#already feel like it was.... a mistake perhaps

[darkbluekies]

King Edmund and Hedwig drabbles: running away but changing your mind and getting lost

Yandere!king & female!yandere x reader (female in Edmund’s case and gn in hedwigs)

I had a request similar to this like a year ago, but i deleted it because I couldn't come up with anything ... and now I have so ... that's annoying.

And this is probably the nicest Edmund has ever been. Weird.

BUT HEY I LOVE THE RELATIVES

Warnings: weapons, but actually pretty fluffy

King Edmund:

You had taken a horse and gone away into the forest. But here you are, sitting by a tree with the horse tied to a branch, hugging yourself and crying. What had you done? You finally realize how stupid you are. Why did you leave him? Why?

You're cold and lonely. Thieves are roaming the forest and you know that they would be delighted to find the queen all by herself. But you don't know the way home, and if you get up on your horse you risk going even further away. Staying in one place will be the best decision if you want to be found ... hopefully by the right people.

Suddenly, after what feels like (and probably have been) hours, you notice a sound.

"Y/N, your game is up."

Edmund!

You stand up and turn around, seeing him and his knights around you, their horses looking at you dumbly. The knights hold out their bayonets, but you don't care. You run over to Edmund, throwing yourself in his arms and crying ― crying in sorryness, in relief over being found by the right people, crying in fear and shame. Edmund's taken by surprise at first. He had been fully prepared to threaten you to get you to come back. Edmund's arms lock around you, securing your head into his shoulder.

"Lower your fucking weapons!" he tells the knights angrily. "Are you insane pointing them at us like that?!"

He turns to you, but before he has the chance to ask you how you're feeling of why you were so stupid to escape from him, you've already started rambling.

"I'm sorry, Edmund!" you sob. "I'm so sorry! I don't know why I did that! I regretted it immediatly, I promise! I wanted to go back but I-I lost my way and-" You can't finish your sentence, your breathe hitching with sobs.

"Shh, it's okay", he cooes, kissing your forehead. "You're back where you belong now, you're safe."

"I wanted to go back, I promise ... but I didn't know which way was the right one. I'm so sorry!"

You cry against his shoulder, hugging him tightly. Weirdly enough, you have never been happier to see someone that has hurt you. Edmund's your husband, you have accepted that. You hadn't realized that you had started to like him before now.

"It's okay, my dear", Edmund reassures you in a sweet, hushed tone and rests his head on top of yours, enjoying having you in his arms again. He rocks you back and forth gently, as if to coo you. "There's no need to cry, I'm here now. You will never have to worry when I'm here. You know that I will take care of everything."

His words are so comforting, so belieavable. You nod against his shoulder.

"Let's go home", he says. "You're cold."

He lifts you up on his white horse before cimbing up himself in front of you. You wrap your arms around his waist and hide your face into his warm back, crying even more. Why isn't he mad at you? You betrayed him. Edmund can't bring himself to be mad. You're genuinly sorry, he can't be mad at you for making a mistake ... a ridicolously stupid mistake, perhaps, but a mistake nonetheless. He needs to comfort you, not punish you.

"Make sure Y/N's horse comes with us", he says before riding off with you behind him.

Hedwig:

If you desperately had to fight with Hedwig about how controlling she is and storm off ... why did it have to be in a foreign country? You want to punch yourself for your idioticy. She's suffocating, yes, but you do love her ... somehow you still love her. And you want nothing more than to go back to her and have her hold you. How will you find her when you can't ask for directions back to her vacation house and can't trace your steps back. Why do European countries have to have such narrow, maze-like alleyways?!

You've found yourself on a bench in front of a cafe in the staking sun. You'll have to get up and look for the right way later, but your feet are probably bleeding.

"Y/N?!" you hear Hedwig's voice suddenly shriek. "Oh, my Gosh, Y/N!"

She runs over to the bench and you hurry to wrap your arms around her waist, hiding your face into her stomach. You can't help but sniffle in relief and sorry ... remembering how you left the house.

"I've been looking all over for you!" Hedwig pants. "I was so worried!"

"I'm sorry, Hedwig", you cry into her stomach. "For everything. I-"

She hugs your head closer and kisses the top of your head. "It's okay, I have forgiven you! "

She sits down on the bench next to you and cup your head into her hands. You sob.

"I'm just so happy to see you alive", she says in relief and brushed your sweaty hair out of your face. "But, dear, you're dehydrated! You'll pass out!"

She takes out a bottle of water from her handbag and feeds you half of it, before water starts to run down your chin.

"Why haven't you been drinking water?" she asks worriedly. "You could have passed out and who knows how dangerous that could have been?!"

"i didn't have any money", you say quietly. "I'm so sorry, I tried to find my way back, because I regret that I left ... but I couldn't ask for directions. I can't speak the language and I didn't have my phone and-"

"It's okay. I forgive you. But please don't do it again. It's dangerous. And I was so worried. My father was close to calling the cops and having them look for you."

"I'm sorry, Hedwig."

She hugs you, letting you rest your heavy head on her shoulder.

"It's okay", she reassures you. "I'm not mad at you. You know that I only want your best, right?"

You nod.

"You need to cool down", she says and stands up, holding out her hand to you. "Let's go get you some ice cream."

"My feet hurt really bad", you mumble.

"I will buy you new shoes too, and bandage and everything you need. Will you come with me? Please?"

You sigh and take her hand. Hedwig is the most confusing person you know, because how can she be so horrible, yet so magical?

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere drabbles #yandere oc x you #yandere oc x reader #yandere fics #yandere stories #yandere king #female yandere

[lilasamaaa]

In the crowd | Carlos Sainz x Reader

Genres | Angst, Hurt/Comfort.

Word count | 3.6K.

Warnings | Alcohol consumption, drugs, mentions of violence.

Summary | Reader's an engineer at Scuderia Ferrari in Maranello. While attending the season's launch party, her drink gets spiked.

Author's Note | Hi all! After the longest time, I've felt the need to come back here for some silly writing. New blog because the last one got cringe. Let me know what you think!

One might think that after two years within the scuderia, the season’s launch parties would make her less uneasy. That after two years of being apart of the engineering team, she would finally be used to attending public gatherings. That after two years, she’d be a natural at walking in the open, feeling the glances slide over her figure. She is stunningly beautiful. Perhaps that's her burden. She doesn't realize it. 

When she walks across the paddock or the stands, she knows people are staring at her. She avoids meeting their gazes, feeling embarrassed. She thinks there must be something wrong with her outfit, with her gait. Why else would they stare for so long?

In Maranello, there’s a bakery at the corner of the HQ building where she stops every morning. The cashier always offers her something extra. A coffee. An additional pastry. She finds him polite, very customer-oriented. One morning, as she was freeing her croissant from the paper napkin it was wrapped in, she’d discovered a phone number scrawled in pen ink, with a hastily drawn smiley face. She’d stared at the napkin, perplexed, seated at her desk. He must have made a mistake, she thinks. It must have been meant for the customer before her. The one with the beautiful blonde curls and the Chanel perfume. She didn't call, didn't send a message. She continued to visit the bakery. The cashier never mentioned the number, proving her theory.

Someone brushing past her brings her back to earth. The party is in full swing, and she’s just not. She spots her colleagues bustling around the buffet and the bar, engrossed in lively conversations. While some don't even notice her, others wave their hands, encouraging her to join them. She forces a smiles, returns the wave. Then she tightens her grip around her clutch. Anything to make her feel like she’s in control. To make her forget that the music’s too loud, the lights too vibrant, the air too hot. 

She doesn't remember ever feeling comfortable in her body. Years of growing up in an unstable family where love was doled out sparingly do that to a person. 

"Hey," comes a familiar voice. She turns her head, her big eyes catching sight of Livio’s, one of her colleagues. "Are you not dancing?" he continues, a drink in hand. His whiskey breath hits her straight on. She discreetly glances at her watch, noting that it's barely nine.

"I haven't had enough to drink for that," she replies, trying to dodge the invitation.

"Let's go get you something then," Livio responds, grabbing her arm and heading towards the bar.

She's noticed that men always do that with her. Not just her colleagues, but people she doesn't know either. She's too kind, too gentle; she never raises her voice. So they grab her by the hips, the arms, the wrists. Anything is an excuse to touch her. She hates it.

"What do you want?" Livio asks.

Nothing, really, but she can't say that.

"Something sweet, please. I don't like strong alcohol," she replies. Livio seems to ponder her question for a second, his mouth pursed.

"I have something for you to try, wait," he continues, signaling to the bartender. "You're going to like it, don't worry."

A few seconds later, a glass of Plymouth is placed in front of her, and she looks up at Livio. Does he think I've never tasted gin in my life? she wonders, puzzled. She would like to refuse the drink, ask for the cherry liqueur she discovered last time indeed. But already, Livio has grabbed her glass and hands it to her with a big smile. "Salute," he exclaims, downing his own glass in one gulp.

Cries and applause suddenly echo in the large reception hall, causing her to turn her head. It takes her a few minutes to understand the reason for this sudden commotion. Until she sees them, a few meters away.

Charles and Carlos.

Her eyes can't seem to tear away from the two pilots making their way through the crowd to a small stage where a microphone is set up. It's tradition : to kick off the season in style, the entire team eagerly awaits the drivers' speeches. Everyone wants to hear their words, their encouragements, their hopes and goals for the season.

A friend once asked her if she knew Charles and Carlos personally. She can't really say yes. That would be a lie. She's exchanged words with each of the athletes before, giving them information about the race, their car, and the expected weather. These exchanges have always been brief and cordial. Professional. Nothing more.

Even though... No, she thinks, lightly shaking her head. That was nothing. But still...

It had happened just before the race in Singapore, last year.

A friend from engineering school had moved there at the beginning of the year, and they had agreed to meet for dinner at a fancy restaurant in the city. It was an opportunity to reminisce about the years spent at Polytechnique, studying (a bit), suffering (a lot), and getting drunk (a whole lot).

She had chosen a long emerald green silk dress, slit up to mid-thigh. The perfect balance between classy and sexy. She had no intention of charming her companion - notoriously attracted to men, anyway - but this meal was the perfect excuse to leave her eternal Ferrari jumpsuits for something more feminine.

In the long corridor leading to the elevator, she'd suddenly felt on a catwalk, letting herself get caught up in the moment and rolling her hips perhaps a tad too exaggeratedly. The person emerging from the corner at the far end of the corridor surprised her, but not enough to disrupt her stride, her heels clicking against the floor.

She had recognized him immediately, of course.

Dressed in a simple fitted black polo and a pair of dark jeans, his eyes had not left hers throughout their crossing. When the two had finally reached the same level, she'd breathed out a small "Good evening, Carlos," suddenly insecure about everything. Her outfit. Her gait. The messy bun revealing her neck. The cleavage leaving no room for a bra and showing the beginning of her breasts.

He had passed her, nodding in acknowledgment, and each had continued on their way. She was certain... No, almost certain, that she had dreamt the words that had followed.

"That's one lucky guy."

Yes, she was almost certain she had dreamt it. Watching the Spaniard in the distance take hold of the microphone and tap it gently to check the connections, she became increasingly convinced. There was no chance that this man, chiseled from marble, could have noticed her. Desired her.

His accent echoes throughout the room, and she instinctively closes her eyes, as if bathed in the gentle sun of Madrid. She's not listening - not really - only catching words here and there. "Truly an honor," "Very impressed by your efforts," "Promising changes." But her mind is elsewhere, between Maranello and Singapore, tethered to the memory that makes her lower abdomen tingle in the sweetest of ways.

"And now, it's time to celebrate!" Carlos says as the room erupts with joy and anticipation.

"Earth to you?" comes a much less pleasant voice than the one that has just quieted down.

"I'm sorry, what?" she says, returning her attention to Livio.

"Oh, wow, you've got to be kidding me. Is it just me, or are you completely absorbed by this guy?" Livio replies, his mouth twisted in a grimace.

"Who?" she asks, genuinely confused.

"Sainz. You were hanging on his every word."

"I just think it's nice that they're giving an encouraging speech. Both of them," she explains, avoiding the Italian's gaze.

"Yeah, okay. Should we get another drink?" he asks, taking hold of her arm again.

She wants to protest. She can still taste the gin at the back of her mouth. It can't have been more than twenty minutes since her first drink. But Livio is already almost dragging her behind him, clearly determined not to let her escape tonight. And once again, that hand locks around her arm. Firm. Not open to discussion. She feels something almost territorial in the gesture, something that strongly displeases her, so she vows to mention it to Livio. Someday. Not tonight.

This time, he doesn't even pretend to care about what she wants to drink, ordering two whiskies straight away. She hates it. The taste, the look, what this alcohol does to her mind and body. But Livio has already slipped two bills to the bartender, and a moment later, the amber liqueur lands in her right hand.

While her drinking companion is already tilting his head back, clearly unaware that this type of alcohol is to be savored and not downed in one go, she observes the glass, intrigued by the few bubbles that are forming on the surface. I had no idea whiskey could do that, she thinks before bringing the liquid to her lips.

A few minutes later, she's managed to shake off Livio by claiming she needed to use the restroom. She crosses paths with Carlos walking in the other direction, maybe three people ahead of her, but he doesn't notice her.

In front of the restroom mirror, touching up her lipstick, her focus changes as she sees a drop of sweat trickle down her temple and slide slowly onto her cheek. I'm rather cold, though, she thinks, almost suppressing a shiver. Her head suddenly feels very light. She blames the alcohol. Putting her lipstick back in her clutch and tucking a strand of hair that threatened to escape from her bun, she pushes the restroom door open again, bracing herself to face the social world once more.

Passing by the buffet, a wave of nausea washes over her, forcing her to stop for a few seconds, leaning against the table and closing her eyes.

"I thought it was you," echoes the sunny accent in her ears. With her eyes still closed, she wishes their new encounter, one that she'd admit she's dreamed about, had happened differently. At a better time. A time when she wasn't battling a fierce urge to throw up.

"Are you okay?" Carlos inquires, raising his hand as if to support her but stopping halfway.

She takes a few seconds to push the unpleasant sensations from her body as far away as possible before lifting her head, opening her eyes, and being rewarded with the exquisite sight of his luscious hair and amber eyes.

"Hi," she manages to utter in a faint voice. "Great speech," she continues, still leaning against the table.

"You look pale," the driver responds, looking concerned.

The words escape her lips before they even reach her brain. She regrets them instantly. Something inside her just give way, like a dam.

"Sorry. I must have looked better in Singapore," she says.

Carlos widens his eyes, surprised, before letting out an awkward laugh.

"Sorry for staring at you like that, that night. You were... Well, you are...," he continues, seeming to search for his words.

She would so love to hear the rest, to know what he was going to say. But dizziness seizes her, and she feels herself tipping against the table. Well, almost, because suddenly, an arm wraps around her waist, pressing her against a chest that, yes, she's also dreamed about several times. But not like this. Not in this state.

"Hey," Carlos says, his voice tinged with worry.

"I'm so sorry, this never happens to me. I must have had one drink too many, I—"

"I saw you at the bar not even ten minutes ago," the Spaniard continues. "No alcohol hits you that fast. Not even shots."

"I'm fine," she says, and the pilot understands that she's saying it not only to reassure him but herself as well. And, as if the words had commanded it, the fog in her mind dissipates a bit. Enough for her to gently detach herself from the pilot, finding her balance on her own two feet again. She'd like to take advantage of this newfound clarity to keep the Spaniard close to her. Him, that she never crosses paths with, whom she never speaks to, and yet who appeals to her so much.

But Charles arrives. He smiles at her, asks if she's okay, if she's enjoying the evening, and oh, "I'll borrow him for a moment, I'm so sorry, sponsors, you know," and oh, once again, she finds herself alone at the buffet, watching the two men walk away, Carlos still watching her as he reluctantly retreats.

"I was beginning to think he'd never leave," Livio says, leaning against the buffet, his hip brushing against hers.

She wants to scream. Oh, how badly she wants to.

Sensing that she's not going to respond, the Italian tries his luck again.

"Should we dance? You seem intoxicated enough, now."

She doesn't even have time to respond before her colleagues guides her onto the dance floor, eagerly pressing his body against hers. His breath, previously tinged with whiskey, now betrays hints of tequila. The guy never has enough, she thinks, twirling reluctantly.

And there it goes again. The nausea, the queasiness. Spinning her around like a puppet doesn't help, she tells herself. She comes to a halt, cutting off Livio's momentum, causing some dancing couples to narrowly avoid colliding with them. Feeling vulnerable, she tries to get away, to seek refuge elsewhere. But her wrist is once again trapped.

"You don't look well. Come on, let's get you some fresh air," Livio says, heading towards one of the large glass doors.

She's often been described as naive by her loved ones. She believes that the whole world means well towards her, never suspects anyone of ill intentions. She would even say about herself that she has no instincts, let alone survival instincts. No sense of danger. Yet, perhaps for the first time in her life, something deep inside her is screaming not to follow the man. Her signals are on alert. Everything is flashing red in her mind. For her, it's a first. So, without thinking, without worrying about offending her colleague, she acts.

"I don't need to go outside," she says, trying to free herself from his grasp. She's sweating. She feels the unpleasant sensation of a thin layer of dampness creeping over her neck, her back, her hands.

Her feeble resistance is no match for Livio's strength, as he pulls her outside despite her protests. The music is too loud for anyone to hear their altercation. Divided between the buffet, the bar, and the dance floor, no one pays attention to this mismatched couple, to the determined man dragging a struggling woman behind him.

The door closes heavily behind them, stifling the sounds of the party, captured on the other side. It's cold outside, she feels it because her whole body shivers. But she, who was cold just a short while ago, feels like she's boiling. She raises her hand to her forehead, wiping away another bead of sweat that's formed between her eyebrows. What's happening to me? she thinks internally, troubled. Alcohol has never put her in such a state before.

"I'm so glad I ran into you tonight," Livio begins, either oblivious or indifferent to the young woman's condition.

She doesn't respond, feeling her head spinning, leaning against the wall behind her, gasping to try to catch her breath. Trying to control the burning heat that's engulfing her body.

"You look really beautiful tonight. Quite a change from the work overalls, huh!" the man continues.

She's not exactly sure at what moment he slipped between her legs, facing her, just a few centimeters from her face. But he's there, too close, forcing her to turn her head to the side to avoid his gaze - and his alcohol-laden breath.

"I said, you look really beautiful tonight," Livio says. "Are you not going to say anything?"

"What do you expect me to say to that?" she says, jaw clenched.

"Do you find me attractive?" the man asks, meeting her gaze.

The warning signals reappear along with the nausea. She barely has time to push the man away and lean to the side before emptying her stomach inches away from his feet. The naivety stops there. The pieces of the puzzle fall into place, realization hitting her painfully.

"What did you do to me?" she asks, her knees giving way under her weight, sending her crashing to the ground. He sneers, rolling his eyes, as she crawls a few meters, trying to put some distance between them. She's now sitting on the ground, her back to the wall.

"What? What are you talking about?" the Italian replies, offended.

"Did you put something in my drink?" she asks again.

"Come on, now. I've been helping you ever since you said you weren't feeling well. What kind of monster do you think I am?"

For a moment, her colleague's wounded look makes her seriously doubt herself. Maybe it really is just the alcohol, she thinks, trying to calm her racing mind. After all, why would someone deliberately choose to harm her? Why jump to that conclusion? Livio has always been charming. A bit clingy, but charming.

"I'm sorry for implying that. I'm gonna head back inside," she says, trying to stand up.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Livio answers, pushing her back down.

"What? why?" she asks, surprised.

"It wouldn't be very wise to parade in front of your colleagues and superiors in such a poor state," the Italian begins, his tone almost mocking. "It really doesn't give a good impression of you. It's not very professional."

"I haven't done anything, just had a few drinks," she responds, annoyed. "There's nothing wrong with that."

"You're so wasted you can't even stand. At a work event. Do you want to get fired or something?"

She opens her mouth to speak, to defend herself, but no words come out. She can't seem to figure out if Livio is with her or against her anymore. His words are harsh, aggressive, but deep down, the engineer probably isn't wrong. She struggled to secure a position here, at Ferrari. Even though she believes herself to be fairly skilled at her job and puts in long hours, there are hundreds of others doing the same work as her every day. And hundreds more who could replace her if the need arose.

She's not indispensable. She's not even that good at speaking Italian, having always had more ease in English or in French, even though she spends the majority of her evenings reading books in the language. She's just a tiny cog in the machine. She thinks about Carlos, too. What would he think, seeing me stumbling in the middle of the dance floor like a mad woman?

"Let me drive you home," Livio says, extending his hand. "Spare you the embarrassment.

She hadn't realized how tired she was. The offer is rather tempting. Getting back to her apartment, her cat, her bed. Above all, escaping the crowd. Forgetting this evening. Forgetting whatever she thought there was with Carlos, too, while she's at it. As a stronger wave of sleep washes over her, she temporarily closes her eyes.

"Come on," he says. "Let's get you in the car."

After her brain, her legs refuse to cooperate too. Her body barricades itself, trying to keep her firmly sheltered. Losing patience, Livio hoists her up, throwing her over his shoulder. She wants to protest against the position she finds herself in. That's so unladylike. Her last few connected neurons grapple over strange thoughts. I hope nobody sees my underwear, she thinks before her brain disconnects once again.

She's so far gone, yet the next words sound crystal-clear in her ears.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?"

Sounds like Carlos, she thinks, delirious.

"What does it look like to you? I'm bringing her home. She's wasted," she hears, and she thinks it might be Livio, because she feels his body shaking with each words.

"There's no way I'm letting you leave with her. Put her down."

"Yeah? So you can have your way with her?"

"No, so I can punch you in the fucking face," the accent-thick voice shouts.

She must have passed out for good because she doesn't remember anything else. When she wakes up next, which feels like an eternity later, she's sitting against a wall, this time indoors, wrapped in a golden emergency blanket. There's no more music. Opening one eye, then the next, she's met with Carlos' brown ones. She tries to speak but her mouth feels dry. The Spaniard hands her a glass of water, helping her bring it to her lips.

"I somehow managed to look even worse," she jokes, reminiscing their earlier encounter.

"The paramedics have just arrived. They're going to take you to the hospital for a check-up," he says and she nods.

"Thank you, Carlos," she replies.

"I haven't done the half of what I would have wanted," he says, regret filling his voice.

"What do you mean?"

"This has to be the worst timing ever, But I... I actually wanted to ask you out, before Charles interrupted us and before, well... this," he says, gesturing around them.

He doesn't see it, but hidden under the blanket, she pinches her arm. Hard. Just to make sure she won't wake up a second time. Seeing that nothing changes, she lets out a little laugh.

"If you wanted me to wear that silky green dress, I'm so sorry, but I ruined it in the washer."

"You can wear a garbage bag for all I care," Carlos replies, looking at her fondly. "You'll still stand out in the crowd."

#f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 x reader #formula 1 #f1 imagine #carlos sainz #charles leclerc #formula1 #f1 2024 #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you

[beomiracles]

「 CRIMINAL CONSCIENCE 」

SYNOPSIS moving rapidly through your career as one of the leading female investigators, you never once encountered a case you couldn't crack. though you never expected for your past mistakes to come back and haunt you in the form of an ex lover, accused of murder.

pairings criminal!beomgyu x investigator!reader warnings for tape 02 drinking, lightly hinted sexual themes, red flag beomgyu, mentions of drug dealing.

GENERAL WARNINGS ─ this story contains dark themes, portraying unhealthy and toxic relationships as well as substance abuse. PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK.

✎ NOTE!, this story is partly told in flashbacks. beware of time stamps as present and past is mixed throughout the story.

#serene adds ✎... I've been doing a lot of thinking about how I want the dynamic between the reader and Beomgyu to play out. As the story progresses it will become a lot more evident, also gentle reminder that Beomgyu is a piece of shit with some morals (when it suits him).

the tape recordings

tape 02 ─ red lipstick stains

February 19th 2024 — present time 

“Is everything alright?” Huening’s light voice easily parts the dark clouds fogging your mind and your eyes snap to him as you blink a couple of times. “You’ve barely touched your food”, he comments as he casts a glance toward your almost full plate. 

Pushing said food around leisurely with your fork, you sigh, “I’m not feeling particularly hungry today I suppose”. Your colleague frowns as he sets his own fork down, “does it have anything to do with the case you were assigned this morning?”. 

You look at him as you gnaw on your bottom lip, you don't want to lie, especially not to Huening. But was it such a good idea to tell him about who exactly you had been assigned. You figured it probably wasn’t. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Huening kai, but if word got around the office, well it certainly wouldn’t look good on either yours or Yeonjun’s part. Besides, you really didn’t feel like pulling the whole story for him, not when you had already promised Yeonjun that you would later that night. 

“No, I’ve just been tired lately”, you shrug as you reach for your glass. Huening doesn’t seem convinced as he studies your expressionless face. “Sorry, I’m not exactly good company right now”, you mumble against the rim of the glass. 

“You’re always great company, noona” he beams and you smile. “You’re great company too, Huening” you say and your younger colleague blushes furiously as he occupies himself with his food. 

You liked spending time with Huening kai, he was so easygoing and the atmosphere would always feel light whenever he was around. The restaurant he had taken you to was a small family owned business, perfectly situated on the corner of the street in the most central part of your city. 

From your table by the window you had a perfect view of the large park, though the flowers had yet to bloom and the tree branches remained naked you still found it to be a beautiful sight. 

Beomgyu had rarely taken you out to restaurants. In fact he rarely took you out at all. Back then you didn’t see a problem with that, but then again, there were a lot of things you had disregarded in better judgment of Choi Beomgyu. 

31st March 2022 

It had been three long days since your first encounter with Beomgyu. And for those three days you hadn’t stopped thinking about him. On your way to class, in class, after class, on your way to work, during work, after work. 

He was everywhere yet nowhere. After the night you had spent together you had woken up to an empty bed, no note left behind. Beomgyu had given you no way to contact him. Perhaps that should have been your first warning. 

Had Kayla been right all along? Did he really never see the same woman twice? Yet his words remained engraved in your brain; 

“I like you dollface, I’ll keep you”. 

I’ll keep you. How did you keep someone you couldn’t even contact? Of course you had kept the whole encounter from your nosey friend. As Kayla pestered you about where you had gotten off to during the evening, without as much as a word to your bestest friend, you dismissed her, making up some bullshit lie about getting a cab home to not ruin her night. 

Perhaps you should have just taken a cab home that night, perhaps things would’ve turned out different if you did. But there was no changing the past. 

It was late at night when your usually dry phone chimed with a notification. Had you not still been up to finish your coursework you probably would have missed it. Grabbing the device, an unfamiliar number flashed on the screen. The text was short, only reading out one sentence. 

“75-4, Seongbuk-gu, Seoul, 1.30am.” 

You frown, an address? As you open the message you find that you can’t reply, how odd. Part of you knows better than to give the mysterious message more than another thought. But something about it felt familiar, was that strange to think? 

The sender had left no signature, yet you were almost certain who had sent it. 

What did you have to lose? With that thought in mind you swing your legs over the edge of your bed as you get up. 

Typing in the address on your phone you find that it’s, “a nightclub?”. It was situated in a part of town that you were unfamiliar with. The large buildings looked slightly worn down and as you dwelled deeper into the narrow alleyways you started to question your decision. 

But you couldn’t go back now, you had to find out if he was actually the one who sent the message. The night breeze causes shivers to ripple through your body and you pull your arms around yourself as you quicken your pace. 

Soon a faint light comes into vision and the thumping of loud music can be heard. You don’t know whether to feel relieved or not, but you keep on walking. As you double check the address on your phone you throw a glance at the time, 1.28am. 

You swallow hard, an attempt to cover the fast beating of your heart. When you approach the door a large man turns to look at you. He looked like your typical bouncer, absolutely fucking jacked and covered in tattoos. 

The man raised an eyebrow as he took in the state of you. “You lost, little girl?” he asks in an amused tone. Your throat goes dry as you look up at him, “I��uh”. 

He chuckles, “kindergarten is down the street and to your right”, he gestures with a large hand. The bouncer’s words cause a frown to cross your features, kindergarten? Sure you weren’t exactly your typical bimbo, but did you really look that out of place? 

Oh who were you kidding, of course you did. What were you even thinking coming here, on your own too. There was no way you were going to be let inside this club. What a waste of time. Internally groaning, you prepare to leave when a figure suddenly appears in the doorway. 

“Dollface, you made it”, Beomgyu’s dark eyes perfectly match the smirk playing on his lips. He pushes past the bouncer who immediately steps aside and gives him a quick bow. 

A ring clad hand finds your waist as Beomgyu pulls you to his side. Your eyes widen in surprise as you stammer for words. When you pass the bouncer Beomgyu mutters something to the man that you can’t quite catch. You’re unable to give it much thought as you’re led inside the beating club. 

The atmosphere of it all is no different from any other club you had been to, sweat, alcohol and sex filled the hot air. Yet there was something special about this place, it felt almost exquisite, and the people here seemed to be aware of it. 

Instead of a bar, drinks were being served by the multiple waiters pacing around the outlines of the dancefloor. Several booths clad in purple velvet filled the walls, you expected Beomgyu to lead you to one of them,though his eyes seemed to be set on the large staircase leading to the second floor as he pushed through the dancefloor. 

Immediately eyes were drawn to him as people stepped aside to make room for him to pass. What made him so special? You were barely spared a glance apart from an occasional glare sent by the many women surrounding you.

When you made it to the stairs, Beomgyu's hand traveled from your waist to your lower back as he guided you toward the large purple doors at the top. As the two of you approached, the bouncers stepped aside and gave Beomgyu a quick bow, he barely seemed to notice them. 

“Isn’t this the VIP section?” you whisper under your breath as you survey the area. It was much quieter here and the air felt almost cleaner. “Clever girl”, Beomgyu smirks as he leads you to one of the few larger booths. 

You quickly realized that the two of you weren’t going to be alone. A man in his late twenties sat by the booth as he swished a drink around in his hand. You didn’t recognize him and when Beomgyu called out to him, his name rang no bells. 

“Duri!” he exclaims and the man looks up from his drink with a grin on his face. “I was beginning to think you’d stood me up”, Duri says as he studies Beomgyu’s frame, gaze stopping at the way his hand rests on your lower back. “Though I now realize what kept me waiting”, his eyes shift to you as he gives you a wink. 

“I, uh…hello”, you give him an awkward wave and the man bursts into laughter, Beomgyu however doesn’t seem to share his amusement. “Pretty little thing you got there”, Duri comments as he reaches for his drink once more, “what’s your name, love?”. 

“Oh, it’s─”

“Dollface, this is my old friend, Duri”, Beomgyu interrupts as he gestures toward the man in front of you. “Duri, this is Dollface”. You glance up toward Beomgyu with a slight frown but he doesn’t seem to notice as he pulls you along to sit next to him. 

Duri hums as he eyes you carefully, “nice to meet you”, he then says. “Uh, you too…”, you mumble, your words coming out as a squeak when Beomgyu’s hand finds your thigh, cold rings stinging your naked skin. 

His free hand quickly calls over one of the many waiters and he turns to look at you, “what do you want, doll?”. “Oh anything is fine…I’ll just have what you’re having”, you tell him and Beomgyu smirks as he turns back to the waiter, “my usual, and make it two”. The waiter bows before quickly rushing off again. 

You lean back against the smooth velvet as Beomgyu and Duri indulge in a conversation regarding topics that made little sense in your ears. You wondered why Beomgyu hadn’t introduced you, was he ashamed of you? But why bring you along if he was ashamed, it made little sense. 

Suddenly you’re reminded of Kayla’s warnings, you realize what kind of people Beomgyu might have connections to. Was Duri one of those? Was that why he didn’t want you to give out your name? 

Your mind spun with different scenarios, much so that you didn’t notice your drinks arriving. Not until Beomgyu brings the glass to your lips and mumbles a quiet, “open up”. 

Doing as he says without hesitation, the warm liquor burns your throat. It was unlike anything you had ever tasted before and it was… “this is really good”, you murmur as you take the glass from Beomgyu’s hand. He smirks, “knew you’d like it, dollface”. 

Raising an eyebrow, you sip on your drink, “why, you seem to know everything about me already”, you grin. Beomgyu’s eyes twinkle in an unexplainable way as he brings his own drink to his lips. “You’d be surprised”. 

To Beomgyu’s right, Duri clears his throat, “well it seems my date for the night has arrived”. As he gets up he gives you a quick glance, “pleasure meeting you, ‘dollface’”, he says before making his way over to one of the many half naked girls crowding the rest of the booths.

Surprised at his sudden leave, your eyes follow the man before returning to the one next to you. “Who was he?” you ask and Beomgyu raises an eyebrow as he looks at you, “an old friend”. 

You frown, there was no way he was telling the truth, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to question him further, reminding yourself that you barely knew the man. “If he’s an old friend, then why didn’t you introduce me?” 

Beomgyu takes a sip of his drink before setting it down, his hand returning to your thigh once more, “I did”. Shaking your head you twist around on the spot to look at him fully, “why not my name?”. 

“What’s it to him?” he mutters as his free hand runs through your hair before stopping to rest on your shoulder. Your frown deepens upon hearing his words, “he’s your friend”, you state. “Perhaps”, Beomgyu says as he casts a glance toward Duri whose hand was down the skirt of the girl he had just walked up to, “but not a friend you should be acquainted with”. 

“Why?” 

He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth but doesn’t reply. “Did he do something bad?” you press but Beomgyu doesn’t budge. “Haven’t we all?” he says as he empties the last of his drink. 

“Yes but─” 

“Drop it, dollface”, Beomgyu’s voice is so cold that it could've easily brought back the ice age. Gulping you look down to your half empty glass, the drink seeming to have lost all its taste. 

His answer however made you almost certain of one thing, that Duri was a dealer, he had to be. That’s how Beomgyu knew him, it had to be. Then that would mean that Beomgyu also… No, maybe he just bought from him every now and then. A small amount couldn’t be that bad right? As long as he had it under control, and he did, didn't he?

Back then you didn’t know it, but Beomgyu loved his control. More than a lot of things, more than a lot of people. 

You glance up at him once more, a thousand questions prodding at your lips, you chose one. “How did you get my number?”

Beomgyu groans, “fuck dollface, you ask a lot of questions”. His hand on your shoulder moves to the nape of your neck as he pulls your lips flush against his in a hot kiss. Beomgyu was good at avoiding questions, perhaps a little too good. 

That should have been your second warning.

19th February 2024 — present time

Beomgyu hadn’t changed a lot in the ten months you had gone without seeing him. There were only a few noticeable differences. His hair had gotten longer, the ends looked thinner and less well kept. Dark circles clad the area under his eyes, it was something you had never seen on him before. 

His otherwise charismatic persona had yet to leave him as he cracked jokes at any given moment. Ah, and he was still a little too good at avoiding questions. 

“What is your relationship to Park Baekhyun?” you ask. Beomgyu twists the rings on his fingers as he hums softly. As his eyes find yours a grin spreads across his lips, “what’s your relationship to that guy?”. 

You frown, what guy? “I advise you to answer my questions instead of diverting to other─” “The guy in the doorway, from earlier”, Beomgyu interrupts you as his eyes scan your expression for answers, for insecurities. 

“That was my colleague”, you say, mentally scolding yourself for letting Huening drop you off at the investigation rooms after your lunch together. 

“Really?” Beomgyu’s eyebrows raise in a fake-surprise, “didn’t look like it to me”. You roll your eyes, “what you think does not matter, now if you would regain focus and answer my quest─” “He your boyfriend or something?” 

Beomgyu’s expression holds no hint of amusement as he leans back in his chair, rocking on its back legs. You almost wanted to laugh. After everything, he still thought he had a say in anything regarding your life, regarding you. 

“He might be”. 

“Bullshit”. Beomgyu leans forward again, the front legs of his chair slamming down on the stone floor. 

You don’t flinch at the sound, you don’t move from your position even when Beomgyu’s face comes so close to yours that you can feel his hot breath on your face. 

Fighting the urge to smile, you tilt your head to the side. “Is it so hard to believe?” You watch as Beomgyu bites the inside of his cheek as he studies your face, when he doesn’t find what he’s looking for he lets out a huff of air as he leans back again. 

“He’s not your type”, he then says and it’s now your turn to fake surprise as you cross your arms, “who says?”. Beomgyu scoffs, “funny, dollface”. “You forget, I know everything about you”, his tongue swipes over his bottom lip and you find your eyes lingering. 

“Knew”, you then say, “you knew everything about me”. 

Beomgyu looks at you with an expression that could only be explained as rage filled. “Things change, Beomgyu”, you then say, putting pressure on his name, “people change, I changed”. 

“It’s a shame you didn’t”, you give him a sympathetic look. Beomgyu’s fist slams down on the metal table, causing the cuffs around his wrists to rattle. You don’t flinch. It angers him even more. 

“I think it’s best we end today’s session here”, you stand up and straighten your shirt. Beomgyu remains silent as he glares at you. It isn’t until you reach the door, one hand on the handle, that he finally speaks again. 

“Is red his favorite color too?” 

You freeze, “what?”. Beomgyu chuckles behind you, but his laugh holds no warmth. You turn to look at him, what had made him bring such a thing up. It isn't until his gaze travels to your lips that realization hits you. 

You had meant to get rid of that lipstick months ago. You had simply forgotten to, right? It was a mere coincidence that it presented itself on your desk so prettily this morning, and you had been in a rush too, not looking to see which exact product you’d taken. 

Beomgyu smirks, “you still look fucking irresistable in it”, he says as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. 

Quickly composing yourself, you pull your eyes from his lips. “My boyfriend thinks so too”, you say and before he has the chance to reply you’re out of the room, slamming the door shut behind you as you lean against it. 

Fuck, he still made your heart almost beat out of your chest. 

That night had been a restless one, spent going through the few pieces of Beomgyu you had left. The pieces you had clung onto, like your life depended on it. And maybe it did─maybe back then it did. 

They were few but important, a necklace, a perfume, a shirt, polaroids and…the red lipstick. Turning the small shiny tube between your fingers, you admire it. It was the first gift Beomgyu had given to you. 

It came in a small box, wrapped in gold with a red bow on top. Beomgyu had watched closely as your shaking fingers ripped the packaging apart. When you so carefully lifted the lid to reveal the small product inside your eyes had widened. 

“I─ Beomgyu this is…” you had mumbled as your fingers grazed the outline of the lipstick. “Try it on”, he whispered as his fingers brushed a strand of hair from your face. 

You screwed the bottom of the tube, revealing its deep red color. With trembling hands you had applied it, it turned out to be rather difficult without a mirror. As you put the lid back onto the lipstick you turned to look to Beomgyu. 

The smirk on his lips widened, exposing sharp teeth, his thumb grazed your bottom lip as it swept away any excess product. “Now you look like a real doll”, he mumbled as he caressed your flushed cheek. 

“I’ll wear it”, you whispered as you leaned into his touch. Beomgyu hummed in approval as he pressed his lips against your freshly painted ones. 

“Good, red is my favorite color”. 

end of tape 02

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[majesty-madness]

Back Then - Husband!Sebastian Sallow x Wife!reader (sfw)

Summary: As the first week of marriage comes to a close inside they’re new home, Y/N can’t help but to think back on the old days. 

Word Count: 1300+

Warnings: slight angst, kissing, newly married Sebastian & reader, mostly fluff, a bit of suggestive content (like one joke, and the ending)

a/n: Not proofread. Fucking love this game (perhaps a bit too much).

Main Masterlist

It’s night out, Y/N stands in the lamp lighted bedroom, staring out the window overlooking the front garden. She can hear the crickets chirping outside and the fireflies are in full bloom in the darkened night. She’s already dressed herself in her white nightgown, the material soft on her skin. 

Though she stood in the house she shared with her husband, her mind wandered back in time when she met him for the very first time. It had been in Defense Against the Dark Arts Class, learning to duel with an opponent, and the words “Time for a proper Hogwarts welcome” caused a soft chuckle to slip past her lips. 

Even though he sounded overconfident, his words made her giddy with excitement and then she’d won. She had surprised herself when she managed to pull that off. And when he walked up to her she was expecting a snarky remark or perhaps a nasty comment but he’d said, “You give as good as you get.” He also smirked playfully at her before walking away and she couldn’t deny the way his words caused a flurry of warmth to rush to her cheeks back then. 

As soon as they’d met, she knew she was done for. 

Again a laugh escaped her and without her knowledge her husband had come back to their bedroom, fresh from his bath. Sebastian stared lovingly as he watched his beautiful wife laugh quietly to herself. 

Throwing the towel he just used to dry his hair onto a nearby chair, he silently approached his wife from behind and when he was close enough to gently wrap his arms around her waist she didn’t flinch or jump away, instead she pressed her back against his chest as she melted into his warmth. 

“What are you laughing about?” Sebastian asked, pressing a delicate kiss to the back of her neck. 

She smiled in return, “I was just thinking about the first time we met.” 

Sebastian hummed back at her answer, pressing several other kisses into her skin. “Mmhm, we met in Defense Against the Dark Arts class, we dueled each other, remember?” 

Sebastian scoffed, “How could I forget the moment I met the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen?” 

This caused both of them to laugh at the playful comment before Y/N continued. “I remember you walking up to me, saying ‘Time for a proper Hogwarts welcome,’ very confident of you I must say.” 

“Well I had a reputation to uphold.” Sebastian reasoned. 

This time Y/N scoffed. “Yeah, and as I recall I swept that reputation right from underneath you.” 

“That wouldn’t be the last time I was underneath you.” 

Y/N gasped then slapped him on the arm, causing him to burrow into her neck once more with a laugh. “Don’t be so crude, I was reminiscing about school.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, darling.” Sebastian half-heartedly apologized although he meant no such thing. 

There was a pause as the two of them listened to the crickets outside, both taking a deep breath and feeling each other decompress in their exhale. 

“I didn’t realize it then, but that was the start of so many things.” Y/N uttered fondly, oblivious to Sebastian’s sudden frown. 

“The start of so many mistakes.” Sebastian spoke softly, almost repeating Y/N’s exact words.

Only turning her head, Y/N stared up at Sebastian as she observed his expression. “Don't do that to yourself.” 

He couldn’t help but to shake his head. “I can’t help thinking about it all. The desperation, the anger, the betrayal; I wished we had met in different circumstances then perhaps our fifth year together might have been normal.”

“Sebastian…” Y/N huffed, the makings of a smirk spreading across her lips. “I was entering Hogwarts for the first time as a fifth year student who could see traces of an ancient magic, who would complete these trails created by wizards from long ago to see their memories and ended up fighting a goblin turned dragon before the year ended.” 

Sebastian looked down to see his wife smirking. “Regardless of how we met, our fifth year was never going to be normal.” 

Just like that the dark thoughts whirling in were cast away by Y/N’s light hearted humor, and it didn’t hurt that she was absolutely correct. 

He let out a deep root laugh, nuzzling into Y/N’s neck once more and began to gently sway her in his arms. “I suppose you’re right, darling. And I believe that even if my situation hadn’t been what it was, we would’ve met eventually anyhow.” 

Y/N pulled away a bit only to turn to face him while still in his embrace, her arms coming up to wrap around his neck. “Call it fate. Someone had to keep an eye on you.”

“Well I’m glad to have had your company, Mrs. Sallow, even if it was to keep me out of trouble.” 

“To be fair, I didn’t do a very good job at it.” 

Tightening his hold around her back, he pressed Y/N further into his chest. “True. Probably wasn’t the wisest to send the ancient magic prodigy to babysit a no good scoundrel.”

He said it like it was a joke, but the regret quickly filling his eyes didn’t fool Y/N. Her expression fell into that of compassion and without thinking, she brought her hand up to softly caress the underside of his jaw. 

“Hey now..” The words barely a whisper as she spoke. “I love you and despite it all, I’m glad that I met you. I’ve never had any regrets about that so you shouldn’t either.”

“I love you too.” Was all he said then leaned in to plant a tender kiss to Y/N’s lips. First it was the soft, overly gentle kiss that most new couples share in moments of vulnerability but seamlessly turned deeper, passionate. The heat of lust rising within and fanning the flames of love that survived the hardships promised to every living being. 

Their hands began to wander over the familiar plane of their partner, taking note of the thumping heartbeat and the sudden warmth enveloping the skin. They continued this memorized dance for several more seconds, pulling away only when the need to air outweighed the need for the other. A light panting exchanged between the two when Y/N’s eyes had left Sebastian’s for just a moment to stare at the bed. 

“The sheets…” She breathlessly uttered. 

His brow furrowed slightly. “What about them?”

She looked back at him. “They’re new.”

“And?”

Y/N brought her hands to seductively fiddle with the two tops buttons of Sebastain’s nightshirt, only to finally unbutton them completely. “Annnd,” she let the word roll on her tongue for longer than necessary, “I think that it’s time that we break them in, see how they hold up.”

She could almost see the ways his eyes darkened at the promiscuous suggestion though he chuckled despite the heat growing in his groin. “Good idea, darling, it’s best we make good use of the new house. See what we can get away with.”

Sebastian had let his hand drift from her back over the plump flesh of her bottom, giving her rear a small squeeze and suddenly lowering his hands to the back of her thighs to lift her up into the air. Y/N let out a gasp at the motion with a sweet giggle bursting from her throat right after as she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her towards their bed. She gave him a few pecks on lips, continuing to do so even as her back was lowered to the plush material of the mattress. 

For the remainder of the evening, Y/N and Sebastian got lost in each other’s touch; not sure where one ended and the other began. And into the late hours of the night, Y/N couldn’t help reminiscing on how much her life had changed. 

Through all the pain, the battles, the injuries, and broken hearts, Y/N would always be thankful that she met the trouble making fifth year: Sebastian Sallow, a good friend and the love of her life.

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x female!reader #sebastian sallow x f!mc #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x you #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy fanart

[kajaono]

Anthony projecting his feelings for Kate on Edwina and how the show beautifully reveals this mistake later on

Intro: I already made a post about how amazing the after-failed-wedding scene is, and how Anthony is projecting his feelings for Kate on Edwina to still save the wedding, but i want to dig deeper into it this time. Stick with me here and excuse the horrible smartphone screenshots.

Anthony comes up the Edwina, trying to convience her to still marry him, saying: "What we share is greater than else."

Edwina doesn't seem convienced. She knows it is a lie, a lie Anthony might not even be aware of himself.

Anthony then proceeds:

You can see how sad, broken and tierd Edwina looks after this speech. Because... yeah the share a fate, a fate they didn't choose for themselves. But Edwinas is not necessarily a bad one. Its a privilege, the "once in a life time"-chance to find a husband and save her whole family. Yeah it is not easy, but it will be over at the end of the season. Can you compare it with being a Vicount? A title that makes him head of the family... forever! A title that makes him responsible for his whole family. A fate where is own happiness is always second, and his family always comes first. Can you compare that with being a diamond for one season?... I don't think so, Anthony.

And still... still, Anthony tries to frame it like his and Edwinas fates are alike. And i think he really believes it there. He really does. Because, yes, he indeed shares a fate with a Sharma sister... just not this one.

And now the pre-sex-scene kicks in.

First at all, Anthony confronts Kate with: "Before we both finally do something for ourselves?". A really beautiful moment and already paralleling his moment with Edwina.

Because when Anthony utters these words you can see how Kate realize he is right. She has never done anything for herself, because she was always head of the family. Her family needs were always first, her own needs always came second. A fate she didn't choose for herself (you already see where this is going, don't you?)

Kate immedietly confirms Anthonys words. Everything she did was for her family. Like a certain Vicount perhaps?

And Anthony understands. Oh yes, he does!

Because, just like Kate he always took care of his family first. A fate he didn't choose for himself.

Wait, we heard that before!

And this is how the circle closes. Beautiful, isn't it?

This whole speech that he shared with Edwina, was never for her. It was always dedicated to Kate. He is just so deep in denial that he got a few things mixed up...

#anthony bridgerton #kanthony #edwina sharma #bridgerton #bridgerton season 2 #bridgerton parallels #whoopsie forgot to post that. but here you finally go

[hookhausenschips]

She said, "He's not coming back. Because he's sleeping with me!”

Masterlist

Summary: based on Dirty Diana

Join my taglist here!

A/N: I was tempted to add smut to this but I’m feeling lazy tonight, lmk if you’d want an updated version with it

Like and Reblog if you enjoyed!

————————————————————

Y/N’s POV

Monaco’s glitter never dulled, and neither did my appetite for its most enticing visitors. Among the Formula 1 elite, Sebastian Vettel had always stood out—not just for his skill on the track but for his notorious resistance to the charms that worked so effortlessly on others. He intrigued me, like a puzzle begging to be solved, and I couldn't resist a challenge.

During one of the Grand Prix after-parties, I wove through the crowd, my dress catching the lights, knowing full well he’d notice. Approaching him with a drink, I smiled, offering it as a token of congratulations.

“Sebastian, that was some impressive driving today,” I said, my voice laced with just a hint of promise. “Ever think of celebrating away from all this noise?”

He took the drink, his smile polite but guarded. “Thanks, but I’ve got plans,” he replied, a flicker of caution in his eyes.

I leaned in closer, lowering my voice. “Plans can change, Sebastian. Sometimes spontaneity can lead to the most memorable nights.”

"Thank you, but I prefer quieter celebrations. Perhaps another time," he replied, already looking past me.

"Oh, come on. A little celebration never hurt anyone," I teased, touching his arm lightly. He glanced at the contact, his eyes flickering with a warning. But I saw the momentary lapse, the brief interest, and I knew—I had a way in.

As the season progressed, I found myself at various races, always making sure I was in Sebastian's line of sight. In Singapore, under the artificial stars of the Marina Bay Circuit, I escalated my efforts. Waiting in the shadows after his disappointing finish, I approached him with a sympathetic smile.

"Rough night, huh? Everyone needs to let off some steam," I said, my voice low and inviting. "Let me show you the real nightlife of Singapore."

He glanced at me, his tired eyes betraying a hint of vulnerability. “You don’t give up, do you?” he remarked, half-amused.

“And you seem worth not giving up on,” I replied smoothly, placing my hand reassuringly on his.

This time, he hesitated, the strain of the race evident in his eyes. "Maybe just a drink," he finally conceded, and I knew this was my moment.

We ended up at a secluded spot, away from the prying eyes of the racing world. As the night deepened, so did our conversation, and eventually, the undeniable attraction took over. It was everything I had planned, a night of whispered secrets and shared laughter, which ended with a promise of no strings attached.

The morning brought reality crashing back. As the sun rose over the skyline, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, Sebastian's expression turned solemn. "This can't happen again," he stated firmly, his voice rough with regret. "I have someone waiting for me back home. This was a mistake."

I watched him dress, the lines of his body tense with conflict. "Everyone makes mistakes," I said softly, trying to lighten the mood. But his jaw was set, his decision clear as he walked out, leaving me to ponder my next move.

Driven by the thrill of the challenge, I refused to give up. My next opportunity came in Abu Dhabi, at the season's closing race. I knew this was my last chance to sway him this season. I pulled out all the stops, arranging an accidental meeting at the hotel lobby.

"Sebastian, fancy seeing you here," I said, feigning surprise. "One last celebration to end the season?"

He looked tired, worn out from the demands of his career and perhaps the weight of his guilt. "I shouldn't," he started, but I cut him off.

"Just one drink, for old times' sake?" I suggested, my voice a soothing balm to his hesitation.

This time, when he agreed, there was a resignation in his tone, a surrender to the inevitable. We found ourselves back in a secluded corner, the world fading away as we picked up where we had left off.

The night blurred into a tapestry of touch and whispers, a repeat of our last encounter but with an underlying urgency. As dawn approached, we faced each other with a mutual understanding; this was more than just a fling.

"I don't regret this," Sebastian confessed, his voice low, filled with a complex mixture of emotions. "But it changes nothing back home."

I nodded, my mind already racing with possibilities. "Who says it has to change anything?" I murmured, the idea taking root.

As he left, the final goodbye was different—less regretful, more inevitable. We were both caught in a web of our own making, the boundaries blurred. And as I watched him go, I knew this wasn't the end. The chase was as thrilling as the catch, and I was already planning the next Grand Prix, the next encounter, under the guise of night and the rush of adrenaline.

In this high-speed game of cat and mouse, I was always one step ahead, and Sebastian was an opponent worth every strategic move.

#sv5 #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel imagine #sebastian vettel one shot #sebastian vettel fanfic #seb vettel #sebastian vettel #x black fem reader #x black!fem!reader #x reader #x black!reader #x black reader #red bull f1 #f1 fandom #x fem!reader #f1 x black!reader #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula one imagine #formula one fanfiction #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 #formula one #formula one x y/n #formula 1 x black!reader #formula 1 x you #formula one x reader #formula 1 x female reader

[inuhalfdemon]

No One Can Know... (5/?)

Word Count: 2,526 Words

Rating: Mature (SMUT)

Chapter 5

"I want your love, and I want your revenge

You and me could write a bad romance

I want your love and all your lover's revenge

You and me could write a bad romance"

- Lady Gaga

_________________________________________________

“Better to come here now then.” 

Lucifer was right. Alastor had already put things off longer than was prudent for them and it might be best that tonight was not a night that they spent at the hotel. 

Maybe this was a mistake... He thought.

Not that Lucifer hadn’t proven that he was fully capable of handling Alastor; but would he be prepared for Alastor at his absolute worst?

Alastor had not been entirely honest with Lucifer; refraining from offering up the fact that he had chosen avoidance - had forcibly made himself celibate - for the past 7 years. This, of course, was creating a large problem to him now. He had hoped to pay the consequence of denying his body a natural need it required under...different circumstances; perhaps at some time when the stakes weren't set quite so high with very few options to consider.  

He had withheld this information knowing that Lucifer would inevitably want to know the reason why; and Alastor – quite simply – had no interest in discussing it.

Alastor was feeling uncomfortable. 

Two days had passed since his visit to Lucifer’s and he was very nearly fully into his rut now. He had stubbornly pushed off contacting the angel for as long as was possible but it was getting harder and harder to maintain his composure. 

During the daytime, he threw himself into tasks throughout the hotel; performing maintenance and small renovations where he could; helping Charlie in formulating a strong argument for redemption by researching terminology and definitions that would best accommodate her proposals; exchanging preliminary ideas with Vaggie on possible preparations for fortifying the hotel should the need require it; helping the other residents with small and meaningless chores or errands. He no longer slept and he spent the nights drinking and making efforts in dulling the edge to his urges.

Despite the distraction and despite him trying to deal with the arousals himself...he wasn't accomplishing much in assuaging his symptoms. Alastor's body was betraying him and he did not care for it. He felt overheated; a cold sweat constantly at his back. He had to take measures in concealing spontaneous erections and felt like every nerve on his body was a live wire just ready to ignite. His antlers were even weighing heavier on his head and he knew he couldn't ignore the implications of this much longer. 

When he got to Lucifer's, he felt a frazzled mess. Lucifer took one look at him and knew - despite all of the arrogant antics, despite all of the careful planning - Alastor was not handling his rut well. He was too...maniac and too on-edge. His ears too straight and twitchy, his eyes and smile too wide... 

"Have you eaten?" Lucifer asked him, inviting him inside. "You look like you could maybe use some food..." and maybe some sleep... 

"No, I have not...I -" He was trying to remember when he last ate...not today. "I suppose I should." 

"Shrimp and grits sound okay?" Lucifer asked him, walking toward the kitchen. 

Alastor paused; tilting his head. 

"I asked Charlie, alright." Lucifer told him. "I explained to her that you and I had important matters to discuss regarding information from Carmilla's extermination meetings she conducts with the Overlords tonight and I asked her what you might like to eat. She said you liked Cajun, so Cajun I made." 

Alastor just stared at him; giving him a hard look.

“Won’t your daughter be wondering at the strangeness of our…nightly meeting?” He asked.

“Hardly.” Lucifer told him turning and continuing down the corridor. “She knows that you’re nocturnal and that I’m an insomniac. Honestly; she’s just thrilled that we don’t have any foreseeable plans in murdering each other.”  

“I’d rather you didn’t go out of your way to make special accommodations for me.”

"I have an interest in knowing people, Alastor. I'm sure you've seen that trait in Charlie, as well. Don't be so surprised and don’t be so skeptical." 

Flicking one ear; Alastor followed him to the kitchen.

"Also, you might hate the dinner. Who knows. I never said I was a good cook." 

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Following their meal, Lucifer noted that Alastor still seemed...out of sorts. They had engaged in quiet conversation that was pleasant enough but the man just seemed too...nervous and distant. Whatever expectations Lucifer had with tonight; this wasn't it.

Maybe this isn't the best solution... 

With the food gone and dishes put away; there was nothing left for it... 

"I don't know about you, but I could use a shower." Lucifer said; standing up to stretch. "Care to join me?" 

"A shower sounds....nice, actually." 

The bathroom was unlike anything Alastor had seen; dead or alive. It was incredibly spacious and immaculately kept... 

The shower was a large walk-in with multiple waterflow heads. Lucifer unabashedly stripped himself naked; setting his clothes aside. Walking across the tiles; he flipped on the knobs of two of the heads before stepping underneath the streaming water of one. 

Alastor paused; watching him. He expected Lucifer to start in on some form of leud comments...make an attempt at some or dirty talk; or hungrily – curiously even - watch him as he undressed; but the angel was paying him absolutely no mind. 

Sighing; Alastor slipped out of his suit jacket. 

Fully naked, he stepped into the shower with Lucifer; going to the second shower head that was beside him. Alastor stood underneath the jet; feeling the heated water soothe the static nervous energy he had stored in his body. He waited for Lucifer to turn toward him; to approach; to look at him and begin touching him but...he never did. Lucifer stood under his own steaming jet of water, eyes closed and head tilted as he showered; almost seemingly having forgotten that Alastor was even there. Alastor tweaked an ear, then closing his eyes he turned his face into the spray of water; feeling it thrum against his antlers, cascading across his lowered ears and through his hair. 

Lucifer watched Alastor from the corner of his eye. He had noted a hint of some sort of cologne when Alastor stepped into the shower with him but now...now that Alastor was under the water the smell was pungent. It was a heavy but earthy odor; something akin to the smell of pine trees and rain or the soft tones of a woodfire smoke. Lucifer breathed the scent in deeply; his pupils gently dilated, his heart rate jumped, and his mouth began to water...all at once he was suddenly very much aroused and he immediately realized that he was smelling and breathing in the concentrated pheromones of Alastor's musk. Lucifer couldn't help but stare at him now, feeling a powerful urge now to approach the red deer demon; to feel and to touch...to give and to take.

He saw the water washing across Alastor’s upturned face; ringlets, splashes and streams of it curling and twisting all down across his body. He briefly noted that Alastor was covered in scars; a sharp flickering of red and then he saw that Alastor also possessed a rather soft-and-delicate-looking deer tail. Lucifer wondered at the amount of secrets Alastor must be willing to sacrifice to see these deals he had made done…

Lucifer’s erection was openly jutting upwards but…he held back. Watching Alastor closely; he somehow knew that he wasn't ready to be touched yet. 

What hell it must be…he thought…to be someone who cared so little for physical intimacy - to have it forced upon them by their own biological need. Lucifer couldn't fathom it but he saw the discomfort; the detachment that Alastor was experiencing from it. It reminded Lucifer of one of his episodes that he had sometimes when he-

Wait. 

Hold on. 

Lucifer shook his head; blinking water from his eyes as he concentrated, looking much more closely at Alastor now.

Was Alastor...experiencing some episode of post-traumatic distress?

Lucifer focused; assessing all of the signs and he saw it, realizing…

“I’d rather not discuss it…”

Suddenly; all of it made sense.

Lucifer had wondered how Alastor – a sinner Cervidae demon that had been in Hell for as long as he had – had not yet come to terms with the matter of his occurring and re-occurring mating cycles. 

Something had to have happened…

Fuck…

Lucifer rubbed his face; of course, this had to be even more complicated.

He thought briefly again about what both Lilith and Alastor had said…about how Alastor had actually killed demons before when he –

Then, Lucifer remembered what he himself had told Alastor:

“…it wasn’t for the intentions that they had thought…”

Alastor was still standing under the shower head next to his; eyes closed, face tilted up, smile fixed to his face. His body was rigid; tension never leaving his body.

Lucifer sighed.

“Hey, Al…”

Alastor’s eyes opened; he turned his head, ears lifting, looking at Lucifer now – somehow expressionless despite the ever-present grin. 

“Come here; I-I’d like you to touch me.”

Alastor’s ears straightened; processing for a moment…

Then, reaching out – Alastor turned the knob to his shower head; turning off the spray of water. He went to Lucifer; stepping into the falling water and looking down at the angel. Reaching out again; he found the knob – turning it. Heat flared across Lucifer’s skin; turning his pale skin a rosy pink.

“Fuck, that’s hot.” Lucifer hissed.

Alastor huffed; a small smirk touching his face. Turning, he put his back to the streaming jet of hot water; facing Lucifer. Steam began to rapidly fill the shower; heat radiating around them.

Alastor waited; still anticipating Lucifer to reach out – touch him; grab him; grip him; smother him…

Lucifer lifted his hands; palms open and held to the side.

“Per our agreement…” He said, softly.

Alastor’s eyes widened; understanding.

“I won’t touch you.” Lucifer told him. “Not until you want me to.”

Alastor’s breathing changed; the base to his antlers were becoming more full, more points erupting and curling upward.

“Don’t hold back.” Lucifer told him.

Layers of tension left Alastor as he moved himself closer to Lucifer; his upper body leaning down and over the angel.

He took Lucifer’s face between clawed hands; tilting his head and pressing his mouth to his. Alastor kissed him and Lucifer kept his hands raised and away. Alastor pressed himself closer; completely blocking the spray of water coming from the shower head and Lucifer was grateful for the added heat that was filling the room in a foggy humid blanket.

Still kissing him; Alastor’s hands left the angel’s face and began exploring his body. Clawed fingers traced stimulating patterns all along Lucifer’s wet neck, chest, shoulders and stomach. Lucifer shuddered; groaning softly into Alastor’s mouth. Unlike Alastor; Lucifer craved to touch and craved being touched…now finding himself coming out of a rather lengthy dry spell – maybe not years worth, but still – his body was terribly touch deprived and every contact Alastor made with him was bracing to him. Keeping his hands away – he clenched his fists at the urge to reach out and touch Alastor.

Alastor pulled his head back; breaking the kiss. His fingers curled around Lucifer’s chin; his eyes wide and dilating.

“Put your hands on my shoulders.” He breathed.

Unclenching his fists; Lucifer did as he was instructed. Alastor waited for him to rest his hands on either side; pausing as if assessing himself - deciding whether he would find the contact acceptable.

Nodding; he leant back in – pressing his lips back again to Lucifer’s – his own clawed hands finding and gripping the smaller man’s waist; palms resting on each hip.

Lucifer let his hands rest – still - at Alastor’s shoulders; neither moving them to touch and explore Alastor like he ached to do nor to grip and pull him closer. Alastor gave a soft growl and Lucifer took it as an approving sound as the demon coaxed their mouths open; sliding his tongue between parted lips – he twisted and flicked it with and against Lucifer’s forked one.

More and more of the unease was leaving Alastor’s body…making room for a new kind of tension. Lucifer felt Alastor grip his hips tighter; his developing erection pressing into the King’s belly. Disengaging himself from Lucifer’s mouth; Alastor pressed his forehead to Lucifer’s; his breathing heavy.

“You may touch me now.” Alastor told him.

Slowly; Lucifer leaned in – touching his lips to Alastor’s collar bone and sliding his hands down across Alastor’s arms and his chest. Alastor groaned; sinking into the touch and Lucifer knew that he would no longer have to take such pangs to be so cautious. He nipped and licked at Alastor’s skin; his tongue tracing across the raised and jagged scars that crisscrossed his chest. Clawed fingers dragging soft red marks; everywhere they went.

Lifting a hand from a hip; Alastor found Lucifer’s length. He palmed and stroked the King; feeling the firming of muscle in his hand. Lucifer sucked in a breath; hands involuntarily gripping tightly at Alastor’s arms. Lucifer quickly released his sudden grip; but Alastor only chuckled lowly at the response he had elicited in him.

“Turn around, my King.” Alastor told him lowly.

Turning; Lucifer felt Alastor’s hands grip his shoulders – pulling him against him so that Lucifer could feel the sinner’s erection pressing sharply into his back. Alastor adjusted himself; then possessively wrapped an arm around Lucifer’s torso; holding him firmly to him as he leant himself over – reaching down to take the swollen and aching member into his grip again. He pressed himself tightly against the angel; his own fully erect penis sliding up and down Lucifer’s wet back as he moved his hips – pumping the King in his hand.

Lucifer bent himself back against Alastor; his hips quivering into jutting as he felt himself quickly approaching a climax. His clawed fingers dug into the wet and slick skin of Alastor’s forearm; wrapped tightly across his chest. Alastor’s face was pressed tightly into the side of Lucifer’s neck; growling and gasping as both their movements stimulated him into an ever-deepening arousal.

Alastor’s grip tightened and Lucifer knew he was lost. His hips jutted sharply; and he felt himself release into Alastor’s hand; cum slipping between fingers and washing away in the cascade of water around them. Alastor let him go; and Lucifer shakily stood – his back still to Alastor.

A soft flickering of the lights and a soft buzzing of something static made Lucifer turn. Alastor was standing behind him; his penis curved tightly upward, a hand covering his face – his eyes were wide, red and flaring crazily behind spread fingers. His smile maniac and stretched too wide. His ears were erratically twitching in sharp movements; the fur on them standing sharply on end. The lights began to strobe; going out briefly before flickering back in again. Shadows were creeping into corners; crawling across walls – slowly consuming the room. Alastor’s antlers where branching and stretching dramatically overhead; the points lengthening and twisting around themselves in a beautifully chilling way. Alastor’s musk pervaded the room; hanging heavy in the thickening steam that surrounded them.

“Somewhere else…” Alastor was saying; his widening eyes seeing nothing. “I’m…”

And the room went dark.

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Chapter 6

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fandom #alastor #fanfiction #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction #my fanfic #no one can know... #no once can know... fanfic #hazbin lucifer #lucifer morningstar #lucifer magne #alastor and lucifer #alastor x lucifer #lucifer x alastor #hazbin hotel lucifer #radioapple #lucifer hazbin hotel #appleradio #the radio demon #demon alastor #alastor in rut #dark alastor

[1833outboy]

didn't get the vinyl :(

but did get the teacup....

#already feel like it was.... a mistake perhaps #financially #it was too much money it was way too much

[teotoffee]

large iced coffee save me........

save me large iced coffee........

#Perhaps it was a mistake bc now im thinking too fast and im getting anxious now #have to wait 20 or so minutes for my prof and if he's not here i book it back #i hope i can get a sched for my counseling already bc frankly im tired of feeling like this everyday #theo.txt

[gatun-gatunesco]

...

#the results finally came: i have hepatitis. Is not longer just simple sickness and liver malfunction. Now i have chronic illness #and i am back into my place. after being far away for some weeks feeling like a victim of the narrative #how foolish and stupid i was #i tried not to think about it. to not give it importance as she said it was not that serious #but now that i am alone in here again i realize that everything it was my fault #“is our mistake” i can hear her say. but it is my fault: i was the sober one. the one in control. the one that did not let her go #“she was teasing you. was somerhing she wanted” some people reply. but that is no excuse for my behaviour #i was supposed to protect her. to let her be free with herself. and in the end i only gave her pain and regret. i destroyed my last chance #perhaps being denied to fix what i did. to prove myself better. is my punishment and i should accept it #not able to know about her life. if she is okay. if her heart is recovering. if her mind is not killing her. is part of the punishment too #sure. the guilt is destroying me. but i deserve it. in fact. i deserve all the problems i am having. i deserve to be out of her life #my chairs are screaming. my bed is punching. the blankets are a burden. the walls compress me. the juice is sour. #i can no longer make that dish. not that snack. and just thinking about the strawberrys dessert makes me nauseous and want to puke #i am totally sure that event damaged her more than she wanted to admit. if is this devastating to me. should be x10 worse for her. #but i will never know and that is part of the suffering i deserve #i hope she manage to heal. to forget about me. to find someone better that can truly help her #i hope she never wanted to came back. it will only bring her pain. see me will only make her remember the trauma #i am not free of sin. i betrayed myself that day. i betrayer her too. i do not deserve forgiveness from both #the walls are not the culprit. yet my anger keep me punching them. i could damage myself but my liver is already doing that #perhaps this illness will set me free. but until that happens. i still need to try going forward. #mostly becasue is not fair i just give up and end my suffering that easy. i must face my punishment #yet i hope she is not being tormented by my mistake. i doubt it. but she deserve better #hopefully she will never read this and therefore never try to contact me to debate the mistake if she still think was her fault #hopefully she will heal and grow. happy and independent. free with lots of friends. loving herself and someone special for her #i tried to be a saviour but at the end i only destroyed who i wanted to save. along myself in the process #better to stay alone that to hurt someone and myself again #i wish life to let me be in the void where i belong. feeling desires is gross and awful. better to not feel anything like i was before #tried to distract myself with funny stuff and healing posts. heck even some sad and broken stuff to feel understood #but nothing of that was really helpful as i was only neglecting the reality and severity of my actions. i must leave #so goodbye. i should come back when the illness and the guilt stop killing me (if it does not succeed)

[primofate]

Confessions Series - Part 2: Description [Genshin Impact Male Characters]

In a nutshell: He asks if you have your eyes set on someone. You start describing HIS features and watch for his reaction. (Hint: He likes you too)

Other works in this series: (Part 1 - Overheard)

Warnings: The usual, haven't written in a while, please forgive mistakes, bit of angst in Diluc (couldn't help it), I am a sleep deprived mother, some profanity, for some reason did not feel like writing Zhongli though he's one of my faves.

Characters: Aether, Albedo, Alhaitham, Ayato, Baizhu, Bennett, Chongyun, Cyno, Dainsleif, Diluc, Gaming, Heizou, Itto, Kaeya, Lyney, Neuvillette, Scaramouche, Tartaglia, Wriothesley, Xiao, gn!reader

Personal Favourites: Diluc, Wriothesley

Aether

"Yeah, I do," you start. "He's very selfless...He's always running around helping other people,"

Aether nods, intense gaze in his eyes while listening.

"Hmm...He has...a partner. Like a companion he always travels with..."

Aether's brows start to furrow and his head tilts the slightest bit. Paimon flying next to him has no clue who it is whatsoever.

"He's not originally from Teyvat...He's on a journey, you see..." this is where you start getting nervous

You see it click in Aether's head slowly, and his eyes start to widen the slightest bit

"Hey, that sounds an awful lot like you, traveller! Why have we never met this person before, Y/N?" Paimon asks and you only smile.

"P-Paimon," Aether glances at her and then back to you. It's silent for a moment. Paimon is super confused.

But Aether being Aether didn't want to get the wrong idea and racks up the courage to ask you one last question. "He's on a journey...to look for his twin sister?"

You smile the brightest smile you've ever given him. "Correct!"

"Ah...Well..." Aether starts to feel the heat on his cheeks. "That's..." he doesn't say anything else for a few seconds. "Don't get me wrong, I'm just...I'm happy!"

Is basically flustered when he realizes you've technically just confessed to him.

Albedo

"Simply put, I think he's dedicated to his craft," You shrug and smile

"...An admirable trait," he responds.

"He's frequently in Dragonspine. He spends a bit of time in his lab there," you decide to just go straight for the obvious.

Albedo pauses. "I...see..." Turns to you with a small smile "I wasn't aware that you were that fond of me,"

"Now you know," you simply say and try to play it off with a wave of your hand.

He chuckles under his breath and strides over to you while saying. "Well then, I suppose it's my turn to talk about the person I've set my eyes on,"

Proceeds to describe you accurately, down to your likes and dislikes. In his eyes, you seem like something so precious and you can't help but feel a bit embarrassed.

Alhaitham

"Hmm... Sort of," you explain. "He's a little...hard to reach,"

Alhaitham "...and you still pursue him?"

You laugh a bit "I'm hardly pursuing him, I'm just...observing. I like watching him, even though he has the most unreadable face I've seen,"

Alhaitham goes quiet for a moment. He catches on fast, he already has an idea but is cautious about what he says. "...I see," he doesn't ask anything else, but you continue to offer information.

"He likes reading. Really smart guy...but kind of no nonsense type. Very straight to the point," You begin to feel a little nervous so you pretend to read your own book with a small shrug.

The silence is deafening.

"I suspect that type of person will be hard to put up with," he suddenly says aloud and you chuckle in response.

"Possibly, but he seems to be putting up with me too...I guess?"

He suddenly closes his book and leans forward to pry the one in your hands away. He locks his gaze with you. "...'Putting up' is hardly the word I would use." his lips twitch the slightest bit before continuing. "He has little to no patience for other people...so if he keeps you around...perhaps it signals something else,"

"Something else...As in, I'm special?"

Again he quiets for a moment, before he stands up, chair scraping the floor. "...Precisely," he turns to start walking out of the library, waving a hand behind him. "I'll pick you up in the morning tomorrow,"

Ayato

"I do, but he's a very busy sort of man,"

Ayato "Is that so?" he pours tea for you.

"Quite. He's also a very important person,"

He hums and watches the billowing steam from the tea. "It sounds as if I might know this person," but he genuinely doesn't know it's him, he just thinks its another noble.

"...You most definitely know him. He has a sister. Lovely girl." This is where you avert your gaze from him in fear of him instantly connecting the dots.

He talks in pauses "A...sister..." His mind is starting to make connections but he can't be quite sure yet. So he prods further. "...Does she happen to have a vision?"

"A cryo vision holder, yes," you're biting the inside of your lip at this point. There's a moment of silence before you hear Ayato laughing rather gleefully, like he was amused by a story.

"I see." he ends with a chuckle. "I apologize for being so busy, Y/N," he smiles at you "I promise I'll do my best to arrange my priorities in order to spend more time with you,"

Baizhu

"He takes his job too seriously and can be quite reckless...Sometimes he even puts himself in danger,"

Changsheng catches on immediately. The snake had already known for a while. Baizhu was just being dense. "Oh here we go," the snake half whines.

Baizhu gives it a weird look before turning his attention back to you. "That does sound reckless,"

"I've told him a couple of times to think about himself too...but I guess he's just really passionate about his job,"

Baizhu sort of shrugs, "What IS his job?"

"...Well for starters he owns a pharmacy around town,"

To Baizhu the realization hits all too slowly. It's not that he was slow or dense, but he was having a hard time believing that it was him you were talking about, specially when you hadn't said it outfront.

"...You do realize I'm the only one who owns a pharmacy around town?" he asks, eyes piercing through you and awaiting your answer.

Changsheng is the one who answers for you. "Yes you ridiculous doctor, Y/N's pertaining to you!"

It's the first time you've seen him blush and he turns his head away when he does so. "I-I see, well...that's rather, unexpected...but not unwelcome,"

Clears his throat "Just give me a moment"

Changsheng would roll its eyes if it could.

Bennett

"Has a lot of energy...Sometimes I wonder where he gets all of it. I really like him for that though."

Deflates as soon as you start talking about your "crush". What kind of answer was he expecting anyway? That you had eyes for him?

"He has a bit of a...problem when it comes to luck," you continue

Bennett stops, you look at him and you can practically see the gears in his head starting to turn a little faster.

"Y-Y/N? Are you talking about..." then the gears suddenly stop. "Oh what am I saying, it can't be. Ahahaha! Let's go!" starts walking again as if nothing happened

Your jaw drops and you're forced to just DIRECTLY tell him you're talking about him.

"...Oh...Oh! F-For real?! Oh...Sorry... I just thought... there's no way! B-But, I'm really glad! Really!"

Chongyun

"Hmm...He's a little shy...but he's very responsible,"

Chongyun stares at you intently and nods as if taking notes.

"He doesn't like spicy stuff,"

Chongyun nods twice, eagerly.

"He's very dedicated in learning about thaumaturgy,"

Chongyun blanks out, brows furrow but still nods. Slowly.

"He's really good with a claymore too!"

Chongyun stops and stares at you, you see a hint of red gracing his cheeks "Y/N...You can't possibly be...talking about... m-m-m-"

Can't seem to say it, so you outright say that it is, in fact, him.

Combusts into a tomato red

Cyno

"How do I say this...He's a pretty strict guy." The two of you are playing Invokation TCG during this convo.

"Mmhmm..." Cyno is focused on his cards, frankly he doesn't give a craps ass who you're into. He didn't even know why he asked, he just dug himself a hole.

"...but he really only takes his work seriously. It's his job to be serious, I guess. I think that's what Matras need to do," he finished his turn and its yours now, though he's still studying his cards intently. Until you get to the Matra part.

"He's a Matra?" You rarely see a surprised face on Cyno so you focus your gaze on him. "Which one?" He further asks. Honestly he looks about to murder someone.

You blank out a bit at how intense his stare was, "Well...You know. That one, the one who's really into Invokation TCG,"

He immediately follows up without missing a beat "I don't know anyone else who's into--" then it clicks.

It was so damn silent for a good 10 seconds. You clear your throat, tear your eyes off him "Um, it's your turn,"

STILL doesn't budge until he finally goes back to his cards with a whisper, you can't really tell but he looks slightly bashful and you can barely, BARELY hear him "...If I win then we go on a date,"

"Okay, and if you lose?"

Cyno "...I'm not gunna lose,"

"See, I told you he's a really serious guy,"

Dainsleif

"I think he's a very dedicated person," you get lost in thought a little, thinking about him. "Whenever I look at him...Sometimes I feel as if there's a certain sadness in him... Perhaps he blames himself for not being able to protect his nation,"

He IMMEDIATELY knows. And he knows that you hurt for him too. How could he not?

"He searches for answers... I don't know for how long, I suppose a long, long time," you close your eyes, imagining how long he must have been wandering Teyvat.

You only open your eyes when you feel a hand brush against yours. He's looking straight at you, neither happy nor sad. "...You don't have to feel that way, for my circumstances,"

The brush against your hand disappears and reappears next to your cheek, his fingers gently resting on it "...Knowing that you feel that way, has taken away some of the burden that I shoulder,"

His gaze suddenly hardens and his voice drops to a whisper, "But please, just don't end up in the same way as everyone else,"

Diluc (I don't know why I end up writing a whole novel for this guy. I guess he's my OG favourite)

You pause for a moment, wondering how to describe Diluc. "...Sometimes... I feel as if I know a lot about him and yet... he's still far off in the distance,"

Diluc, rifling through paperwork, doesn't even look at you. "...That tells me nothing about him," there's a bit of bite in his statement.

You sigh a little, "I mean, simply said he's a hardworking man. He always has Mondstadt's best interests in mind...but he prefers to work alone,"

He's silent, but you can still hear the paper shuffling.

"....but people love him. They care for him. I suppose I understand why he keeps a distance but..." at this point you don't even realize that you're just rambling and staring into space. Sort of in a daze of thinking out loud. "...isn't it lonely? ...I suppose I shouldn't assume how he feels. Maybe he's fine with it...I just wonder how long till he sees us..." there's silence, no ruffle of papers, you're still just staring at the bookshelf and you continue in a monotone voice. "...or sees me,"

You blink, and all of a sudden its as if a magic spell is cast on you and you wake up to the reality that you've been rambling about him. You sit up straight "Oh," then turn to him with a careful smile. You don't think he knows what or who you're talking about anyway. "I better get going," you stand, "Jean must be waiting for me."

You leave, and he doesn't stop you.

You don't really think anything of it, feeling as if your whole monologue was very vague...but to your surprise he knocks at your door in the evening, there's a bit of rain falling.

"Diluc? You're drenche--"

"I see you,"

The determination in his voice lulls you to keep quiet and only stare up at him, wondering if he had more to say, but instead of saying something, he leans in, wrapping his arms around you and resting his forehead on your shoulder, as if he had been defeated.

You only welcome his embrace, and, for the first time in a long time. Diluc finally feels like he's home.

Gaming

"Passion!" You nod your head as you say it. "He knows what he wants to do and is incredibly dedicated to it!"

Gaming looks surprised, has no idea you're talking about him. "Huh! That's really cool!" He thinks he's the total opposite. "Wish I could be as dedicated as him."

You kind of laugh out loud and he raises his eyebrows and tilts his head. "What?"

"Gosh you really sell yourself short," you shake your head "Anyway, this guy, right, he kinda works two jobs," you put out your hand to count one and two "One, for the Secure Transport Agency and two, he's in a Wushou Troupe,"

Gaming instantly straightens his back and looks at you wide-eyed. You figure you had to be direct when it came to him otherwise he'd never get it with how modest he was.

"...You're...talking about...me?" You smile at him sympathetically.

"You know, Gaming, I wish you saw yourself the way others saw you. You're a great person,"

Big smile, but legit looks like he's about to cry. "Between the two of us? I think you're greater Y/N,"

Heizou

"...Honestly he's kind of a flirt," you raise your eyebrows at the fact and kind of question yourself why you like this kind of person. "Makes me wonder if he does that to everyone, you know?"

Heizou hums and puts his hand under his chin in a "thinking position"

"That's not enough evidence to go by. Perhaps we can investigate this guy together to see if he's worthy,"

You look at him, pursing your lips while musing and giving him a suspicious look. You're not sure if he's figured it out.

He's got no idea. I mean, it was a pretty general description. "Any distinguishing features?" he asks.

You look at him in a deadpan manner. "Red hair, I guess. And moles under his eyes,"

He looks back at you with a matching blank face.

Then breaks into a wide, close eyed grin. "I see! From experience, that person is truly trustworthy,"

You sigh a little, "Is he though?"

He chuckles heartily. "I promise you he is," offers you his hand with a genuine smile. "Let me show you,"

Itto

"Ummm... big, tall, strong looking guy. Intimidating at first look but he's actually a dork," you explain.

Itto crosses his arms above his chest with an unamused face. "Tch! No way! Ain't no one taller than me in Inazuma!" Then he looks smug again. "Anyway, keep goin'. What else?" Only asked you because he wants to see what your "type" is.

"...Popular? Nah... Infamous is the word, I think. He kinda gets into a lot of trouble,"

Itto raises a brow "You serious? Whaddyou want with someone like that?" as if he wasn't a troublemaker himself.

"I mean... He also loves life and somehow always sees the good side of things."

Itto "Eh... guess that's a good thing..." folds his arms behind his head and huffs.

This guy is never gunna get it so you drop more obvious hints. "He's an oni who has his own gang."

For a split second he looked like he was going to get it, and then... "WHAT?! There's another oni who wants to challenge the Arataki Gang?"

"That's not what I--"

punches his fist onto his palm "Lead the way Y/N, let me at 'em!"

"I'm talking about you!"

"Huh?"

"Itto, there's no other oni around town!" leave it to him to make you exasperated.

He quiets for a few seconds. "...But Y/N..."

You expectantly stare at him, curious what he was going to say about your confession.

"...Did you just call me a dork?"

Of course that's what he picks up on.

When he finally processes it though, he's stoked and on an all time high.

Kaeya

"...good at talking to people, and he knows it... Exudes charisma like he breathes air," You're saying this with a glare.

He chuckles and rests his head on his fist. "Why, pray tell, do you look angry when saying that?"

"Not angry..." you mumble under your breath, eyes trailing away from him. "Just... probably a lot of people like him,"

"And you don't like that?" He smirks. He totally knows.

"...No...Well...I'm okay with it... It's just... I think he's so much more than what he shows to others,"

That, he wasn't expecting. He actually feels genuinely touched.

"Sure he jokes around a lot...Is good at making people feel comfortable...but he's also kind...and you can always count on him," there's a faraway gaze in your eyes now, a small smile on your face. "To me, he's...a safe space."

Kaeya's smile drops. It looks like he's unhappy and you think that maybe you've made a mistake. Still...there's no way he knows that it's him, right? It was kinda vague...

You're about to stand and excuse yourself but he catches your wrist easily. "...You know..." he starts, meeting you eye to eye. He looks at you as if he's looking into your soul, his eyes the gentlest you've seen them.

"You make it so hard, not to fall deeper in love with you,"

Lyney (I have no idea how this ended up so dramatic)

"He isn't exactly a trickster...but he has a lot of tricks up his sleeve,"

Lyney "Oh?" Raises an eyebrow. Something kind of clicks in him, but he shakes it off. "The good kind or the bad kind?"

You stall a little, thinking of the answer, knowing that he's Fatui. "The...good...kind,"

"You don't sound very sure," he gives you a lopsided smile.

"It's complicated," you admit. "Regardless of the circumstances though, I think he's a great magician,"

You watch his face turn into surprise quite quickly, but he still looks and feels unsure of himself. "Oh, perhaps...I can learn a thing or two from him?"

Your smile turns forced and hard. He can't be serious? He STILL doesn't know, or...what?

"I...Well..." You don't know what to say next, but he seems to get the idea.

"Sorry, have I put you in a hard place? Ahaha..." Scratches the back of his head. "My apologies, I was just curious,"

This, for some reason, really puts you off and you feel as if you've been rejected, even though you technically had not outright told him that you're talking about him.

It seems silly for you to get upset, but you are. So you stand, and make a request of him. "Can we... just pretend this conversation didn't happen?" and you give him some sort of excuse that you need to run an errand or something, and you're off, leaving him feeling...guilty. But he doesn't know why. Or does he?

Lyney would look like the type of person who would be confident about himself. But, really, as a magician, he had to be 1000% sure about something before he went ahead with it, and so...that's where his doubt stemmed from.

Lynnette is really the one who knocks some sense into him. "...and you...let Y/N leave?" after hearing the story from him.

"Oh, Lyney... Regardless of what Y/N feels... For you, next to Freminet and I, is there someone else that you love dearly?"

That's how he ends up at your doorstep. Though you've seen his disappearing rose trick hundreds of times, he was the most sincere at that moment, when he says sorry that he didn't get the hint and to give him a chance.

Neuvillette

"Serious person. He seems to put his work first, above all else," you say. "I respect him a lot for that,"

Neuvillette is interested in what you say, but doesn't know at all that it's him. "He does sound quite respectable," he says while looking through some files.

"A long time ago he said that he feels like he's an outsider...but really I feel like there isn't anyone who knows Fontaine the way that he does,"

Neuvillette, moves the file he was reading downwards, just to look at you questioningly. "He's from Fontaine?" this was surprising to him.

"Well...he currently resides in Fontaine, yes," you nod.

"Ah," he answered curtly. "And I have never met him?" he asks.

"...He's very busy." you bite your lip, about to say something and you know that the next sentence is the point of no return. "He's the Iudex...so it's hard to catch him,"

You swear you can hear your heart hammering in your chest.

You see him put his files down and just stare at you with a sort of...unsure look.

His shoulders relax, he wasn't even aware he had been tense that whole time. "That... must have taken a lot of consideration and courage to say," he clears his throat.

You only nod your head slowly, moving your gaze away from him with an awkward smile. Hand absentmindedly grabbing a book and flipping through the pages...you had no idea what you were doing out of nervousness.

"I apologize...I'm unfamiliar with what to do in these kinds of situations... However," he pauses and seems to think carefully about what he was going to say next. "Please don't take it as a rejection. I'd be honored to navigate this with you, if you would so graciously have me,"

Scaramouche

"He's an asshole," you bite back a laugh.

He instantly knows.

"Actually he acts all tough only to give in to his inner-kind-of-agreeable-personality,"

He snorts

"What? Am I wrong?" you challenge him. You KNOW that he knows. The two of you have been hovering around each other for a while, and there's a certain closeness between the two of you. Though that line was never crossed.

He doesn't answer you back but prods you more. "Is that all? You like that he's an asshole? Are you some type of masochist?"

You almost laugh. "No, you moron. I'm saying he has a weird way of showing he cares. He's always biting my head about not being careful enough. But if he really didn't care he wouldn't be screaming at me, you know what I mean?"

Scaramouche grumbles something under his breath and crosses his arms, turning away from you.

"Say that again?" You ask, not hearing what he said.

"...I said, you're not as stupid as I thought you were," shrugs his concealed embarrassment off and turns back to you all nonchalant again. "Anyway, stop yapping and get going, we got things to do,"

Snatches your hand and starts pulling you to walk with him.

Tartaglia (I feel like this is ridiculously short but I also feel like Tartaglia would have known a LONG time ago if the two of you had the feels for each other)

"Oh man...Probably the most reckless man I know,"

Also knows. Instantly. But shuts his mouth just so he can listen to you talk about him, but it gets deep real quick.

"In my opinion he's a handsome guy. Real charming," you smirk the tiniest bit. "but I don't know if I can keep up with him, honestly. It's a little hard not knowing when he's going to come back...or if he's even gunna come back at all,"

You weren't going to hide the fact that you were scared shitless he didn't return from Fontaine for ages. You legitimately thought he had died.

Tartaglia stops you there, by suddenly cradling your cheek. "Y/N," he's wearing a pained expression. "I'm sorry,"

"Don't be, it's your job, right?" You reassure him, and shrug.

He sighs "Yes, but I'll promise this to you as I've promised my family," he smiles, the most confident smile you've seen on him. Even more confident than when he wields his blades. "I'll come back to you, I always will,"

Wriothesley

"Er... How do I say this... He kind of has some... big boss energy?"

"Oh?" he sips at his tea, glancing at you while he looks at today's paper. "So he's a bigshot?" he asks curiously.

"Somewhat, yes. Intimidating at first look, but...he just has a great sense of responsibility," you pick at the selection of cakes and cookies he has.

"Huh," he lets out in a quick huff. In the deepest, DEEPEST parts of his mind there is a NANOSECOND that he thinks its him but it gets erased so quickly he's not even sure that he had thought about it.

"Sounds like a good person... Any interesting, weird quirks?" he grins as he says this, yet again glancing at your expression.

Your lips tremble a bit at what you're about to say, because you're SURE he was going to get it once you say it. You gulp and feel the hairs at the back of your neck stand before you say out loud "He likes tea. I kind of wonder if it's an addiction," you can't meet his eyes.

He's looking at the paper he's reading but nothing.registers.in.his.brain.its.like.it.stopped.working.

You shift in the uncomfortable silence but he calmly folds up the newspaper and places it on his table. "...I'm inclined to ask, because it would be embarrassing if I got the wrong idea,"

"Mmhmm," you pop a cookie in your mouth to distract yourself.

"By any chance, are you...talking about me?"

"Mm," you nod your head, still not looking at him and glue your eyes on the cookies instead, out of embarrassment.

Suddenly chuckles. You brave a peek at him, now covering his eyes with a single hand, head tipped back to rest on his chair.

You're not sure if that's a good or bad thing.

"Sorry, no, it's just... I didn't think it would happen this way." Visibly takes in a big breath and sighs it out slowly. Seems to have regained his composure and is back to his confident self, smiling at you. "Thanks Y/N, I... don't think it's much of a secret that I enjoy your company too. I'm just a little embarrassed that you beat me to it...some big boss energy huh?"

Xiao

"...He takes on everything by himself. I worry about him," You look at the stars as you say this. Xiao doesn't say anything.

"But I'm glad that he's opening up a lot more now. It's great to see him among friends,"

Xiao has a feeling at this point, that its him you're talking about, but he still doesn't say anything and keeps his gaze in front of him rather than on you.

"Yes, the road in front of him is long but...he's also already come a long way," you sigh a little "The time of Rex Lapis has long gone, but he still sticks to his principles. I think his dedication is part of what I like about him,"

This is when he turns to you, blank look on his face, contemplating on what to do. When you turn to meet his gaze, its then that he decides to bridge the gap between the two of you, shoulder to shoulder, leaning in sideways to catch your lips in a chaste and rather shy kiss.

"You should give a bit of credit to yourself, for putting up with me all these years, Y/N,"

End!

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Here’s the Masterlist

#genshin impact #genshin fluff #neuvillette x reader #wriothesley x reader #diluc x reader #alhaitham x reader #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #gaming x reader #scaramouche x reader #itto x reader #aether x reader #cyno x reader #albedo x reader #ayato x reader

[senseichaos]

"PATHETIC"

SUMMARY: Don't go into Alastor's studio if he's on air. It was that simple. But sometimes you like to be bad. (In which Alastor broadcasts your moans live as a punishment)

GENRE: PWP, Smut, small amount of angst, a lil fluff

WARNINGS: Psychopathic Alastor, sadism, masochism, bratty reader, unprotected sex (don't!), collar, handcuffs, chains, degration, exhibitionism, implied aftercare, humiliation, finger sucking, dub-con/non-con depending on how you see it, orgasm denial, leash, degration, praise, let me know if there are any more!

PART 2 (aftercare)

NOT PROOF READ (YET)

____

Don't go into Alastor's studio if he's on air, it was that simple.

But you do it anyway. Out of pure bratty desires you defy Alastor because.. why not? What's the worst that could happen? Actually.. there is a lot of 'worst' that could in fact happen but I mean, he's not all bad.. is he?

With a small grin on your face you lay your hand against the door swiftly, knocking loudly to make sure you are alerting Alastor of a visitor. The anxiety you feel when you do this is far too real, from the clammy fingers to the feeling that this whole idea is a horrible mistake. You almost feel as if you could fall to the floor beneath you.

Yet it's so exhilarating.

"I'm afraid I'm busy!" You hear Alastor holler from beyond the door, his slightly fake kind tone obvious. He hates it when people interrupt his work. You almost giggle, feeling an odd nervous giddiness going through yourself at the prospect of opening this door.

With a sharp intake of breath, you swing open the door and close it softly behind yourself. Though behind him you can see Alastor pinch the space between his eyebrows with an annoyed smile.

He turns his head to look over at you, giving you an annoyed smile that makes you bite your lower lip.

"What is it you need, dear?" Alastor asks, adjusting one of the nobs on the recording equipment in front of him. "I am very sure I said I was busy," He sighs, looking over at you again with even more annoyance visible on his face.

"I just wanted to hangout,"

Alastor stands, horns growing with his annoyance as he takes a warning step towards you. You take a meek step back and gulp down a nervous glob of saliva.

"So you come into my studio, interrupting my broadcast-" he turns shifts into his full demon form as he moves towards you, until his face is completely in front of your face. An angry smile on his features. "All because you wanted to hang out?" He pulls you closer by a metal collar of his energy, his nose against your own as his hand clutch tightly onto the chain.

"What a bad pet you are.." He says darkly, pulling you harshly so you choke and fall to the ground on your hands and knees. For a couple moments he just pulls you with the leash, walking you towards the chair until he sits on it. He swivels it around to look at you, your own large and nervous ones looking into his.

He pushes your head up to look straight at him by the toe of his shoe, the coldness making your skin burn. You can't help but lean even closer towards him, so the toe of his show just barely digs into the skin there.

"Fawn, you were just here for my attention, weren't you?"

You consider lying to him, making yourself out to be more of a brat and possibly get a worse outcome than you're already gonna get.. but from the position you're in it's probably a bad idea. So with a sharp gulp and a blush across your cheeks you nod, biting your lower lip. Alastor grins, leaning down and taking his foot from your chin.

His gaze is rather soft, almost adoring as he tugs you closer by your chain leash. Slowly and intimately he pushes his thumb into your mouth, pointing finger making you look into his lidded eyes. With a burst of passion you suck onto his thumb, swirling your tongue against the red claw as he watches with amused eyes.

"My lovely fawn, perhaps you just need to be reminded who owns you," He purrs, pulling his thumb from your mouth (much to your dismay). With a sharp motion Alastor tangles his fingers into your hair, manhandling you face first into his desk so your ass faces him. You cry out at this movement, the roughness of his movements contrasting wildly to the care he gave you just moments before.

"Lovely. I'm afraid this punishment is not going to be pleasant, but you must learn from your mistakes," Alastor sighs, and with a swift motion of his hands bounding your wrists with cuffs of his magic. He keeps them bound onto the table so you are unable to move, causing a pain to go through your wrists when you flinch at Alastor's movements. Roughly, he pulls down your skirt and discards it across the room, leaving you bare besides from your thin pink panties.

"What a pretty color, they must be a favorite pair of yours.." you blush, trying to tilt your head to see him behind you; only for the collar to keep you from doing so. You feel his claws drag up the sides of your thighs until they meet the fabric of your panties, clawing rather dangerously at it.

"Yeah, i-i wore them for you.." You whimper with a stutter, wiggling your but at him to appear enticing. He chuckles, hooking his pointer fingers into your panties at each side.

"How lovely,"

With a harsh pull, he rips either side of your panties in half. You gasp at this, trying to stand up only for the cuffs around your hands and the collar around your neck to tighten. This causes you to bruise and cry out in pain.

"Alastor! I liked that pair.." You complain, kicking your legs in a sort of tantrum that Alastor tuts. With a sudden thrash Alastor aggressively pulls at your chain leash, making your head move up with a strain that is horribly painful.

"Bad fawns don't get treated with propriety, my dear," Alastor explains, twisting his hand so the chain slowly wraps around his hand. You can see his shadow loom closer and closer over your own figure.

"And bad fawns especially don't get any foreplay.."

What? No foreplay? He can't be serious..

Let's just say.. Alastor is rather large in the nether regions. And he knows this. Every single time you've ever fornicated he'd always done foreplay- just to open you up enough that you wouldn't be in horrid paid every time he stuck his cock in you. You can already feel the pain inside of you and he hasn't even pushed his tip to you.

"Alastor, no- I can't.."

"Don't forget my fawn.." He hooks his fingers into your hair again, forcing you to tilt your head as he whispers into your ear. His horns are larger than earlier, and his entire build in general is a lot more.. demonic.

"You wanted this.."

You don't want this anymore.

Tantalizing slow, Alastor drags his claws up your spine, taking in every shiver and whimper that you give him in turn. How dominating he feels, it's like nothing else to him he can tear as many people's souls to shreds but nothing will be the same as fucking you to pliancy. He can do horrid things to you, and you still come back for more.

He loves that in you, in his own way.

You feel his tip just barely twitch against your entrance, one hand holding your chain and his staff whilst the other presses harshly against your thigh. Wait. Why is he holding his staff.. that doesn't make any sense unless-

Fuck. He can't be serious, can he?

"Salutations dear listeners, ever so sorry for my break. But I have a treat just for you!" He says, his voice strong with the confidence of a person who has done this millions of times before. Shivering you let out a small whimper, he's really going to do this, isn't he? He's going to fuck you on air. You want to disappear. This is humiliating! This is.. humiliating. He can't be serious! You though he was better than this..

Shows you to think more of the radio demon.

In a swift movement you scream out, Alastor's entire length being shoved into you with a single thrust. You see stars of red, the area around you glowing a green that makes your head just slightly throb in pain. With another harsh thrust Alastor pulls in your leash, forcing you to look out the window.

He leans down and growls condescendingly.

"Watch the entirety of the pride ring as they hear me break you," he says and you cry out. He is. He is breaking you from the inside out, you can feel every thrust of his cock through your entire body with a painful wave. You can hardly see anymore. Everything is blurred with a wall of tears that fall down your cheeks.

"Fuck!" You cry in a distressful pleasure. You hate that this feels good. Why do you want him to break you? Why do you want him to fuck you from the inside out until all you can do is sit there and listen to him speak. You hate that you love this.

"That's it, little fawn. Let me break your whorish body.." He laughs, the hold on your chain leash making you lose a very small amount of air. You try to clutch at something, anything to ground you, but all you can feel is the warm chains bounding you to the desk beneath you, the chains bounding you to this terrible pleasure.

You can't describe it. Every thrust of his cock makes you moan, in an ashamed yet purely entangled tone. You can hear the passion in your voice as Alastor digs his claws so hard into you you bleed. Yet you can definitely hear the pain in your voice when the tip of his cock just barely hits your cervix.

"Such a pathetic thing, letting me take you like this.. you didn't even put up a fight,"

You see red, a weird loving anger.

"I fucking HATE you.."

Alastor laughs, and you can practically smell that shit-eating grin on his face.

"No," he thrusts "You," he thrusts "Dont~" he thrusts, punctuating his words and his teasing tone. You claw at the chains, wishing to rip their bounds so you can spit in his stupid beautiful face. Fuck. You can't stop this pleasure.

With every thrust comes another build of an orgasm inside of you, every thrust making that knot pull tighter and tighter. He isn't even doing anything to pleasure you, either- you just love this in a way you can't describe.

"Don't orgasm without my permission, dear," Alastor cackles, biting his lower lip "Or else..!" He teases, giving you a particularly harsh thrust as to solidify his words. You nod softly with a whimper, your neck aching from the way he's handling your leash.

You clench particularly hard, feeling that orgasm begging to be released.

"Alastor! Please let me cum.." You whimper, biting your lower lip as it trembles very slightly. He hums for a moment, as if to mock your display of obedience before clicking his tongue and leaning down.

"Beg for it," he says simply, thrusting even quicker making the urgency inside of you real. Crying, you babble for a moment, the pleasure inside of you becoming to much.

"Fuck! Please let me cum, I'll do anything, I'll listen to everything you say, please! Please..." You don't think you've felt more desperate your whole entire time in hell, which is even more pathetic, really. The most desperate you've felt isn't for your life, money, or soul. It's to come on the cock of a psychopathic sadist.

"Lovely. Come for me, my dear,"

You let go with an obnoxious wail, walls clenching around Alastor so tightly you could have sworn he grunted. It's like your whole body let go, your legs give out, your shoulders relax, and your eyes roll back.

"Good fawn, how good,"

With one last thrust, Alastor buries his cock deeply inside of you, emptying his seed to the point where your stomach begins to bloat. One thing you've learnt about Alastor, when he cums, he cums a lot.

"Now then," Alastor declares after a short moment, pulling his cock from your hole and stuffing it back into his pants. "Let's get you cleaned up!" Alastor says brightly, clicking his fingers so the bounds on your neck and hands release. Though this only makes your centre of gravity shift in such a way you almost fall to the ground, if it weren't for Alastor catching you and holding you bridal style. Holding you. This is a rare occurrence indeed.

"Thank you dear listeners and I'll see you next time! Perhaps you may even get another treat, Ha ha!"

Alastor turns back to you, looking at you deep in the eyes as his sclera turn a deep black.

"Will they, my dear..?"

You gulp, shrinking in his arms.

"No, Alastor,"

He turns back to normal, giving you an adoring look as he twirls on his foot, taking you from the room.

"Lovely, now let's get a bath running!"

#proship #senseichaos #antishippers dni #senseichaosdrabbles #proship fanfiction #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel smut #alastor x reader smut #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader fluff #alastor oneshot #alastor #alastor x reader angst

[kitkatscabinet]

Don't feed him he'll come back (3)

Simon riley x neighbour reader

summary: The ghost that lives in your apartment block is a solitary man, people tend to stay out of his way, giving him a wide berth. You can't help but think he seems a little bit lonely, cue pestering him with bad jokes and food.

word count: 2.7k

warnings: making out, alcohol consumption.

Part 1 here, Part 2 here.

You start the next day riding the high of the previous night. You feel ridiculous, you’ve had relationships before, had been in love before, but the butterflies that stir in your gut whenever you so much as think of Simon put anything you’ve ever felt to shame.

It’s a little pathetic, you haven’t even kissed him. Not to mention you’ve no idea how he even feels about you. Simon’s an incredibly difficult man to read, where you wore your heart on your sleeve, Simon kept his cards incredibly close to his chest. You knew he at least held some affection for you, otherwise he’d never tolerate you dragging him from his apartment into yours. Something that feels dangerously like hope swells in your chest when you remember how tenderly he’d tucked you in and you desperately tried to stamp it out.   

Casting your mind back, you attempt to pinpoint exactly where along the path you’d fallen so thoroughly and irrevocably in love with the mysterious neighbour that scared the shit out of so many tenants. Was it when you’d first seen his face? 

No that wasn’t it, although, Simon was one of the most stunning men you’d ever seen. You’d been speechless when he’d revealed his face, something you’d been teased for relentlessly, his cocky smirk appearing in the subject of your dreams. 

It had to have been before that though, because even if Simon was the ugliest man alive, you’d still love him. 

Perhaps it had been when he’d first sat down across from you at the small kitchen counter, large bulk and dark clothing incredibly out of place against the backdrop of your colourful and plushie-filled apartment. It was the first time you’d ever seen him nervous, or rather the first time you could tell he was. But for all that he initially seemed out of place, seeing him in the sanctity of your home made your heart sing with affection. 

(Though a part of you acknowledges that your heart has belonged to Simon Riley from the moment he laughed at one of your stupid jokes, it just took a while for your brain to catch up to what your heart already knew.)

You’d never meant to fall in love with the neighbour who’d reeked of loneliness, loneliness that you’d unfortunately recognised and silently vowed to do your best to alleviate. You’d never intended for your feelings to bloom and grow into a garden that now centred around Simon Riley.  

But they had. They had and no matter what you did you knew they weren’t likely to be stomped out any time soon. 

Knocking on his door that night you try to douse the disappointment that fills you when he doesn’t answer. It wasn’t often that Simon was called away so abruptly that he didn’t even have time to let you know but it still happened occasionally. Sending him a swift text you wish him a safe deployment and sign it off with a new joke you think he’d appreciate. 

The days pass much the same. You wake, think about Simon, send him a text and continue about your day. Although you're used to the radio silence it’s like the acknowledgement of your feelings makes the worry and restlessness ten times worse. 

When the three-month mark hits with no indication that Simon has even seen your texts, your worry starts to turn into an all-encompassing panic. More than once you’d been so distracted that you’d made a mistake at work, earning the concern of your coworkers and friends as you were unusually out of it. 

You want to reassure him but you can’t even reassure yourself. What if he was dead? Would you ever even find out? You weren’t family, there would be no obligation to let you, a random stranger, know. Is this how you were doomed to spend the rest of your life, wondering what had happened to your beloved Simon?

Another two months pass and you’re nothing short of a nervous wreck, your dreams and waking thoughts filled with awful scenarios of Simon being tortured, dying or dead. You can’t sleep, can’t even bring yourself to cook, because it reminds you so painfully of him. 

The perpetual state of simply not knowing starts to become too much to bear and you’re on the brink of doing something truly desperate when you run into your landlord. You’re on good terms but he’d not exactly someone you’d ever gone out of your way to speak to. Now, however, you were practically tripping over yourself to catch his attention, not even bothering with small talk. “Have you heard anything from Simon?”

The man’s confusion is palpable and it takes a few minutes of stilted and baffled conversation before he discerns who you’re asking after. “Ah, the man with the mask,” he gestured towards his face, “he terminated his lease a few weeks ago, odd really, still had half a year left.” The conversation may have continued for a little longer but you didn’t hear, your responses filtering through on autopilot. 

The soft material of your quilt against the bare skin of your arms, signifying your return to the safety of your bed, is what finally snaps you from your dazed stupor. All of the frantic worry, concern, fear morphing into an apoplectic level of sheer fury. Because Simon was apparently fine. Not only was he fucking fine, he was doing the one thing you’d never thought him possible of, ignoring you. 

He was fucking ghosting you. 

They say there are five stages of grief. You’ve completely skipped over denial and are stuck on anger, bargaining and acceptance won’t happen and you refuse to let yourself be depressed. Thus, anger it is, and boy is there months of pent-up rage. 

Work becomes central to your life, the only thing stopping you from completely crashing and burning, Icarus falling from grace, punishment for falling too hard and too fast for what was unattainable. 

You work yourself to the bone just so you can sleep at night without the visage of brown eyes and soft ashy curls infringing on the corners of your consciousness. It’s not sustainable, you know it, your friends know it and your boss knows it. You must look destroyed too because you don’t think your boss has ever encouraged someone to take a break in her entire history working for the company. 

It only takes one day of rest before the anger-fueled agitation thrumming through your veins has you pacing relentlessly, your nails are chewed down to stubs and you think you may actually hurt someone if you don’t do something. It’s a bit of a Hail Mary, you know, but you still let out a scream of irritation when none of your friends are free to get blind on a weekday for an impromptu night out. Still, it’s a minor setback and one that your agitation-fueled self won’t be put off by. 

Your room is a mess, clothes strewn out all over your bed and floor as you try to find the sluttiest thing you own. Bingbong meows discontentedly as you shove him off a pile of your tops and you simply scowl at the little fat fuck that usually brought you so much joy. However, you do give him goodbye kisses when you finally amble out of your front door and call an Uber.

To your dismay, the man driving you is chatty, even when you give short, terse answers that could not be more clearly a screaming invitation to leave you the fuck alone. He throws you hungry looks in the rearview mirror that makes you want to pull your skin off. You may have dressed to get attention but not from this kind of creep. The car barely rolls to a stop before you jump out, booking it double time to get yourself double parked with some drinks. 

You’ve sequestered yourself at the edge of the bar counter, away from the crowd but still close enough to call for drinks on demand. It’s about five drinks in, sculled far too fast for you to keep up properly when you sense a man slide into the seat next to you. Dark hair, blue eyes, devilish grin and when he opens his mouth a delicious Scottish accent flows out. The complete opposite of Simon. 

Perfect. 

“Buy you a drink?” You were never one to turn down free drinks, especially not from handsome men, not even when your heart still screamed for Simon. Firmly pushing down all thoughts of puppy brown eyes you flash your own version of a flirty smirk, turning to face the man so your knees brush his. 

The conversation flows so naturally that for those few moments suspended in time, you really do forget about Simon. It’s clear that both of you are simply searching for some carnal relief and that knowledge helps you to release your last few inhibitions. Just when you contemplate sliding off the stool and leading him away to a dark corner to have your way he slips up and mentions his team. 

“Team?” You croak, a mixture of disbelief and dread building. 

“Aye, me taskforce. Am in the military.” He must see the way the corners of your mouth are now downturned, your left eye twitching slightly as your mind once again flits toward the blond man who had stolen and then shattered your heart. “Bad experience with a military lad?” There’s no hostility in his tone, just genuine intrigue and you allow yourself to relax once more, focusing intently on his baby blues. 

“Two actually” you snort exasperatedly, chest panging a little at the thought of your deceased brother. Swallowing, you regained your nerve, stepping between his spread legs and loosely swung your arms around his neck. “Best not make it a third yeah?” you whispered against his lips, liquid confidence flowing in your veins after far too many cocktails. 

A moan reverberates in your chest, caught by Johnny’s, he’d told you to call him Johnny, tongue as his warm hands pulled you to sit on one of his thighs. The muscled flesh grinding upwards and causing you to yelp, your hands grabbing onto his shoulders to stabilise yourself. Somewhere the logical part of your mind, the part dulled dangerously by spirits, is screaming that you’re still very much in public but the heartbroken and horny part wins out as you continue to make out with the Scottish stranger built like a god. 

His mouth attaches itself to your neck and your eyelids flutter shut as your hands move to tangle in his hair, tugging harshly to ground yourself from the onslaught of sensations Johnny’s providing your pent-up body with. 

Just as one of his palms slips below your shirt you’re suddenly being ripped off the man with a surprising gentleness that you don’t have much time to ponder on before you’re shrieking as you watch Johnny get punched in the jaw. 

The alcohol has thoroughly distorted your vision and the dim lighting doesn’t help but the fire in your veins is doused with icy despair as you quickly recognise the large bulk of the man who’d just laid out poor Johnny. The tattoos covering his arm and that goddamn skull mask were simply unmistakable. 

“Simon!” Your shrill voice is joined by Johnny’s own pained and confused groan as all three of you struggle to assess what’s just happened. 

“Wait, Johnny?” Simon sounded equally as confused, though his chest was still heaving in… anger?

“You know each other?” You cross your arms defensively, drunk brain trying to catch up on the turn of events. You refuse to look at Simon, instead staring at Johnny as he pulls himself up and you wait for an explanation. 

“Teammates” Johnny spits out a little blood and you can’t help the somewhat hysterical laugh that bubbles forth. 

Teammates. 

What were the fucking odds? Of all the attractive men and women frequenting this specific bar you almost shack up with one of Simon’s presumably closest friends. The evil vindictive part of you screams to go through with it anyway, though given Johnny’s sudden wariness and dawning horror as he connects some sort of mental dots you doubt that would be happening. 

Huffing, you turned from the two men and gathered your belongings as quickly as possible, hoping to make a hasty escape in the confusion. Hoping to escape before Simon could see you cry. 

Whatever deities existed seemingly weren’t on board with your plans and your attempt to skirt around Simon is instantly thwarted as he firmly but gently grabs your bicep. 

“Let me go,” you curse the way your voice wavers traitorously even through gritted teeth and you wince when you realise you can’t even bring yourself to say your name. Simon remains silent and if anything his grip even tightens a little, as if he were afraid you would slip through his fingers into nothingness. Incredibly audacious of him considering what he’d put you through these last few months. 

“Simon lad, I’m sorry, I dinnae ken they were-” Simon cuts off Johnny’s apology with a wave and curt nod that’s very clearly dismissive. Johnny, the traitorous bastard that he is, simply smiles, bids you farewell and then leaves you to deal with the brute that broke your heart. 

Stubbornly you refuse to face him, even when his gruff voice begs you multiple times. Evidently, Simon gets tired of your refusal and forces your eyes to focus on his with a forceful, guiding hand on your chin. Equal parts dismay, arousal and anger wage war in your body at the action and you bite the inside of your cheek so hard you taste the metallic rust of blood. 

The silence is damning and though his grip loosens it remains cupping your chin and sliding up to caress your cheek. He’s wearing that stupid skull balaclava and as such you can only see his eyes. Those godforsaken pools of weariness and tenderness that threaten to pull you in until you drown in them. His thumb gently caresses your lip, still swollen from Johnny’s machinations and you force yourself to speak, to display your hurt before he somehow worms his way back into your good graces. 

“What? What could you possibly want from me Simon? Haven’t you done enough?” There’s a vulnerability, a defeatedness in your voice that you hadn't meant to let slip but the man catches it, you know he does. Because though you hate to admit it, at this point, even after months apart, you think Simon might know you better than you know yourself. 

“I’m sorry.” It’s a pathetic notion and when he doesn’t elaborate it causes you to finally wrench away. You barely make it over the threshold of the exit when suddenly Simon is there once more, crowding into your space with the desperation of a man starved. His arms wrap around you like a vice, trapping your back against his chest. 

“Please.” His voice is a hoarse whisper carried away by the wind, just for your ears. “Please, I know I fucked up, please just let me explain.” His body shakes a little against you and you stand there in the cool night air fighting an internal battle. Simon Riley hurt you. 

Hurt you far greater than any man or woman had ever managed. 

And yet. And yet. 

You still loved him so much it burned. 

“Ok.” Your voice is croaky, reedlike and thin as your mouth moves without your brain’s permission. 

“Ok?” Simon’s head darts up from where it had been resting against you, voice watery and full of childlike hope that you find yourself nodding. 

“Ok. But you only get one chance.” Simon all but goes boneless against you, apologies and thanks spilling past his lips like wildfire but you interrupt him before he could go too far. “Not here, my apartment,” you don’t particularly want him in your space, but you can’t do this in public either, “until then just… don’t speak.” Your voice cracks towards the end but neither of you acknowledges it, standing in strained silence as you wait for your ride home. 

Simon’s eyes burn holes in the side of your head but once again you refuse to look at him, staring out the window into the darkness of the cityscape as you try to mentally prepare for what’s about to come.

Tags: @innercollectivecomputer @cooliofango @pertinentpostmortem @ghostslillady @domaniquessidehoe2 @ilovehyperfixating @pauphs @skotchi @bunnyreaper @tokusho @ohworm-writes @penismonkey @daisychainsinknots @taman-a @guess-whos-now-a-mood @leclercdream @justarandommom @iwannabealocalcryptid @dd122004dd @actuallyhiswife @alexisv15 @perfectus-in-morte @waves-against-a-cliff @fog-sama @juvenillia

#x reader #cod mw x reader #simon riley x reader #kat’s writing #ghost x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #ghost cod

[sytoran]

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟎𝟎𝟔 — 𝐒𝐈𝐙𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊

kinktober day 006 | roommate!natasha x werewolf!reader

despite your countless pleads for natasha to stay away during the full moon, she decides to brave the beast and be right by your side during your transformation. she gets a lot more than what she bargained for.

cont. reader has a cock, (very) rough sex, breeding, creampie

word count. 2063

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

“Natasha, you can’t stay here during my transformation,” you plead, grasping your roommate’s hand in yours.

The brunette is adamant, looking up at you with a stubbornly steely gaze. “I’m staying, Y/N. You don’t have to do this alone anymore. You don’t have to suffer alone.”

You wring your hands in exasperation, somewhere near tearing your hair out in frustration or crying in anger. “You’re not listening to me, Nat. It’s not just the pain. I become a different being altogether, and you just can’t see me like that.”

“I can, and I will,” she stubbornly says, folding her arms over her chest and mistakably pushing her cleavage up, too.

The tips of your ears burn at seeing Natasha so utterly bratty.

You bite your tongue, refusing to argue with Natasha even more. Keeping you safe was one thing, but the real reason to steer Natasha away from you during the full moon was to keep her safe.

Because when you’re in your werewolf form, your true desires get heightened by a thousandfold, and from the way you already feel about Natasha, you’re worried it might implode when it comes to your inner beast.

As the Gods of Fate have it out for you, the full moon comes earlier than expected.

Your first agonized cry comes when Natasha’s still in the shower.

“Y/N!” Natasha calls out your name, once, haphazardly scrambling to wrap a towel around herself and sprint to the room where your cries are coming from.

The sight that greets her is absolutely horrific.

You’re bent over, on the floor of your room, on all fours and spitting out blood. Your back is bent at an inhuman angle, your spine broken.

“......Y/N?” Natasha’s voice shook, rooted to the spot in sheer terror.

You don’t respond. You’re in a state of little awareness, or so it seems, a low grunt of pain and fury escaping from you as your transformation continues. 

Natasha takes in a deep breath and steps into the room.

She wants to reach out, hold your hand, tell you that it’s going to be fine but she knows it’s not. The sounds of excruciating pain, broken bones, and surpassed limits make Natasha weep for you on the inside, knowing that you have to go through this painstaking process every month.

The transformation seems to be slowing down, now. Your human blood is splattered across the walls of your room, but your werewolf form seems to be perfectly healthy. You’re still more human than wolf, though: your muscles had thickened and were iron-hard, and you were taller than before. 

However, your wolfish eyes that survey the room are bloodshot red and absolutely inhuman.

That gaze is a chilling scene, narrowed eyes and steady puffs of air surveying the room. Your slow yet calculated mannerisms are reminiscent of your human form.

Natasha hasn’t quite yet caught your eye,  but when she does, it’s like a predator has found its prey.

Your red eyes are like lit coals and smoking silver, surveying Natasha with every ounce of authority and a near possesiveness.

“Natasha.”

Time stills, and the sound of your haunting voice reverberates around the four walls of your room.

Natasha truly can’t help but let out the tiniest whimper of fear. And perhaps a little something more.

“Y/N,” Natasha says your name again, because it seems to be the only thing capable of falling from her lips, and she swallows harshly at your predatory behaviour. She presses into the wall, one hand clutching the top of her towel, the other finding purchase in the edge of your cupboard. 

When you begin to move closer, Natasha screws her eyes shut, anticipating what was to come. Your presence looms over her, metaphorically and physically, and Natasha waits for her inevitable demise.

The ‘inevitable demise’ never happens.

Instead, Natasha’s eyes flutter open slowly to your huge hands gently wrapping around her torso, a sharp nose burying itself into the crook of her neck.

The whine she lets slip is involuntary. Your close proximity undermines her calm composure, regardless of your way, shape, or form. If that was telling of her feelings towards you, Natasha would choose to play oblivious.

You’re supposed to be scary, and Natasha’s supposed to be terrified, but with the way you’re dragging your nose up and down the column of Natasha’s slender neck, inhaling her sweet scent, she hardly considers her heart to be beating steadily.

She’s intoxicated by you, even more so with your unabashed exploration of Natasha’s neck. The redhead might be grasping at straws, but it’s almost like you’re seeking something. Something from Natasha. Comfort, perhaps?

“You’re okay,” the redhead whispers, fingers combing through your fur in comforting motions. She hears something that sounds suspiciously like a purr of satisfaction, so she repeats that motion.

Your head moves from her pale neck to her pretty collarbones and down her cleavage until your nose hits the obstruction of Natasha's towel.

A low rumble of disgruntlement sounds from somewhere deep in your chest. Natasha lets a full-body shudder take its hold of her body, under the vibrations of your low decibels.

Not comfort, then. What was it?

Almost like you could read Natasha’s inner thoughts, your werewolf form decides to say capre diem and let a huge hand slither up the inside of your roommate’s bare thigh.

Natasha squeals and swats your hand away, instinctively, then she catches herself and her eyes go wide. 

Oh. 

The fire that dances in your eyes is nothing short of a human-like mischief, playful and oh so dangerous. The incarnadine flush that adorns Natasha’s cheeks like a flower blossoming in the spring is one that your werewolf greedily soaks up, pulling her body flush against yours.

You can see the moment realization hits Natasha, the moment she realizes your desires are nothing short of sinful. 

“Want,” you enunciate slowly, stately and unyielding. Your eyes are locked onto hers, gleaming. 

Expectant. Possessive. Knowing.

The grasp of your hand on her inner thigh once again has Natasha letting out a breathy moan, one of pleasure and a startling realisation.

It wasn’t comfort. It was sex.

-----

If Natasha knew that werewolves were this fucking astronomical at sex, she would’ve introduced supernatural creatures into her bed a long time ago.

The position she’s in is nothing short of embarrassing, on all fours, grasping at the headboard like it was her lifeline. 

Perhaps it was, truthfully, because with the ferocity of the thrusts of your Herculean-sized werewolf cock into her pussy from behind was worthy of being sent to the afterlife. Not like Natasha would complain, though.

“Oh- mhmmm, n’more, s’too much,” Natasha slurs, her breasts shaking rhythmically with each time your jerk that massive thing into her, velvet walls squeezing tight around your pulsing cock. Her eyes are threatening to roll back, drool already spilling from the sides of her lips, arousal already leaking from her thighs and on to the bed.

You don’t seem to give a damn about the messiness of it, though, and that could perhaps be linked to the scientific nature of more barbaric animals. But Natasha could ponder over animal studies at a later point in time, for now she was being treated like a fuckdoll, and it was midblowingly gratifying.

“All– the way,” you grunt, trying to shove the entirety of your huge cock into Natasha’s pussy, clearly displeased by the fact that you were struggling to be sealed inside the redhead completely and inescapably. 

It shouldn’t have been a problem because she was already so wet, so pliant, so perfect for the taking. You’d make do with what you had, though.

“It’s too big,” Natasha had whined earlier, gasping as your tip stretched her opening out, the biggest thing she’d ever taken in her life. Her grasp on the headboard tightened as you slid in with a cruel impatience, big hands digging into the soft flesh of her ass.

“I’ll… make it fit,” you reply, somewhat slowly, your speech clearly deterred by your transformation into part-animal. The results of it are undeniably effective, nonetheless, the cockiness of your brash words making arousal pool in Natasha’s hips.

You’ve reached a sweet spot of Natasha’s, and her walls clench around your big cock tightly, mewling as you push its head against her sponginess. 

“Right there, please, please, plea-” Natasha is cut off by one of her own moans when you jerk inside her, spurred on by the sheer tightness she’s providing you. 

When you lean down to entrap Natasha in a breeding press, your bigger body engulfing her smaller one, slick and sweat converging in an unholy sacrament, it’s all over for her.

Going weak in the knees, Natasha moans as her arms give out and her front flops into the bed. The results of this lie in the fact that her back becomes beautifully arched, her ass rising towards the ceiling; your wolfish eyes drink the sight in with a lick of your lips, cock twitching at the prospect of all the new angles you’d be able to reach.

An animalistic prowess takes mighty hold over your sentience, triggering a feral craze to wash over your werewolf form, and it takes mere seconds before you ram your cock back inside Natasha’s wrecked cunt with undying fervour.

The warbled sounds the girl lets out beneath goes unheard, muffled by the pillow, but the sheer slickness of her pretty pussy gives a certain confirmation that she was enjoying it as much as you did. 

Not that your werewolf would care much, anyways: What it was chasing was pleasure, seeking relief in the completely sexual sense, a carnal desire to take and to breed and to claim. 

You push yourself in hilt-deep inside Natasha, fully lodged in, skin against skin.

Instinctively, your hands fly to Natasha’s belly. You can feel your cock bulge there, spreading her out, filling her up.

The next series of your thrusts cause Natasha to make noises she’s never made before, her body moving like clay under your touch. 

You pull out and make her sob, then thrust all the way back in with an unbridled strength that leaves Natasha breathless. Then again, and again, until she cums helplessly around your cock, pulsing and throbbing and alight with nerves.

This is not the side of you Natasha’s grown to know and love. There are no gentle smiles, no soft hugs and whispered words of admiration. It’s completely animalistic, entirely pleasure-chasing, undeniably one-sided.

You’re thrusting into her like she’s your personal fuckdoll, bringing her to high after high, but you don’t even seem to register that fact. You’re using her for your pleasure, and it should be wrong, but…

“More! More, please, please, need another,” Natasha sobs into the pillow, every fibre of her body screaming at her to stop but her brain unable to put it into action. She hardly registers what she’s saying, only begging pathetically and dripping endlessly.

“Inside,” you growl, right next to her ear, sharp teeth grazing her earlobe. Natasha babbles her acknowledgement, even more turned on at the prospect of being filled, fuck it, and the orgasm that crashes over the both of you is heaven-like.

Natasha’s scream of your name reverberates for miles to come.

With that, you’re cumming, finally, and the seed that spills out from you is endless. Natasha drools into the pillow as you unload your cum inside her, gripping fistfuls of her ass pressed flush against your hips. 

“Mine,” you hear yourself say. The helplessly, pathetically aroused tone of your voice nearly makes Natasha weep again — she’s rendered a damn werewolf near speechless.

Streams of white fluid spray onto Natasha’s back once you’re done with her cunt. You manhandle her around to face the front, to find her pretty eyes rolled to the back of her head, drool coating her lips.

Your werewolf heaves as you watch as your seed overflows from her pretty pussy and on to her thick thighs. A perfect creampie.

Your werewolf, however, has different plans, feeling your cock stiffen again at the sight of her ruined pussy. 

-----

The next morning, you wake up with a throbbing feeling between your legs.

Shit. Was it my transformation?

You leap out of bed, yanking the covers off—

To reveal a very naked Natasha Romanoff, your best friend and your roommate.

She awakes with a start, blinking at the light, and then wincing as if her body was aching all over.

“.......Nat?” you ask hesitantly, eyes trailing over her marked thighs and tits. “What happened last night?”

“Okay. Don’t panic, but you’re fathering my children.”

finally catching up on fics!! i did spend significantly longer on this fic, so it would be highly appreciated if you could reblog

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

#sytoran's kinktober 2023 #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #marvel smut #natasha romanoff x reader smut #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff smut #wlw smut #gxg smut #natasha x y/n #natasha x reader #bottom natasha romanoff #sub natasha romanoff #top reader #dom reader #x reader

[januaryembrs]

YOU'RE TOO SWEET FOR ME | Spencer Reid x Sunshine!Reader

Request: @avis-writeshq says -

HELLO HELLO jumping on your 2k celebration reqs because 2K OMG SO DESERVED ‼️🫶

may i perhaps request a spencer reid x fem!reader fic please 🥹 maybe him post prison w new reader and she follows him around everywhere because she’s just instantly enamoured to him 🤭

thank you so so much lovely and congrats again !!!

Description: thirteen years in the fbi and ten weeks in prison does a number on Spencer, only when he arrives back in the office he meets the sunshine rookie that seems rather taken with him.

word length: 2.6k (this really ran away from me)

warnings: post-prison Reid, slightest age gap, Spencer dealing with coming home from prison, gun shooting?

authors note: hozier’s new song 'Too Sweet' + post-prison reid is a need, not a want.

He smelled her french vanilla perfume before he even knew she was there. But then again, it was all he could smell the minute she waltzed into the office with a tray of coffee, like someone had stuck a sweet dessert in the oven and baked it on full. 

“Good morning!” She chirped, winding an arm over his shoulder and setting down a take out cup and a little chocolate donut on his desk, “Pen said you like chocolate, and I mean who doesn’t like chocolate, right?” 

She was potent when she was so close to him, and in one single breath he caught a whiff of her shampoo, before she had flitted over to her side of the desk that sat opposite his, where Morgan once sat. Noticing his hesitance, mistaking it for discontent she paused, almost spilling her own beverage over the potted plant she kept by her keyboard, scrambling to set it on the surface.

“Y-you do like chocolate right? I mean they had strawberry too, I can switch yours with JJ’s, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind-” She splurged, and her face was much too worried considering it was a matter of a donut, particularly considering he was already eying up the way the thick chocolate was melting in the pastry bag.

“Chocolate is great, I love…” He held up the bag to read the label with squinting hazel hues, “Cocoa Caramel delight,”

He had never heard of it.

He had never even seen this brand, but he wanted to quell her nerves even in the slightest. The BAU didn’t have the funds for a new keyboard, let alone time to send her to the ER if she ended up spilling her coffee over her hand. 

She seemed convinced, and he offered her a small smile, not exactly his most enthusiastic, but then again he hadn’t been much of a morning person since he’d come out of prison. He liked quiet, he liked a moment to himself before Penelope called them into the round table for briefing. But she was sweet, too sweet perhaps for the dark nature of their job. 

He could already see it chewing up her perky disposition and spitting her right back out within a year. It happened to the best of them.

But she smiled back at him, a million watt grin that made him think maybe he was being a little cruel. She was still brand new, still trying to make friends and he remembered how hard he tried when it had been his first few weeks on the team. He turned his gaze away from her in shame, reading the way she’d written his name on the cup in a pink sharpie, framing it with two doodle hearts. 

She all but skipped away, sensing he didn’t feel like talking much anymore, and he heard Emily exclaiming she was ‘A caffeine angel sent from the heavens,’ as she handed her the drink. He watched her braided hair disappear down the hall as she bounced over to Penelope’s lair. 

He picked at the cocoa caramel delight with a kind of self loathing he was familiar with, the french vanilla still a saccharine sugar in his nose. 

-

She caught him again; though this time he felt her bristle past his arm, watching the bullets pierce the target paper with an accuracy that only came from fourteen years of practice. 

“Do you reckon you could teach me how to do that?” Her cadence was light and airy, and he had to stop himself from jumping, from slamming the butt of the gun into her nose on reaction, because he knew she meant well, even though she had no idea how damaged he was.

He was still out of sorts from having to look over his shoulder at every second of the day, and he was surprised he was holding it together so far. He supposed shooting the shit out of a target helped.

Because it was just her, looking at him with soft eyes and a smile that could start wars, and he knew she had no idea the effect she had on the walls he’d tried so hard to build in prison. 

She must have mistook his look for annoyance, because she was quick to fumble with her own loaded gun, taking a step back in retreat, worried that she crossed some line she didn’t know he’d drawn.

“Or I could get Luke to show me, I didn’t mean to bother you, I just am really a shit shot and I know that’s pretty useless in the field-” It wasn’t until he flicked the safety on and took a step to follow her did she look at him again hopefully. 

“No, I’d be more than happy to show you,” He cleared his throat, setting his pistol in its holster and stepping behind her as she lined herself up for the fake body meant to resemble an unsub, “We all have to start somewhere. Show me your form,” 

She raised her arms up in front of her, aiming for a few seconds for the spot in the centre of the chest cavity, her finger reaching up for the trigger. 

She shot once, her face hardened for the first time he’d ever seen, and they both watched the paper rip about half a foot down the unsub’s leg. 

“See, in my head it’s hitting dead centre and then by the time I shoot it’s wiggling all over the place,” She explained, scratching her neck and frowning at the paper body, “I don’t suppose unsubs are willing to stand still and wait while the rookie figures out her shot,”

“Your hips are perfect, wide stance means you get more stability against the ricochet,” She tried not to simper at his words, or the way he sidled up behind her, his hands coming up to her shoulders as if he’d known her for years, as if JJ hadn’t told her how much he hated other people’s germs, “It’s in your shoulders you’re losing balance, try relaxing a little,”

But she couldn’t not when he was breathing down her neck, rubbing those long fingers over her shoulder blades trying to get her to straighten out her posture, hoping he couldn’t feel the way her chest rattled with nerves. 

“Relax,” He reminded, trying not to chuckle when he felt her shake her arms out as a means of hiding the way her skin had warmed under his rough touch, “You know, my unit chief taught me how to shoot. I wasn’t at all good at it when I first started,”

“Oh really?” She asked, her breaths feather light as he reached around her and adjusted her grip on the gun, “H-he must have been a good teacher,”

“He was the best,” Spencer agreed, brushing off the fact she was all but putty beneath his hands, “Three steps for the perfect shot; front sight, trigger press, follow through. Always keep your head forward, always keep your dominant finger ready, and wait until you’ve shot to drop your stance,” 

She looked up at him in admiration, and her soft smile was back as his own musk of laundry detergent and chamomile soap encompassed her as his arms did. 

He brought one of those big hands to the back of her head, moving her with gentle ease to look back at the target, a slight chuckle in his voice as he spoke: “Focus, what’s step number one?”

“Front sight,” She echoed him, fixing her shoulders with determination as he dropped his hands and stepped away from her. Taking a deep breath, she murmured to herself under her breath the next step as her forefinger rested over the trigger. She pulled it after a moment of courage, and froze in spot as she watched it hit where the stomach would sit. 

Not a perfect shot, but certainly a lot better than she had been doing. 

Her eyes widened behind the thick protective glasses, and her hands became fists above her head as she squealed in delight. 

“Did you see that- did you see!” She yelled over the sound proof ear muffs they both wore, and he was quick to grab the gun out of her swinging arms, clicking the safety on for her before she could end up blowing a hole in the ceiling. 

“Very good, give it a few months you’ll be a natural,” He complimented with a smile as she clapped her hands in glee, buzzing on the spot as if she’d chugged five energy drinks or doubled up on her coffee for the day. 

He tried ignoring the way his chest warmed seeing her so happy because of him, especially when she looked at him like that. 

--

“You said you needed those files, Dr Reid,” She’d appeared again, like she always did, and he had barely enough time to glance up from the paper he was already inspecting before he was hit by the perfume again, and he looked up to see two bright eyes watching him hopefully. Her arms were piled high with easily a box full of folders he had asked Anderson to find for him, and he saw the way she strained slightly to keep them held tight. 

“Jesus! Let me help you,” She prayed he couldn’t feel the way her heart thumping against the manilla folders as he leaned over to take them out of her grasp, the way her eyes fell to his light smattering of facial hair as his lips were little more than a few inches from hers. Even when his hands brushed hers, and he seemed to realise she was staring, watching her scramble to look somewhere else other than his amused eyes, embarrassed he’d caught her, “Thankyou. And just call me Spencer,” 

“Thankyou,” She echoed, shaking her head with a girlish smile on her face, her cheeks warm with humiliation, “I mean you’re welcome, any time,” 

For the sake of her self preservation he waited until she turned around to smile to himself, pretending he didn’t see the way she muttered under her breath, or that she almost walked straight into the filing cabinet on her hasty exit out of the office. 

“Seems like you have a shadow,” Emily’s voice met him as he heard her heeled footsteps approach, and they both watched their newest team mate almost bump right into JJ as she kept her head down, stroking her hair nervously, “She was super excited to meet you when you were away, said she went to one of your guest lectures you did with Hotch a couple years ago,”

His brows shot into his hairline, something warm flourishing in his chest when he saw her peek back to see the two of them watching her, and she immediately darted for her seat for an excuse to turn her back to them. 

Spencer smiled again, running a hand through his curled locks as if he was trying to think of something else other than the joy that had over come his features. 

She certainly was charming, in an incredibly girlish way, and he wasn’t the only one who thought it. He hadn’t heard Penelope giggling so much since Morgan had left, nor did he miss the way Rossi and Emily watched her darting around in the field, chasing after her as if she needed one of those leashes people had for toddlers.

Or the way Luke had had to talk her out of bringing a stray cat back to the BAU just two days ago because ‘it looked sad and lonely’. 

She was only eight years his junior, and yet he felt like the job had made him too hard, too mature, too tough against a softness like hers.

Girls had never really been interested in him, at least not for him as Spencer Reid, not as SSA Dr Reid. He had the occasional fling, even Maeve in the grand scheme of things had been a budding romance at best, and just the thought of Cat Adams viper-like eyes had him shuddering. 

He barely wanted anything to do with women at the moment, at least that was what he’d told himself every night he’d been fighting for his damn life in prison. 

But it was almost too easy to feel this way about her, like he couldn’t drink in her sweet smell or even sweeter voice fast enough, or bathe in her gaze that melted like rich chocolate when he took a glance her way. 

He didn’t bring it up with her until they were the last few people filing out of the office. 

“I can drive you,” She chirped, almost dropping the contents of her bag everywhere as she rooted for her car keys, and before he could protest, because it was like all he could see now was how eager to be around him she was and he wasn’t too sure he could keep himself from opening pandora’s box, she jingled her keys, that of course had crochet bluebells hanging from them and all but danced past him into the elevator. “Come on, you can have shotgun,” 

“I’ll be the only passenger, doesn’t that mean I automatically have shotgun?” He asked, following behind her as she stood in the elevator with a beaming smile, her finger clicking the ground floor button a bunch of times even though it made no difference how fast the doors closed. 

“Well, yeah, but it’s going to be the best shotgun you’ve ever had. I’m talking you can be Miss Daisy and I’ll be your Morgan Freeman,” And as if her spirit was infectious, he shook his head with a hidden chuckle.

There was a minute of silence between the two as she played with a loose thread on her cardigan, and it was then he took the chance to ask her the question that had been burning on his lips all day. 

“You didn’t by any chance go to University of Pennsylvania, did you?” Spencer asked, noting the way her eyes fell to the floor and how she licked her lips nervously.

“Yeah,” She replied cautiously, fingers clenched tightly around her keyring, “I know it’s not Caltech, but it was pretty good-”

“Didn't you see my lecture with Hotch?” He asked, and his smile widened tenfold when her hands slapped over her cheeks that burned with horror, moving quickly up to cover her eyes, “Little birdy told me you were quite excited to meet me-”

“Oh, Emily,” She groaned, burying her face in her palms, avoiding his teasing expression like the plague, “I knew, I knew she was going to tell you, I’m surprised she didn’t tell JJ first, unless she did and our whole team know I was some crazy girl who liked the FBI agents so much she switched her major,” 

“You switched your major for me?” He asked incredulously and he only laughed harder, one of the first times since he’d come home, when she groaned louder, turning away from him entirely. 

“Shut up, I did not swap my major for you,” She bit back, and she finally met his gaze, her expression an embarrassed wince, “I just… liked the material. You were very compelling,”

“Did you have a poster of us?” Spencer wanted to stop teasing, knew he was being a little cruel, but how could he resist when she shrieked in between laughter, shoving his shoulder with mortification.

“No,”

“Did you kiss Hotch’s picture before bed like an obsessive fangirl?” 

She gestured to him vulgarly as they left the elevator and headed for the car park, and it made a huge difference to the usual adoration she watched him with, but maybe, he thought, it made him like her even more. 

“No more shotgun for you, you’re going in the trunk like an old rug,” She snapped, though he could tell she was still horrified by the way she avoided his delighted hazelnut gaze. 

“Like an old rug?” He feigned hurt, but when they sat in her car, she finally looked over at him with something vulnerable and yet affectionate, like he’d seen her for all she was worth. He reached over the console to squeeze her hand gently, not missing the way her palm clammed beneath his and she struggled for words, so he continued for her, “That’s really no way to talk to your idol, you know,” 

Spencer swore his chest felt lighter than it had in months watching her laugh like that.

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #matthew grey gubler x reader

[solarisfortuneia]

— 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞.

✦ in need of a kiss? well, feel free to pick an experience from our finest collection! perhaps you’ll find one suited perfectly to your tastes?

(or, in other words, the types of kisses they give, and what it’s like to kiss them.)

✦ featuring: aventurine, dr. ratio, jing yuan.

✦ warnings: very kiss focused, not proofread.

✦ notes: these characters with this concept were particularly inspiring today, so i jotted down a little something really quick (might add more characters later in a pt. 2 later? idk)

also forgive me for any characterization errors please i'm still studying them

aventurine.

his kisses are greedy. 

he’s greedy, far too greedy, and selfish to boot— he wants everything you have to give, all for himself. he tastes like a burst of citrus on your tongue, always, always keeping you on your toes, his lips sneakily capturing everything they can, right down to the slightest sound that leaves your lips.

he wants as much of you as he can possibly get, and he’s perfectly capable of drawing it all out from you, bit by bit. he just needs the right bargaining chip, and he has it already, doesn’t he? 

a kiss, for a kiss.

 a fair trade, wouldn’t you say?

(he doesn’t make deals that don’t pay off, after all. and this thing he’s doing with you? well, it sure is raking in the profits.)

veritas ratio.

dr. ratio doesn’t do things in half measures. when he kisses you, it’s all or nothing; he will put his all into it.

he doesn’t confine himself to your lips, either. the philosophy is simple: what kind of learning would one hope to achieve by limiting themselves?

his hands travel all over, learning the wheres, the whens and the hows, almost as if he’s trying to see how you tick, while his lips embark on a journey of their own across the skin of your face, your jaw and your neck.

he kisses with diligence and precision and passion, meticulous and methodical, quickly adapting his methods to even the slightest of hints you send his way. every action he does is intentional and deliberate, so why should this be any different? 

oh, but make no mistake, for all his versatility and straightforwardness, he will not make it easy for you to keep up with him. 

but you can take a challenge, can’t you? 

jing yuan.

he is gentle, he is soft, he is slow— he kisses in the way that honey flows; lazy, languid, almost hypnotizing, like he has all the time in the world. he savors you the same way he savors the tea that lends his lips the subtle bitterness they carry, but they taste sweet all the same.

when he pulls away, a smile graces his face, one that lights up his eyes with adoration. soft as they are, they still command your undivided attention with the way you cannot seem to tear your gaze away from him. his hands still remain on your person though, holding you impossibly close.

and when he tenderly cradles your face in his palms, worries evaporate into air, thoughts slip away to spaces unknown, and moments stretch into lifetimes.

#—🖋 #・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗ #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #dr. ratio x reader #dr. ratio x you #dr ratio x reader #veritas ratio x reader #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you