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chocopokkie · 17 days

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Alastor x Fem! Reader Getting Caught in the Act NSFW

It was one of those rare moments when you and Alastor found yourselves alone in the bustling chaos of the Hotel. Amidst fulfilling various requests for Charlie, Vaggie, and other residents, you two managed to steal away into Alastor's room. As the door closed behind you, a hush settled over the room, filled only with the crackling of distant fires and the occasional echo of laughter from the lobby.

In the dim light filtering through the curtains, Alastor's crimson eyes gleamed with a playful spark as he moved on top of you on his bed, his presence casting a captivating aura around him. You felt the weight of his gaze as he reached out to gently brush a strand of hair from your face.

"Oh, my sweet doe," he murmured, his voice a velvet caress against your skin. "It seems I've been neglecting you. However, can I make it up to you?" His breath danced across your lips, sending a shiver down your spine as he leaned in, his hands lightly restraining yours, pinning them down on either side of your head.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you met his gaze, the intensity of his stare igniting a fierce longing within you. "Alastor," you breathed, the sound barely a whisper in the stillness of the room. "Just being here with you is enough."

But he shook his head, a mischievous glint flickering in his eyes. "Nonsense, my dear. I intend to spoil you thoroughly," he replied, his voice low and husky with promise. "Tell me, what is it that you desire?" His lips curved into a smirk, a challenge glinting in his gaze as he awaited your response.

"I want you..." you said, your voice barely above a whisper, the words tinged with a mixture of desire and uncertainty.

"I'm sorry, my dear, I don't think I heard you!" Alastor teased, his tone playful yet tinged with a hint of mischief. "I can't give you what you want unless you properly tell me." Crimson eyes dancing with amusement as he awaited your response, his hands still gently holding yours in place, the warmth of his touch sending a wave of anticipation coursing through you.

"Please... I want y-you!" you say, your voice now laced with more confidence, the words spilling forth from your lips with a newfound determination.

"There we go! Now, was that so hard?" Alastor chuckled, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes as he savored your response.

You roll your eyes at his condescending tone, a smirk playing on your lips as you meet his gaze with defiance. But before you can retort, he leans down, his lips capturing yours in a passionate kiss. The world around you fades into oblivion as you lose yourself in the intoxicating sensation of his touch, the heat of his embrace enveloping you in a blissful haze.

His hands leave yours and roam around your body, tracing every curve and contour with a feather-light touch that sends shivers down your spine. There's an urgency in his movements, a hunger that matches your own, as he explores every inch of your being with a reverence that leaves you breathless. His burning touch sets your body ablaze with a newfound arousal you hadn't felt in a while, igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume all reason and restraint. Each caress, each whispered promise, only serves to fuel the flames of desire that rage between you.

Alastor wastes no time in removing your clothes, his movements swift, as if he had been longing for this moment as much as you. "Oh, little fawn, you're so perfect," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble of appreciation as he admires your naked form, his intense gaze tracing every curve and contour with a hunger that sets your skin ablaze. You feel exposed beneath his penetrating stare, a flush of heat rising to your cheeks as you squirm beneath him, overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze.

His hands reach lower to your nether regions, his touch sending sparks of electricity dancing across your skin as he slides a finger over your folds, already sopping wet with anticipation. "My, my dear, already this wet for me?" he teases, his voice dripping with amusement and arousal as he revels in the sight before him.

"Shut-shut up," you retort breathlessly, your words barely coherent as desire clouds your mind and steals your breath away. But any further protest is lost as he dips a finger inside of you, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure coursing through your veins. With agonizing slowness, he begins to pump his finger in and out of you, each movement deliberate and measured, drawing out the exquisite torture of anticipation.

"How rude you are, maybe I should stop?" he threatens darkly, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes as his smile widens, teasing you with the prospect of withholding his touch.

"NO! Okay, I'm sorry!" you say loudly, desperation lacing your voice as you realize the gravity of your words. Panic floods your senses as he removes his fingers from your dripping core, leaving you achingly empty, the absence of his touch a cruel reminder of the pleasure denied.

"Alright then, let me hear you then," he says absentmindedly, his fingers deftly unzipping his pants before pulling out his hard cock, the sight leaving you breathless with anticipation.

"Huh? Hear what?" you reply, a knot of apprehension forming in the pit of your stomach as you pray that he wouldn't say what you think he's going to say.

"Beg for it, my dear," he states firmly, his voice laced with expectation as he gazes down at you, waiting for your response. "I need to hear you beg before I give you anything." The challenge in his eyes sends a thrill of excitement coursing through you, mingled with a sense of vulnerability as you contemplate what he's asking of you.

"P-please.." you mumble quietly, your face flushing with embarrassment as you struggle to voice your desires.

"Please what?" he quips back in a teasing tone, his gaze lingering on you expectantly. "Say it properly or you get nothing."

"Please, Alastor, I need you to fuck me," you finally manage to articulate, the words tumbling from your lips in a desperate plea.

Finally hearing what he wanted, Alastor lets out a low chuckle, his amusement evident in the glint of his eyes. "That's my good girl~" he purrs, his voice sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

Before you can fully comprehend his words, he moves driving himself into you with a sharp thrust that steals the breath from your lungs, plunging you into a whirlwind of ecstasy and desire.

"That's it, that's my good girl taking me so well~," he mutters, his voice a low growl of satisfaction as he continues to thrust in and out of you with a delicious pace, each movement sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

With each powerful thrust, he delves deeper, his hips meeting yours in a rhythmic dance of desire that threatens to consume you both. You cling to him desperately, lost in the intoxicating haze of pleasure as he drives you to the brink of ecstasy and beyond.

Suddenly, the door opens without any warning, and in strides Vaggie, "Alastor, Charlie needs your help with- OH WHAT THE FUCK," she exclaims, her voice trailing off as her eyes widen in disbelief at the sight before her.

"I-I, we uh," you stammer, desperately trying to find the right words to explain yourselves, but before you can utter another syllable, Alastor beats you to it. "Don't you know it's rude to enter without permission?" he growls menacingly, his crimson eyes flashing with irritation as an ominous red "X" appears on his forehead.

As quick as Vaggie had interrupted, she was gone, swallowed up by black tendrils that wrapped around her, pulling her out of the room with a forceful yank and slamming the door shut with a resounding bang, the lock clicking into place.

"Now, where were we~" Alastor purrs, his gaze shifting back to you with a hunger that sends a thrill of anticipation coursing through your veins, the interruption only serving to heighten the intensity of the moment.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x you #fanfic #short story #smut #hazbin hotel smut #lemon #alastor smut

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agirlcandream84 · 3 months

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How Frank Would Handle Making You.. ahem… Squirt

Listen, sometimes you get to thinking and then you simply HAVE to write the hottest Frank headcanon.

Word Count: 873

Frank Castle x Reader (written inclusively)

You had been at it for 45 mins, Frank already pulling 3 orgasms out of you and his cock still felt as hard as steel as he thrusted measured and deeply into your core

"Doing so good for me sweetheart. Just need you a little longer," he'd huff into your ear, his pace slowing slightly to sink himself deeper.

You felt the flush creep up your neck, your ears burning tomato red. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as the pressure built in your core. You had never come close to 3 orgasms, let alone 4, but you felt the familiar winding in your gut.

Despite Frank's praise, it all started to feel like too... much. The sweat beading at your brow. The hair stuck to your neck. The sheet bunched below your back. The everlasting sting and stretch of his cock. The deep punch punch punch as he he hit the spongey spot. Pleasure, yes, but too much of everything.

But you couldn't find words. You weren't sure you wanted anything to stop but the overstimulation had you panicky about the next orgasm, your heart racing as the tip of his cock nudged your wall so deeply that the air felt squeezed from your lungs.

"FFffrrannkie..." you stammer out, eyes squeezed so tight that tears fall out the corners.

"Fuck honey I know. I know baby," he says, grunting to give you to orgasm he thought you were whining for.

He changes pace to seat himself deeply against your slit, heavy balls slapping you, micro-thrusts of his cock so powerful that your vision goes black around the edges and your breath stalls in your lungs.

Your hand lands on his broad chest to stop his movements just as the orgasm tears through, making you squirt so forcefully that he pulls out instantly. Your back arches, eyes rolling back in your head as warm, clear liquid squirts in a steady stream from your pink walls. Your legs shake uncontrollably and tears stream down your cheeks.

"Fuck, honey. Shit, baby, you ok?," Frank is instantly attentive, guilt flooding him as he realizes he misread your cues. His only concern is you, his calloused hand landing feather-light on your cheek to swipe away the tears and gently push the hair from your face.

"Breathe for me sweetheart. Come on-- slow breath," he coos as one hand lands softly on your lower belly and the other on your quaking leg, trying to still your aftershocks.

Your heart rate slows and you can't help the hiccupped sob that bubbles up, covering your eyes with your forearm to hide the tears pouring out. Embarrassment burns through you. Shame at the mess you made in Frank's bed, the theatrics you put on. You had just been so overstimulated -- an impending orgasm had never felt so frightening before.

At the sound of your sob Frank scoops up your form to cradle you in his lap, I'm sorrys tumbling out of his mouth.

"Fuck honey I'm so sorry. Shoulda checked in with you better. I got caught up in the moment and I wasn't listenin'. Shit, baby, don't cry. You're ok. You're ok."

Through messy sobs you choke out "S'not your fault Frankie. I'm so embarrassed. I made such a mess"

You feel Frank pause, can practically hear his brows furrowing as he says, "Wait wait, hang on. Honey, none of this is your fault. You know that, don't you baby?"

You shake your head no and burrow it deeper into his chest. You couldn't bear looking at him after the show you'd just put on.

Gently, his hands pull you away from his chest but you avoid his eyes. "Sweetheart, you know that right? Need you to look at me baby"

You venture a quick glance to his face. His brows are furrowed and his eyes are scanning your features. You mumble out "I'm so embarrassed," before curling into his chest again, feeling like a blubbering, messy fool.

"Let's get something straight sweetheart," Franks starts, his words stern but his touch gentle. He rests his chin on your head as his hand makes slow, soft circles on your back. "I love every fuckin' part of your body and if i weren't so scared that I hurt you, I'd tell you how fuckin' gorgeous you looked taking me so well like that. You can make a mess in my bed anytime but we don't have to do that ever again if you don't want to. Ok?" and at his final word his finger hooked under your chin to lift your face to peer up at his.

You nod your head because you believe him and force out a soft "ok" in acknowledgement.

"Attagirl," he responds as he stands, your body still supported in his arms.

"Where are we going?" you ask quietly, your energy still zapped from the proceedings.

"First shower, then couch. I'm gonna clean you up and I'll order from the Bahn Mi place. But you gotta make me a promise sweetheart."

"What Frankie?' you respond tentatively.

"You're gonna let me take care you and get you cleaned up. No shame. No embarrassment. Understand?"

You nod yes against his chest as he carries you to the bathroom.

Ok I'm dead now bye.

#frank castle fic #frank castle x reader #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle fanfic #frank castle #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x you #frank castle headcanons #frank castle smut

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spacesquidlings · 3 months

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Don't You Worry Your Pretty Little Mind

Summary: With his lover bedridden after a battle gone awry, Astarion finds himself acting as her nurse, comforting her as best as he can, giving in to many of her whims. And despite all his theatrics, there is no one she wants by her side more than him.

Pairing: Astarion x Tav

Warnings/Tags: Hurt/Comfort, mostly comfort, fluff, some suggestive mentions, mild description of acid-based/burning wound, references to pain (nothing graphic)

Taglist<3: @spacebarbarianweird

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The sharp smell of medicinal herbs burned in her nose, wafting over her as the pillows beneath her head and neck were readjusted once more. Pain followed fast on its heels, a phantom compared to what she’d felt earlier, before she’d blacked out entirely.

“How’s that, darling?” Astarion’s nimble fingers prodded at the pillows, fluffing them as best as he could without disturbing her. He drew her from her memories, from the blinding pain that had sent her into unconsciousness.

She whined, wrinkling her nose as another wave of smell hit her, the ointments smeared across her wounds seeping through the bandages wrapped around them. It burned as she breathed it in, daggers piercing the inside of her nose and scratching at the back of her throat. Pain radiated up her side and she shifted, nearly gagging as the smell grew stronger.

“Hurts,” was all she could manage, her voice cracking from the effort.

He huffed, crossing his arms and stepping back to examine his work. “I think that’s the best you’re going to get, my love. As much as I wish to, I cannot turn the bed into clouds.”

“Thank you for trying,” she murmured, barely stifling a groan as she shifted.

She kept trying to find a comfortable position and yet she could find none. No matter how she lay she could not take the pressure off of all her wounds, and the pure frustration of it all made her eyes burn, angry tears pooling in the creases of her eyes. It painted the world in quicksilver and moonbeams, and yet she could find no comfort in the facsimile of the calm of the night.

“Don’t cry, please.” Astarion’s voice quivered, his brow drawing together. Somehow his skin grew paler, blanching at the sight of her tears. “Please, darling. You’re scaring me.”

She sniffled, reaching up to wipe her tears away, hissing in pain as her body grew taut, muscles and skin tight from the burns she’d sustained. Her bottom lip quivered, a sob caught in her throat, too weak to even wail.

“Oh my darling,” Astarion cooed, voice soft as feather-down. His hands hovered above her, as if hesitant to touch her. “You’re going to be okay.”

She whimpered. Was she? Was she truly going to be okay? She wanted to reach for him, but useless as she was, she could not even raise her hands to wipe her face, let alone hold him.

She watched as he seemed to come to some sort of resolution, his fingers delicately lowering to brush the tears from her eyes. Her vision cleared for the barest of moments before more tears trekked down her cheeks, the salt stinging where it seeped into her bandages.

“You’re going to get through this.” He brushed back loose strands of hair that had fallen across her cheek, caught in the ointment smeared on her skin. “You’re strong, my love. You were strong enough to survive such powerful magic. You’ll survive this.”

She wasn’t so sure about that. Although she’d survived the initial attack, she didn’t know if she was going to make it through the after-effects.

She hadn’t been thinking when it had all happened, shoving a child out of the way of their assailant, only to be swathed in burning pain. There had been no thoughts of putting up a shield, of casting a spell to push the attacker back. There had only been the thread of panic that had burst in her mind, her body moving before her mind could catch up.

When it had first washed over her she’d thought it fire, but then it had become worse. So terribly worse.

She’d learned, once she’d awoke, covered in the stinking ointment and bandaged, that it had been acid. A horrible homemade concoction that had very nearly killed her from its potency.

But she could not find it in herself to regret it, not really. She had managed to survive, but that child would not have. And her stepping in the way of the attack had been enough of a distraction for Astarion to make a killing blow.

Although she doubted she would make it through the consequences of her actions. Namely the reeking ointment and the near-unbearable pain.

As if reading her thoughts, Astarion clicked his tongue. “Don’t be so dramatic. You can survive anything, darling. Even a little homemade potion.”

She huffed, looking away. It hurt to speak, and yet she couldn’t help herself as she snapped back at him. “It’s a lot more than a homemade potion.”

“Well, it was homemade. He was a master artificer and wizard. I don’t think he bought it from a market.”

Groaning, she squeezed her eyes shut, as if that would staunch the flow of tears. “It hurts so much, Astarion.”

When he responded his voice was quieter, softer. “I know, darling.”

“I feel like I’m being burned alive.”

He didn’t answer this time, not at first. Silence descended, heavy, uncomfortable as her bandages.

It was more unbearable than the lingering sting of the acid, and she opened her eyes, the world limned in silver once more, searching for her beloved in the little room.

His eyes were wide, the crimson of his irises stark against the pallor of his skin. She could see the shimmering silver caught in the alabaster of his lashes, the gold of the firelight catching in his own tears.

“You’re going to be okay.” He spoke fiercely, each word as strong as a blow as he clenched his jaw. She wouldn’t have heard the quiver in his voice if she didn’t know him so well, didn’t know when he was trying to keep something hidden. “You’re going to get through this, and then we’re going on a long vacation.”

Her heart twisted, clenched in the grip of sorrow. “Astarion. My love, I’m so sorry, I-”

He shook his head, his hand delicately cupping her cheek. His own tears streaked down his cheeks, but he made no move to wipe them away. “Don’t apologise. Just get through this, got it?”

“Okay. Okay, I will.” Her heart squeezed all the tighter, aching, struggling to beat.

She tried to reach up, tried to hold his face, but she’d hardly raised her hand more than an inch before a ripple of pain made her gasp, fingers trembling like the branches of a sapling in a storm.

Astarion chuckled, lowering his head until the tips of her fingers brushed against his cheek. “Is this what you were hoping for, darling?”

“Thank you.” Her bottom lip was quivering again, her heart in her throat. Sadness was a vice that held her tight, nameless, all-consuming, drowning out even the smell of the ointment. She hurt so much, and she had hurt him. In her callousness she had hurt her most beloved and she didn’t know how to fix it, how to make him smile.

With a sigh Astarion lifted his head. His lips twitched, one brow arching. “What’s on your mind?”

“I just… I…” She couldn’t find the words, couldn’t figure out how to say it.

She felt like she was crumpling, formless and weak.

He shushed her gently, brushing the pads of his fingers against her cheeks. “Hush. It’s okay, my love. It’s okay.” Another twitch of his lips. “Wait to thank me until after I’ve changed your bandages.”

Shuddering, she looked away, feeling worse than helpless. “I look horrible, don’t I?”

“No you don’t.” A pause, his eyes searching hers. “It doesn’t look good, but you could never look horrible.”

An entire new wave of misery washed over her, and she wished she could still be unconscious, unaware of this pain and the knowledge that she looked horrible.

“Be honest,” she sniffed. “I look like something from a child’s nightmare.”

“Oh please.” He rolled his eyes. “Now you really are being dramatic.”

She whimpered, scowling as best as she could.

Sighing, Astarion perched on the edge of the bed, toying with the blankets, readjusting them over and over. Even so, his eyes never left hers, earnest and bright. “You’re hurt. You don’t look horrible, you look like someone who’s injured. You look like someone who needs to be taken care of until you’re better.”

Fangs flashing in the light, he gave her a half-moon smile. “And luckily for you, you’ve been blessed with someone as devoted as me, who will be here until you’re all better. Even though you’re being very vain.”

She frowned. “If I could throw a pillow at you, I would.”

“Well thank the gods you don’t have the strength right now.”

He leaned closer, fixing her pillows again. “Beneath all those bandages is the most beautiful person I’ve ever met.” He paused, smirking. “Well, second most beautiful. After me of course.”

“Oh of course.”

“You’re no child’s nightmare, darling.” The corners of his lips hiked higher. “In fact, I’d wager you’re a child’s hero now.”

She snorted. “Oh, I’m so sure.”

He poked her shoulder gently, beaming. “I am. I bet that kid’s already off telling all her friends.”

“She’s probably forgotten by now.”

“Oh no.” he gave a theatrical shake of his head. “No, certainly not. Rumour has probably spread that there’s a new hero on the sword coast.”

The corners of her lips tipped up, tugged by laughter bubbling in her throat. “Oh please.”

“The blade of frontiers had better move over,” he continued, mischief twinkling in his eyes like entire galaxies of stars. “There’s a new hero protecting Faerûn now.”

She giggled, shaking her head as best as she could. “I’m no hero! Besides, what would I even be called?”

Astarion tapped his cheek, eyes skyward as he hummed thoughtfully. “Now that’s a good question.”

“See? You can’t be a hero without a cool name.”

“How about ‘protector of the most beautiful vampire spawn?’ Or ‘the prettiest saviour of children from acid?’” He brushed the back of his index finger over her brow, smirking a little too broadly. His fangs flashed before disappearing again as he spoke, mischief in his words. “Or, and I think this one is the best, ‘the fool of faerûn.’”

She gaped at him, mouth falling open.

“You know, since you ran into an acid attack.” He shrugged. “You got the kid out of the way, but you didn’t get yourself out of the way in time.”

She wrinkled her nose as she answered, equal parts annoyed and amused. “You are so lucky, Astarion.”

“To have you by my side?” He stroked her hair, smirking. He knew perfectly well that was not what she was referring to. “I most certainly am lucky, darling.”

“You’re lucky I can barely raise my arms, or else you’d have a pillow in your face.”

“Yes well, you did kind of deserve that.” He tapped the top of her head, his expression growing more serious. “You had me terrified. I thought I’d lost you.”

His words were sobering, and she no longer felt the glimmer of mirth she had before. She sank into the pillows, dropping her gaze. “Astarion, I-”

“It’s already happened.” He cut her off before she could finish her apology, his brows drawing low as he continued. “I want you to focus on healing, on getting better. That’s the only apology I’m willing to accept.”

She swallowed, finding his gaze. “Okay.”

“And just as I said, once you are better, we’re going on vacation.”

It was so mundane, to talk of going on a vacation. A trip meant for relaxation, for having fun, where the highest stakes were finding delicious new food in an unfamiliar place. The sudden segue felt like something out of a dream, surreal when compared to her most recent memory, the wall of blackness in her mind after the rush of burning pain.

A giggle bubbled from her lips, earning a bemused look from Astarion. “What’s so funny? You think me incapable of a vacation?”

“No, that’s not it at all.” In fact it was all too easy to imagine him lounging around all day, the picture of indolence as he languidly sauntered down unfamiliar streets, as he stretched out on some sumptuous bed in a rented room.

“Well don’t keep me in suspense, darling.” He laid on his side, propping his head up in his hand. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

She giggled again, feeling ridiculous. “It’s nothing, really. It just feels strange to be talking of going on vacation, especially when I’m here covered in this gross ointment.”

He clicked his tongue. “That ‘gross ointment’ is going to help speed along your recovery.” He sniffed, nose wrinkling. “Although it is not exactly a pleasant smell.”

“I want a bath,” she whined. “I want to feel clean and smell pretty.”

“Once you are well enough, my love.” He gave her an indulgent smile. “I will give you the most luxurious bath you can dream of.”

Sighing, she imagined it in her mind. Warm water and flower petals and bath oils perfuming the air, helping her feel alive once again. “Do you think you could do that when we go on vacation, too?”

A chuckle, a darkening of his eyes. “There is plenty I plan to do, once you’re better.”

“Including a bath?” She ignored the somersault of her belly, the heat suddenly blooming at the apex of her thighs. Now really was not the time, not when she could barely stand the blankets that were draped over her.

“Yes,” he drawled. “The most splendid of baths every day for you, my dear.”

She relaxed as best she could against the pillows, daydreaming once more of such a thing. Of feeling the warm heat of the water seeping into her bones, of fingers massaging her scalp, trailing lovingly down her back.

“We can do whatever you wish,” he murmured, his gaze softening. “So long as you get better. You have to promise me you’ll get better.”

“I promise. I’ll do my best.”

“Good.” Astarion sighed, toying with her hair. Just the sight of him was stronger than any balm or medicine. The slight curve of his lips as he smiled, relief stitching itself into his expression, more a comfort than any sleeping potion.

He was still speaking, not that she heard even a word of it. Her mind couldn’t keep itself steady, flitting like hummingbird wings as the pain ebbed and flowed through her. Astarion had to pinch her cheek once, twice, before she could focus her thoughts, like trying to coax the ocean through the eye of a needle.

“Have I lost you, darling?” He chuckled, smoothing his hand over the sting where he’d pinched her. “I would have thought you would listen raptly as I spoke.”

She managed a roll of her eyes, knowing he was doing little more than teasing her. Distracting her, perhaps, to take the edge off of the unrelenting burn of her body.

“Forgive me, my love,” she rasped, batting her lashes as swiftly as she could in the moment. “It’s just hard to focus, even on your limitless charm.”

His brows knit together, lips pursing. She caught a flash in his eyes, worry quickly masked before she could begin to pick at it.

“You should rest, darling,” he murmured. “You’ll feel a little better once you wake.”

Astarion made to stand, the bed shifting as his weight vanished, and a ripple of pain went through her side, her chest. Not only her body screaming from the movement, little more than a jostle and yet enough to irritate the weeping wounds beneath her bandages, but her heart screaming too. Pain lancing in her chest, her heartbeat turning to the quiver of a loosed bowstring.

What would she do without him? How could she stand the anger of the poison that had flayed her skin? How could she try to brave the darkness of her unconsciousness? All without him?

A whimper fled from her lips, drawing Astarion’s gaze. The lines in his brow only deepened, and he sank back into the bed. A question hung on his lips, his hands reaching towards her, hovering, hesitancy making his face look wan.

“Don’t go,” she pleaded. “Please.”

The anxiety in his face fell away, like the last of a stone wall crumbling to ruin. Relief, and no small amount of mischief, remained, shining like light through stained glass, refracting rainbows across the ceiling and walls.

“I’m honoured that you want me close, love, but I’m not going far.” There was laughter in his voice, making it lilt like the opening of a song. “I’ll be back in less than a moment.”

With a swiftness that sometimes scared her, Astarion moved across the room, the sound of glass clicking as he sorted through little bottles and vials on their dresser. There were perfumes, lotions, oils, a pretty pink nail polish he’d presented to her only a few days before the attack.

She wanted to ask what he was doing, but in another moment he was back, wiggling a bottle no thicker than her pinky, filled with an oily-looking, iridescent liquid.

“To help you sleep,” he said before she could ask. “It’s supposed to numb some of the pain so you can rest.”

She tried to sit up, only to cry out as a thousand daggers stabbed at her, as her skin drew taut beneath her bandages. She collapsed back, wincing at the red stains blooming on some of her bandages.

“Darling, I fear that is the exact opposite of trying to get better.” Astarion tsked softly, sliding one hand behind her head, flicking the cap of the bottle open with the other.

“I was going to take the medicine.” She had to draw in lungfuls of air to push past the stabbing throb across her body, steadying the sudden surge of nausea in her belly.

He clicked his tongue, shaking his head. The arch of his brow and the quirk of his mouth made it seem like she’d just said the most ridiculous thing in the world, and it made her want to pout.

“You’re so impatient,” he chided, bringing the bottle to her lips. “Obviously I was going to help you with it. The more you move the harder it is for you to heal.”

She could say nothing as she drank the potion, fighting not to gag as the oily substance slid down her throat. It tasted bitter, and it coated the inside of her mouth like grease.

Setting the empty bottle to the side, Astarion grinned. “See? That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” He patted her head, not yet done teasing her. “Imagine how much easier it would have been if you’d just waited for me the first time.”

“Are you saying you’ll take care of me? You’re going to nurse me back to health?”

He chuckled. “Of course, darling. I’m terribly keen to play as your doctor.”

“Oh Astarion, don’t tease me so much,” she whined. “I can hardly think of a clever response right now.”

“I don’t mind.” He tapped the tip of her nose, unscathed from the attack. “That pretty blush of yours is all I need.”

“Astarion.”

He lifted his hands quickly, palms out in surrender. “Alright, alright, that’s enough for now. I’ll leave you to your rest.”

Panic seized her and she gasped. “My love, wait. Wait!”

She reached her arms out as far as she could, making a grabbing motion with her hands. Astarion’s brows rose, the corner of his lips quirking up. “Oh? And what’s this?”

Whining, she stretched her arms out a little further. “I want you.”

“So needy.” His tone was chiding, but his smile only grew. “Do you need me to continue comforting you, darling?”

“Astarion, please.” She couldn’t spar with him now, and so she was at the mercy of his teasing. She pushed out her bottom lip, pouting as best she could, giving him her biggest doe eyes. “I need you.”

“And how do you need me?”

If she could have ground her teeth she would have. But as it stood she could not, so she settled for a wrinkle of her nose, her cheeks burning from the heat he’d coaxed into them. He was smiling far too broadly, his eyes full of mirth.

With a sigh she said, “I need you to stay with me. I need you to hold me, my beloved. Please.”

“Oh my.” She could see the faintest touch of colour in his cheeks, like the first hint of the blushing dawn in the dove-grey of the morning sky. “Well how could I ever say no to such a request?”

Happiness softened the edges of her ire as Astarion tugged at the blankets, carefully slipping into the bed beside her. She sank to the side, his body beckoning her close, wincing only barely as he pressed against her side. He draped an arm loosely over her stomach, no heavier than another blanket, and yet she felt safer because of it, warmer than any blanket could make her feel.

“How is this?” He murmured softly against her ear, his breath tangling in her unbound hair. “Better?”

“This is very nice,” she said, just as quietly. “Thank you, my love.”

“Do you think you can sleep?” His voice wobbled, revealing the fear that had been hiding beneath his joking tone. “It will help with your healing.”

“But I only just got comfy,” she whined, not caring how pitiful she sounded.

A snort, cool fingers brushing back her hair. His breath gathered against her skin as he lowered his head, sighing. “That is so you can sleep, darling.”

“I don’t know if I can sleep.”

“If I’m distracting you, it may be better if I go-”

“No!” It would have been a shriek if she’d been able to shriek right now. As it was it sounded like a garbled rasp, and Astarion had to press his face to her neck to muffle his laughter.

“Don’t go. Please love, I want you to stay.” She didn’t feel right without him close, felt like she was on the verge of dying. She wanted to cling to him, to hold fast, finding comfort in the acid of his comments and the bergamot clinging to his skin.

“I’ll stay.” He laid a gentle kiss to her neck, a stark difference to the teasing laughter from only seconds ago. “See? I have no plan to move.”

“Really?”

“Why would I, when such a beautiful, needy little thing is in my arms.”

She turned her head away so he could not see the crimson staining her cheeks. She had no response, no clever rejoinder. She was terribly needy for his closeness, but he didn’t have to say it like that.

“You really must rest, though,” he continued, pressing another kiss to her throat. “How else will you get better so we can take a vacation?”

“You seem very set on the idea of this vacation,” she mused. Already she could feel the medicine working, the pain beginning to ebb, dulling breath by breath. “What do you even want to do?”

“What don’t I want to do, darling?” He sighed, stroking her hair. “I want to lounge and sleep in late. And perhaps we can visit a spa; we both need it after this.”

“A spa sounds nice.” She imagined it, sleeping the morning away, skilled hands massaging the knots from her back and arms, floral-scented serums and creams and oils pressed to her face, bringing her skin to life.

“And shopping,” he continued, just as lost in his daydreams as she. “So much shopping. We must refresh our wardrobes, darling. It’s all very…” She could picture the wrinkle of his nose without even looking at him. “Last season. We must be ahead of all the rest.”

“I’ll put my trust in you, then,” she murmured. “I’m sure you know what is best.”

She wouldn’t mind some new gowns, if she were honest. She would need something to make her feel pretty again after she was healed.

Astarion hummed, combing fingers through her hair. “Have you fallen asleep already?”

“No,” she answered, not feeling tired in the least. Now that the pain was fading she felt wide awake, energized.

“Well you should,” he admonished. “It will certainly put me at ease knowing you’re resting.”

“But I’m not tired, my love.”

He sighed, undoubtedly rolling his eyes. “What can I do to help?”

She hummed, wracking her mind for something that could help, that would lull her into the gentle darkness of unconsciousness.

Before she had met him, she would sometimes fall asleep to the faint sounds of music beyond her windows, or she would hum her favourite melodies until she could not hum them any longer.

“Could you��” She licked her lips, twisting as far away from his gaze as she could as a new wave of heat washed over her. “Could you sing for me?”

The silence that fell from her question stretched long, and she feared he would laugh, or tell her that no he could not. But then, soft as a caress, Astarion asked “you wish for me to sing?”

She swallowed, her flushing cheeks be damned. She wanted to meet his gaze as she again made her shameless request, a small comfort that had helped her in the years before she’d met him.

“Will you please sing for me?” He was close enough now for her to take his free hand, even as tremors still quivered through hers. “Please, my love? It really would help me sleep.”

For a moment he searched her gaze, his expression serious. Soft light gilded his features, twinning in the strands of his hair, painting the lines of his jaw, the bridge of his nose. His eyes seemed to glow, and she had the strangest feeling that she was being observed by a deity, a powerful, celestial being not of this world.

Her heart ached, and she held his hand tighter, reminding herself that he was not an ethereal being of light and dreams. He was real, he was here with her, he was not going anywhere.

Astarion’s eyes flicked down, to their intertwined hands, seeming to come to some sort of resolution.

“You are so terribly lucky I find you so wonderful,” he sighed, lashes fanning over his cheeks as he closed his eyes. “I wouldn’t sing for just anyone, you know.”

She gingerly brought his hand to her lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “I think I would hate it if you did. I want you to sing for only me.”

His eyes opened, his expression tender despite how he had bemoaned such a task. “Any requests, my dear?”

“A lullaby, please.” She held fast to his hand, clutching it as surely as a child clutched a beloved doll. “Any lullaby, whatever your favourites are.”

He mulled it over, stroking her hair absently. “Alright, I have a few in mind.”

His voice quivered at first, uncertainty staining his voice. The words tremulous, quiet, yet as he continued, seeming to realize this was not an elaborate ruse to tease him, he grew louder, more confident. The faintest touch of colour stained his cheeks, but it could have been the burning red of the sky at sunset for how it ignited warmth in her own heart.

At first she felt nothing, energy still buzzing like static along her nerves and sizzling in her veins. But the wispy tendrils of fatigue slowly crept over her, Astarion’s words coming in and out of focus, blurring together. She was certain he was switching to Elven every now and again, the songs he was singing old, excavated from a corner of his memory draped in cobwebs and dust.

She yawned, her eyelids growing heavy. It became harder to keep them open, and eventually she just gave in, sighing in response to Astarion’s teasing laughter as his fingertips skipped across her brow.

“Are you asleep yet?”

“Not yet,” she grumbled, scrunching her nose.

“I guess I have no choice, but to keep going.”

She hummed in approval, earning another quiet huff of laughter before he continued, beginning a new song she did not recognize.

She wouldn’t have said he was the very best, and although she didn’t recognize every song he chose, she could tell some of it was off-key, the notes too sharp or flat. But she didn’t care, finding comfort in the off-tune lilt of his voice. It was a melody just for her, carrying her like white-capped waves towards sleep.

Her fingers found their way to his shirt, twisting into the cream coloured fabric, snagging on the ties that held it closed. She could not move enough to tuck herself beneath his chin the way she liked best, but she could hold onto him like this at least. She could anchor herself, no longer lost to the pain of her wounds.

Astarion’s voice blurred, words melting into each other until she could not recognize a single one, her mind muddled as a turbid river. All her thoughts turned to nonsense, but for one, shining bright as a star, holding fast in the cloudiness of her mind.

That she would get better. That she had to get better. She couldn’t let him sing her lullabies for nothing. She had to make up for the worry she was causing him.

She might have said the thoughts aloud, she really wasn’t sure. Her body was growing fuzzy, the world around her melting in and out of focus.

What she was sure of was that Astarion paused for the briefest of moments, brought his lips to her brow. He murmured against her skin, that he was holding her to that promise. That he would need her to get better so she could help him come up with a name for her new heroic persona while on their languid holiday.

She wanted to promise that she would, if only because she loved him so much she couldn’t bear upsetting him. But Astarion started singing again, and his voice suddenly sounded very, very far away, like an echo behind glass.

And then she was gone, lost to sleep, one step closer to healing, just as she had promised.

#astarion bg3 #astarion ancunin #bg3 astarion #baldurs gate astarion #astarion baldurs gate #astarion baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x oc #honey the sweeter the sun

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danosrosegarden · 2 months

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(from my phone) nshtn: for the valentines event what about... helping Edward with his self-care routine, by giving him a nice, soothing, warm soapy bath with your own shampoos in your own tub while he flusters and flounders from the sheer intimacy, the act's worth, the fact that he's naked and you're treating him so innocently and gently?

warming up - edward nashton x gn!reader ₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊

{valentine's requests: two ♡}

{contains: mostly just sweet fluff and comfort. mentions of nsfw activities, but nothing in explicit detail.}

Even through the blurred, orange glow of the candlelit bathroom, you could still see Edward’s peachy skin burning with blush.

While the bathtub filled with water–tinted a milky white with bubbling, floral-scented soap–you watched him shed his clothes from the corner of your eye. You had promised to do the same, just to make him more comfortable. It wasn’t as if you’d never seen him naked before. He just got shy sometimes.

You had suggested the idea of giving him a nice, long, warm, tranquil bath after he’d tumbled in the door of your shared apartment one evening, aching and sallow from another rigorous day of work. Jaundiced bags of exhaustion were painted underneath his eyes. A long, weary sigh snaked out from his throat as he trudged into the bedroom without offering a single word to you. You couldn’t lie and say you weren’t hurt by the block of distance he’d placed between you two, but you were determined to make the block melt and evaporate. You simply wouldn’t allow his temporary stress to unravel the stitches that held you two together so tightly.

Edward offered a crooked smile to you as he climbed into the tub. A confirmation, almost. I see you, vulnerable and bare. You see me, vulnerable and bare. We’re here, we’re here together.

The steam that feathered into the air from the hot, soapy water made Edward’s forehead slick. You tucked away the wet strands of hair, your hand traveling down and rubbing the tense muscles of his shoulder. His eyes fluttered shut as a small smile crept across his face.

“You’re so good to me.” His voice was gentle. Soft. As if the quiet aura of glistening comfort that sparkled in the air would shatter into little irreparable pieces if he spoke too loud.

Both of your hands traveled back to Edward’s hair, the pads of your fingers rubbing tender circles into his scalp. It went on like this for a while, you gently fondling his damp hair, him sighing, having fallen deep into a thick, cool serenity.

You took advantage of his eyes being shut and drank his whole body in; Edward would normally shy away and try to cover up whenever he saw your eyes wander. But each curve, each splattered patch of freckles, each dash of a blemish, each roll and wrinkle and inch of his being was breathtaking to you. You wished he’d recognize that.

You hadn’t noticed that your fingers had stopped their mild circling until Eddie’s eyes cracked open. His smile broke as he caught your stare.

“Hey,” he whispered defensively.

You wrapped your hands around him and rested your head on his shoulder, feeling the coolness of the tub that separated your bodies against your bare skin. “Hey, yourself. I’m just looking. I’m surprised you could even see me staring without your glasses.” Edward’s chest rattled with a high giggle.

You sat together in the warmth of the quiet, dim bathroom. Occasionally, Edward’s legs would twitch and the water would bob with gentle ripples.

Maybe your fingers had slowly found their way to his sides, your nails brushing up and down against his skin. Maybe you just couldn’t help yourself.

When you’d first met Edward, he clearly had a few layers of protection slathered around him. You can never be too cautious. Each night you spent by his side, though, another inch of wall would crumble. You could almost sense him becoming more comfortable. More him. But when he finally got the courage to take your hand and dive into something more with you, the process began again.

He’d bite his lip to keep from being too loud, no matter how many times you insisted you would like the noises that leaked from him. He wanted to shed his clothing with the lights off. He’d ask to do it under the covers. You’d never push him into something that would make him uncomfortable. That would vacuum-suck any enjoyment out of it. But watching his unease slowly curl away and unravel…that was rewarding. The noises he made. The way his hands roamed your body. The nods of confirmation, the words of encouragement. He was delectable when he felt safe, and you were his home.

Edward shivered as your nails grazed against his plush skin and drew a sharp gasp as your hands slowly plunged below the water and rubbed his thighs. You planted soft kisses across his round cheeks. He was burning hot, searing with blush.

“S-so good to me,” he repeated, his own hand brushing against yours in the balmy, pearly water.

You thought of the nights you’d spent together in bed, wrapped in each other's arms, the room so quiet that it was as if you could hear the stars twinkling and the fat moon glittering from outside your window. You thought of the times he’d twirl your hair in his fingers or make you dinner or text you silly riddles to solve while he was at work or cuddle you close while you weren’t feeling well. He was so good to you, too.

Maybe he needed to work on his knee-jerk reaction of wanting to hide away in the shadows when you’d look at him, your eyes glazed over with chunky layers of love, but at least he was warming up to that idea that he could be loved wholly. He could be cherished unconditionally. There was no goal he had to achieve, no milestone he had to reach before you’d envelop him in your warm, sweet care.

You’d meet him where he was.

#eli's writing #danonation #paul dano #edward nashton #the riddler #the batman #edward nashton x reader #the riddler x reader #edward nashton x you #the riddler x you #edward nashton x y/n #the riddler x y/n #valentine's requests 24

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coralinnii · 1 year

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Under a mistletoe with them feat: Idia, Sebek, Epel, Cater genre: fluff note: relationships is up to interpretation, no pronouns were used, I have no idea how mistletoe traditions actually work so that’s something to note,

“Grim, would you please help me with the decorations?” You pleaded, exasperated with the lazy monster laying on the couch while you hung up lights in the living space.

“Why should I? This was your idea anyway” Grim grumbled which left you to sigh.

You realize that Christmas doesn’t exist in this universe (or at least your version of it, anyway) but feeling nostalgic and a little homesick, you thought decorating the Ramshackle dorm would bring your mood up a little…if your dorm mate would be a little bit more cooperative.

“Well, the faster we finish decorating the faster I can get started on making cookies and some hot drinks”

“Myrah, why didn’t you say so? This place will be Crust-mas ready!” the young monster was quick to his feet at the mention of a sweet reward, yanking the decorations around to hang them in a haste.

“It’s Christmas” you chuckled but decided with Grim motivated well enough, you thought you could head into the kitchen to get a head start of the treats you promised. You already told the cat-like creature where things should be.

To be fair, you should have expected for things to not go as planned when the mistletoe you made in good fun falls atop of your surprise guest

Ortho convinced his brother to give his thanks in person when you offered to take his place for in-person presentation (Crowley refused to let him do it through his tablet). Idia figured he could quickly give his thanks then run back to his dorm. That’s fine, right?

He was close to a heart attack when the mistletoe fell on his head, poorly attached by Grim and you kept yourself from laughing while you plucked the decor from Idia’s flames.

You explained the mistletoe and its old tradition, which Idia just can’t believe the gall of your world.

“What crazy normies would ever think of this nonsense?! You’re jumping someone with this boss-level task without warning or prep! That's practically mission impossible!”

Despite the complaints, you saw that he didn’t move from his spot. He wasn’t trapped as he said he was and he could have walked away after saying his thanks, as he planned.

So, you took the chance. Hovering the mistletoe between the two of you, you gently place your lips onto his pale cheeks. A light feather-like touch but it set the senior’s heart racing and hair ablaze as he stumbled back onto the cold pavement.

Idia’s felt his body burn along his fiery locks as he clutched the fabric atop his chest in poor hopes to calm his speeding heart. His senses are going into overdrive as his mind replays the sensation of your soft lips on his cheeks over and over. He’s seen animes with lucky protagonists who get the chance like this and he's ashamed to catch himself occasionally switching the fictional couple as the two of you in his mind. But dreaming about it is vastly different from the real deal.

“T-This is why I can’t understand you extroverts, doing this like it’s no big deal! Don’t you have any mercy for poor souls like me?”

“Hey,” Idia flinched at the way you crouched to his sitting level, leaning your close to him. “Aren’t you being a little harsh?”

“H-Huh?”

“I wouldn’t do that with just anyone, you know?” You pouted before half-hardheartedly glared at the blue-flamed man, who couldn’t look away from such a cute sight “I did it because it’s you”

It was a Christmas miracle Idia didn’t pass out on your front porch.

Sebek was on his way to drop off some blankets and other warm materials to keep you from freezing in the dilapidated building you and Grim call home. Afterall, your weak human body can’t possibly withstand the cold unlike him (which is true, but he shouldn’t just say it).

He was about to go on another rant when he caught the decorative plant before it could touch his hair, appalled by the crumbling state of your dorm before you explained that Grim probably didn’t hang it properly.

He questioned the strange plant in his hand and you explained an old-fashioned tradition from your world, to which made the mixed fae to blush profusely.

He’s flabbergasted by the audacity of your world, to give away kisses so freely. He grew up learning the legend of a princess who shared her first kiss with her true love that broke her curse and he secretly hoped the same for his future love.

“You humans are so imprudent, so flippant with something that should be treasured!”

“Well, we don’t have to do it” you frowned, a little disappointed “Though, I wouldn’t mind it if it’s with you”

Now, Sebek was caught in a dilemma. Despite all his expressed displeasure, the chance to finally kiss you literally fell on him and you’ve given your consent to him. It may not fit the expectations of his first kiss with (not that he has ever thought about, of course!) but he wonders if another chance like this would ever come again.

Coughing into his fist to cover his nerves, he straightened his posture but his line of sight shifted to the side, avoiding your gaze which shook his confidence. “Since it is part of your tradition, I would be a disgrace to Lord Malleus’ name to disregard such a thing as his knight”

You would still have to be the one to close the gap however as Sebek shifted closer to you but with his eyes screwed shut and slightly shaking, he doesn't realize that he was still too far to reach your lips.

You took pity on the poor boy and closed the gap yourself, your lips gently on his shaking ones. You felt the green-haired student flinched but you said nothing about it, opting to lean your weight onto his built body. You could feel the green-haired fae relaxed under your touch, slowly leaning towards you himself to prolong the intimate moment.

When you separated, you saw that Sebek was slow to snap out from his daze, taking a while to open his bright green eyes and realize you already leaned away.

Quickly correcting his posture, he gave you a short goodbye and a nod before turning to walk back to his own dorm, taking quick but stiff steps at a time. You wondered if Sebek remembered that he still had the mistletoe in his grasp. You smiled, hoping to yourself that he would come back to return it.

Epel was making his way to your dorm with a crate of treats from his hometown. He was excited to share his family’s apple jam, hearing that you were planning to make cookies with jam fillings.

But imagine his surprise when he suddenly saw a strange plant land atop of his crate when you opened the door, with you softly cursing Grim for his lazy decorating.

You explain your reasoning for decorating and the strange plant to Epel and he suddenly felt the heat in his cheeks. Growing up without too many kids his age around, the idea of such a lovey-dovey tradition would never cross his mind.

“….Does it happen a lot to you?” He carefully asked as he placed the crate down to inspect the plant, hoping not to sound too jealous of the idea of you kissing other people. It may be a silly tradition but still, having the idea of others having such a chance with you rubs him the wrong way.

“Ah no, never” you replied, feeling a little shy. Despite making the mistletoe yourself, putting it up and doing it are two separate experiences. You explained that not many people do it anymore because “only the boldest” would ever go through with it, and you’ve never had such a chance.

Epel saw this as a chance to prove his confident, masculine side. Boldly, Epel picked the mistletoe and placed it as high as he could between you two. With a cocky grin, he asked you “Wanna give it a try, then?”

Perhaps a little too enthusiastic, Epel crashed his lips onto yours a bit too harshly, shocking you from the pressure of the kiss. After the shock however, you found a rhythm between you two and you closed your eyes to fully indulge in the touch. Be it his natural genetics or Vil's regime, you enjoyed the feel of Epel's lips on your own which felt soft to the touch despite the dizzying passion behind it.

Epel was the first to move away, breaking the spell. He’s brimming with pride looking at your dazed expression. He picked up the crate once more, bringing it into the kitchen.

“Come on, I’m curious about the cookies you told me. Could I stay and watch?”

You didn’t notice how the lilac-haired boy pocketed the mistletoe, already planning a trick or two that night.

The redhead ordered a few magicam-worthy pastries but since he doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth, he thought you would appreciate them more than he would (plus he wouldn’t mind taking a few pictures too).

When you opened the door, he was intrigued over the decor you and Grim put up and he had to stick around for some good shots when he felt a soft weight landing on his head. He saw the cute decor and asked you about it.

The more you explained the old tradition of the mistletoe, the more excited Cater was. How could he not with such a cute premise and the picture-worthy opportunity he could have with you. He had to try it, with your consent.

Since it was his idea (even though it’s your mistletoe), he decided to take the role as the initiator of the kiss. You trusted Cater so you closed your eyes and nervously waited for his kiss.

But Cater instead took the time to admire your face. He watched how your hair complimented the frame of your face, the pretty shade of your lips, the curve of your nose he would love to boop, and especially the plumpness of your cheeks.

He also saw the slight shake from your nerves, perhaps he made you wait too long, he mused.

Slowly, he captured your lips in his with a sense of gentleness you weren’t expecting. You could swoon with how soft Cater’s touch was, how careful he was with you to ensure your comfort.

The two of you separated, both a little light-headed from the experience. You felt hot from the sensation of the kiss but you can’t say you hated it.

“Ooops, my bad” you heard Cater, which you worriedly looked to. Cater himself looked a little embarrassed but not too upset.

“I totally forgot about taking pictures” you also realized that you didn’t sense the flash of his phone. Cater did pull out his phone this time and smiled coyly at you.

“Mind if we do another take?”

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angelpassing-by · 27 days

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THE FASTEST WAY IS SELDOM THE BEST

After an attempt, you try to comfort your lover and look through his recovery. Pairing: Tighnari x gn!reader Cw: impplied suicide attempt.A/N: I had some wips about character conforting reader, but none of them seemed good enough to post. I know this is a weird format, but though it would be comforting to read how you comfort someone. Again, English is not my firt language and I'm afraid I sound a bit too formal [it would be great if you had some tips in how to write not so robotically/essay like(?)]. If there is something you would like for me to write, message me, maybe I'll post some sort of guide lines to show what is it that I'm willing to write.

“I wanted to escape, maybe forever.”

Tighnari lies on the simple bed, head thrown against the embroidered pillows. His face – bronzed before – is pale and stained with tears, eyes lost in the ceiling of the room thinly veiled by the smoke of incense burning.

“I understand it, really” You respond trying to keep your voice even, but your lover says nothing, as if he can't believe you. You gently take is hand between your own and rub soothing circles on top of it with your thumb. “I know sometimes life becomes too daunting and the easiest way out seems to be the light at the end of the tunnel.” You whisper

Now he’s looking at you, his eyes glimmering with new pools of tears that threaten to spill into the blankets. “But you told me once that the fastest method is seldom the answer.” Tighnari chuckles, only a raspy sound that seems like a pained groan, but you can see the slight twitch in his ears and the way his frame sinks a little bit more into the mattress, as if more relaxed.

You begin then to reminisce of that particular day leaning against the bed frame and using one hand to caress your lover’s hair. Your voice is barely audible in the clutered room.

“It had been a quite long day, you were on duty and had proposed for me to join you – you didn't wanted me to be alone – and I was jumping from rock to rock in the edge of the path leading home. Do you remember?” A faint nod “For hours you had talked about the flowers and the little forest animas we encountered with such fondness it almost made me jealous” The corners of his mouth curve ever so slightly “You didn’t let me take some roses; said it would be a disaster to the ecosystem. And right there, just in the front of the village, in the middle of the path, lied a beautiful bird feather, it’s blue hues made it look like some sort of treasure or spirit buried beneath the damp dirt. I ran for it, carelessly, anticipating an impressive monologue about birds from you, but I ran too fast and the feather was too light”

“I remember, his hoarse voice cuts through the story” and through the tiredness, he smiles relieved.

“Yes” now you are also smiling sadly and you fingers keep brushing his hair with slow deliberate motions. “I ran too fast, and the feather flew out and into the bridge and as I chased it, it fell below the wooden structure. That’s when you caught up to me and told me .”

How could you not see it? It was so obvious, his tired movements, his longing stares at night, sitting in front of the bedroom window and sighing pitifully. You should have done something. That is what you repeat to yourself everyday sinc the incident happened, still convinced you could have done something to prevent it, although your lover has already told you that tha isn't a burden for you to carry. And obviously, everything seems so crystal clear in retrospective.

"We can't change the past, so holding grudges against it is simply futile." Those are words of wisdom from Tighnari on a rainy afternoon.

Tighnari is sitting outside on a kitchen chair propped on some velvety green pillows that keep his weak body comfortably leaned into the firm wood. He has changed his usual ranger clothes for some flowy linen garments and a blanket sent by Candace after the news reached Ardu Village is draped over his knees. It’s woven with a variety of reds and browns and depicts a forest scene populated by shadowy dusk birds and half hidden lizards.

After Collei left, settling in a quaint town in the proximities of Sumeru city, the cabin had fallen silent. Tighnari started to space out his lectures in wildlife and botanic, often preferring the warm seat next to the fire where you cooked. At first, everyone just thought of it as a domestic situation, both of you had even started thinking about children during the months prior to Collei’s departure, just a loving couple wanting to be together. But then he slowly started missing patrols; it was at some point commonplace to see Iraj and Nasring on your living room trying to convince your lover to leave the house and help them in their duties.

You should have known, but you were also going through a lot. Your cooking supplied the forest rangers and watchers and your stock of ointments and pomades were highly sought after by the townsfolk. With little to no time to spend with Tighnari, your living arrangement and relationship deteriorated with each passing day. It also didn’t help that Cyno stopped visiting Gandharva Ville after a while and that his letters, frequent and light hearted before, became rare occurrences with little more than bad news.

But now, Tighnari stretches carefully and happily looks at you at the other side of the kitchen window through his lashes. The sun is making him more optimistic, at least, that’s what he tells you at night, just before you both fall asleep in each other’s arms. Maybe it’s also the overexcited rambles that Collei sends through her letters or the short Genious Invokation duels with Cyno during his recurring visits.

It has been well over a month, Tighnari is sitting, still too weak to stand for long periods of time, next to the stove. His soothing voice filling the inside of the home with vibrant colors of the rainforest through his tales. The counters are filled with spice bowls and chopped vegetables whose stories Tighnari never forgets to tell you about. You place a steaming spoon of soup in front of his face.

“Do you like it?” You ask as you watch you lover frowning in a comically exaggerated thinking pose.

“It’s magnificent, love” He responds after a dramatic pause. His sweet words caress your skin and you can’t help but place a big kiss on his forehead, on then one over his nose. “Hey!” he playfully reprimands you, but you can see through the corner of your eye the wagging of his tail.

#tw sui implied #genshin comfort #genshin impact #genshin angst #genshin x reader #tighnari #tighnari x reader #tighnari comfort #genshin fluff #tighnari fluff #genshin hurt/comfort #reader conforts character #tw sui attempt

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mysweetpoisons · 1 year

Text

Deep below the surface

Pairing: Namor/ K’uk’ulkan x reader

Warnings: smut without plot, +18, spit, dominant namor, oral, p in v

Word count: +2700

The massive crafted stone doors are pushed shut behind you, confining you from the stern looks of the Talokanil guards.

The underwater cave is massive, spacious enough to be carved into a formidable palace, the place continues to amaze you each passing day as you explore it through your assigned chores.

This room, however, you have never been privy to. The majestic throne room that has witnessed uncountable meetings and hearings over the centuries. And, in the center of the blue-illuminated salon is him. K’uk’ulkan. The name his people chant in reverent prayers, dancing salons and upcoming battles.

The feathered serpent god is sitting proudly on his throne, the halo of sharp teeth at his back adding a literal extra edge to his posture.

He's wearing that attire. The ceremonial helmet that has excitement running through your veins. You had only caught glimpses of it before, the mesmerizing movement of the colored feathers, the vivid red, green and blue contrasting against the dark gold and the soft glinting of the encrusted jewels.

Vibrant colors, brown golden skin and rich brown eyes as exhilarating as fresh coffee beans.

No soul is immune to such beauty, especially not yours. But this? Looking at him feels like looking at the sun without glasses. His burning rays weaken your steps so much so that you almost end up toppling over when your knees meet the cold floor.

" My king " you greet with a soft voice and your head lowering in respect.

" Come closer, surface dweller "

Feeling a little bold, you decide to crawl to him until your hands reach the step where his feet rest. Your body is perfectly aligned with his middle.

Namor reaches down to cradle your face in his large hand. The gesture is almost sweet until the rough skin of his thumb taps your chin, directing your eyes up to his and sending a shiver to travel down your spine.

" You have kept me waiting. Tell me, have you forgotten your place?"

"I'm so-" your apology is cut out short by his tsk of disapproval.

Without speaking, Namor spreads his legs even wider for you to accommodate between them. A silent message that you get straight away: actions speak louder than words.

Instantly, your hands move up his legs, adoring the feeling of his hard muscles beneath your fingers, his skin wet yet still so warm.. exactly like that day.

That day, when the storm clouds had crushed the sky, the thunder struck in a deafening blast and freed the rain to flood. He had appeared among the waves, cloaked as another part of the wreck. Then surfaced again, on the other side of the tattered board you had been sustaining yourself on. The tempest in his eyes, a mirror of the one surrounding you.

The offer was simple: die to become seafood or live to never come back. While the ship drowned behind your back, you were holding your arms out, surrendering to the cold angry waves to be caught and carried away by warm arms.

Warm spreads all over your body just like that day as you slide your hands up his thighs slowly. Your fingers toy with the fraying edges of the loincloth he's wearing and then flick it to the side revealing his barely concealed bulge. A sight that never fails to have you licking your lips, those tight and short shorts are as much of a menace as he is.

You palm his cock through the green fabric, feeling it stir at your touch. You can almost feel his fingers twitching with impatience, the need to fist your hair and urge you on. You continue to tease him, this time with your tongue darting out to lick the straining fabric around his half-hard-on, then nuzzling your nose along the way, following its shape.

It isn't wise to provoke a god but the truth is that he needn't be demanding because a moment after your own desire to please him has you freeing his thick cock and fisting it almost urgently.

As precum escapes its head, the tip of your tongue rushes out to taste it, swirling it in your mouth and spitting it right out, the mixed fluids dripping down his shaft as he hisses. You keep your tongue pressing slightly on the leaking slit, opening your lips to bring his head inside your mouth, sucking on it lightly. His large girth already sets an uncomfortable sting in your lower jaw. Your eyes climb up to his, finding two black pools of burning lust that make you squeeze your legs together looking for some kind of release from the kick of arousal in your stomach.

"Is that all you can take?" he mocks " You disappoint me, surface dweller"

Oh, he knew you could take much much more, he was just being cruel.

Working him down your throat was always a challenge, a challenge you were gladly accepting each time.

So you renew your efforts to fit more of him, setting a pace that has saliva rolling down your chin, willing your throat to reach as far as you can while your tongue continues to trace each vein and ridge of his hard cock, leaving no trace of skin unexplored. Even when you gag and sputter around him you keep going, jerking off what you can't fit in your mouth.

You can see he's close, his chest is heaving, betraying his agitated state, his knuckles clutching the rudimental armrests while his legs part widely, twitching with the need to thrust up and choke you even more.

To imagine that he wants this almost as much as you do, to think that he needs this, he needs you.. is … intoxicating.

Having one goal in mind, you start to suck harder, bobbing up and down until tears fall from your eyes and your throat burns. His hand shoots out to fist your hair, catching you mid bob and pushing you even further down when he cums, filling your mouth and throat with his spend and groaning his release while you moan messily around his length, the vibration adding an extra stimulation that prolongs his orgasm, spilling even more cum into your awaiting throat.

Your pussy throbs needily while you clean him off, swallowing audibly any drop that could have escaped your mouth.

After you have finished, his hand drops down to cradle the side of your face as you catch your breath against his thigh.

His thumb is drawing the line of your jaw when he commands huskily "Open", your mouth obeys him immediately showing that you have dutifully swallowed everything he gave you "Good. You did so good. Now, you think you deserve a reward ?" the rough pad of his thumb pulls down your lower lip admiring the soft pillowy skin as he continues to taunt you seductively "Think your pretty little body can take it?"

You nod, waiting at his feet for doing it all over again. At least it was what you expected from that very first time. That time (not so far from your arrival to Talokan) when you had hunted Namor, fell to your knees before him and begged to release him from those hideously tempting shorts to please him with your mouth. Since then, he has never been satisfied with cumming once nor seeing you once a day and the sentiment was mutual. You have become insatiable, your desire to touch more of him, to elicit groans or any kind of unrestrictedly lustful reaction from him growing each passing day.

That's why a surprised yet pleased gasp escapes you when he joists you up into his lap.

Namor chuckles and bares you unceremoniously, untying the knot at your neck that holds your dress up. His eyes devour you as his large hands trace your body starting by your neck, following your pulse point down to your collarbone and lower to the sides of your breasts, touching every erogenous zone delicately. He stops at the top of your thighs to spread his fingers, thumbs moving up and down the line of your venus, digging into the flesh where your legs and pelvis meet and sending electric thrills to your core.

"So soft and warm" his murmur is barely audible, almost as if his words aren't destined for your ears

You feel his hand cupping your heat next, the heel pressing against your bundle of nerves as his fingers easily slide down your slit and press at your sopping entrance.

Your hole clenches and sucks them in greedily, your entire body curling into the abyss of early ecstasy. He must realize this at the same time as you do because his smirk turns devilish.

"Haven't even touched you yet and you've already made a mess of yourself" his fingers sink into your heat, steadily coaxing you open "What's caught you so excited huh?"

Swift as the snake he's been compared to over the centuries, he catches your eyes rising to his headdress and hears the erratic flutter of your beating heart.

"Oh, you like this mmm.."- the torture of his fingers dragging languidly over your walls never stopping "Go on, tell me what you think"

"It's so..." you extend your hand tracing the curves of the golden beast up to the feathers and green aquatic leaves, not daring to touch any of it, afraid you will tarnish them somehow just by being so close " magnificent.." your eyes turning back to the god facing you, watching closely and unexpectedly quiet. Sometimes, he can even read your thoughts, but right now you're sure he can read your eyes. He sees through the praise, the amazement and reverence that lie beyond are not purely directed to what sits above his head.

He kisses you then. Pulling from your hair, he connects his lips with yours to capture you in a voracious kiss. His kisses used to be angry, long but measured. Now, they have morphed into life-consuming spells. One kiss was enough to have you drowning in desire, your body invaded by a thirst that could only be quenched by him: his lips, his hands, his cock.

His tongue breaches the seam of your lips, tasting them as he does so, then invades your mouth to fight and defeat yours. Each breath you take against his open mouth burns, the scrape of his teeth on your lower lip adding another log to the pyre. It's enough to make you lose your mind, shamelessly mewling while your hips move up and down, fucking yourself on his thick fingers. He parts his mouth from yours and your moans fill the room unobstructedly.

"Hold it" the warning is whispered into your ear, his dark voice electric like the thunder before a storm.

The single tear that falls from your eye at the effort is snatched by his finger, the pearly bubble dissolving in his skin.

"Poor, desperate surface dweller." the chocolate in his eyes is now completely melted "You're so lucky you taste so sweet."

The world seems to fold upside down when you're lifted and turned around, your butt landing on the throne with your legs parted wide open by strong hands.

Next thing you know Namor kneels and plunges his tongue inside you, then drags it out, licking up your slit once, twice and finally, his entire mouth takes as much flesh as he can and sucks, pulling deliciously on your clit and slurping your essence as if he was eating his favorite fruit. You completely forget how to breathe, as your legs start to shake uncontrollably around him and your head hits his throne.

The mere image of him sucking on your pussy like a maniac at the feet of his own throne is enough to send you over the edge. Your hands wildly reach out to hold onto something as the pleasure turns unbearable. Denied of his lush hair they land instead on the gold shoulder plates, scraping needily on the metal as you cum, crying silently in shock at the suddenness of the white burning bliss that crushes you. He sucks your abused folds one more time and raises.

His hand brings you back to consciousness, squeezing your cheeks and prying your lips open only to spit in your mouth. He doesn't have to say a word, you swallow it all instinctively.

"You're so dirty " he chuckles satisfied "and you're about to get dirtier, surface dweller"

He engulfs your lips yet again, sharing the remnants of your taste on his tongue as he manhandles you into a position he likes, yanking you down and pushing your knees up your chest with firm arms.

Moaning into the kiss, you feel the blunt tip of his already hard cock rubbing on your sensitive folds, parting them to push against your entrance. Slowly, he eases his head inside allowing you some reprieve before his mercy runs thin and he continues on, burying himself in one powerful thrust, reaching your limit and knocking all of the air from your lungs. The stretch overwhelms you with stinging pleasure, like thorns pricking on your nerves with shocks of bliss.

"Always so warm" he groans, his words fueling the heat in your belly as his lips part from yours moving down to mark your throat.

He drives his hips into yours, setting an unforgiving pace while searching and finding that spongy spot behind your front wall. Guided by your lewd moans he rams his cock into it fascinated by your body fitting more and more of his large cock and squeezing so hard around him.

He makes you cum for the second and third time of the day, driving into you with such fervor and precision that scrambles your brain and rattles your bones. Slick drips down your cunt and soaks his lower abdomen as wet sloshing sounds fill the room.

You feel utterly delirious, your gaze dropping to where your bodies are joined, the wide base of his cock splitting you open eliciting another wave of arousal, pushing another horizon of unbridled gratification.

"Look at me " the pressure of his hand wrapped around your throat snaps your attention back up. His jawline is tense almost as if it was carved on stone, his lips look swollen and biteable and his eyes are so dark you feel like you're falling, your stomach trembling once more as he thrusts hard.

The golden face of the roaring beast seems to goad your febrile state.

"It is said that if you look too much, its eyes can trap your soul for eternity." the playful warning falls from his lips like honey when he notices you're staring "Tell me, is yours mine already?" his final chuckle earning another pained moan from you.

You can't even fathom how to answer that. You hope he doesn't expect a coherent response because the truth is, you haven't been able to think rationally since you had set foot in this room.

Your walls cling to him and your back arches as you drink every sinful word he keeps bombarding you with. Every taunt, every smile, every chuckle, every hitched breath and moan between you both is vitally consumed as water in the desert.

The grip on your throat tenses, your pulse point deliciously stroked by his fingers, causing your hand to shoot up grasping his wrist as the pressure in your lower belly starts to rise. Your chest touches his muscular one, your knees getting squished between your chests as he drives his cock even deeper inside you.

He keeps pounding into you relentlessly until you feel him throbbing, the muscles in his lower abdomen tensing and you're choking on feverish words, the desire for him to fill you up once again maddening.

"That's it" he praises, his voice pierced by want "Keep begging for my cum. How much do you need it?"

You can't control yourself, the pleas that fall from your lips are intelligible, your voice breaking between moans. It only takes two more thrusts for him to reach his peak, his cock swelling and stretching you impossibly, pumping you full of his cum. As he groans his euphoria, his other hand reaches down to draw circles around your sensitive nub. The crease of the wave starts to fall on you too as he's still spilling generously inside you. The orgasm rips you apart. You come so hard you think your soul leaves your body, the only thing it remains is his name on your lips.

He examines the image before him with voracious yet pleased eyes. Eyes closed, shallow breaths, skin shining with sweat and still stretched around him. You're a fucked senseless mess, just how he liked it.

Thoroughly ruined, a fleeting thought of quiet complaint stuck in your mind: how is it fair that he looks like he hasn't broken a sweat in his entire life when you feel so completely undone, the post-orgasmic haze gripping your mind and body with exhaustion.

He plays with what has leaked out of you, smearing it, making more of a mess and earning a raspy whine from you.

"You look so good beneath me" Namor whispers while leaning forward, nuzzling your nose with his " This might be your new place. Would you like that? To have me holding you down, filling this greedy pussy forever?"

Your wrecked moan is answering enough.

🌊🌊🌊

Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed it, it would make my day! ❤️

#namor x reader #namor fanfiction #king namor #namor smut #mysweetpoisonsmasterlist

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oncewhenalongtimeago · 2 months

Note

hello! i have a request for 'SbITILYP', if you don't mind. how about the reader trying to do something for hiccup to impress him/show him that she likes him? hiccup has been doing a lot of things for the reader so I think it'd be cute seeing the reader awkwardly attempt to do the same :)

Sorry, but I Think I Lost Your Plot pt 28

Pairing: Onesided!Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Modern!Fem!Reader

Words: 1110

Things come to a simple end.

Tags: Time Travel, Reader into Movieverse, final part, half-fill

“I’m surprised it went this smooth,” Stoick grumbled, voice hollow with distance, “With Alvin-... I’d expect something from Hiccup, at least. That boy…”

“He’s ‘Too busy, eh?” Gobber asked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively, grunting and hopping as he did it, reattaching his prosthetic to his leg nub, “Prolly been off mackin’ on tha’ girlfriend o’ his.”

Right… Alvin.

“Ah,” Hiccup was flushed, rubbing his neck and brushing against already messy hair, “Yeah, I forgot about that…”

Toothless was around somewhere.

He glanced to the side, where you stood, equally embarrassed and mussed, shoulders hunched slightly, very red in the face.

You shifted in your skirts, resisting the urge to use your boot to scratch at the back of your thigh, which had been itchy for a little while, since you brushed up against some plant walking back from the forest.

You were just around the corner from Hiccup’s Dad -a bright and heavily painted corner; turns out his whole ‘painting the houses’ thing caught on, which meant a lot less of things burning down- though he wasn’t sure if you’d heard.

All the talk of criminal executions was depressing, though you missed it, lost in the puppy-love haze phase of your new relationship. Still, it was kind of a bummer. It was for the best that Alvin was gone, though. Less danger in that for you too -not just the riders or Stoick or anything else.

You hoped it didn’t bum Hiccup out too bad. You noticed it had been getting him down, and you’d done your best.

Your fingers curled together, hooked securely and delicately to his by the fingerpads, and you and Hiccup stood close enough that you could feel his body heat through his tunic though not yet enough for the two of you to be touching by the arm.

You’d just gotten back from a successful trip to the glowing algae pool.

His vest was slightly displaced and you were both sure he’d lost a bead or two.

In one hand you held the little Fireworm, wrapped in a carefully made chainmail blanket -it was hard to come up with something that wouldn’t pinch skin or scales- also wrapped in a layer of leather so that you could hold it comfortably.

It squirmed slightly.

He scuffed his prosthetic slightly, recently oiled, recently reforged with treads beaten into the bottom, which did a lot to help with gripping wet wood while you were walking hand-in-hand around Berk.

You wore a red tunic -his, really, he’d lent it to you again after you’d gotten some muck on yours- and a string of your own beads on leather cord tied around your neck, something Hiccup had picked nonchalantly from the forge and used to help make you a necklace.

He’d tried to make you a bead once, but he wasn’t much of an artisan.

“I mean, me too,” You huffed, feather swaying as you shifted, attached to a stick like a pom-pom on one end of a cat toy, “We’ve been busy with other things, though- Not like what Gobber said- I mean, you know…”

Hiccup nodded, though he was still looking forward. This was all still super new for the both of you.

It would feel that way for a while.

You were still in disbelief- it was a wonder to you why he and Astrid didn’t pair up before.

He traced the collar of his scarf slightly as Sharpshot lolled lazily by your feet, slightly wet and glow-ey by his lower half whenever he teased the shade with his tail.

You knew Hiccup was bummed Devastated that the Screaming Death had destroyed all his hard work -a good deal of the things he’d built up in the village for you, though with some hard work and dirt pushed under your fingernails it had been fixed up pretty easy.

He seemed happier now. It hadn’t really been something you’d planned but you’d distracted him somewhat- your relationship was still very, very new, still.

And you made him a gift.

You’d tried crafting again. It was very scratchy and you’d definitely not done a very good job making sure the whole thing was even but it was a nice fading rainbow, the yarn dyed in all the colors in Roy G. Biv in darker, neutral tones.

“Looks like you fixed things right up, ‘Dragon Master,’” You stuck out your tongue at him, looking smug.

It -the scarf- covered the bottom of Hiccup’s chin. It didn’t really fit him but he wore it with pride, which made something flutter around in your guts in a way that was almost uncomfortable.

You predicted it would be around a week before he took it off.

Hiccup had unintentionally returned the favor. You got a satchel from him, small and attached to a belt with norse knots imprinted around the edges, sown neatly together. It was sort of like a fanny pack but with more buckles and also cool.

“Did you really have to use that?” Hiccup said, leaning his head towards you momentarily.

Sharpshot churr-ed in the squawky squeaky way only a terror could, blinking up at the feather attached to your hip as you adjusted your hand in Hiccup’s.

The small Fireworm in your other hand blinked beadily as it sometimes very rarely did.

“It is tacky,” You admitted, though that was definitely why you used it, “But you did a good enough job to deserve it, not that you have to do anything to deserve things.”

You gently bumped into him with your hip.

And he did a great job. Berk was back to how it was just before the Screaming Death -most of the roses ended up being fine, and the plants that were lost were easily replaced and reinforced by spiked metal fences and wooden pikes.

You’d also added a few new planters. Many of the houses stationed under ramps were popular real estate now for metal tins for glowing mushroom growing, which you knew there many new homeowners were proud of, not just because of the fact that it made them a lot of money.

The mushrooms were great for paint making and the extra roofing kept dragons from jumping over houses and messing with tiling.

It was heavy maintenance, but they were all Vikings. For a modern girl like you, you found it was all worth it, if not just for the convenience.

Living on Berk was rough, but it was good and different now. Even with all the Outcasts and the dragons and the hunters and everything else missing.

And you were happy.

And maybe Hiccup’s crush hadn’t ended up being so onesided after all.

#httyd #how to train your dragon #x reader #fanfiction #hiccup haddock #httyd imagine #hiccup x reader #fem reader #female reader #toothless

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luna0713hunter · 10 months

Text

keigo takami x f!reader

Fluff, bickering couple, established relationship

*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘

You know something's wrong as soon as you step inside the house.

Maybe it was the eerie‌ silence that greeted you,or the fact that your home smelled slightly of burned sweets. And-

Birds?

Or maybe it was the sound of a loud CRASH followed by a string of curses from the kitchen.

You drop your keys to the ground, rushing to take off your shoes and go straight to the source of the sound. You're only halfway through the doorway when the smoke feels your lungs, causing you to cough.

"Keigo!what the hel-"

"Y/n!!!" You see his wings flutter,not being able to fully spread them in such a small space, "open the windows!!"

As the two of you shuffle around to open each and every one of the windows,your boyfriend grabs a small kitchen towel, and waves it around while fluttering his own wings slightly to help with the smoke going out of the window.

When the air is finally clean,and you can breath once again,you turn around with your arms around your chest, giving the man in front of you an unimpressed look.

"so,wanna tell me what's going on?"

Keigo huffs,and suddenly drapes himself over you.

Wings and all

"Babyyyy," his voice is whiney,and despite not wanting to give in your lips twitch slightly "i was going to make us some cookies,but one of my feathers caught on fire and-"

"oh my god!" You immediately pull away, turning the pro-hero around to check on his crimson feathers, "i thought i smelled burning chicken-"

"chicken??? chicken?! I'm a Hawk!!!what do you mean by chicken?!"

Now that you know his wings are fine,just a slight burn on one of the small feathers, you're fully laughing while Keigo wraps his arms around your waist, shaking you while pouting.

"this is not funny!!!is this what you're telling people?!that you're dating a chicken?!"

You shake your head,your eyes filled with tears of joy. You know he's only messing around and not actually upset;but you still wrap your own arms around his neck when your laughter subsides,to bring him down to your own height and kiss him sweetly on his lips.

"what I'm telling people," you whisper against his lips,a silent prayer only between the two of you "that I'm dating the most handsome and amazing hero alive. The incredible Hawks himself."

You see his wings flutter around you from the praise;chest puffing out as he litters your face in small kisses.

"you're the incredible one,Dove. What did i do to deserve you?"

You snort and comb your fingers through his hair, "nothing. Only like,saved thousands of people?"

He laughs a little breathlessly at that,and suddenly he bends down and picks you up bridal style. You squeak, wrapping your arms tightly around him.

"Keigo,what-"

"we're going to get desserts!!"

"we can do by car!!"

And he smirks down at you,before opening the window fully and stepping on the windowsill.

"and where's the fun in that?"

#my writing #keigo takami #keigo takami x reader #hawks x reader #mha x reader #keigo takami x you #hawks x you

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sematarygirls · 1 year

Text

Living Dead Girl — Patrick Hockstetter.

part two

pairing : patrick hockstetter x ghost!reader (descriptors such as beautiful and nicknames such as dollface, darling, ect, but no described features— ie. long hair, brown eyes)

summary : patrick gave into his urges and finally tested his morbid curiosities on prey much larger than just a cat or dog. little did he know his actions would come back to haunt him... literally.

warnings : patrick being a psychopath , animal abuse , graphic depictions of murder/gore , you being murdered (in third person) 🤗 , self image issues

word count : 5.5k (part one)

a/n : i don't know how accurate this is to patrick, but i tried to make him lack empathy and remorse and he can't exactly feel love— just obsession and fascination. also, i hc patrick as a lefty so do with that what you will.

Patrick had once again been feeling that familiar itch. It started subtlety this time, like a tickle from a weightless feather that blew lightly across his skin every so often, and it began to gradually grow.

He tried his best to satiate the hunger of the beast within, to scratch that itch in the same way he had so many times before— by killing the neighborhood pets.

But, it appeared this craving was a different kind altogether, for when he lit his lighter, allowing the aerosol to spray through the flame and fry the kitten until it was unrecognizable and it's shrill screams had died out, he felt nothing. There was no sense of relief, no satisfaction or even the small semblance of happiness— because Patrick truly couldn't feel such uplifting emotions.

There was just nothing.

Well, there was still that nagging itch.

It took some contemplation. Long nights staring up at the empty ceiling of his room, his right arm propped under his head while his left laid passively across his torso. How could he rid himself of this feeling?

He pondered that perhaps burning just didn't do it for him anymore. To test his theory, he tried many other options— drowning, suffocation, mutilation— he even, regrettably, attempted tasting the vile little creatures.

So, definitely not the method of torture because he was sure that if he hadn't even feeling so empty, those, with the exception of the last one, would have been a world of fun for him. Well then, maybe it was the animal!

Squirrels, cats, dogs, raccoons, lizards, frogs, birds— anything he could get his hands on became helpless victims in Patrick's reign of terror, but none of it helped.

That feeling began to grow until it took up every inch of his body. All he could think about was the kill. Even when he and his friends were torturing their pre-pubescent victims, images of blood and agonizing screams plagued his mind.

And that's when it hit him— he needed a human victim. One that brought real stakes to the equation, one that would get his adrenaline rushing at the idea of being caught.

Initially, it had been an idea. He hadn't planned to act on it... but then you came along, and god, you were just so perfect.

You ran into him, through no fault of your own. He had been walking down the wrong side of the hallway, and you were just coming around a corner, so he was in your blind spot.

"Oh, god. I'm so sorry. I'm such a klutz," you chuckled lightly after you collided into his hard chest. You looked up at him with wide, apologetic eyes.

As he stared down at you, he just knew that you were the one. You were so perfect. So beautiful. And it made him furious. He couldn't quite discern why, but the way your eyes sparkled with genuity and naivety caused a pit of red hot rage to build in his stomach.

But he couldn't act yet. He had to gain your trust. He had to ensure that he could get you into the woods by yourself so he could enact his plan and finally scratch that fucking itch.

"My fault, dollface," he spoke with a wide smile, attempting to be somewhat gentlemanly. "I wasn't paying attention." He gently clenched and released his fist as he watched you smile brightly. "I'm Patrick, Hockstetter," he introduced, leaning forward to tower over you in an attempt to be intimidating but in a way that could also come off as flirtatious.

"Ah, yes, the infamous Patrick Hockstetter, I presume?" You asked, your eyebrow arching slightly. There it was again. That anger. It had to have been your subtle cockiness, the way you weren't the least bit fearful of him even though his reputation clearly proceeded him.

"The very same," he smirked, leaning close to your ear. His breath lightly fanned the shell of your ear. "Why? Does my reputation scare you? Do I scare you?"

You let out a light chuckle. "No." It was a simple answer, and yet Patrick still found himself having to cling to that feeling on his skin, the one he desperately wanted to be rid of, to ensure that he didn't snap right at that second.

For some bizarre reason, in your presence, Patrick felt utterly powerless, which was a very foreign feeling to him. He had always been calm and calculated, except for when he was alone with his projects, so to be so out of control of his emotions just added to his resentment toward you.

"You should be," he replied ominously before turning and walking away from you in long, precise strides. He let his smirk fall and his lip curl up in disgust as he felt your eyes on his back the whole way down the hallway.

It had been such a simple interaction, and yet it had left you completely and utterly captivated. You should have been afraid of him. You'd known of his tendency for him and his friends to terrorize younger kids, and of course, you had heard the whispers of what he did when he thought no one was around, but those were just rumors... right?

Either way, you were intrigued by Patrick and wanted to see him again.

The next time you two had met, you were walking home. You lived above your parent's old record store in the town square, which was extremely convenient for you because it meant all the stores, the arcade, and school were just a short walk away. The record shop had been your grandfather's before it became your mother's, and soon it would be yours.

You were coming up on the arcade, and as you approached, you hesitated. Should you go inside? Your parents were expecting you home, but it was Friday, so they'd be okay with you going out for a bit, right?

As you contemplated, a blue Trans Am pulled up next to you, and a voice called out to you. "Y/N!"

Your eyebrows furrowed as your mind registered the familiarity of the voice. It sounded like Patrick, but it couldn't be because you had never told him your name. You turned, eyes widening slightly in surprise as your gaze met Patrick, who was hanging with half his body out the window of the car. In the passenger's seat, Henry was staring forward, a bored and slightly irritated look on his face.

"Hockstetter?" You asked with a grin. "I don't remember telling you my name."

"You didn't," he replied, sending a grin of his own your way.

"Did you ask around about me?" You teased, your eyebrows raising slightly as you gave him a playful look.

"Maybe," he shrugged. "Still not scared of me?" He asked, placing the palms of his hands on the door to push his upper half out the window toward you.

"Hmm," you looked up and to the side, pretending to think for a moment. "Nah," you shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips.

"Well, in that case," he drawled out. "You wanna go out with me tomorrow night?"

"You bringing your posse?" You asked, nodding your head to the three other teens in the car that had undoubtedly been listening in on your conversation.

"Why? Do you want them to come?" He asked suggestively. "I mean, I didn't know you were into that, but if you insi-"

"Stop! Stop!" You laughed, clamping your hand over his mouth. He looked you dead in the eye, and for a moment, you were so hypnotized by his eyes that you didn't realize the wet sensation of his tongue flicking across your palm. "Ugh!" You shrieked in disgust with a small laugh. "Gross."

"So?" He asked, his eyebrows raising. "Whatdya say?" He grinned his Cheshire cat grin, and you couldn't help but relent.

"Okay," you said softly with a little nod. "Yeah, I'll go out with you."

"Great," he smirked, doing a little drum solo on the door in, what appeared to be excitement. "I'll pick you up at 8." You nodded, not able to contain your huge smile as he tried to awkwardly pull himself back into the car. "Oh," he said, sticking his head out the window a bit. "And wear white." Before you could question him, he sent you a wink, and then, the car was off speeding down the street.

You began to absent-mindedly walk the rest of the way home, all plans of going to the arcade having fled your mind, replaced with the thought of going on a date with Patrick. Your first date!

You really didn't know what he saw in you. He was so charming and handsome, and you were just... you. You weren't exceptionally attractive like Shelly Benson and Daniel Klein or outrageously popular like Greta Bowie and Jackson Pines. You were smart in subjects you enjoyed and not as smart in one's you weren't, and you had average social skills but never really made friends, just acquaintances.

You were just normal.

And so you stood, staring at yourself in the mirror as you examined every inch of your outfit, desperately trying to look less like yourself. You sighed in frustration, running a hand through your hair with a huff as you turned around, refusing to look at yourself any longer.

Your room was your safe space. The walls were covered in posters of your favorite bands, celebrities, and movies. You wondered what it felt like to be so effortlessly flawless as you stared around at all the beautiful people littering your walls.

Aside from the posters, your room was quite cohesive. You had chosen an excellent set of neutrals to pair with your accent color (which was your favorite color, of course), and it created a very attractive and appealing color pallet.

The sound of a knock on the apartment door made you snap out of your admiration of your room. Leave it to you to critique your artistic excellence when you're on a time crunch.

You took one last look in the mirror before taking a breath and exiting your room. You proceeded down the hall and through the living room. With one last mental reassurance, you turned the knob and opened the door.

Patrick had been practicing and planning his moves precisely. He had to shower you with compliments and be completely polite. It would let your guard down, and that's when he could strike.

The door opened, and Patrick's gaze fell on you. Even he had to admit, you were undoubtedly attractive, but it wasn't companionship he was after. It was relief.

So, putting on his best show, he opened his mouth as if he was going to speak before closing it and giving you a once over, trying his best to seem in awe of you.

"Wow," he breathed with an awkward chuckle. "You look," he let out a puff of air, motioning to you as if he couldn't find the words. "I mean- you look perfect."

He watched in satisfaction as you smiled sheepishly, gaze averting to the ground. "Thank you," you replied. You looked back up and playfully said: "And you don't look too bad yourself," in an attempt to play it cool, but Patrick could see right through you. You were falling for his charm, and how could you not?

He was a God, after all.

"So," you asked, stepping out of your apartment and shutting the door behind you. "Where are we going this fine evening?"

"Well," Patrick started, placing his hand flat on your lower back as you two walked down to the record shop on the first floor. "I know this perfect spot in the woods away from town-" You gave him a concerned look, and he chuckled lightly at your fear. "I know how it sounds, but there's a firepit me and the boys set up out there, and it has a great view of the stars because there's no light pollution out there."

You bit the inside of your cheek, and Patrick felt his pulse begin to quicken. It seemed like you were going to back out. Should he have told you? Or just let you panic when they got there?

"Okay," you nodded, turning to him with a smile as you made up your mind. "I don't love the idea of a first date in the woods, but I'm like 99% sure you're not an axe murderer or anything, so," you trailed off.

Patrick gave you a wolfish grin. Oh, if only you knew that he was a predator and you were his prey— so innocent and oblivious to the things that the night had in store for you.

The two of you walked out of the store, and Patrick read the shocked look on your face as you saw Belch's Trans Am, which was then followed by discomfort and then relief when you noticed his friends hadn't accompanied him.

"Took some convincing, but I got Belch to let me borrow Amy," Patrick said proudly as he took one long stride forward and opened the car door for you.

"He named his car?" You asked with a little giggle as you climbed into the passenger's seat. "That's cute."

"Yup, although cute isn't the word I'd use," Patrick replied before shutting the door and walking around to the driver's side.

"And what word would you use?" You asked, amusement coating your tongue and dancing in your eyes.

"Demented," he said, giving you a look as he started the car. It was ironic coming from him, and he knew it. If anyone was demented, it was the pyromaniac freak who killed animals and was tricking a girl into thinking he liked her when really he was taking her to the woods to kill her.

"That's interesting coming from someone with such a," you paused, for a moment, thinking for the right word. "Colorful reputation."

"Touché," he shrugged, pulling out of the spot he was parked in and continuing down the road to the woods. The car settled in an awkward silence as neither of you really knew what to say. Patrick knew he should ask you questions and engage with you, but to be honest, he didn't really care about what you had to say.

"Let's see what Belch has in his glove compartment," you said with a grin. Patrick's blood began to boil again. Not because you were invading Belch's privacy— he quite liked that part, actually. No one was ever allowed to look in the glove compartment. In fact, he had specifically told Patrick not to and that he would know if he did, and now Patrick could satisfy his curiosity while blaming it on his date.

No, his blood was boiling because of how casual you were. Most people would ask a stupid question to fill the silence or just sit in it, but you found a way to light heartedly and nonchalantly attempt to start a conversation. It was Infuriating to him how different you were.

Patrick considered himself an expert on human behavior. After all, it was his world, and everyone else were pawns, so growing up, he had to learn about people. He had to pick up on their little habits and understand why people did certain things so he could manipulate them and use them as playthings.

But you were different, and that's what infuriated him so much. You were still plenty easy to manipulate, but you had little quirks and ways of doing things that he'd picked up on that went against his understanding of the human condition.

You were defective, and that's why he had to get rid of you. You weren't normal. You weren't a plaything or a pawn.

You were a threat.

Patrick glanced over at you, watching for a moment as you rummaged through the glove compartment.

"Eyes on the road, pretty boy," you said absent-mindedly. "I don't plan to die tonight, and especially not at the hands of you." This made him internally smile. That was the second reference you'd made tonight of him hurting you and each time you had been wrong. You were going to die tonight— a very painful death— and the blood would be on his hands.

"He has got a lot of tapes in here," you observed aloud, pushing things around a bit more before a gasp left your lips. Patrick looked over again as you pulled out a pink piece of paper with a red lipstick stain in the shape of lips and a message in a hot pink sparkly pen that read: I really enjoyed tonight. We should do it again sometime =).

"No fucking way," Patrick said in shock, a laugh leaving his lips as he registered what he was seeing. "I can't believe that fat fuck actually gets bitches."

"Hey," you scolded, smacking him lightly on the arm. "Don't be mean," you defended. "I think it's really sweet, and clearly, he knew you'd be an ass about it," you rolled your eyes. "He really tried to hide it in there."

Patrick turned the car into a little dirt road and parked. He knew no one would be out there that late, so the car wouldn't be seen. "Here we are," he announced before climbing out and making his way to the passenger's side to open your door.

"Don't take this the wrong way," you started as you got out of the car. "But I did not expect you to be such a gentleman." Your eyes followed Patrick as he grabbed a blanket out of the backseat and tucked it underneath his right arm before approaching you.

"Well," he said, linking your arm in his left one. "I don't usually care what people think," he confessed, one of the few true things he'd actually said to you, but of course, he was about to follow it up with a lie. "But with you, it's different." He looked over at you, only to find you staring. If he wasn't making an attempt at faking vulnerability right now, he would have smirked at how enamored you were by his words.

"And why is that?" You asked quietly, hypnotized by the way the darkness created shadows on his face that seemed to define it so well. Almost as if the darkness suited him better, which was odd considering usually the light was more well-defining to people.

"You're unlike anyone I've ever met, and I don't want to scare you away," he professed, his voice seeming genuinely sincere, but obviously, that wasn't the case.

"That's quite possibly the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me," you said sheepishly, a soft smile falling upon your lips. You both walked in silence for a moment, the cruching of leaves and the chirping of crickets ringing through the vast area. "Wow," you breathed out, eyes glued to the sky. "You were right. The stars look amazing out here."

"Told you," Patrick grinned before unlocking your arms and advancing forward. You two had reached a clearing, and he was approaching the firepit in the middle. Surrounding the firepit, which was clearly homemade as the stones surrounding it were just stacked on top of each other haphazardly, were various random chairs and a long bench that looked surprisingly comfortable.

"This place looks cozy," you said, eyes sweeping over the area. A chill ran down your spine as a breeze blew through the clearing. The air seemed to grow thick, and something in your gut told you to run— leave now and never look back.

You would soon wish you listened to that feeling.

Instead, you walked forward, taking a seat on the bench as Patrick doused the wood inside the firepit with lighter fluid before grabbing a lighter from his pocket and setting it ablaze.

A wave of warmth fell over you as the clearing lit up gold. Patrick straightened up and came to sit beside you on the bench. You were so focused on examining your surroundings that you didn't notice Patrick carefully grab the knife that he'd hidden inside the folded blanket and tuck it under his leg before unfolding the blanket and placing it across you both.

"So," you grinned, finally looking over at him. "Do you bring all your conquests here?"

"Just the hot ones," he smirked. You rolled your eyes, laughing at his remark. "No, but seriously," he let his smirk fall into a soft smile. "You're the only one."

You looked into his eyes and couldn't sense any deception. God, those beautiful eyes. You didn't didn't think they were capable of telling a lie.

They say eyes are the windows to the soul, but Patrick didn't have a soul, so his eyes were more like mirrors, reflections of what he knew people wanted to see when they sought out answers to questions that were better left unsaid.

You stared at each other, the air growing thick with tension as the urge to kiss him overwhelmed you. Your faces slowly inched closer together. "Patrick," you whispered, a wanting evident in your voice.

He reached up to cup your face with his right hand as his left carefully, discretely retrieved the knife from under his leg. He moved his face in, and you were sure he was going to kiss you.

But instead, he moved to the right, his mouth next to your ear as he plunged the knife he had deep into your stomach. You let out a choked cry of surprise and pain as your mind raced with a million thoughts at once, all of them so loud that you couldn't think rationally at all.

"Aw, Y/N," Patrick said darkly, feigning disappointment as he clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth. "I told you that you should've been afraid of me."

He pulled away, twisting the knife to create irreparable damage before pulling it out. He watched as you cried out in pain, hand clutching your stomach in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding.

"But you were too pathetic," he spat. He ran the bloodied knife across your cheek, slicing it open before pushing a strand of hair away from your face. "Just a desperate little whore."

"Why?" You sobbed, tears streaming down your face from the burning pain. Blood began pouring out of your mouth due to the damage to your internal organs, and you knew you were going to die.

"Because I wanted to," he replied with a crazed grin, his tone of voice indicating that he believed it was the most obvious thing in the world. You had never been more fearful than you were now. Not just because you were dying, bleeding out in front of a boy you thought liked you, but because of the look in Patrick's eyes.

They were devoid of any emotion, as if killing someone didn't matter to him at all. You would have even preferred for him to look like he enjoyed it; that's how disturbing his absence of emotion was to you.

Patrick sat there and watched as you bled out before him. The glossed over, far away look in your eyes made his whole body ignite. It just felt so good.

Finally, the itching was gone, and he could live in peace for a little while more. He sat on the bench beside your lifeless body for awhile more, relishing in the feeling of freedom; it had been so long since he had felt that. When he was fully satisfied, he began cleaning up. He threw the blanket in the still burning fire before running back to Belch's car to grab the shovel he'd brought.

Sweat clung to him, sticking his shirt to his chest as he dug the hole where your body would lie. It seemed to take hours, and the feeling of sweating but also being cold was very unpleasant, but finally, he got the hole dug.

He threw the bloody knife inside and grabbed your body, picking you up bridal style and hauling you over to the hole. He dropped your corpse carelessly into your makeshift grave and didn't give you a second thought before he began shoveling the dirt back into the hole.

When he was finished, he walked back to the Trans Am, wrapping the dirty shovel in the other blanket he had brought so no dirt would get into the trunk of Belch's car. And, no one would question dirt in the driver's seat of a teen boy's car, so he wasn't overly worried about his dirtied hands and jeans.

For weeks, Patrick felt amazing. It was the longest Patrick had ever gone without feeling the compulsion to kill. Of course, he still tortured small animals, but that was for fun rather than necessity.

But then he started to see you.

At first, it was just glimpses. Like, when he was brushing his teeth, he'd lean down to spit out his toothpaste, but when he straightened himself out, there you were— standing beside him, blood staining your clothes and the cut on your cheek that he had gave you still fresh. But then, once he blinked, your figure was gone.

He would see you around like that sometimes, not frequent enough to cause concern that he was gaining a conscience. Just enough for him to think he was suffering from a bit of sleep deprivation.

He wasn't worried about being caught. The police hadn't found your body, and when he was questioned as to what happened that night on your date, he said that the two of you had planned to go out to the woods, but on the way there, you two got into an argument because you had been snooping through Belch's things and you got so furious that you demanded to be let out of the car right then and there. Belch, of course, backed this story up because he could tell someone had disturbed his glove compartment.

Soon enough, however, you began to haunt his dreams as well. He would have terrible nightmares of you coming back from the dead and murdering him in cold blood, just as he had done to you, and then, when he awoke, you were standing in the corner of his room.

It wasn't just his brain making shapes out of things to scare him. It was you. He could see clear as day; the moonlight illuminated your face, your once innocent and naive eyes now staring at him with hate and malice.

Patrick Hockstetter didn't believe in ghosts, but he believed in you.

"Dude, what's your fuckin deal?" Henry asked, snapping Patrick out of his thoughts. Patrick looked over at Henry from his spot, splayed out on the hood of Belch's car, which he had objected to until Patrick threatened him. The four boys were hanging around at the quarry, drinking beer as music blasted through Amy.

"What?" Patrick questioned, hostility lacing his voice. Who did Henry think he is speaking to him like that?

"You're not even listening, man," Henry complained, attempting to throw a crumpled up beer can at him but missing.

"Maybe because you fuckers don't have anything interesting to say," Patrick shrugged, looking to his left at the water and tuning their conversation out again.

You had been on his mind non-stop. All he could think about was your eyes. They were so real. That look of hate— he had seen it before in his mother and father after he killed his little brother Avery. He couldn't have imagined that so vividly.

"Do I scare you?" A familiar voice asked, voice a mere whisper as a breeze tickled his ear. He quickly turned and saw you. You were sitting right next to him on the hood of Belch's car, and this time, he was sure he wasn't imagining it. You were there in broad daylight. He had heard you. He had felt your breath across his ear.

But how was this even possible.

"What the fuck!" He shouted, genuine fear in his voice. He felt something he had never felt before as he tried to shuffle away from you, but there was nowhere left to go, so he ended up falling off the car and onto the ground.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, man?" Victor asked, his eyebrows furrowing in pure confusion as he registered the panic and fear— he had never seen Patrick exhibit such emotions, and he could tell by the look in Patrick's eye that they were not fake.

Patrick couldn't hear Vic over the sound of your laugh. It was so loud, deafening even, and it made his ears ring. You hopped off the car and walked toward him slowly with a sickening grin.

"Why are you doing this to me?" He asked, scrambling backward, pebbles and rocks digging into his palms as he tried to escape you.

"Because," she stepped forward, leaning down and grabbing his faded yellow Tom and Jerry t-shirt by the collar. He felt her grab him. It was all real. "I can," she spat viciously. And just as quickly as she appeared, she was gone.

"Are you alright, man?" Belch asked, genuine concern lacing his voice as his brows knitted together. Why had his friend been acting so strange?

"I-I need to get out of here," Patrick spoke quickly as he rushed to his feet, dusting off his clothes and looking around frantically.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Henry cackled, taking a long sip of his beer. Patrick gave him a hard, warning glare that confused Henry. What did he do?

Patrick took off running into the forest, driven by a pure, unbridled fear as he tried to escape you, but the faster he ran, the louder your laugh became. It echoed all around him. It was everywhere and nowhere all at once. He clamped his hands over his ears and screwed his eyes shut.

It's not real. It's not real. It's not real.

And then, just like that, it stopped. He slowly opened his eyes and removed his hands from his ears, peering around the woods. He heaved a sigh of relief as he realized it was over.

It wasn't real.

You weren't real.

He took his time walking back home, stopping and tormenting a few animals on his way to relieve some of the stress that had built up from the games his mind had played on him.

By the time he arrived home, the sun had long disappeared below the horizon, replaced by the luminous glow of the full moon. He pushed the front door open, kicking his muddy boots off by the front door before shrugging his leather jacket off and tossing it onto the floor.

"Ma!" He called into the oddly silent house. He advanced forward, his eyebrow arching as he didn't get a response. "Ma, I'm home!" He tried again, still no answer. He continued through the house into the kitchen, hoping to find something to eat.

As his eyes scanned the kitchen, a tiny post-it note stuck to the fridge caught his attention. He took two long strides and ended up in front of it. Grabbing it off the fridge, his eyes scanned it.

Gone to see your father. Be back in a few days. I left some lasagna in the fridge for you to heat up and some money on the table for pizza or something in case you eat all of it.

Love, Mom

Patrick scoffed, crumpling the post-it into a ball and tossing it into the trash. Patrick's father was arrested for attempted murder when Patrick was young.

After Patrick killed his brother Avery, his father went mad and tried to kill Patrick. He claimed that Patrick was evil, and the world needed to be rid of him. Fortunately for Patrick, his mother still loved him (he had no idea why she still did after what he had done), and she called the police.

The paramedics arrived in time, and Patrick was saved. Though the attack did leave a raised scar on his stomach that never went away.

Patrick pulled a plate out of the top cupboard and a fork out of the drawer before opening up the fridge. He grabbed a can of Coke and the large glass dish with lasagna out. Deciding he didn't feel like waiting for it to heat up, he just used his fork to pick the pre-portioned slice of lasagna out of the dish and drop it onto his plate before sliding the rest back into the fridge for later.

Grabbing his beverage and dinner, he began making his way up the creaky steps that led to the second floor.

The carpet that had previously adorned it had been ripped up when his mom was having one of her overly energized and productive moments, so staples and other sharp objects stuck up from the dirty wood. He was careful to avoid them.

He reached the door at the end of the hall with a yellow sign that read DO NOT ENTER and swung the door open.

"Finally," a voice sounded, causing him to drop both his can and his plate. The sharp sound of glass breaking followed by a loud thud echoed through the room as the plate and soda can collided with the floor.

"No, no, no," Patrick shook his head, shutting his eyes. "This isn't real. I killed you. You're not here. You're not real."

"Sorry, babe," the voice, your voice, whispered into his ear. Your warm breath fanned his ear, and he felt his whole body tense. "I'm very much real."

Tags : @fatfagsj @brokenloverr24

#patrick hockstetter x reader #patrick hockstetter #the bowers gang #it 2017 #patrick hocksetter x reader #patrick x reader #henry bowers #victor criss #reginald huggins #belch huggins #it x reader

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drefear · 10 months

Text

Hopelessly Devoted To You…

Yandere Hizashi/Present Mic x Reader

TW: blood, fighting, death, anxiety, smut, p in v, rough sex, pain, slight choking, lying, angst

Guess mine is not the first heart broken

My eyes are not the first to cry

I'm not the first to know

There's just no getting over you

The pain in my legs was proof that the strain on my muscles was ripping them apart. I couldn’t hold myself up for much longer, let alone keep running. How did I not see this coming? Music hummed in the decaying building, his loud humming like the lullaby of my death. The blood in my eyes from the wound on my head made it very hard to see where I was going, but I was able to make out the halls and doors. Grabbing a doorknob, I struggled to force it open as the knob felt like it had been cemented shut. Where were the police? Where was Aizawa? Hawks? Anyone?

My lungs burned like they were filled with acid, every breath causing a severe stabbing pain in my chest. Shoving myself into the door, it finally burst open and I saw my fears coming true.

The red feathers on the ground were a lifeless and dull, no beautiful scarlet shine like I’d seen only a few hours ago. No, they were completely desolate of any shine. This was bad, this was really bad. Tiptoeing into the room, I quietly shut the door behind myself and made my way around the big desk in the center. The sight was unsavory, almost nauseating.

The stuttering breathing of my partner, Hawks, was just loud enough to overshadow the music echoing and my heartbeat. His eyes shot up at me, shakey and panicked as he gasped once again. I moved like lightning, pulling fabric from my hero costume to compress his wounds. He did this? Loud, quick footsteps made my hands freeze for a split second before I recognized the weight of those steps, continuing to push down on his wounds.

“Move, I’ll cauterize his wounds a bit with my fire, just go find him.” Dabi nudged me out of the way slightly as I sucked in air from his presence. “Just remember, once this is over, we’re still enemies.”

“Agreed.” My eyes glared at him as I tugged my visual blockers down over my eyes and dashed out of the room. The faint steps I heard were coming from above.

You know I'm just a fool who's willing

To sit around and wait for you

But, baby, can't you see

There's nothing else for me to do?

I'm hopelessly devoted to you

“Lime green and unseen. She is pristine!” His voice was quieter than usual, casting a spell of fear over my body.

This wasn’t the Hizashi we all knew and loved. This was a monster, a man possessed.

“Come out and play, little listener!” He called, the windows breaking from his quirk. I couldn’t help but cover my ears and duck down, then dashing to the nearest staircase. He wanted to find me, and so I’d play into his hand.

Finally getting to the top of the stairs, I saw him leaning against a doorframe, swirling a finger around something, bulky and strangely shaped. Stepping closer, I saw the light shine on him. His hair down and wild, sunglasses tucked into his hair, sleeves ripped off his arms and voice modulator covering his neck. He was unhinged.

But what caught my eye was the yellow goggles he was toying with. Covered in blood.

My sensei was in trouble.

But now there's nowhere to hide

Since you pushed my love aside

I'm out of my head

“Where is he?!” I screamed at him and his lips just smirked into an unsettling expression.

“Whatdya mean? Ya didn’t see ‘m when ya walked in?” His eyes looked at me through his lashes and a shiver went down my spine. I glanced from side to side but nothing. That’s when I saw it. A single drop of liquid fell from the ceiling. Looking up, I saw Aizawa tied in his own scarf with his eye blindfolded, bleeding from his arm and head.

“Let him down!”

“Now now, little listener. You aren’t in any position to be ordering me around. We both know your strengths and weaknesses, and none of this would have happened if it weren’t for you.” His words rang in my ears as I thought back to the weeks leading up to this.

Hopelessly devoted to you

I’d gotten close with Hizashi, my old teacher and friend. I’d confided in him, trusted him, and he would comfort me when I needed it. Days turned to weeks and soon, we had become more than just friends. I knew about his feelings, I knew I had some too, but I wanted to be a hero and focus on my dreams. Comforting turned to something else one night and we went to a place we couldn’t go back from. It was wonderful, he was wonderful. Everything I’d ever wanted.

Hopelessly devoted to you

At least the good side of him was, but jealous was something I’d never seen from him and when I worked with Hawks, he seemed to get unexplainably irritable and angry. He would ignore me for hours after I’d get off of work, not answer my texts, and then show up at random hours of the day to visit me at work. Patrol was even worse, he was always “running into” us. I knew Hawks was in a serious relationship, but he couldn’t talk about it because of our job. We were hero’s, and his partner was not, so anyone knowing about his relationship could put their life in jeopardy.

Hizashi didn’t believe me, didn’t care what I said. So naturally, I broke things off. It hurt, it hurt so badly, as I was in love with him, but if he couldn’t trust me and communicate with me, what was I to do?

And now here I was, standing across from my ex lover, the man I thought I’d marry for a time of my life, about to fight him to the death.

Hopelessly devoted to you

“Hizashi, this isn’t you. This isn’t who I’m in love with, just give in and we can go home!” My eyes filled with tears and my hand reached out, hoping he’d take the short amount of steps in between us and hold it.

His eyes flashed to uncertainty for a second before hardening again and locking me out.

“You’re lying to me. You were always lying to me!” He screams and the power of his voice has me clamping my hands over my ears, blood dripping out a bit. I take a step forward, hand still reached out.

“I never lied. You’ve always been the only one for me. How could I love anyone else when I had you?” My voice is weak, stuttering as I feel my bottom lip quiver. The sadness I feel is uncontrollable and I’m doing everything I can to not fall into a crumbled mess on the ground. “Come back to me, Zashi… please.” I beg, and he steps to me.

“I’ll fix this if you promise to be mine. Right here, right now.”

“I’m already yours until the end of time.” I answer but he sneers, aggravated.

“That’s not what I mean.” He pulls off a glove and what he wants finally clicks.

“We- Shota is on the ceiling-“

“He can’t see anything, and he probably can’t hear.” The comfortable way he says this makes my skin crawl, but I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been craving him this whole time. “You want me to surrender? Prove I’m your man.”

My head is saying, "Fool, forget him."

My heart is saying, "Don't let go.

I gulp, the dryness in my throat making me sputter a cough and he reaches out to me from concern, his true self breaking through. “Okay…” I agree, “yes.” And his hands are on me, pulling at the costume, or what’s left of it. The torn pieces of my outfit were ripping wider, the seam of my green pants tearing all the way up to my stomach. His calloused hands trace my thighs and without hesitation, two of his fingers rub against my clit. It’s rough and hurried, but god it feels amazing. His mouth finds the spot behind my ear instantly and I reach out. The groan he lets out against my skin as I palm him through his jeans is intoxicating.

“Zashi… please!” I whimper, and he nods, biting me and inserting a finger in me at the same time. My world spins for a moment as the two sensations collide and I grind against his hand, his thumb taking the place of those two fingers on my sensitive button.

I make quick work of his buckle and try to tug down his pants, getting them to his thighs as his hard erection slaps up against his abdomen. Even in the darkness, I can see his jacobs latter and my insides are preening at the memory, of how I remember it feels.

His lips attack when he catches me staring and I use my own slick to coat my hand and pump him slowly, but he rips my hand away and picks me up by the waist. It all happens so fast, I can’t even see anything until my back hits a cold wall and his head is at my entrance, spreading me open and about to enter me raw. We’ve never done that, and I’m so anxious about it, but I need it just as bad as he does.

“Ready, baby?” He asks and I nod, gazing into those green eyes I know I never want to be without. He pushes in and we both let out a pleading sound, the piercings shuffling around my insides and making me arch my back in pleasure. After the first push, it’s a relentless fucking and I can just hold on as he takes me against the wall. As he’s facing the wall, I peer one eye open just in time to see a specific shadow drop from the ceiling silently and take off his blindfold. My cheeks heat up and I shake my head, hoping he gets the message and he does. He runs out, but Hizashi can’t hear him over his own grunts and my whines.

His hand grabs my throat and I orgasm immediately, feeling him near his end from the clench of my walls around him. A few more destructive thrusts and I feel him fill me, but warmth flowing into me as I twitch from the pure endorphins this is causing.

Our bodies slump together as he pulls himself out and watches our mixed juices drip down my thighs. I moan a bit from the feeling and pant from exhaustion, right before looking up at him and beginning to cry.

Hold on till the end.

And that's what I intend to do

I'm hopelessly devoted to you

“Baby, why are you-” He cups my cheek as I cut him off.

“Forgive me… Hizashi, forgive me and know that I will never love anyone more than I love you…” I keep my head nuzzled into his open hand as I bawl my eyes out, then feeling his hand ripped away from me and seeing him get handcuffed and pinned to the ground through my tears.

“You lied to me!” He yells at me, but Eraserhead had understood my silent plea from before and was able to get the police and backup, also erasing Hizashi’s quirk so he couldn’t yell anymore.

“I’m sorry!” I cry out as Aizawa grabs a blanket and covers my half naked body, costume ripped and torn from both the battle and my ability to give him a false sense of safety. “You would have killed…”

But now there's nowhere to hide

Since you pushed my love aside

I'm out of my head

“It was all because I love you!” He yells again and I turn my face away, still shaking from sobs. Aizawa pulls me into his chest for a hug and shields me from Hizashi’s constant screams and verbal attacks. My heart shatters in my ears and I’m left with the feeling of pure emptiness, much like the whole week of us being apart has felt like. Now, Hizashi will be sent to prison and I will be alone again. “All for you!”

But he won’t be able to harm anyone else.

Hopelessly devoted to you

About a week later, I’m still recovering and visiting Hawks in the hospital, as well as Bubble girl and Fatgum. We all went into that battle and only a few came out able to function, the rest were under 24/7 hospital care. Like Hawks.

“Kid, relax.” He said to me, “none of this was your fault. You didn’t know he was a yandere.”

“He… he isn’t.” I blurt out and I hear a cough from behind me, turning to see Aizawa.

“Actually, a few psychiatrists sent in the reports yesterday. He has been classified as a yandere, and they are keeping him under surveillance because of his uncontrollable emotions.” The black haired man spoke and my chest was once again empty.

“But you’re safe now, he’s locked up, and you have nothing to fear.”

Hopelessly devoted to you

That was almost ten years ago. I have a family, children, a loving husband, and I haven’t looked back. But sometimes, I feel like someone’s watching me, or calling my name. A few times, I feel someone grab my wrist or whisper in my ear in public, but when I turn, no one is there.

I knew I was just imagining things, as I turned out the lights in my kitchen and slid into bed. My husband barely moved as the bed shiftly, getting into my side and feeling him.

“Baby you’re so cold…” I mumbled and kiss the back of his neck.

He doesn’t answer.

But the voice coming from my doorway does.

Hopelessly devoted to you

“Hello again, Little Listener.”

#mha hizashi #my hero academia hizashi #yamada hizashi #hizashi yamada #yandere hizashi yamada #Yandere hizashi #hizashi x reader #present mic #present mic x reader #yandere present mic #villain present mic #mha present mic #angst present mic #present mic angst #present mic smut #hizashi smut #hizashi x reader smut

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gtwscratch · 5 months

Text

Homesick

Summary: Tango misses Jimmy, and Skizz hypes him up (set in Secret Life)

CW: None!

Word count: 1,042

(Sorry not sorry about the Flower Husbands slander-)

========================

“Your rancher?”

Tango stops his small tangent as Skizz interrupts him with the question, sitting on a chest. He feels his cheeks heat up a little bit in embarrassment.

“Oh, yeah, um,” Tango scratches the back of his neck nervously. “Remember when you missed a round of the death games?“

“Yeah, I think Impulse said that you guys were, like, soulbound to another person on the server? Your health bar was connected or something?”

Tango nods. “Yeah, that sums it up. Well, I was.. um.. bound to Jimmy. We built a ranch and called ourselves ‘The Ranchers.’ We.. didn’t make it too far. Canary Curse and all that. That’s what he called it at least.”

He looks to the ground, glancing up every so often as he waits for laughter, or teasing, or just some kind of reaction from Skizz.

“Was he good to you?” Skizz asks the question with complete sincerity, and of course that’s the first thing he asks. It’s just a very ‘Skizz’ response.

While it’s not out of character for Skizz to be nonjudgemental, it’s still a relief to Tango, and he lets out a small breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

Skizz waits a few moments before prompting him again. “Well, was he?”

Tango nearly scoffs, a soft smile on his face. “He wasn’t just good to me.”

Memories from the ranch flash through his head. He remembers the reassurance that Jimmy gave him when he had gotten them both blown up in the first session. He remembers Jimmy bringing home some of their first cows and the excitement they shared. He remembers Jimmy calming him down when the ranch first burned down. He remembers finding RR, and—despite Jimmy’s hesitancy—bringing him onto the ranch and raising him as their own. He remembers Jimmy’s laughter, his smile, how his feathers looked golden when the light hit them just right. He remembers waking up to a wing or an arm wrapped around him, holding him close. He remembers never wanting to leave the ranch—never wanting to leave Jimmy.

His smile falters, also remembers not getting to give him a proper goodbye.

“He was.. everything.”

If Tango wasn’t so caught up in his head at the moment, he would’ve realized how cheesy he sounded and gotten thoroughly embarrassed. It’s not that he thinks Skizz is going to give him trouble (maybe he’d give Tango just a little bit of crap about it, but they’re bros, so it’s fine). Tango’s just not used to being so open about how much he misses life on the ranch. He glances away from Skizz, clearing his throat.

“But that’s all in the past now,” he quickly adds on.

“But you don’t want it to be,” Skizz points out just as quickly, and Tango can feel his cheeks burn a little.

“Well.. yeah, of course I don’t. It was fun.”

He was fun.

“And you’re still down bad for him,” Skizz smirks. Aaand there the teasing is. It causes Tango to blush a little more.

“Yeah, obviously,” Tango rolls his eyes.

“Then I guess there’s only one thing to do,” Skizz decides, standing up. “We’ve gotta get you your rancher back.”

“Wait, what??” Tango’s tail flicks to the side as he looks to Skizz with wide eyes. “What in the void do you mean?”

“What do you mean ‘what do I mean?’ We’re going to convince Jimmy to join us, and then you guys can get back together.” Skizz says it so nonchalantly, like it’s common sense.

This time, Tango does scoff. “Yeah, like it’s gonna be that easy.”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Skizz crosses his arms and tilts his head to the side slightly, mildly confused.

“Because it’s just not,” Tango says, a snippy edge to his tone.

Skizz seems unbothered by Tango’s quickly-rising temper. “That’s not an answer. You literally just said you’d want to team with him, but now you don’t want to? What’s up, Tango? You can talk to me, man.”

The flames in Tango’s hair and on the end of his tail flare a bit, but only for a quick moment. “What if he doesn’t-..!” He takes a second, balling his fists against his sides. Tango takes a few breaths before continuing, his voice a lot quieter than it had been before. “What if.. he doesn’t want me back anymore?”

Skizz’s expression softens lightly, and he takes a few steps forward, putting a hand on Tango’s shoulder. “That’s ridiculous. Why wouldn’t he?”

Tango sighs. “I know he and Scott were a thing the first time we did all this.. And he’s always going after Jimmy in these games. Well, except for the third game.. I think.” He pauses. “He seems really determined to get Jimmy back.”

“And? Jimmy’s never said yes to him,” Skizz says, sounding very sure of the statement.

“Well, yeah, but-“

Skizz is quick to interrupt Tango. “Ah! No buts, mister! You’re going to be quiet and listen to what I have to say before you try to argue with me, okay?”

Tango gives him a small nod, and Skizz continues. “If Jimmy’s not saying yes to Scott’s advances, it means he’s saying no. Just because Scott wants to get back together with him doesn’t mean Jimmy wants the same. Relationships—romantic or not—work two ways, and from what I’m hearing, this is a one-sided relationship.

“So, you still have a chance, my friend.” Skizz gives Tango a reassuring smile. “And, between me and you, you and Jimmy sound like you make a way cuter couple than Jimmy and Scott were.”

Tango chuckles at that, and Skizz gives him a genuine smile. “Really, Tango—you should shoot your shot with him. You sound like you were really happy with him.”

Tango smiles back. “Yeah, I was..” His smile turns into a smirk. “And you’re right—Jimmy and I are a much better couple than he and Scott ever were.”

“Of course I’m right!” He gives Tango’s shoulder a light squeeze. “Now! Shall we go find Jimmy and ask him to join us?”

Tango has no idea why Skizz asked him that because the man is already walking towards the island’s shore. He just shakes his head and sighs softly, smiling. “Alright, alright. Let’s go get him.”

=====================================

I hope you all enjoyed! There are more one shots on the way!! :DDD

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lou-struck · 5 months

Text

Operation: Stay Away Cupid Pt. 4

Obey Me! Datatables (minus Luke x Mc!)

Featuring: Simeon, Diavolo, and Barbatos

Warnings: Lap Sitting, Shoulder Rubs, Asmo using his charm (not on reader),

~ As your Valentine's Day starts to wind down you seem to be coming up with more questions than answers as you observe everyone's odd behavior.

MASTERLIST HERE

Asmodeus’s jaw is clenched as he walks through the empty hallways of RAD. His pact mark with Solomon burns brighter beneath his skin as he gets closer and closer to where the troublesome Sorcerer is hiding.

“Ohhhh Solomon, I know you’re in hereeee.” His singsong voice echoes off of the stone floors with an alluring quality. “Come out and have a chat with me.”

He pauses and waits for the enchantment in his voice to draw the Sorcerer out.

One way or another, Asmodeus will be getting an answer.

Impatiently, the Avatar of Lust crosses his arms and lets out an annoyed huff. “Solomon, you better come out here right now, or I swear I’ll send my Fanclub after you, and then you’ll be sorry.”

The threat, paired with his charmed words, is enough to have the white-haired Sorcerer poke out from behind a bookshelf; his gait has an unsteady dreaminess to it, and his fair skin is kissed by a faint blush. A tell-tale sign that Asmodeus’ power has reached him.

If he wasn’t so frustrated with the Sorcerer, he would’ve been proud of his handiwork. After all, he hadn’t been able to charm Solomon in centuries.

His pink lips turn upwards in a satisfied smile as he watches Solomon rub his eyes to shake away the enchantment’s effects. The Sorcerer smirks, his eyes no longer dancing with the tendrils of Asmodeus’s charm as he speaks. “Oh, Asmodeus, how was your romantic boat ride with Mc?”

“Oh, don’t act all innocent with me.” Asmo seethes, balling up his fists childishly at Solomon’s nonchalant antics.

He cocks his head to the side. “Whatever do you mean?”

“You lied about the cupid thing and tried to ruin my date with Mc.” The demon pouts, jutting out his perfectly glossed lips.

“Me? Lie?” he says innocently, “What gave you that Idea?”

“I think I know your magic a bit better than everyone else.” he coos almost murderously, “That little feather you sent my way ruined my special kiss with them earlier.”

“I guess you caught me. It was fun while it lasted.” Solomon smiles and settles onto one of the benches, and Asmo does the same. “Tell me, is everyone aware of my little ruse?”

Asmo’s perfectly manicured finger taps his cheek in thought, “I think all my brothers are aware of the situation now.”

“I see, and if Lucifer knows, he would’ve told Lord Diavolo.” the human mutters. The twisting feeling in his gut was the first sign that maybe tricking some of the most powerful beings in the three realms wasn’t the best idea.

“Don’t forget Barbatos.” Asmo winks, sending a deep shiver down the Sorcerer’s spine. “You know how scary he can get when he’s angry. Especially when our sweet Mc is involved.”

Solomon’s mind drifts to you, the sweet human who has endured a handful of crazy dates today with all seven avatars of sin.

“Asmodeus, may I ask you something?” he asks, a heaviness in his heart as he realizes that he forgot something extremely important when pulling off his little prank.

“What is it?”

“I-I didn’t ruin Mc’s Valentine’s Day, have I?” He asks the question softly, with a weakness that reminds the Avatar of Lust that his Master is still human.

The demon smiles softly, thinking back to your adorable little smiles on the boat. And the giggles he heard down the hallway when you and Beel were making your chocolate-covered strawberries. “No, they seem to be enjoying themselves today. But I’m sure that if we were to have actually had our little kiss, it would’ve been even better.”

He hasn’t ruined your day.

Solomon’s heart can beat again.

“Butttt, don’t think you are off the hook yet, Solomon.” Asmo smiles, grabbing the human’s hand and pulling him towards the door, his superior strength proving to be too much for the human. “Mc has a few more dates today. But now, so do you.”

Barbatos ~

Your hair is ruffled from your nap date with Belphie, but you hardly have time to fix it now. If you did, you would be late for your date with Barbatos. Your heart thrums in your chest as you get closer and closer to the place gardens, your designated meeting place with the Butler.

The enchanted stone pathway lights up under your shoes, guiding you to a section of the gardens you have never been to before.

The gentle sound of swaying willow branches dance in your ears as you are led through a curtain of some soft floral vines. An unexpected wind brushes your shoulders as you reach the other side and see the Butler waiting for you.

Although he doesn’t see you right away, you can’t help but notice the irritated way Barbatos curses under his breath as he scrolls through his DDD. A deep shiver runs along your spine when you come to the realization that he looks pissed.

“H-hey Barbatos,” can you say nervously, hoping that he’s not upset at you for running a bit behind schedule. But the look of genuine happiness that appears on his face when he notices you easily frees the worry from the forefront of your mind.

“Oh, there you are, Mc,” the Butler is followed by an enchanted lantern that illuminates his elegant features with an ironically angelic glow. “I was worried you had lost your way out here, but I am glad this wasn’t the case.”

“I hope you weren’t waiting too long for me. I had a bit of a delay in getting here. “You admit bashfully.

He places a comforting hand on the small of your back as he walks you past the entrance to the stables, much to your confusion. “don’t worry about it, I had some loose ends to tie up so it works out perfectly. “

“Is something the matter? I saw you on your DDD looking a bit frustrated,” you murmur, feeling relieved that you haven’t completely ruined his plans for the two of you.

“Nothing I can’t handle. Lucifer had just informed me about a tricky little rat roaming around the Devildom,” he says bed early. And it may just be a gut instinct of yours, but you have a feeling that he’s not talking about an actual rat.

Does it have something to do with why everyone has been acting so odd lately?

Is there some kind of Devildom-wide hatred of the Cupid mascot?

“My dear?” he says, pulling you from your thoughts. “Although it warms my heart to see you looking so concerned on my behalf, I assure you, everything is under control. There’s no need to worry at all.”

There is so much care in his emerald gaze it makes your knees feel like jelly beneath you. You stumble forward into Barbato’s arms, and as expected, he catches you as if you were made of the finest porcelain in the three realms. “Careful now, our date has just begun. It would be a shame for a sprained ankle to come along and ruin our time together.”

“Sorry,” you grin, enjoying the warmth of his touch. “I think I got a bit too excited.”

“Nothing to apologize for, but I have to ask. Dear, will you be warm enough?”

“I’ll be fine. It’s not too cold out here.” you lie. Obviously he sees right through it and gently removes his uniform jacket.

“Here, this will keep you warm until we are inside. I won’t take long, I promise,” he murmurs tenderly, wrapping the garment around your shoulders. You breathe in the gentle scent of linen and rose petals gratefully as he leads you down a pathway that definitely wasn’t there moments ago.

“Inside?” You look around and only see the place’s lush greenery. “Are we going back to the palace?”

“Not quite, but I think you will enjoy this just as much.” he beams. And with a wave of his hand, two tall hedges part for you, revealing the cutest little structure behind them. A faint smoke wisps out from its chimney, and light pours out from the blown glass windows, illuminating the dark ground with rainbow prisms of light.

“What is this place?” you ask in a hushed voice.

“A place for the two of us.” he smiles, “We are the only two beings in the Devildom who are able to make it through the barrier, aside from the young master, of course.”

A grin of childlike enthusiasm spreads across your face at his words. “You got me a secret clubhouse for Valentine’s Day?”

“It appears I have.” he smiles before looking a bit self-conscious. “Is this gift to your liking?”

“Of course it is,” you answer excitedly, wrapping your arms around his lean frame. “Thank you for sharing this special place with me.”

“Anytime.” he hums, leaning into your embrace. “I hope the two of us can spend many hours hidden away behind these walls.”

“I do too,” you smile, just realizing that you haven’t given him his gift yet. “I know it’s not an enchanted clubhouse, but I got you something too.”

You hold out the perfectly wrapped parcel for him to take. “Whatever it is, I’m sure it will be wonderful,” he says eagerly.

Even in his excitement, he still manages to unwrap the gift without ripping any of the actual paper. And when he opens the box of intricate-looking tea bombs, you swear you saw his eyes turn glassy.

“These look amazing, what are they?” he asks, intrigued. “Some kind of tea?”

You got him something that he has never seen before. If you could pop yourself on the back without embarrassing yourself, you would. “they’re called tea bombs. All you have to do is drop one in a teapot and add hot water. They’re getting pretty popular in the human realm, so I thought you may appreciate trying something new.”

He admires the gift once more before holding out of hand or two. “thank you for such a thoughtful and considerate gift. If it’s all right with you, shall we head inside our new clubhouse so we can prepare one together?”

You nod excitedly and take his hand. “I’d be delighted.”

“Wonderful, like this little cottage, this is something I only wish to share with you.”

Simeon~

Why is it that everyone else seems to know the coolest places in the Devildom?

This question crosses your mind as you sit across from Simeon at a Greenhouse cafe, the little tea table in front of you decorated with candied flowers just waiting to be snacked on. Somehow, the warm, bright light that streams in through the enchanted glass above you looks and feels just like the sunlight you have missed so dearly.

“This place is amazing.” you say earnestly, “How did you find it?”

He blushes and somehow manages to look even more perfect than he had just a few moments ago, “I got lost one day trying to follow the directions on my DDD and ended up here. Some may call it an accident, but now, with you here across from me, I know in my heart it was fate.”

His praise warms your heart like sunlight. The angel’s sincerity and poetic way with words has you falling for him more and more every day.

But…

Despite his sweet words and love in his eyes, you can tell that he looks a bit nervous. His posture looks painfully rigid, and he looks around the empty cafe as if he is expecting some kind of ambush.

Furthermore, you couldn’t help but notice how Simeon has been using every opportunity he can to touch you, The fuzzy tingling on your skin, a tell-tale sign of his angelic rejuvenating power coursing through you. Almost as if he is protecting you from something.

Although you do not mind his constant attention and polite little touches, it troubles you to see how paranoid he is acting.

Just like how Mammon and the others were acting at the beginning of the day.

You’re not an idiot. And after your date with Barbatos you felt like whatever situation that was occurring behind your back had resolved itself.

Whatever was going on with them, it seemed that no one thought to tell the angel that everything was okay.

“Um, Mc, may I please hold your hand?”

“Of course, you can,” you reply, holding one of your hands out for him to take. As he does, you give him a little squeeze and send him the most reassuring look you can muster. Sure, you could try to interrogate him. But forcing him to tell you the truth doesn’t sit right with you.

“I don’t know what’s troubling you, but I promise everything will be fine,” you say, not wanting to push him anymore on the subject. You decide now would be the best time to give him his Valentine’s Day gift.

You reach into your bag and pull out his little gift bag. Your movements are slow, so the sound of liquid crashing against glass doesn’t give away the surprise until he opens it.

“Is this for me?” he asks, taking the bag’s strings and setting it before him. You nod and watch as he gently removes the tissue paper and pulls out the enchanted cologne bottle you got him. The liquid inside is a potion called bottled nostalgia. It is scentless until the user recalls a fond memory or smell and sprays it on themselves. It took you weeks to find the one vendor in the devildom who makes it, but you finally managed to track her down with the help of Simeon’s number one fan, Leviathan.

The angel is silent as he reads the information card, understanding the importance of the bottle in front of him. “Mc, you must’ve put in so much effort in choosing this gift for me. Thank you. I know every time I use this, I will think of you and smile.”

“I-it was nothing,” you say, successfully flustered.

There is a knowing look in his gaze as he gives you a soft smile. “You truly are amazing, Mc. I apologize for not giving you my full attention earlier. It’s not much, but I, too, prepared a gift for you.”

He slides a beautifully sealed envelope in front of you. Your name is penned elegantly in liquid gold on the front. Not wishing to destroy such a beautiful stamp, you fiddle with the wax seal tentatively until it gives way.

Simeon is an amazing author, and as you pull out the letter, you realize that he had written you a letter in the same golden ink as on the front. Its beauty brings you to tears, and as you read the lines aloud, the greenhouse fills with a warm, bright light.

You shield your eyes from the source and look at him with all the love in the world. As the magic slowly fades back into the ink.

“My gift to you is the sun. You are the light of my life. It only makes sense that I can gift you something worthy of the title.”

Diavolo~

As you walk up the grand marble staircase of the palace, you begin to regret the simple little cardboard box in your hands decorated with glittery hearts and stickers.

The Devildom Price has long been fascinated with human traditions, so you thought it would be fun to give him a box of cheesy Valentine's Day cards, the same ones your class would pass around this day when you were in primary school.

You made sure to fill it with lots of different human-world candies, stickers, temporary tattoos, and cute yet corny pickup lines written from your own hand.

‘It’s not too late.’ the voice of doubt whispers into your mind. ‘You can turn back now and find something worthy of the prince.’

Your legs are shaking, and your self-consciousness gets the better of you, but just as you are about to turn and walk away from the large doors of his private quarters, the doors part, and you meet the kind, citron gaze of the Prince of Hell.

“Mc, I’m so glad you made it.” his joyful voice declares as he looks over you. “Come in. I bet you’ve had quite the exhausting day so far.”

You nod shyly and step inside. You try to tuck the cardboard gift box you decorated behind your back, but he notices this immediately.

“What’s that you’re holding? He asks, sitting next to you on his crushed velvet sofa. For such an intimidating Demon, his presence has such a calming effect on your nerves.

“I-it's for you,” you murmur, holding the box out to him with both hands. “I thought you would appreciate getting a Valentine’s Day mailbox of your own today. But If you don’t like it, I ca-”

“You made this just for me?” he asks, sounding touched as he carefully removes the box from your hands as if it was about to shatter with the lightest touch. “I’ve never received a gift so thoughtfully homemade before. It’s refreshing.”

“So you like it?” you say, hope evident in your tone as he opens the box and starts to look at the little Valentine's cards you made for him.

“I love it. This is wonderful.” he laughs, peeling a lip print sticker off one of the cards and placing it on his cheek. It looks so wonderfully odd on his fine jawline that you can’t help but laugh along with him.

“I wish I would’ve made one for you as well,” he admits. “Perhaps we should do this for everyone next year.”

“That would be so fun.” you smile, feeling a bit nostalgic at the idea of sending cheesy valentines to all your favorite guys.

“I got you a gift as well,” he smiles, removing a long black velvet jewelry case from the table in front of you. You had been so worried about your gift, you failed to notice it earlier. He opens the box and reveals a surprisingly simple pendant with a delicate silver chain and a small gemstone the color of his eyes. “I wanted you to have something you can wear every day.”

“It’s beautiful.” you smile, admiring the simple yet elegant jewelry.

“Would you like me to put it on you?” he asks hesitantly. You nod and his warm smile returns to light up the room. “Please come closer then.”

You climb up onto his lap as he secures the delicate little clasp around your neck. “This is perfect, getting to keep you close like this,” he murmurs into your ear as you relax.

“This is nice.” you hum happily.

“Have you had an interesting day so far?” he asks, feeling the tenseness in your shoulders.

“That’s one word for it, you sigh, feeling at home against his broad frame.”

“Would you like to talk about it?”

As the Prince himself gives you a shoulder massage, you spill the details of your long yet very romantic day. You also share with him the unexplained feathers, floating hearts, and shadows that freaked the others out so much on your dates.

At the end of your story, he chuckles heartily, and you turn to meet his gaze, seeing the look of guilt and amusement on his handsome features.

“You know why everyone’s been acting weird, don’t you?” you ask, knowing in your heart that you are finally getting some answers.

He laughs and presses a kiss to your forehead. “I do, but I think it would be best if you were to hear the truth from everyone.”

You turn your head to the side and feel rather confused by his wording.

“Everyone?”

Tagging: @enchantedforest-network, @chaoticotaku, @nicksworld0715 , @ikevampharem, @ppichippi , @rabba-vee, @alexisjustheree, @scienceisfornerds, @rustybucketofghosts, @ihatecorns, @ignorxntf00l, @sleeppykitten

#obey me!#obey me nightbringer #x reader #obey me #obey me x reader #diavolo #diavolo x reader #obey me diavolo #barbatos #obey me barbatos #barbatos x reader #obey me simeon #simeon x reader

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campingwiththecharmings · 1 year

Text

Trussed

AN: Many thanks to @melodygatesauthor for sending me the prompt for this, my Poe-loving muse is eternally grateful 🤭 (FYI, I'll be posting the ask you sent once I write the other prompt you sent too. Figured I could link both fics there).

(Un-beta'd)

“Please, Poe,” you whine, hips lifting up from the bed, arms straining a little against the scarves tied around your wrists. He shushes you, gently pushing you back against the mattress. You moan softly at his touch, so keyed up even the lightest brush of his fingers against your skin feels like heaven.

Rated: M+ (this is smut so, i mean, you’ve been warned?) Words: 1,324 Pairing: Poe Dameron x F!Reader Warnings: PWP, edging/orgasm denial, light bondage, fingering, oral sex (please let me know if I missed anything) AO3

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“Please, Poe,” you whine, hips lifting up from the bed, arms straining a little against the scarves tied around your wrists.

He shushes you, gently pushing you back against the mattress. You moan softly at his touch, so keyed up even the lightest brush of his fingers against your skin feels like heaven.

Your moan turns to a gasp when he resumes his journey up your body, his lips feather soft as he presses a kiss against the inside of your knee. You watch him as he slowly makes his way, your lip caught between your teeth, chest heaving. Every now and then, he glances up at you through his thick lashes, sharp eyes watching your every reaction. A curl falls in his eyes and you pull again at the scarves, your fingers itching to sink into his hair, to drag him up to where you want him.

By the time he reaches your core, you’re soaked, slick coating your inner thighs. He groans softly at the sight, tongue dragging across his lips. You whimper, lifting your hips again in desperation. His mouth quirks, hands gently pushing your hips down again before he leans in to press a soft kiss against your inner thigh. Your body quivers with anticipation, his name falling in breathy whines from between your lips.

His tongue is hot when he finally swipes it up your slit, your hips twitching at the contact. You choke on a moan when he swirls his tongue around your clit, his broad shoulders pressing you open as he settles between your thighs. He groans at the taste of you, at your breathless moans of his name, begging, pleading—Please, Poe, please. The heat starts to pool in your core, every flick of his tongue sending you higher and higher—

You whine when he pulls back, straining against the scarves again.

“It’s okay, baby,” he rasps, teasing your entrance with a thick finger and drawing a gasp from you. “I’m gonna take care of you.”

You whimper when he sinks the digit into you, hips tilting into his touch.

“So wet for me,” he groans, slowly pumping his finger in and out of your cunt. “Think you can take more, Sweetheart?”

You nod hastily, your breaths coming out in sharp pants through your nose. “Please.”

He bites his lip at your plea, dark eyes meeting yours as he adds another finger, dragging the tips against your inner walls. You can already feel the heat building up again, the tension coiling in your belly.

“Poe,” you beg, canting your hips to meet the slow pump of his fingers.

He adds a third finger and you moan, the slight burn of the stretch delicious. His pace remains unhurried despite your pleading whines, despite your body trembling with need.

“Faster,” you plead, breath hitching as his fingers drag across that spot inside you. “Please.”

Your eyes are shut tight, jaw clenched as the pleasure inside you builds. Just as you reach the edge again, he stops, pulling his fingers from your cunt with a soft squelch.

“Poe,” you whine, head falling back against the pillows.

He hums, pressing another soft kiss against your thigh. “I love it when you say my name like that.”

He continues his trek upward but skips over where you really want him, pressing a kiss to your hip instead. You groan in frustration, trying to hook your legs around him to keep him from going any further. He chuckles, the touch of his lips leaving a burning trail as he drags them lightly across your skin.

Your breath hitches when he nips at the underside of your breast, his hair tickling your skin. He mouths at your chest, sucking a mark into the sensitive skin before flicking your pebbled nipple with his tongue. You moan, head falling back against the pillows again as you writhe in pleasure. When he takes you in his mouth, you shiver, arms pulling against the scarves again.

His warm hands gently hold you down as you arch into the heat of his mouth, and when he lightly drags his teeth over your nipple, noises you’ve never heard yourself make spill from between your lips. Everything feels so good–the warmth of his mouth, of his breath as he pants into your skin; the heat of his tongue as it swirls around your nipple, teasing its peak every now and then; the feel of his lean body against you, his still-clothed hardness digging into your thigh. It’s almost enough for you to come, you think, head swimming with desire as he continues working you up and up and up—

He releases your breast with a slick pop, leaning over to brush a kiss against your sternum as he makes his way to the other, smile pressed into your skin. There’s a knowing glint in his eyes when he meets your gaze, one that makes you groan in frustration; he’s doing this on purpose, bringing you to the edge only only to pull you right back, denying you the release you so desperately need.

“Just get on with it, Dameron,” you whine, your pants ruffling his hair.

He pauses, smile widening slightly as his gaze moves slowly over you, taking you in in all your debauched glory.

“You look so gorgeous like this, baby” he rasps, fingers toying with your neglected nipple.

He pinches it and you gasp, hips jolting involuntarily, in search of friction.

“All spread out,” he continues, leaning in close, his breath puffing against your ear. “Wet and aching, desperate for me.”

Your pants increase as he kisses down your neck and then over your cheek, fingers still toying with your nipple. When he finally claims your lips, it’s in a deep, slow kiss, his tongue slipping inside your mouth. It calms you for some reason, your breaths slowing, limbs relaxing as he languidly licks into your mouth.

You’re completely lost in his kiss–in the taste of him, the scent of him, the feel of him–so lost you miss the moment his hand slips from your chest back down between your legs. He swallows your surprised gasp when his thumb finds you clit, your body trembling as he slowly works you up yet again. You whine when he slips three fingers back inside your soaked channel, your walls flutter around the digits, dragging a groan from him.

“Come for me, Sweetheart,” he breathes against your lips, his nose bumping against yours as his fingers continue to pump in and out of you. “Wanna see you.”

Your orgasm crests with little warning, as if at his command, your body taut, mouth falling open in a silent scream as the waves of euphoria crash over you again and again. As you come back to yourself, you hear Poe, his voice soft as he tells you how well you did, how gorgeous you are.

Your body’s still tingling pleasantly when he frees your wrists from the scarves, massaging each one as he does. His cock is still rock hard against your leg, his hips rutting gently, perhaps unconsciously, against you. You’re exhausted, eyes already slipping shut as he wraps you in his arms and moves you so you’re resting against his chest.

“What about you?” you ask drowsily, as he drags a blanket over you both before settling back onto the pillows.

He chuckles softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he runs a hand up and down your back. “Not sure it’s me you should be worrying about right now.”

You scoff, eyelids drooping as his touch brings you closer to sleep. “I’m fine.”

“Oh, I know you are,” he says matter-of-factly, and you roll your eyes at the smugness in his tone.

“You’re so humble,” you slur, eyes falling shut, your body going limp against him.

You smile softly when you hear him chuckle again, your mind going blissfully blank as you gradually drift off.

If you enjoyed this, please let me know! I appreciate every single reblog and/or comment. Thank you. 💖

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