the Otis fic i posted a few days ago. You don’t HAVE to read it to understand this but it does help! I have honestly fallen in love with Otis and his Princess so I might start doing small one-shots in this universe so if you have any ideas or request let me know!

Warnings: as stated reader is in deep for Otis like so much Stockholm syndrome going on. Slight smut. Reference to non-con. This is Otis we are talking about so he can be a warning himself. But also OOC Otis like he’s super sweet but still in an Otis way. Blood. Lots of blood. Killing people. Knives. If there’s any major i missed please let me know! But yeah- don’t like it don’t read it.

She/her pronouns for reader. I tried to keep descriptions to a minimum, did mention pulling readers hair a lot but I mean i pull my husbands hair a lot and he has short hair so yeah.

18+

Word count 3,698. Link to part 1

She woke up to hear steady soft snores in her ear and the feeling of shallow sleepy breaths under her. A long pale arm wrapped around her waist held her securely to him. He stayed. He really stayed this time like he promised. Usually he was gone by the time she woke up. Maybe it was still night and she had just woken too early. But she could see the rays of light streaming in from the window. It was morning for sure. She lifted her head as much as she could and luckily she could see the clock on the wall. One of his few gifts to her. He wouldn’t give her a calendar but he at least got her the clock so she could have some time awareness. The hands of the clock read 1:49. They had gotten home at 1:30am. And by the time all was said and done she imagine she fell asleep no later than 2:30am. They had slept for 11 hours. He never slept that much. She was about to try to wake him when his grip tightened on her waist pulling her against him. He brushed his nose against her hair and kissed her forehead.

“Stop fucking moving and go back to sleep Princess.” He mumbled against her skin.

She relaxed against him and hummed contently. “But it’s almost 2 in the afternoon. We’ve been sleeping all day.”

“And if I say go back to sleep you fucking go back to sleep. Sleep for the next week if I say so.” He grunted out at her.

She nodded her head against his chest and closed her eyes again. What game was this? For sure a new one, they had never played a game like this before. Maybe it was the calm before the storm and next time she woke up he’d have her hanging from meat hooks on the ceiling or thrown back in the basement.

She was never able to fall back asleep. She just stayed very still against him other than occasionally tracing her fingers up and down his chest lazily like she was in a dream. Finally once the sun was setting did he stir awake. She was mid way up his chest near his heart when his hand clutched hers. If she wasn’t so use to him it would have hurt but she knew his grip was stronger than an alligators bite.

“Mornin’ Princess.” His still half asleep voice was low and rough. She laughed a little and shook her head.

“Ain’t mornin’ anymore. Almost dinner time.”

As if on cue Baby’s voice could be heard from the bottom of the stairs, “Otis! I haven’t seen my little best friend in two whole days. It’s about time you let her down here to see me and Mama.”

Otis groaned and rubbed his face before flinging her off him onto the floor. He stood up and looked down at where she had stayed on the floor like his good little girl. “Put some clothes on.” He threw her a pile of fabric at her. She separated it to reveal her shorts and one of his ‘burn this flag’ tank tops. Another change to the game. He never let her wear his clothes outside of the flannel she got to wear during the winter. Even then it was just the one and she had to keep track of it or else it was taken and hidden from her in a wicked game of hide and seek. She slid the clothes on without questioning him. “Perfect.” He grabs her face and kisses her harshly. But not as harshly as during a game. It wasn’t a true romantic kiss like the one from the night before but it wasn’t a one sided “I own you and can put my mouth anywhere I please” kiss either. “Come on Sweetheart.” He took her hand and led her down the stairs to the table.

The family were already seated and she noticed four guest sitting on the far end of the table. Two men and two women. One of the men looked extremely excited to be there while the other man and the women looked like they’d rather be anywhere else.

Mama immediately got up at the sight of them and floated towards them. She was so elegant and graceful.

“Oh my sweet Otis and little Darling. You joined us. How special is this? Come sit, sit. We have guest and it’s Halloween. I am blessed today.” She cooed before returning to her seat. “Masks on everyone.” She announced placing her own masks on her face. The others followed suit with the expect of one of the women and Otis and his girl.

“Put the damn mask on or she won’t let us have dessert!” Grandpa huffed from across the table.

The women sneered towards Otis and her, “They don’t have masks. Why do I have to do it?” Oh she was an entitled thing. Otis hated that kind of girl, his princess was never like that not even when he first got her.

“Playin’ by different rules sugar.” Otis spat out at her with venom laced words. She looked at him shocked before placing the mask on her face. The group ate in silence for a few minutes before the man who was acting like he was at DisneyLand spoke up.

“So uh any of you heard of Doctor Satan?” Everyone’s eyes shot up and glared holes into his head. She looked around at Mama and then to Otis who cleared his throat. He went on to spin the tale of Doctor Satan as if it were just that, a story. But she knew better. She knew the truth. Before anything else could be said Baby rang the gong. Time for her show.

Everyone filed into the show room and watched as Baby did her performance. She was a natural talent. She could even be in the picture shows. Baby was dancing close to one of the men and the woman next to him seemed to be jealous. She thought that’s probably what she would like that when Baby was all over Otis if she didn’t know the truth about their relationship. Sure they had done things in the past but once Otis brought her home and finally into his room and Baby claimed her as her “little best friend” all sexual acts between them stopped.

“A girl doesn’t two-time on her little best friend, Otis. She’d get all upset and cry. Best friends don’t make each other cry.” She had told him once he tried to get handsy with her. He didn’t care if the stupid girl got upset. He just wanted a good fuck and the girl locked in his room had yet to truly prove herself to him. Sure she could spread her legs and open her mouth but she wasn’t as exciting as Baby. Until one day out of the blue she was. She was doing everything just how Baby did it. Turns out the poor girl had begged Baby to tell her what to do to keep his attention on her. And boy was she a quick learner.

Lost in her head she didn’t realize all the movement going on around until screams hit her ears and she was picked up, thrown over Otis’s shoulder. He threw her into one of the empty rooms that only held a bed and a dresser. He pushed her onto the bed and held his knife to her throat.

“You move out of this room. You die. You scream or make a noise. You die. You do anything that’s not staying in this room and shutting your fucking mouth. You. Die.” He pulled her by her hair to lock eyes with her. His eyes were even more blood thirsty than usual. “Understand me, Princess?”

Her lip quivered, what was happening? She had never seen guest end like this. Yes they killed and took their cars and money but this felt different. He pulled her hair harder and pushed the knife deeper into her throat waiting her response.

“Yes, I’ll be good. Stay here and be quiet.” Her wide eyes glistened with tears threatening to fall from the pressure on her head from her pulled hair. He nodded and let her hair go, running his fingers through it for a moment.

“Good girl. If I haven’t come to get you by morning you can come find me okay?” She nodded again quickly. He grabbed her chin and pulled her into a kiss. “I love you Princess.”

He said it again! Twice in one day! She happily kissed him back and smiled wide at him, “I love you, too.” He brushed her hair out once more before leaving the room making sure the door locked behind them.

She didn’t even realized she had fallen asleep until she woke with a jump. Had it really been that long? After Otis had left she paced the room before she decide to explore the dresser a bit. In the top drawer was an old worn copy of some book she’d never heard of but from the picture on the cover it looked to be some cliché romance. She sat on the bed resting her back against the wall and started reading, having nothing better to do. She must have fallen asleep mid-read. She looked out the window. Sunshine. It was morning and Otis hadn’t come back for her. What if something happened? Was he hurt? Did those guest hurt him or Baby or Mama? She was even worried for Hugo. She leapt to her feet and bounded towards the door. Just as she was about to fiddle with the lock she heard the click of a key and the turn of the doorknob. She jumped back so the door wouldn’t hit her when it swung open.

On the other side of the door stood her Otis. Her sweet, loving, blood covered, Otis.

“Sorry I’m late Princess had to clean up someone else’s mess. But I got a surprise for you.” He smirked and took her hand. He led her back to the room they shared and covered her eyes to keep her surprise from her. Was this a real surprise? Like a present? “It ain’t much but we gotta start ya off with something easy, okay?” He removed his hands from her eyes and she blinked at the sudden light from the darkness. Once her eyes adjusted she saw the surprise. Tied to chairs and knocked out sat two of the guest. The man in glasses that Baby had sang to and the women she assumed was his girlfriend or wife.

Otis pulled her against his chest and kissed the top of her head. “I have an idea for these two fuck ups and I need my pretty little Princess to help me. Gonna teach ya to be a real artist not just my muse.” He handed her one of his knives and took one in his own hand. “You get the girl shes more your size. Don’t fuck it up Princess.” He moved over to the man and bent down by his ankles, “All it takes is a clean up to the ankles.” He swiftly sliced the knife threw the mans skin causing him to pop his eyes open with a scream. His screaming then woke the woman. “Your turn Princess.”

She twisted the handle in her hands and looked at him nervously. “Come on Princess, it ain’t hard.” Somehow she only heard his voice. She knew the people were screaming and crying but she was focused on him. Tired of waiting he grabbed her hand and pulled her to the floor and held her smaller hand in his. “Like this.” With a flick their wrist the knife cut one of the woman’s ankles. “You do the next one.”

She took a breath and moved closer to the other unharmed ankle. Her eyes flickered to his for a moment before exhaling and cutting through the skin. She hit a vein just right and blood splattered on her face and chest. She stood up as Otis whistled at her.

“Damn didn’t think you could get any prettier but I was wrong. This is how you’re meant to look Princess.” He pulled her close and licked some of the blood off her face. “Let’s give the happy couple some alone time. Should be done by the time we come back.” He smirked and jammed his knife into the woman’s thigh. He looked at her than to the man and back to her. She got the message. She walked to the man and stood above him.

“Wait, wait, wait! I know you. You’re that girl who went missing last year. The millionaire’s stepdaughter. Just let us go and we can take you home to your family and away from these psychos.”

Otis growled and almost pounced on the man but she raised her hand to stop him. “This is my home. This is my family. This is all I need. You don’t fucking know me. You know my face and you know my name but you don’t know me. Only my family knows me. Only Otis knows me.” She screamed in his face so close it fogged his glasses before stabbing him the thigh twisting the blade a few times for extra hurt.

The man and the woman continued screaming and begging for their lives as Otis took her away. He took her to the bathroom and ran the shower. Peeling off her blood soaked clothes slowly before removing his own. He pulled her under the water and watched as it mixed with the blood on her face and ran down the drain. Wordlessly he titled her head back and let the water run through her hair.

All of this was so new. Never had they done this before. And if they had she was sure it would have just been about sex. But he was being gentle and soothing. She could his erection plan as day but decided if he wasn’t making this about sex she shouldn’t either. She hummed as he brushed through her wet hair getting all the blood out. Normally he would be smearing all over her. She always let him do it. She always let him do whatever made him happy. But as soon as he was done with her she would run to the shower as fast as she could to clean herself. But now he was cleaning it off her. Gentle rubbing his hands down her body in a non-sexual way. Once he was satisfied with how clean she was he moved their places and let the water trail over himself. All of this done in silence. Only the water running and their breathing could be heard. Finally he cut he water and stepped out leaving her standing in the shower.

“Feel better Princess?” He asked wrapping her in a towel that was honestly probably dirtier than them when they entered the shower.

“Yes, thank you.” She smiled at him wide eyed.

“Have another surprise for you while we wait for those fucks to finish up.” He walked her back to their room, “Get your clothes on. Whatever you want.” He said as he went to inspect the people in to the corner who’s yelling had turned to whimpers.

She dug through her clothes finally able to pick her own outfit. She quickly put on a soft lavender purple matching bra and panties then looked over to him.

“All your clothes. We’re going back down stairs.” Oh she really got to pick her own outfit. This never happened. She went back to drawers and dug again finding her blue jean shorts and a black shirt. She slipped them on and looked to him again. “That’s better Princess. Now down the stairs.” He gestured to the door and followed her down the staircase. “This way.” He pulled her outside and towards one of the sheds where they kept the extra clothes and other items from guest who never left.

He opened the door and pushed her inside. He lit a match and fired up a lamp hanging from the ceiling. She stood still as he rooted around looking for something. She thought about asking him if she could help him find whatever it was he was looking for but as soon as she opened her mouth to speak he turned to her box in hand. “Come here pretty girl.” He called her closer and held out the box to her. “A pretty princess needs a pretty jewel. Take whichever one you want.”

She looked inside the box and gasped. Inside were tens if not hundreds of shining rings. Some silver, some gold, some with diamonds, others with colored gems, and some that were just metal. She dug around looking for any she might like and took a few in hand. She went to try and size it to her right hand finger but he stopped her.

“Other hand Princess.”

She cocked her head to the side in confusion, “But that hands for a wedding band.”

“Just do it don’t fucking argue with me.” Hell for once in his damn life he was trying to be genuine and she had to run her mouth.

She nodded and moved to her other hand. She tried a few too small. A few too big. And a few she just didn’t like how they sat on her finger. Otis was starting to get impatient with her once again, always taking forever. He looked around in the box and found he liked and grabbed her hand sliding the band over her finger. She looked at her hand then to him and back at her hand again. The gem was a deep ruby red similar to his ever beloved blood and the band was the same silver as his knives. It was perfect. Just like her Otis was perfect.

“It’s perfect.” She whispered as if it would break if spoke too loud. “But why?”

“What can’t do a fucking nice thing for you?”

“No. No. Thank you. I just don’t understand what’s happening.”

“I’ve told you a hundred times. You are mine forever.” Why couldn’t she get that through her thick skull?

She fiddled with the ring on her finger, “I know. And I’m happy to be yours forever. But, but this feels like you wanna marry me or something. And I…”

“Well we ain’t having no big ole party and it ain’t gonna be legal. But married and forever are the same things,” he interrupted her.

She took a deep breath, she imagined he wouldn’t like what she was about to say and needed to muster up all her courage. “I know I get that. But married also means one and only forever. You are my one and only but am I yours? Married means no other girls.”

Otis put the box holding the rings down and grabbed her face in both hands making her look up at him.

“Princess, ain’t had anyone in my bed except you since I brought you in it. Knew you was something special. A man’s gotta settle down sometime. Get him a sexy little housewife. Hell maybe even knock you up have little brats running around. Mama and Baby would love that.” Sincere. He was being sincere and true and kind and all the things she didn’t even think Otis Driftwood knew what the definitions were.

Tears flowed down her cheeks flooding over his hands. “Really? You want a family? With me?”

“Fuck yeah I do Princess. Any woman that can slice an ankle that clean and not flinch when the blood hits her face is a woman I wanna keep.” He kissed her and rested his forehead against her, “Don’t mean I’m gonna be nicer. I will still cut your throat if you leave or do anything stupid. Still gonna pull you by your hair. And fuck you how I like whenever I like.” He grabbed her hair and yanked her to slide before sinking his teeth into her neck. There was the Otis she knew and, in a sick twisted way, loved. He pulled back and grinned at her with her blood running down his chin.

“Let’s go back and finish our art piece.” He led her back up the stairs and found their models ready to pose.

After working on the art piece for hours she was again covered in blood and guts and pieces of someone else’s flesh were stuck to her. Otis gave the piece a once over and turned to her, equally as messy as she was.

“I don’t think I’ve seen anything more perfect. Besides you Princess.” He smirked at her and winked.

She didn’t know what game this was but she hoped they played it forever. All the sweet words he had been whispering in her ear, as he guided her hands showing her how to work on the art piece and use his many tools, were sounding more and more like a dream come true. He wanted to marry her, well he had ‘married’ her, and wanted a family with her. That was something she always dreamed of- being a mother and having a family. Even if her family was messed up and sick in the head. She was excited about the future.

“Let’s get you clean up and off to bed, Princess.” He kissed her forehead and took her to the shower to clean again. She truly felt like she was in a dream. Once they were clean he took her to bed and let her curl up on him like he did the day before.

“We‘ll take them to Spaulding tomorrow. I’ll bring you with me.” He promised her.

“Thank you. For everything you have done for me. I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy in my whole life.” She looked up and pressed a kiss to his jaw.

“Me either, Princess. Me either.” He held her face and kissed her forehead. “Now sleep and don’t fucking wake up until the sun is shining.”

#otis driftwood fanfic #otis driftwood #house of 1000 corpses #otis driftwood x reader #house of 1000 corpses fanfic #house of 1000 corpses x reader #slashers #slashers x reader #slasher fanfic

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multi-fan-dom-madness · 8 months

Text

Midnight Masquerade - Fox

Chapter Summary: The bottle chooses Fox, and you very quickly regret your brash words to the Marshal Commander.

Chapter Warnings: 18+ minors skedaddle; half dragon!Fox x f!reader; kinks: thigh riding and cockwarming; bratting, brat taming, slight Dom/sub undertones (edit: inspired by @sev-on-kamino's recent Fox kinktober post), orgasm denial, spanking (exactly once), unintentional exhibitionism/voyeurism, I saw recently that argued dragons shouldn't have snake belly scales but instead alligator belly scales so Fox's anatomy based loosely on that of an alligator or crocodile (look it up at own discretion), unprotected PiV, oral (f receiving), please let me know if I missed anything, and please read at own peril having read these warnings

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: Not fully happy with this one, but that may just be because I wrote this at the end of my ninth day of work in a row. Brain mush. Enjoy the smuts. okay bye love u

Read the intro here! | Suggested listening

...Fox.

Equal parts exhilaration and anxiety course through you when you jerk your head up to meet Fox’s gaze. In the flashing, multicolored lights, his scales glint ruby, and though his features are now more reptilian—more dragon-like—you catch the hint of a smirk that tugs at the corner of his mouth. A thin, forked tongue flicks over his pointed teeth. Delight dances down your spine with a shudder.

What was it you had just said? You only beg for those who earn it?

Yeah, you should have known better.

But, never one to back down from a challenge, you cock an eyebrow at him with a teasing smile. “Shall we, Commander?”

His form is imposing as he stands, every movement calm, collected, calculated; he knows what he’s doing. He knows exactly the way your eyes can’t resist following how his claw-tipped fingers roll up the sleeves of his button-down. Exhaling a shuddering breath, you ignore the way that Wolffe and Cody both shoot you amused looks as you stand, as well. You fight to keep your knees from trembling.

Fox jerks his head to gesture past your shoulder, indicating for you to lead the way. Turning on your heel, you make sure to swish your hips just a little bit more than your natural walk, slightly arching your back to make your silhouette more alluring. As you press through the crowd, they part before you. A few troopers, probably shinies, nearly trip over themselves to get out of your way. At first, you’re confused at their actions. A glance over your shoulder reveals exactly their fear: a Marshal Commander of the GAR stalks behind you, thin wisps of smoke curling out of his nostrils, a crown of horns swept back from his face, his intense gaze glowering at anyone who gets too close to you.

When those dark eyes meet yours, you nearly stumble yourself.

Facing forward again, you try not to make it obvious that you’ve lengthened your stride, eager to reach the back rooms. Through a doorway, down the main hallway past several closed doors, you lead Fox. You turn the first corner and—

You’re pressed against the wall, Fox’s tall, lithe form trapping you in. His forearms brace on the wall next to your head as one of his legs slots between yours. Lips parting in surprise, heart stuttering in your chest, you gasp.

“Fox?”

He rumbles deep in his throat. “Don’t think I didn’t see you out there, little one.”

Goosebumps erupt over your skin at his tone. “W-What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb, mesh’la,” he says, “it’s unbecoming of you.”

“Fine.” Thudding your head back against the cool wall, you regard him with curious eyes. “Would it make you feel better to know I put on that show just for you?”

He bares his teeth in what you guess is a dragon’s approximation of a smile. “Maybe.”

You huff a laugh. Keeping your eyes on his, you tentatively reach for him. Your fingers bump into his body, and you smooth your palms up over the clean, crisp lines of his button-down, following the contours of his chest. Fox regards you with an impassive smile; the only sign of his own curiosity is a miniscule tilt of his head. Under the shirt, the bumps and ridges of his scales tantalize your sense of touch. You want to know what he looks like without clothes—both in this form and in his normal state.

“Fuck,” he breathes as you slide your hands in opposite directions. One palm curves up the back of his neck to slide over one of his horns, the bony protrusion thick and curved; your other hand glides down his front to cup over the bulge in his pants. “Could take you right here.”

Heat blazes through you. A small sound escapes you, but it doesn’t escape his notice.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he grits out as you rub your palm over his bulge. “You’d get off on knowing that anyone could turn the corner and see us. Such a shame you won’t have my dick inside you until you earn it.”

Your eyes snap back to his. So that’s how this is going to be? Fixing him with a smirk, you retract your hands. “I believe it’s you who has some earning to do tonight, Fox.”

“Oh, mesh’la,” he says, words rumbling with a dark chuckle. “You’ll learn.”

Faster than you can react, his hands flash to your waist so he can hoist you up onto your toes, balancing your heated core on his thick, scaled thigh. You whimper, suddenly acutely aware of the ache building in your core, the deep-seated desire to feel your body pressed against his. You rest your hands on his shoulders to stabilize yourself. For once in your life you’re grateful to have worn a skirt. The thin, flimsy material of your panties lets you feel nearly everything.

Breath coming in harsh gasps already, you search his gaze. For what, you’re not sure, but the amused glint in his slitted eyes makes your stomach lurch pleasantly.

“Here’s how this is going to work, little one,” Fox says. “First, you’re gonna make yourself cum on my thigh. Second, I don’t care who walks around that corner, you don’t stop. Third, if you make any noise other than to say ‘please,’ I’m going to pull back and you have to get yourself worked up again. And finally, you’re going to cum as many times as it takes for you to beg. Are we clear?”

Swallowing around the sudden dryness in your throat, you blink at him once. Is this a trick? He just said if you did anything other than say ‘please...’ Steeling your nerves, you nod your head slowly.

In a terrifying display of teeth, Fox grins. “Good. So obedient already.” ‘

Defiance flares in you, and you nearly open your mouth to retort—but his grip at your waist tugs you forward, and your clothed clit gently jolts over the ridges of his scales. A moan catches in your throat at the surge of pleasure. Biting the inside of your cheek to keep yourself silent, you take over, rocking your hips back and forth, back and forth, in a steady rhythm. Pleasure, hot and simmering, burns steadily brighter in your lower belly.

Fox’s gaze never leaves your face. The longer you stare back, the more adjusted you become to the vast difference between the human face you’d seen earlier tonight and this ruby-scaled dragon. His eyes are still the same warm amber, you realize. Locking onto that detail, your breathing hitches as you angle your hips a bit to press your clit more fully against the scales of his thigh. The cord of tension in your belly pulls a bit tighter.

“That’s it,” he murmurs. “Make a mess all over my thigh, little one.”

A silent ‘fuck’ forms in your mouth—you catch the noise before it slips out. Encouraged by his words, your first orgasm rolls through you without warning. Hot and slow, the waves of pleasure pulse through your body. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip; you squeeze your eyes shut, fingers twisting in Fox’s shirt, to keep yourself quiet.

As your climax fades, you open your eyes to find Fox regarding you with a tilted head. You narrow your eyes as if to ask, What?

“Beautiful,” he murmurs.

Shyness blooms in your chest. Leaning forward, he presses his lips—because he does still have lips in this form—to yours. The anatomy is strange, his scales cool and dry against your mouth, but the eroticism of it sends a shiver straight to your center. When your tongue darts out to lick against him, he parts his lips. Gently, so his teeth don’t catch your soft flesh, he lets his tongue dance with yours.

You begin to rock your hips again. Pussy lips slick with your arousal, your rhythmic movements glide easier, the pleasure building slowly once again. Pulling away from his mouth, you bury your face in his neck and reach up to his horns. You wrap your hands around the biggest pair, dark, thick, twisting growths, and use them as leverage. Fox groans, letting you pull his head forward a bit.

You know your panties are probably soaked through by now, your juices probably beginning to soak into the fabric of his pants, but you don’t care. All you can focus on is the growing pleasure in your core, the way that electricity zings up your spine with each press and pull of your sensitive clit over his thigh. You circle your hips, and the action nearly jerks a groan out of you.

“Fuck, you gonna cum again already?” Fox asks. His grip on you tightens.

You are—you both know it. Your pace turns sloppy, stilted, as you hone in on the specific movements that keep pressure on your clit even as you slide along his thigh. Panting, you catch your bottom lip in your teeth once more. You’re so close.

A strangled moan punches out of your throat as Fox suddenly drags you far more forward than your own movements intended.

Immediately, Fox drops his leg, though he continues to hold you steady by your waist. Your eyes shoot open to meet his, desperation and indignation coating your tongue in bitterness.

“Fox!” you hiss.

“You agreed to the rules, little one,” he says with a dangerous smirk. “You know the word to make this stop. To make sure you get my cock in that soaked cunt.”

Clamping your jaw shut, you glare at him until he decides enough time has passed. He slots his thigh between yours once more, the returned pressure making your body shake. Resuming your previous pose, your head buried in his chest, his chin resting on your shoulder, you rut against him in earnest, determined to cum again at any cost. It takes a moment, but the arousal you’d felt before comes rushing back with enough force to almost make you gasp. Tightening your grip on his horns, you rub your slick folds across his thigh with precision.

Your muscles begin to lock up as your second orgasm approaches. Chest heaving, you grit your teeth, praying you can keep quiet this time.

A noise of surprise sounds nearby. Yanking your head up, you lock eyes with someone—is that Mayday? But you find you can’t stop your movements, so karking close to falling over the edge of bliss that you don’t care who sees. Mayday freezes with his foot on the bottom of the nearby stairs, eyes wide as he drinks the sight of you in. Your cunt flutters around nothing now that you have an audience.

Your orgasm begins to crest. “O-Oh—”

Again you’re violently ripped away from the promise of relief. Orgasm fading, but heart still pounding, you tear your eyes from Mayday to focus back on Fox. He regards you with a calm, smug smirk. Tears spring to your eyes in frustration.

The sound of Mayday’s retreating footsteps doesn’t break the stare you and Fox are locked into. Desperation claws up your chest, puncturing your pride. You want to cum. You want it so kriffin’ bad. And you know how to get what you want.

A contented puff of smoke plumes from Fox’s nostrils as if he knows you’re close to the breaking point. “Well, little one?” he prompts.

Closing your eyes, you drop your head forward until your chin touches your chest. Quietly, for his ears only, you mumble a single word: “Please.”

“Sorry, what was that, mesh’la? Couldn’t hear you,” he says in a tone of voice that suggests otherwise.

“Please,” you repeat, a fraction louder.

“Mm, nope, still can’t hear you.” One clawed finger tilts your face up to his once again. His eyes are soft, questioning. He’s silently asking if you still want this.

You do. Swallowing your pride, you sigh. “Please, Fox, I want your cock.”

All of his teeth shine in the low lamplight as a slow smile curls over his face. “Was that so hard?”

“Yes,” you grunt out.

He snorts but otherwise ignores you. He hoists you up, arms sliding under your ass to cradle you to him, and you wrap your legs around his middle. Taking just a few steps, he opens the nearest door and ducks inside—then immediately turns and pins you against the inside of the door.

Your clothing tears easily beneath his hands. You nearly protest—but the look in his eyes stalls your words on your tongue. First your shirt, hanging from your shoulders in tatters, then your skirt, falling to the floor with a flutter. Finally, he hooks one sharp claw under the fabric of your panties and tugs—the thin fabric shreds without resistance.

Two can play this game, though. Grabbing two fistfuls of the front of his shirt, you yank. Buttons scatter across the floor, bouncing out of sight, when you tear his button-down open, revealing his chest. Blush red scales cover his chest and belly, and when he shrugs out of the ruined top, your mouth waters at the sight of his toned biceps rippling beneath ruby scales. But his scales aren’t exactly what you expected. Instead of being pointed and overlapping, they’re more squared, and nestle together like puzzle pieces.

You don’t have long to salivate over him before he sets you on shaky feet and spins you around. Your breasts press into the cool metal of the door, sending a shiver through your body. Craning your head back to watch Fox strip from his pants, you groan as the rest of his body is revealed to you. The wet spot on the front of his pants bears testament to your arousal. He bunches the garment in his hands and presses it to his face, inhaling audibly.

Gasping, you flush with warmth. But your attention is quickly drawn from his action to the bulge at the apex of his thighs. Your eyes widen. Where you had nearly expected a normal set of anatomy, instead you find a round bulge with a small slit in the center.

Fox must feel where your stare lingers because he tosses the pants over his shoulder. Running a soothing hand down your bare back, with his other hand he gingerly frees his cock from the bulge.

“Oh fuck,” you gasp.

His cock is big—the bulge was deceptive in its size. And it’s pearly, nearly white, glistening with natural lubrication. The tip is ridged, and you groan at the thought of what it’ll feel like in you.

“Still want this?” Fox asks, voice sounding strained.

“Kriff, Fox,” you groan, arching your back and presenting your ass to him. “Yes. Please.”

Notching the tip at your soaked entrance, he gives you a toothy grin, nearly a snarl. “Since you asked so nicely.”

And then he slides in, inch by delicious inch. You both moan, loud enough that anyone walking by the room would be able to hear without issue, but you don’t care. His cock stretches you, splits you open, and when he comes to a halt, his balls resting against your clit, you tremble. Pussy clenching around him, you groan.

“Fox, please,” you plead. “Need you to fuck me.”

Wordlessly, he presses one large hand to your head to hold you in place against the door, his other hand squeezing your thigh. But he doesn’t move. He just sits there, letting his cock soak in your slick, grunting when your pussy flutters around his girth. You whine, the noise scraping out of your throat matching the level of desperation thrumming through your veins. If you just...rock your hips a little, flex your kegels like that...you might be able to cum.

Smack!

You yelp, the spank to your ass stinging, before Fox smooths over the heated skin.

“Stay still,” he orders, voice raspy and gruff. “Need to feel you like this.”

“And I need you to fuck me,” you shoot back. You flex around him again, earning you a low, growled groan.

“Little one,” he warns. But his resolve is slipping, you can tell just by the way his voice hitches over the words.

“Fox, please,” you whine. Then, an idea flashes through your lust-addled mind. “Please, Commander, fuck me.”

His grip on your thigh tightens almost painfully, but your use of his title has the intended effect. He pulls his thick length out of your pussy nearly all the way, before slamming back in to the hilt. You cry out, pleasure jolting through you. Fox sets a punishing pace, the ridged head of his cock gliding against your walls and stimulating every deep part of you that you can never reach on your own. Moans and praises fall from your lips in half-coherent words; your legs quiver with the intense rush of pleasure coursing through you.

Fox grunts with each sheathing of his cock in your tight walls. “Where can I cum?”

“Paint my ass, Commander,” you gasp out.

With a groan, he reaches around to your front and circles two fingers overtop your clit. Pussy clamping around him, you cry out, shoved to the edge of orgasm without warning.

Fox pulls out and spills his warm seed all over the globes of your ass with a heady moan. The thick, sticky liquid begins to drip down the backs of your thighs, some of it spilling over your slick cunt, and Fox just uses the extra substance as added lube as he maintains a tight pace over your clit.

His palm disappears from your head as he drops to his knees behind you. You twist just in time to watch him bury his face between your thighs, his long, forked tongue drawing up your sopping cunt, your arousal mixed with his cum. You can’t help the way your body spasms at the sight—and then he’s transforming back into a human with his face still pressed to your center. The long tongue becomes shorter, flatter, warmer, and between his licks along your folds and the way his fingers circle your sensitive clit, you fall apart with a shout.

When he finally pulls away, his face is covered in your juices. His curls, gray at his temples, fall over his sweaty forehead. His chest heaves with every breath, but a self-satisfied, smug smile curls over his pink lips.

“You good, meshl’a?” he asks.

A shiver wracks through you as you pant against the door, legs threatening to give out. “Uh-huh. Never better.”

Humming, Fox stands and scoops you into his arms. You’re too boneless to protest, body curling into his warmth. Carefully, he scoots onto a bed you hadn’t noticed before and tucks you both under the fine sheets. His thumb rubs soothing circles against your hip where he holds you, and under your ear, his heart rate begins to settle in tandem with yours.

When you feel up to it, you raise your head to meet his gaze. “Guess you earned it, huh?”

His chuckle rumbles through his chest into yours. “Never doubted that I would.”

“Cocky,” you mutter, laying your head back against his chest, a content smile curling over your lips.

Ragu: @the-hexfiles @thorsterstrudle @dystopicjumpsuit @clonemedickix @freesia-writes @littlemissmanga @wolffegirlsunite @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @sinfulsalutations @523rdrebel @sunshinesdaydream @moonlightwarriorqueen @sev-on-kamino @starrylothcat @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @mandos-mind-trick @idontgetanysleep @eyeluvmusic21 @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator @sleepycreativewriter @dreamie411 @bobaprint @imarvelatthestars @originalcollectionartistry @droids-you-are-looking-for @goblininawig @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @9902sgirl if your name has a strikethrough, I can't tag you so check your settings! (if you'd like to be added or removed, click here!)

#commander fox x reader #fox x reader #tcw fox #mdfm hallowkink 23 #rhiwrites #midnight masquerade #tcw x reader #clone x reader

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hollow-if-game · 2 years

Text

Everything is wrong.

The buildings seem to lean over you, there’s a convenience store that is literally on every corner, the streets seem to lead you in circles (if you’re lucky), there are strange creatures stalking the streets that are hellbent on mauling you, and you have no clue how you got here or where everyone else is.

To make matters worse, you have an odd symbol burned into your skin and it hurts. It makes you recall when you once touched a hot pan with your fingers and developed long-lasting, stinging blisters afterward. You haven’t a doubt that it’s new, very new but where did it come from and why is it on you?

You suppose the only way you’ll get answers is by wandering this gloomy half-plane of dense fog and endless streets... alone.

Choose your Marked’s pronouns, history, and relationships.

Be a team player or go solo, be reliable or dodgy, resourceful or unimaginative -- do what you need to to survive.

Collect items and hone your skills, explore the endless streets and oddly permanent points of interest.

Explore various relationships; Bond with your fellow marked or tear them down. Your words and actions have an impact and can make or break the group.

[Hollowed is intended for mature audiences and explores topics not fit for people under the age of 18. This game will reference or feature Drug Use, Sexual Content, Explicit Language, Blood and Gore, and Intense Themes. You have been warned.]

Joana Fontenot [f] grew up in a small family that lived on a dairy farm/ranch. Her parents, ever-so fond of their cattle and the care that they require, instilled a fondness in her for the care and upkeeping of farm animals -- so much so that she dreamed of becoming a livestock veterinarian. She is a lively and kind person, who appears more than willing to cooperate with you in order to survive. Honestly, she thinks that you have a better chance of surviving together than apart contrary to what your other companion, Frtiz, seems to think.

Aubriana Dietrich [f] was born into an ever-growing family of too many kids and too few parents. Aubriana was often left to care for her younger siblings at a young age, which, unfortunately, followed her into her adult life. She picked up work as both a part-time barista and waitress at a local hole-in-the-wall bar where she worked long hours for minimum wage and not enough tips -- all of which went directly to caring for her siblings. Though she does worry for them, she can’t help but be excited by the idea of only having herself to care for. Until you arrive...

"Fritz" Fitzgerald [nb] -- honestly, trying to figure out anything about them is as easy as pulling an alligator's tooth. they will not indulge in your curiosity and appear far more interested in staying on their lonesome. Even still, they seem to find themself drawn to you and your companions -- never straying too far, always within calling distance. You honestly aren't sure if fritz even likes you, though compared to how they interact with your other companions, you'll take what you can get. Still, you don't doubt they'd ditch you to save their own skin if they needed to. Rather, they seem to only tolerate you, which seems to be quite the feat compared to their other relationships.

Nya [f/nb/m] -- What is their deal? They're so... naive...? Strange? Thinking about them gives you a headache...

#pinned post #wip #interactive fiction #hollow-if-game #main post #master post #twine game #interactive game #choose your own adventure twine game

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spinning-stars · 11 months

Text

Horror charaters x A bone obsessed Y/N

I did this for all my animal bone collector horror fans (Myself included) 🖤🦴

Characters include- Asa Emory, The Sinclair brothers, Bubba Sawyer and Thomas Hewitt!

It's Sfw!

Warnings- there is a part skinning animals, I'll let y'all know when that part will come up!

Enjoy 🖤

Asa Emory-

It's Asa so of course he's going to love the fact that you love animal bones.

💜 (scroll to heart # 2 this is the mention of skinning animals part!!!) Every time one of Asa's victims' pet dies due to one of his traps or one of his dogs dies or he finds a dead animal, he doesn't like to waste. Asa makes sure the animal is dead before he loads them up and takes them to his workspace, he'll de-skin and clean up the bones for you to keep. If the animal was a bird or something small he'll try and make a necklace with them. He won't tell you how or where he got the bones.

💜 He will definitely try getting you into insects/bugs exoskeleton, he will pull up another chair and teach you how to pin the animals wings and how to frame them for display. He's rather patient with you, and if you enjoy it you and him will have a little weekly date doing that exactly.

💜 Asa would always be on high look out for animal bones as he stalks his next victims. (One time he found a box of animal bones in one of his victims room and took them to give to you on your birthday🖤)

💜 When y'all move in together he will set up the coolest room ever, framed bugs on the wall, cool animal bone decor, and a bone pillow, as a little surprise.

Vincent Sinclair-

He finds your bone obsession to be cute tbh.

💚 He will make you little wax skeleton of your favorite animal. You just came home from helping Lester with Jonesy and you just see Vincent waddling up to you to hand you it. (He's more excited to give you your gift than anything else in the entire world)

💚 Vincent may not leave the house often but Lester does. So every day Vincent asks Lester to try and find some animal bones so that he can wrap them up in a little bouquet.

💚 He makes it a habit to search the bodies before he covers them in wax, he knows people wear shark teeth, alligator teeth and sometimes bones quite a bit.

💚 Once he figured out what was your favorite skeleton he told Bo to take you out to eat somewhere, head to the store for food and let you help in the shop for the day. He told Lester to pick up very specific shades of room paint. (I headcannon that Vincent has trained Lester's eyes to tell the difference between 2 colors that barely have a difference.) Once Lester came back he started painting a detailed mural on the wall.

Bo Sinclair-

Doesn't mind the bones obsession.

💙Bo trys to make him out to be "oh ok." And does nothing about the obsession kind of guy but he fails at that so badly.

💙 "Hey babe, I got you some of these bone shaped candies because you have a weird obsession." (He has to throw a small insult in there or he will literally explode)

💙Bo will sit in the shop all day and work on carving a little bone design into a peice of metal to make a ring/bracelet for you. (Vincent provided the drawings for him to make the ring/bracelet)

💙 This Mother fucker is a good pick pocketer and thief. Every time he sees someone wearing bones he will figure out a way to get it and give it to you.

Lester Sinclair-

Lester is Lester.

❤️He will feed into your obsession the most.

❤️ Every. Single. Day. He will bring you baskets of animal bones (Most of them are teeth)

❤️ Lester would carve you and him matching animal bone knifes, you can't convince me otherwise.

❤️ He would buy you a Lego animal bone set, I can't unsee it. (Most likely one of the dinosaur ones)

Bubba Sawyer-

He misunderstood the assignment a bit

💛 you made the slight mistake of not specifically telling him what bones you exactly liked, so he brings you human bones.

💛 Once you correct him and tell him you ment animal bones he made it his mission to search every single spot for one.

💛 on every note he left you there will be a very tiny animal tooth attached to it.

💛 he'll forget sometimes and accidentally give you human bones again

Thomas Hewitt-

Has a bone obsession too.

🧡 He too has a bone obsession and he made a little case dedicated to y'all's obsession.

🧡 Like Bubba he will not get the assignment unless specifically told animal bones.

🧡 ever since you moved in with the Hewitts you've noticed more and more bone decor. (Tommy just wants you to this the house is nice)

🧡 He got a *your favorite animal* skull tattoo because it reminds him of you <3

Authors note- Hello hello 👋 I hope you enjoyed! Requests are open!!!! Have a lovely day<3

Ps. @stitcheswashere13 was my old account that had a lot of problems with, if you liked my content of there and wondered where I went I'm now here!

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alexanderlightweight · 11 months

Note

Hi again!

I've been so delighting in going back through some of your past answers this week and I loved rereading your daemon AU with BAMF Alec. I love all your Alec characterizations, but I have a particular fondness for your versions where it's really emphasized how cold and aloof Alec has to be in command sometimes. Alec allowing 'just a little nip' to Clary's otter was such an excellent visual.

If it happens to strike your fancy, I'd love another daemon AU, whether it be a continuation of that snippet or not. In particular I'd love to see Alec's daemon, his soul, walking up to Magnus and touching him, literally putting Alec's soul in Magnus' hands. (If there was a d/s undertone there, that would just be adding the cherry to the ice cream sundae, but is totally not necessary.)

Thank you again for all your lovely fills!

hey!! i always love your prompts and i'm happy i felt up to answering this one!

Magnus waits until the door clicks shut and then he turns to look at the shadowhunter who fought with him, back to back. He’s even more stunning after his display of both competence and the surprising compassion he showed.

“Will I be in the way? Or should I leave as well and we can pick a better time for a meeting?”

Magnus summons himself a drink and takes a long, fortifying sip of magically aged gin that will help his core to stabilize. Three warlocks lost is still three too many and his magic aches with a lust for vengeance that he cannot yet unleash.

“If you’ll follow me, I must leave this place and let it settle before I can return and let them rest properly. It needs to remain as undisturbed as possible.”

Alec — as he was called at one point — merely nods and silently follows as Magnus’ directs, his nearly eight-foot long alligator moving with surprising grace.

The shadowhunter and his daemon step through the portal without protest and Magnus turns to raise the wards he will need to let the dust of souls settle without fear of it being harvested.

Warlock rituals require time and Valentine desecrated that need, brutalizing the ash of warlock souls in experiments and well, Magnus will not allow that to ever happen on his watch.

He follows Alec as quickly as he can and it’s to find that his own daemon is already there, practically nose to nose with Alec’s.

“Cahya—” Magnus murmurs, more out of a surprise than a true reprimand.

There’s a moment where Alec turns and Magnus thinks that this is about to be business again, and then a large, reptilian head turns to face him as well.

Alec stops, eyebrows furrowed as he looks at his daemon and then he takes a half step back and shrugs. It’s clear that he trusts his daemon and Magnus is curious enough to keep quiet since Cahya seems content, almost amused.

Magnus isn’t expecting the daemon to continue approaching, past what is considered polite.

Daemons don’t do this. They don’t initiate contact.

Not ever and Magnus feels charges with the weight of potential that he cannot comprehend.

There’s a moment of charged silence and then a long snout is reaching up and brushing against his fingers.

Magnus can’t help the shocked gasp that slips past his lips.

The way his soul cries out and Magnus drops to his knees, hands unthinkingly reaching out to cup Alexander’s daemon.

Dust clings to his fingertips and energy fights for a brief moment and then, as Magnus exhales, Jayr is born anew.

He’s a melanistic jaguar, perfectly suited for the shadows and his muscles roll as he presses his head up against Magnus’ palm. Everything about him sings to Magnus as he feels the weight of a soul settle under his palms.

Soft, dark fur tickles his skin and whiskers brush past his wrist as a regal head ducks for comfort.

“Oh.” Alexander makes a surprised, almost frantic noise, his eyes bright, “he settled then.” There is something relieved in Alexander's tone and then he leans against the wall, as if awaiting Magnus' direction.

Magnus knows that he could bid Alexander to kneel, and his boy would do so. Alexander would do anything Magnus asked - his soul already conforming to meet Magnus - and Magnus knows it.

Magnus takes in quiet breathe and lets the knowledge anchor him.

That Alexander’s soul settled at Magnus’ touch has a great many connotations and Magnus won’t let anything sneak past him.

#lumine writes #writing wednesday #writing wednesdays #magnus bane #alec lightwood #shadowhunters #malec

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chenziee · 6 months

Text

Revelations (we could do without)

Content warning: pure chaos

My brain refused to let me sleep last night because it took a random dialogue line in Punk Hazard and ran away with it and decided to make it everyone else's problem xD I hope it makes someone laugh just a little bit :)

[ READ ON AO3 | KO-FI ]

—————

Nami couldn’t believe it. She had thought that with Robin and Usopp there, Luffy and Zoro wouldn’t do anything completely stupid or insane on that burning island. She had also thought that staying on the Sunny would be safe.

But here they fucking were.

In but a few hours, Nami found herself standing in the broken remains of some laboratory in the absolutely freezing, semi-deserted half of said island, stuck in Franky’s giant, iron body while surrounded by children of various sizes playing happily around them. An alligator centaur was glaring at her. They barely just got rid of a talking severed head only for it to get put on a walking pair of severed legs—going off to search for his creepy moving severed torso. Her body was likely currently being groped by Sanji and ogled by Brook. At least the charges she was planning to collect would be somewhat worth it, she supposed…

But then the children started collapsing from terrible drug withdrawals and Nami really had to wonder what kind of cursed star she was born under.

And if all of that wasn’t enough, now the creepiest fucking guy Nami’d ever met was just standing there, casually chatting with Luffy as if 90 % of everything she just recounted wasn’t his own damn fault. And he wouldn’t even get her back inside her own body! Sure, Sanji was still better than Franky but she wanted her beautiful, delicate figure back, goddamn it! She didn’t work so hard to stay in shape, pampering her skin and hair just to lose it, simply because Mr Warlord here thought it was funny or something.

And as if that wasn’t enough—

“I am going to go with your decision, but Luffy—” Robin said, tone serious— “but betrayal is all too common with pirate alliances.”

—there was this goddamned alliance thing.

Nami knew there was no point trying to talk Luffy out of it but that didn’t mean she was happy about it or didn’t try. And god, did she try.

The entire walk back from the stupid mountain back to the laboratory, she did nothing but argue with him, trying to explain all the reasons why an alliance was a bad idea but it was like talking to a snickering wall.

She loved Luffy and she would die for him but she really hated him sometimes.

Stubborn idiot.

He was so lucky Nami was too tired to get mad about it anymore.

“Who’s the doctor?” Trafalgar Law asked, full of exasperation after his short-lived, pointless argument with Luffy about helping the children, then groaned when everyone wordlessly pointed at Chopper, lying immobile on the ground after Franky and Luffy’s collective abuse.

“I’ll help you with the drug antidote but I can’t really walk right now,” Chopper said apologetically. “Can you carry me?”

For a moment, it looked like Law was regretting every single life decision that led him to this point—and good riddance, it was his own fault—before he clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Fine. But you’ll have to hide.”

“I’ll get you ready, Chopper.” Usopp hurried over before he grabbed Chopper’s little backpack and started stuffing all the equipment he had used on the children earlier inside.

Meanwhile, Law was rubbing at his temples and Nami was sure he was having a headache about as bad as she herself did.

Just then, Luffy approached Law, that bright, blinding smile of his plastered on his face. “By the way, Torao,” he started, poking Law’s side a few times to get his attention.

“What?” Law sighed, sounding absolutely exhausted.

“You said there was something you wanted to take back from me earlier? What did you mean?” Luffy questioned, his eyebrows furrowed into an adorable frown while he tilted his head to the side curiously.

Law was silent for a moment, simply regarding Luffy silently before he clicked his tongue again, looking away. And this time… he looked almost embarrassed as he opened his mouth to speak.

“I meant my heart, Straw Hat-ya,” he muttered, obviously trying to keep his voice down enough that the rest of the crew didn’t hear. Unfortunately for him, however… this cave-like structure did nothing for secrecy, with all the echoing.

And so… Nami could still hear him loud and clear.

Her eyes blew wide as her mouth fell open. She exchanged a look with Usopp, the man looking about as horrified as Nami felt. She wasn’t sure if that made her feel better or worse.

Because holy shit.

Trafalgar Law, the Surgeon of Death, one of the Warlords of the Sea… really said that.

“Did he just confess to Luffy?” Usopp mouthed in her direction.

Nami’s eyes flickered between Law, Luffy, and Usopp before she nodded stiffly. Then, she turned her attention fully to the pair, taking in the scene before her.

To her surprise, Luffy didn’t look the least bit shocked or taken aback or creeped out or… anything along those lines, really. Instead, he was standing in front of Law confidently, perfectly relaxed; only his frown had deepened even more while he stuck his bottom lip out in a pout.

It looked like he was actually unhappy about what Law had said—or maybe disappointed?

“But why?” Luffy whined, this time grabbing at Law’s sleeve and pulling sharply—an action that only got him a dirty look. “I like it! It’s not like you need it.”

“Straw Hat-ya, a person can’t live without a heart,” Law retorted, unimpressed.

Luffy simply rolled his eyes in response. “You know what I mean, you ass.”

At that… Law chuckled. Actually chuckled.

“Fine, have it your way. Don’t blame me if you die later because of it.” There was a teasing smirk on his lips as he spoke.

And then…

Nami’s eyes blew even wider if at all possible as she could do nothing but watch while Trafalgar fucking Law leaned down, pressing his mouth to Luffy’s. While Luffy let him. Then laughed happily when Law pulled away again.

If she wasn’t so frozen, Nami would have screamed.

Because oh god.

Oh.

God.

They kissed. They fucking kissed like it was nothing, like it was normal, like they had done it a hundred times before.

Nami had no idea what was even happening anymore. Luffy did mention Law had saved him after the war but this? This was something completely different. It was absolutely insane, actually.

“I think your crew’s going to explode,” Law noted, finally breaking the oppressive silence that had settled over the lab—or at least seemed to have; it wasn’t like Lufffy and Law had stopped talking after… that but Nami couldn’t hear anything they said over the static in her brain.

“Can you blame us?!” Usopp cried, his hands flying up to cover his eyes as if the sight had burned them.

“Oh.” Robin chuckled. “I think you’ve neglected to mention something, Luffy.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” Luffy asked, full of confusion once again.

“You didn’t tell them we’re dating?” Law asked, his eyebrow raised as he glanced at Luffy.

Luffy, who merely hummed in a way that made it clear he thought it didn’t matter—or thought it was too much of a drag to explain. But finally, he turned to the present members of his crew, placing his hands on his hips and proudly declaring, “Guys, Torao’s my boyfriend.”

“Tell us these things before you scar us for life!” Usop screeched, his face still buried in his hands in despair. Or maybe he was trying to claw his eyes out. “I don’t even want to know what that thing about his heart was anymore.”

A happy smile spread on Luffy’s face and he started talking animatedly. “That one’s so funny, actually! Torao’s power is super weird. He can take organs out and it’s so cool, okay? He let me play with my intestines and stuff.”

A strangled, horrified noise came from Chopper, the only reaction from the one normal and sane doctor around, apparently. It was a reaction that perfectly conveyed how Nami was feeling in that moment.

“Luffy, please—” Usopp started but Robin interrupted him.

“Please continue, that sounds fascinating,” she said, apparently paying rapt attention to whatever creepy shit Luffy had just said.

“No! Please just shut up!” Nami begged, her hands quickly coming up to cover her ears in a vain attempt to stop the words from reaching her.

Luffy, however, paid neither her nor Usopp any mind, his grin widening at Robin’s prompting; he continued, now even waving his hands around in excitement. “Yeah so, we couldn’t have a vivre card made on Amazon Lily so Torao just took out our hearts and switched them so now I have his heart with me. It’s such a funny feeling, you guys should try it!”

Nami didn’t have the brain capacity for this anymore.

She really should have just stayed with Arlong.

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atsadi-shenanigans · 1 month

Text

Feeding Alligators 53 - Goblintown

Goblins, spiders, and the necronomicon. Peachy.

On AO3.

The brainworms can mind-whammy some of the goblins so hard you pull a jedi “we absolutely do go here” shenanigan on them. The worm slams your brain into one of the archer goblins up top of one a them houses, and before you can even think about it, you feel her mind quiver, and then accept your power.

But then the brainworm does something. It twitches in your skull. The human brain ain’t got no nerve endings. It’s impossible to tell exactly what happens, but it’s like something in you winks out. A star in the galaxy of your brain just goes dark. Something alters. Something is gone.

And you can’t remember what.

“I knew these tadpoles could be advantageous,” Astarion says, all but rubbing his hands together in glee.

You rub the side of your head. Meet Lae’zel’s stare. She holds your gaze, and then deliberately narrows her eyes.

She knows. The brainworms can influence people. But there’s a cost. And you don’t even remember enough to know if it was worth it. It did get y’all past the gate without having to shoot somebody (oh look, more bodies lying around, even if they are mostly bones), but you don’t like it.

The goblins mention a camp further up the road. But y’all do a bit of poking around before y’all head that way (y’all are looting). In an herb shop, y’all find a basement. And a secret door inside that basement.

Which leads to a bunch of reanimated skeletons, some kind of magic mirror Karlach puts a rock through, and the apparent resting place of the motherfucking necronomicon.

You stare at the ugly damn thing as flames whoosh behind you. Damn thing went up like a gasoline barrel after you picked the thing up. Y’all’ve shut and re-locked the door behind y’all, and don’t appear to be anything around that’s flammable, so it should be able to blaze away. Besides, if an abandoned village serving as camp for a scouting party of war goblins goes up in flames, would anything of value actually be lost?

The book looks something nasty. You ain’t sure if somebody cut off the desiccated face of some boor bastard and glued it to the cover, or if that cover is some kinda, like, physical manifestation of a soul trapped between the pages (that thing is skin; it has fucking pores).

You nudge the lump in your cleavage where your soul jar sits.

“Oh, creepy book,” Karlach says, looming over your shoulder. “Please don’t open the creepy book. That thing must be loaded with curses.”

Magical Faerun. Of course there’s haunted books.

“I think it’s locked anyway,” you say. There ain’t no visible lock, neither.

“I could take it off your hands?” Gale says. “I am just about due for another artifact—”

“Don’t you dare.” Astarion swoops in from across the room. Catches your eye and looks away. “We have no idea how valuable something like that might be. It’d be a shame to let the wizard eat it.”

“As opposed to what?” Shadowheart says. “Letting you have it?”

“I don’t see why not. Unless any of you—the wizard excluded—would rather take it?”

“Destroying it seems the best option,” Wyll says.

To which Astarion literally gasps. Only thing the man is missing is a set of pearls to clutch.

And then they look at you, and you look at that book, and you can actually trace faint, dried out capillaries below the ridges of the upper mouth. Withered gums pulled back over yellowed teeth enamel. Holy fuck, that is somebody’s face.

You shudder. “Goblins, druid, brainworms. Divvy all this shit after that, huh?”

Literally none of them like the compromise, but nobody gets an advantage, so they watch you shove the haunted fucking book into your magic bag.

***

So Gale falls through the floor of the place across the street. Lands in another hidden workshop with another hidden passageway—this one just a crumbled wall. Which leads to a cave full of monster fucking spiders.

Y’all—mostly Karlach and Lae’zel—kill the shit outta the things (as big as a goddamn great dane sweet baby jesus). And y’all find more shit to loot. Turns out, other people fell down here or got dragged down here and didn’t have a Karlach or a Lae’zel. And then Astarion’s voice drifts back, all soft and high in a way you know in your bones means he’s up to some shit.

And then Wyll, who tagged after him to keep an eye out, mutters a curse and everybody turns.

Astarion has, in fact, found something interesting. And has, in fact, gotten to it. It’s the whole “chased by a fucking truck-sized motherfucker of a spider” part that’s the problem. So tired, acid-burned, poisoned, and in general overall maimed, y’all fight twenty-goddamned-more spiders and their goddamned Shelob mother.

What y’all get out of it is a purple, glowing rock.

You stare at Astarion, the grinning bastard, as green slime slides down the side of your neck and a glob plops off your nose. Around you are several squashed baby spiders, their guts oozing slowly down the shaft of your whacking stick.

“That’s…what this was all about,” you say.

Karlach is missing a patch of hair. Wyll lost his rapier down a crevasse. Somehow, one of them fuckers exploded and Lae’zel is literally covered in guts (y’all say nothing as she scowls, pops a slimy finger into her mouth, and seems to consider the taste).

Astarion is one hundred percent unscathed. Not a spot of muck, not a single singe of acid. Not even a stray gibblet in his stupid, poofy hair.

“It matches the gems on the book,” he says. “The eyes. I know my way around a lock or two, and this is the exact sort of thing a wizard—”

Said with a tone that makes Gale’s eyes narrow even further.

“—would go mad for. None of the others want it. So why not let me take it off your hands?”

That book craves the soul of the innocent. It really would be best to chuck it down that huge-ass chasm across the floor and be done with it. But…

You don’t owe the man nothing.

But the amputated connection of friendship still tingles with the phantom memory of late-night talks, his cool hands pressing your wrist.

I’d have bedded you twice by now if you were normal.

He’s a grown ass man two hundred years old, and a fucking vampire to boot. If he wants to play patty-cake with the exorcist, let him.

“Sure,” you say.

Astarion opens his mouth to argue. Then it clocks, and so do his teeth when his jaw snaps shut.

You dig the damned thing out, hold it pinched between your fingers.

“Are you sure about this?” Shadowheart says.

The vampire looks from the book, to you. The shadow of a frown mars his brow. Then he straightens. Says, “Really? Just like that?”

You’re sure you look as tired as you feel. “I don’t want it, nobody wants it, and we’re all covered in dead spider. At least make it worthwhile and take the damned thing. Just…don’t open it while anybody else is around?”

He eyes you. Reaches out and takes it all slow, like you’re gonna jerk it back. Or like it’s gonna bite him. You let it go.

“Right,” he says. And stands there. While you also stand there.

Man don’t know how to say thank you. Noted.

“Hey, Eleanor,” Wyll says. He’s over poking around the dead shelob, and he emerges holding some kinda dress. “I think this might suite you.”

***

It’s a robe, not a dress, and it magically adjusts itself over you, stays and all. It’s got embroidery to look like webbing, all of it a soft, silver mint green. And, it turns out, it makes you motherfucking poisonous.

“Be very careful with that staff,” Gale says.

Unlike a lot of the magic here, this one don’t make your staff glow a sickly green or nothing. So whoever you hit with the whacking end is gonna get real sick, real fast, and have no idea why.

You like it. Finally might not be so goddamn useless in combat. Plus, it looks kinda cool in an “evil sorcerer” way.

Karlach grins and makes you spin around. “Nice threads, soldier. Finally look like a proper adventurer.”

“Adventurer” meaning ren-faire attendee, but they’re all crushing it, and standing out ain’t probably a good idea. Just because you’re an uneducated (in Faerun), inexperienced hillbilly, it don’t mean you wanna advertise that.

The others mill about, chatting with each other, cleaning gear as best they can. Astarion has fucked off by himself again to peer at that book—still unopened thank fuck. He looks up, spots you watching, and shoves the book back into his pack. He ain’t mingling with the others no more.

Cause that ain’t awkward at all.

You rub your face.

And have a thought.

“This thing only makers that staff poisonous, right?” you say. Your hands kinda tingle.

“Oh yes,” Gale says. “Even mad wizards have enough sense not to poison themselves. Mostly.”

You stare. “Mostly?”

He smiles. And you really hope that tingle is just psychosomatic.

Spiders dead and looting done, y’all surface up through some well bucket (that bitch must be enchanted or something, cause there ain’t no way a dinky ass rope on a dinkier ass bucket could haul you up, let alone Karlach without bursting into flame).

There’s only one more home that ain’t a collapsed pile of rubble left. The spider fight wiped y’all out. It’d be nice to find somewhere to set up camp, maybe even sheltered from the elements. The goblins seem to be avoiding this one, which—in retrospect—should have been a big, red flag.

But y’all are beat, and survival instincts are freshly squeezed out, so y’all trudge on in to get smacked in the face by the reek of death, blood, and some kinda rancid piss.

And then the ogre takes a swing at you.

#feeding alligators fic #these two shitheads #astarion #astarion x tav #tavstarion #slow burn #the sadness arc #we're over the worst of it lads #can only go up from here #putting the slow in 120k words of slow burn

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