Steve Harrington x drunk!reader who asks her boyfriend to be her boyfriend [1.1k words]
CW: fem!reader, drinking and slight drunkeness, mentions underaged drinking [the teens] but with adult supervision, fluff
It’s that point of the night where the drunken shenanigans have tapered off into something more dulcet, almost intimate.
Most of the kids’ Hellfire buddies have left, leaving only The Party in their wake.
Steve doesn’t drink anymore, at least not enough to get drunk. He’ll have a beer when the moment calls for it, but too many blows to the head and his proclivity for migraines leaves him avoiding losing control of his faculties. Plus, he likes being able to look after the bunch of you when you all take a well deserved moment to let loose.
Maybe he’s a bad babysitter for letting the teenagers drink, but what Steve Harrington is not is a hypocrite, and God only knows that he’s not innocent of underage drinking. Besides, he prefers they drink here, in front of him, in a controlled environment where he can watch after them and make sure they don’t overindulge.
As it is, they’re good kids. None of them are drunk enough to act a fool or embarrass themselves. Protecting their frontal lobes, as Dustin so eloquently put it (Steve wishes he’d been smart enough to do the same at their age), merely tipsy and effervescent in their own ways.
El has passed out with her head in Robin’s lap, the older girl gently stroking El’s hair not unlike one might pet a cat while she’s engaged in some lively debate with Dustin about…well, Steve’s not entirely sure; he hasn’t been paying much attention. Lucas snuck off with Max a little while ago after receiving a very stern glare from Steve that promised pain if the shit-head didn’t keep everything above board, leaving Will and Mike to sit together with their heads bowed as they discuss their current campaign.
And then there’s you.
Steve spent most of the early evening keeping the strictest of eyes on you and Robin; he may not have protected his frontal lobe while it was developing, but he knows better than to leave the two of you unsupervised for an extended period of time, even more so when there’s alcohol involved.
But as the night drags on, you’ve gone soft and pliant in your seat beside him, leaning heavily into his side as you play with his hand that you’ve trapped within your grip. You’re so still, so calm, that the only reason he knows you’re still awake is by the way your fingers trace the creases of his one hand while he nurses a warm, nearly flat beer with his other.
He’s about to ask you how you’re feeling, if you need anything, if you’re almost ready to leave, when you – his sweet, lovely girlfriend – ask him a question.
“Steve?”
Your head never strays from his shoulder, as though lifting your head is an impossible feat, to peek up at him through your lashes only to find him already looking down at you.
“Yeah?”
“I was wondering if you’d please be my boyfriend,” you continue, very polite in your request.
A funny smile takes over Steve’s face as he tries not to laugh at you lest the night devolve into wounded tears. He’s been your boyfriend for almost two years now.
“You’d like me to be your boyfriend?” He clarifies, earning him a hum of agreement from you.
He squints and purses his lips, pretending to consider it. “Well, I don’t know…what would I get out of it?”
And, God love you, you actually take a minute to consider that. What could Steve Harrington possibly get out of being the sweetest, prettiest, funniest, loveliest girl’s boyfriend?
Beats me, he thinks sarcastically, happier than he’s ever been with you hanging off his arm.
You’ve turned your attention back to his hand, manipulating his fingers and wrist this way and that way though your grip never grows mean. In fact, you’re impossibly gentle with him, so tender that he feels it like a solid weight in his chest. Whatever response you manage to come up with, you mutter it at his hand.
“Hm? What’s that?” Steve encourages, nudging you with his elbow which sees you craning your neck to lay your head back against the couch; he thinks it might almost be time to get you home to bed.
“I d’know what you’d get,” you admit with a sigh, blinks heavy as though your lashes hold a new weight. “Just thought it’d be nice to do this more.”
“Do what?” Steve asks, thoroughly delighted. “Do this?”
You hum in agreement when he squeezes your hand. “It’s nice to cuddle, isn’t it?”
“The nicest,” he agrees. “Do I not cuddle you enough, sweetheart? Is that what all this is about?”
Your answering hum is noncommittal at best, wary at worst. Steve hates the thought that he’s somehow left you wanting, though he already fields insults from Robin who calls him a velcro-boyfriend. He’s not sure how much cuddlier he can get, but he can try.
“S’just that I think you’d be a very good boyfriend.”
Well, isn’t that just the best compliment a boyfriend could get. “Yeah? Thank you, baby. I’d love to be your boyfriend.”
Your grin is a sticky, gooey thing; drawn out and intentional as you peek up at him again. Between the speed (or lack thereof) of your blinks and your smile, Steve isn’t expecting the surge of movement that finds you clumsily clamoring into his lap.
He quickly abandons his room-temp beer, freeing his hand to provide you the leverage needed to maneuver yourself while the other settles over his lap, protecting his crotch from any errant elbows or knees.
“Jesus, easy, easy; watch the goods,” he hisses as you settle heavily on top of him, eliciting a breathless oof from the both of you. “Better?”
“Th’best,” you hum in appreciation, nuzzling your cheek into his shoulder and reclaiming the same hand of his you’d been fiddling with before, tracing the creases in his palm.
Steve grins, looking up to find Robin smirking at him from across the room with a knowing look on her face.
He shrugs his shoulders and gestures towards you, making a face as though saying can you believe this girl?
Robin mouths something that looks an awful lot like velcro. Steve flips her off with the hand behind your back; you remain none the wiser to anything that isn’t Steve’s love line.
Summary: You find a way to convince Bob that he’s perfect.
Kink of the Day: Praise Kink
Warnings: Handjob, Cum Play/Eating, Praise Kink, Use of Good Boy, Bob and Reader are in an established relationship, Mentions of Bob’s Rough Childhood (very brief)
Author’s Note: We are catching up! We are almost there! I’ll be back on track tonight guys!! AHHHHH thank goodness! Praise (hehe pun intended) the lord!! (Also side note, I hate writing summaries so frickin much) This one was definitely a bit rushed more because I was too excited for today’s update, but hopefully y’all enjoy still <3
The warm glow of the pendant lights above the wooden island cast a soft, amber hue over the kitchen, illuminating the pristine white cabinets and the herringbone-patterned wooden floors that stretched out like a welcoming embrace. Potted plants–lush ferns and trailing ivy–draped from open shelves, their leaves whispering gently in the faint breeze from the cracked window, mingling with the faint scent of rosemary and lemon from the dinner you’d shared earlier. The U-shaped countertops, rich with the grain of a honey-toned butcher block, still bore faint traces of your meal: a stray crumb here, a droplet of sauce there, but the space felt alive, cozy, a sanctuary after your exhausting day.
“Do you know how perfect you are?” You asked, your voice soft and sincere, as you took a slow sip from your can of sparkling water, the effervescent bubbles tingling against your lips. The question slipped out unprompted, pulled from you by the simple sight of Bob standing at the sink, his broad shoulders relaxed under the soft grey t-shirt that clung to him just enough to hint at the lean muscles beneath that shifted with every movement he made. He’d insisted on handling the cleanup after you’d dragged yourself home from a grueling shift, your feet aching from hours on end, your mind foggy from the endless demands. It was just like him–quietly stepping in, taking care of the little things without fanfare, his way of showing love in the everyday rhythm of your shared life. The soapy water sloshed gently as he scrubbed the last plate, his long, wavy light brown hair falling in loose strands around his face, framing his striking blue eyes that always seemed to hold the depth of oceans.
He paused mid-motion, the sponge still in his grip, and glanced over his shoulder at you, his pale skin catching the light in a way that made him look almost ethereal. With a wet thumb, he pointed to himself, droplets trailing down his forearm.
“M-Me?” His voice was hesitant, laced with that familiar self-doubt, a remnant of the shadows from his past–the harsh words and cruelties he’d endured, the ones you worked so gently to help him shed, layer by layer. You couldn’t help but let out a light, affectionate laugh, setting your can down on the counter with a soft clink before slipping off the stool. Your thin, baggy cotton top swayed against your bare thighs as you padded over to him, the cool tile underfoot a contrast to the warmth building in your chest.
“Yes, you…Who else would I be talking about?” You teased, your tone playful yet tender, closing the distance until you were right behind him. He turned back to the sink, bowing his head slightly, but not before you caught the telltale flush creeping up his neck–patches of pink blooming across his fair skin, spreading to his cheeks and even tinting the tips of his ears. His arms, dusted with faint freckles and still glistening from the water, tensed just a fraction as he rinsed the plate.
“I don’t know…So-Someone else? Definitely not me,” He murmured, his voice low and deflecting, but there was a subtle hitch in his breath, a secret thrill he tried to hide whenever your words wrapped around him like this. You slid your arms around his torso from behind, resting your hands against the firm plane of his stomach, feeling his abs flex instinctively at your touch. Humming softly, you pretended to consider what he had said, the vibration of the sound traveling from your chest to his back as you hugged him tightly against your body.
“Nope, I’m definitely talking about you,” You affirmed, nuzzling your face into the warmth of his shoulder blades, inhaling the clean, comforting scent of him–the sweet minty soap that mingled with the faint earthiness of his skin, something that you had grown to adore smelling on his body. His heart thumped steadily against your ear, a reassuring rhythm that quickened just a touch under your embrace. He let out a soft sigh, the sound vibrating through his chest, and set the plate into the dish rack with a gentle clink. Reaching for the towel on the counter, he dried his hands methodically before turning in your arms, his movements careful, almost like he didn’t want to disturb the position you were in.
Now that he was looking at you, his piercing blue eyes roamed over your face with a quiet intensity, drinking in every detail as if you were the only light in his world–the subtle curve of your lips, the warmth in your gaze that always seemed to pierce through his defenses. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, despite his best efforts to fight it, the expression blooming slowly like dawn breaking over a misty horizon, revealing the straight white teeth that flashed briefly before he bit his lower lip in that endearing, self-conscious way. His hands settled on your waist, fingers curling gently into the soft fabric of your cotton top, anchoring himself to you as if afraid this moment of closeness might slip away.
You took the opportunity to study his heated face up close, the flush deepening under your scrutiny, his cheeks the vibrant color of fresh strawberries plucked from a sun-kissed garden, the rosy hue spreading like wildfire across his pale skin and accentuating the very faint freckles that dusted his cheekbones like delicate constellations. They were subtle, almost invisible unless you were this near, but in the amber light from the pendant fixtures overhead, they stood out, a secret map of his vulnerability that you loved tracing with your eyes–and sometimes your fingertips. His long, wavy light brown hair fell in tousled strands around his ears and forehead, a few damp curls from the sink’s splash clinging to his temples, adding to the boyish charm that contrasted with the quiet strength in his broad frame.
“You know I can’t take the compliment when it’s not tr-true,” He retorted softly, his voice a low rumble that carried the weight of old insecurities, yet laced with a hint of playfulness now, his blue eyes flickering down to avoid yours for a moment before returning, drawn back like a moth to flame. The words were his usual deflection, a shield forged from years of harsh echoes in his mind, but you could see the crack in it–the way his breath shallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. You rolled your eyes fondly, a playful exasperation that masked the depth of your affection, and rested your chin gently on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing against you, the soft gray t-shirt warm from his body heat. Your hands, still wrapped around him, began to gently massage the taut muscles of his back, fingers kneading into the knots you knew formed there from the invisible burdens he carried–the remnants of a past marred by cruelty, the kind that left scars not on the skin but on the soul. You worked them slowly, deliberately, your touch a silent promise of healing, easing the tension with circular motions that drew a subtle sigh from him. Then, sliding your hands upward, you traced the line of his spine, over the ridges of his shoulder blades, until your arms looped around his neck, pulling him closer so that your bodies pressed together in a seamless fit, his warmth seeping into you like sunlight beaming through a window, bringing him down into an embrace, resting your forehead against his shoulder.
“C’mon, Bob…You know it’s true, you just don’t want to admit it,” You murmured, your voice a velvet whisper against his collarbone, tilting your head back to meet his gaze fully. The air between you thickened, charged with unspoken desire, the faint scent of lemon dish soap still clinging to his skin mingling with the herbal notes from the potted plants nearby. His eyes darkened slightly, pupils dilating as he held your stare, the flush on his face intensifying, creeping down his neck to disappear beneath the neckline of his shirt. He shook his head faintly, that small smile lingering, but his hands on your waist tightened, thumbs tracing lazy circles over your hips through the thin cotton, a subconscious response that betrayed how much he craved this–your words, your touch, the way you saw the good in him when he struggled to see it himself.
“I just like taking care of you and making sure you don’t have any additional worries in your life. That’s not being perfect…That’s just be-being a good partner,” he explained, his voice dipping into that soft, earnest timbre that always tugged at your heartstrings. His breath washed warmly against your cheeks like a gentle breeze, carrying the faint, refreshing hint of mint from the gum he’d chewed earlier, mingling with the lingering citrus notes from the dish soap. It was intimate, this closeness–the way his words wrapped around you, humble and deflecting, even as his body betrayed his need for more, his fingers pressing just a bit firmer into the curve of your waist, as if anchoring himself against the tide of your affection. You glanced down at his lips, full and slightly parted, still glistening faintly from where he’d licked them nervously moments ago, the soft pink hue echoing the blush on his cheeks. Unable to resist, you leaned in and pressed a small, tender kiss there, your mouth brushing against his with the lightness of a feather, savoring the warmth and the subtle give of his lower lip under yours. It was brief, a spark that ignited something deeper, but you pulled back just enough to whisper against them, your breath mingling with his in the scant space between.
“It sounds like perfection to me, Bob…” You whispered, your voice low and husky, laced with the undeniable truth of your admiration. His eyes fluttered half-closed at the praise, a shiver rippling through his frame that you felt all the way down to where your bodies pressed together. The kitchen seemed to shrink around you, the amber glow from the chandelier above casting golden highlights on his wavy light brown hair, turning the damp curls at his temples into shimmering threads. The faint hum of the refrigerator in the corner and the soft rustle of the trailing ivy on the shelves faded into a distant backdrop, leaving only the symphony of your shared breaths and the rapid beating of his heart echoing yours. He let out a quiet, breathless laugh, the sound vibrating through his chest and into you, his head shaking faintly, but there was no conviction left in it–only a growing surrender, his pupils dilating further as desire flickered to life in his gaze.
“You’re too good to me,” He murmured, his thumbs continuing their lazy, hypnotic circles over your hips, the motion sending tiny sparks of heat through the thin cotton of your top, teasing the sensitive skin beneath. His touch was tentative yet yearning, a reflection of the man himself–strong and capable, yet so achingly in need of reassurance, the scars from his father’s cruelty still etched invisibly into his soul, making every gentle word from you a salve.
“And you deserve every bit of it,” You replied, your hands sliding from around his neck to trace the contours of his shoulders, feeling the firm muscles tense and relax under your palms, the soft fabric of his gray t-shirt bunching slightly as you explored. You could sense the shift in him, the way his body leaned into yours, the subtle hardening press against your thigh that spoke volumes of how your words affected him. A mischievous smile curved your lips as you tilted your head, nuzzling along his jawline where the faint stubble rasped deliciously against your skin, inhaling that intoxicating blend of mint and earth that was uniquely his.
”Let’s move to the couch…I want to show you just how perfect you are–properly.” He hesitated for only a heartbeat, his blue eyes searching yours with a mix of vulnerability and anticipation, the strawberry flush on his cheeks deepening to a richer crimson. But then he nodded, a small, trusting gesture that melted you further, his hands reluctantly loosening from your waist only to take one of yours in his, fingers intertwining with a gentle squeeze as he let you lead him out of the kitchen. The herringbone floors creaked softly under your bare feet as you padded toward the adjoining living room, the transition seamless in your cozy home–the warm wooden tones giving way to plush rugs and the inviting sectional couch bathed in the softer light from a nearby lamp. Potted plants dotted the space here too, their green leaves adding a touch of life, but your focus was solely on Bob, on the way his free hand brushed nervously through his tousled hair, the waves falling back into place with effortless charm.
You guided him to sit on the edge of the couch, the cushions sinking invitingly under his weight, and he watched you with those wide, expressive eyes as you knelt between his knees, your hands resting on his thighs, feeling the lean muscles there twitch under the soft fabric of his sweatpants. The room felt even more intimate here, away from the kitchen’s practical hum, the faint scent of vanilla from a nearby candle weaving into the air, creating a cocoon of warmth and privacy.
“Can I take these off?” You asked softly, your voice laced with anticipation, your fingers twitching against his thighs, feeling the soft, worn fabric yield slightly under your touch. The question hung in the air like a promise, your eyes locking onto his with a gentle intensity, seeking that silent permission that always deepened the trust between you. He nodded immediately, without a moment’s hesitation, his blue eyes widening just a fraction, the pupils dark and dilated with a mix of vulnerability and budding desire.
You slid your hands upward along his thighs, the lean muscles there quivering subtly under the light pressure, the heat of his body seeping through the material and into your palms. Hooking your fingers into the waistband, you tugged gently downward, the fabric whispering against his skin as it descended, revealing inch by inch the smooth expanse of his legs–pale and dusted with fine, light hairs that caught the soft lamplight in the living room.
Bob aided you effortlessly, shifting his weight on the plush sectional couch, the cushions sighing softly beneath him as he lifted his hips just enough to allow the sweatpants to slide free. He kicked them off his ankles with a quiet rustle, leaving them pooled on the herringbone floor like discarded worries, his legs now bare except for the simple black boxers that clung to him, the thin cotton outlining the subtle bulge of his growing arousal. You rose gracefully from your kneeling position, the plush rug under your knees giving way as you stood and with a fluid motion, you climbed onto his lap, swinging one leg over to straddle him comfortably, your bare thighs settling against the warmth of his, the contact sending a spark of electricity through you both. As you adjusted, lowering yourself onto him, you felt the firm press of his semi-hard erection against your inner thigh through the thin barrier of his boxers–warm, insistent, and pulsing faintly with the rhythm of his quickening heartbeat, a tangible sign of how your words and touch were unraveling him.
He looked up at you from his seated position, his piercing blue eyes filled with quiet admiration, tracing the lines of your face as if committing every detail to memory–the curve of your smile, the way the lamplight highlighted your features, turning your skin into a canvas of warmth. His wavy light brown hair fell in tousled waves around his forehead, a few strands still damp and curling endearingly at the ends, framing his boyish yet striking features. His hands instinctively found your hips again, fingers splaying wide over the soft fabric of your top, holding you steady as if you were the anchor in his storm-tossed world.
You ran your hands down his chest slowly, deliberately, feeling the rapid thrum of his heart beating against your palms through the soft t-shirt, each pulse a testament to the effect you had on him–the way your praise chipped away at the walls built from years of pain, replacing doubt with desire. The fabric was warm, slightly rumpled from your earlier embraces, and beneath it, you could trace the subtle ridges of his lean muscles, the way they tensed and relaxed under your exploring touch.
“You alright?” You asked, your voice tender and reassuring, searching his eyes for any hint of hesitation. He nodded, a small, genuine smile breaking through despite the faint stutter in his voice, his breath coming in shallow waves that fanned warmly against your neck as you leaned closer.
“I’m ex-exactly where I want to be… So I’m perfect,” he replied, the words laced with a rare spark of self-acceptance, his blue eyes sparkling with a mix of humor and heat, the admission a quiet victory in itself. You smirked at his response, a playful curve to your lips that hid the swell of affection in your chest, and leaned forward, closing the distance to press your lips to his in a deeper kiss this time. Your mouths met with a soft, electric connection, his lips parting willingly under yours, tasting faintly of mint and the lingering sweetness from dinner, his tongue tentatively brushing against yours in a dance that grew bolder with each passing second. As the kiss deepened, one of your hands slid downward to the hem of his t-shirt, fingers curling into the soft fabric before pushing it upward slowly, inch by inch, exposing the pale, toned expanse of his abdomen. You felt his muscles tightening against your touch, rippling like waves under your fingertips–the firm planes of his abs contracting instinctively, warm and smooth, with that fine trail of light brown hair leading downward, disappearing teasingly beneath the waistband of his boxers.
He shivered beneath you, a low hum vibrating from his throat into the kiss, his hands on your hips tightening their grip, thumbs now slipping under the edge of your top to caress the bare skin of your sides, the contact sending reciprocal sparks through your body. You pulled back from the kiss slowly, your lips lingering just a breath away from his, the warmth of his exhale mingling with yours in the intimate space between you. His eyes, half-lidded and hazy with desire, locked onto yours, reflecting the soft glow of the lamp that bathed the living room in a golden hue.
“You’re always so good for me…Always willing to be touched and loved on,” You whispered, each word laced with genuine adoration. Your fingers, still teasing the hem of his t-shirt, pushed it higher now, exposing more of his toned abdomen–the pale skin taut over the defined ridges of his abs, each one rising and falling with his quickening breaths. Fine freckles dotted his chest like scattered stars, subtle and endearing, catching the light as you traced them lightly with your nails, sending a visible shiver racing across his body. He took in a shaky breath, his chest expanding under your touch, the sound ragged and vulnerable, like a confession pulled from deep within.
”Because I tr-trust you,” He replied, his voice low and trembling. His hands on your hips squeezed gently, fingers digging into the soft flesh through your thin cotton top, not hard enough to bruise but firm enough to ground himself. A little smile curved your lips, soft and affectionate, as you leaned in to press gentle kisses to his cheeks–first the left, where the flush burned hottest, then the right, feeling the heat radiate against your mouth.
“I’m glad…” You stated simply, your breath warm against his skin, the words a balm to the old wounds he carried. Your hands continued their exploration, sliding downward with deliberate slowness, fingertips tracing the elastic waistband of his black boxers. The fabric was soft and warm from his body heat, stretched taut over the growing bulge beneath, and you hooked your thumbs under the edge, pushing them down just enough to free him. His erection sprang free, semi-hard and thickening under your gaze–velvety smooth, the length curving slightly upward with a flushed tip already glistening with a bead of pre-cum, the veins pulsing faintly with his heartbeat. The sight of him, so exposed and trusting, sent a rush of heat pooling low in your belly, but you focused on him, on drawing out every ounce of pleasure and affirmation he deserved.
Wrapping your hand around him gently, you felt him twitch in your grasp, hot and heavy against your palm, the skin silky and warm as you began to stroke him slowly, base to tip, your thumb circling the sensitive head with feather-light pressure. He gasped softly, his hips bucking involuntarily into your touch, the movement subtle but telling, his abs contracting visibly under the bunched-up fabric of his t-shirt. You pushed the shirt higher still, exposing his chest fully now–the lean muscles dusted with those faint freckles, his nipples pebbling in the cooler air of the room, begging for attention.
“That’s it, Bob…You’re so perfect like this, letting me take care of you,” You murmured, leaning down to kiss along his neck, your lips brushing the column of his throat where his pulse thrummed wildly, tasting the salty tang of his skin mingled with that earthy, minty essence that was all him. Your strokes quickened just a fraction, your grip firm but tender, twisting slightly at the top to heighten the sensation, feeling him grow harder, hotter in your hand. His breaths came in shallow pants now, his hands roaming from your hips to your thighs, squeezing the plush flesh there with increasing urgency, fingers kneading into your bare skin as if seeking purchase in the storm of pleasure building within him.
“I… I don’t–” He started, but you cut him off with a deep kiss to his lips, your tongue slipping in to tangle with his, swallowing his doubts as you pumped him steadily, your hand slick now from the pre-cum that leaked freely, easing the glide.
“Shh, yes you are,” You whispered against his mouth, pulling back to trail kisses across his jaw, his cheeks, his forehead–each one a punctuation to your praises. “You’re perfect, Bob. So strong, so kind…Say it for me. Tell me you’re perfect.” Your voice was a velvet command, laced with love, as you stroked him faster, your thumb pressing into the underside of his shaft where he was most sensitive, feeling him throb and swell in response. His eyes fluttered shut, lashes casting shadows on his flushed cheeks, and he bit his lip, a low moan escaping as his hips rolled up into your hand.
“I’m… I’m pe-perfect,” He repeated, the words shaky but gaining strength, his voice cracking on the last syllable as another shiver wracked his frame. His hands gripped your thighs harder now, thumbs tracing erratic patterns on your inner thighs, dangerously close to where heat pooled between your legs, the intimacy amplifying every sensation.
“Good boy…So perfect for me,” You praised, nuzzling into his neck again, sucking lightly at the spot just below his ear where his skin was thinnest, leaving a faint mark that would remind him of this moment later. You varied your pace–slow, teasing strokes that had him whining softly, then faster, firmer ones that made his breath hitch and his body arch. He was super sensitive now, every glide of your hand eliciting tremors, his erection rock-hard and weeping steadily, the slick sounds filling the quiet room alongside his ragged breaths and your whispered encouragement. “You take care of me so well…You deserve this, every bit of it. Admit it–say you’re worthy of this love.”
“I’m…Wo-Worthy,” He gasped, his blue eyes opening to meet yours, glassy with unshed tears of overwhelming sensation and emotion, the admission breaking free like a dam giving way. His hands squeezed your hips rhythmically now, pulling you closer against him, the friction of your body against his adding to the fire, his erection twitching in your palm as you worked him.
You captured his lips again in a searing kiss, tongues dancing in a heated rhythm that matched your strokes, pushing him closer to the edge. His body tensed beneath you, muscles coiling like a spring, his abs rippling under your free hand as you traced them, feeling the heat build.
“Cum for me, Bob…Show me how perfect you are,” You breathed against his ear, nipping the lobe gently as your hand twisted and pumped with perfect pressure. With a choked cry–your name tumbling from his lips like a prayer–he shattered, his hips thrusting up as ropes of warm cum spilled over your hand and onto his stomach, painting the pale skin in glistening streaks that caught the lamplight. His body shuddered violently, waves of pleasure crashing through him, his hands clutching your thighs so tightly you felt the imprints of his fingers, a delicious ache that grounded you both.
As he came down, his breaths slowing to deep, satiated sighs, you smiled softly, your eyes tracing the mess on his abdomen–the creamy white trails contrasting against his flushed skin, still heaving with aftershocks. Gently, you ran your fingers through it, spreading the warm essence across his abs in lazy patterns, feeling the subtle quiver of his muscles under your touch. Then, bringing your fingers to your lips, you licked them clean slowly, savoring the salty, musky taste of him, your gaze never leaving his wide-eyed stare.
“Was that convincing enough for you to believe me?” You whispered, your voice teasing yet tender, leaning down to press a final, soft kiss to his forehead. He let out a little laugh, breathless and genuine, his wavy hair tousled and damp with sweat, falling charmingly over his brow as he shook his head in mock disbelief.
“I think I ma-may need you to do that more often…Just to really solidify everything,” He replied, his blue eyes sparkling with a newfound lightness, earning a small laugh from you as he pulled you in for another embrace as the room’s warmth enveloped you both like a shared secret.
[sections]: personal messages; general messages; love messages; messages about people; themes/lessons. [🪷☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆]
this one will be more of a lengthy one and i tried to choose images that weren't extremely similar so there'd be a stronger pull towards one, if that makes sense? i know i've been doing a lot of future-oriented pacs recently (partially bc im graduating hs myself and want a bit of reassurance for college 😔), so the next pacs will be more fun!! about like crushes, people, etc. if you have any suggestions feel free to drop 'em in the ask box as an anon or something!
p1.
personal messages; okay so you as a person are definitely on the darker side of personalities. you guys are very moon-like, and may view things through a more critical lens in fear of things being 'too good' or you being 'too hopeful'. you guys have good style. shorter hair, curly 3a-4a for a specific few of you. many dress in darker colors. skirts. gold jewelry. a lot of you may have a crush on one of your friends. you guys have great intuition and many of you have this effervescent quality about you that just pulls people in. magnetic, you emit this sense of nostalgia that keeps people stuck to you, which can be a good or bad thing. you guys are like cats, very specific with who you like, but once you get them? clingyyyy. many of you are genuine too, and have this mindset of 'don't be strategic w me when i'm being genuine w you' (i think i reblogged a post like that and it brings u to mind). a lot of you have a fear of the future and dying alone.
general messages; winter is definitely going to be a significant season for you, out of all of 2025. so that even means the earlier months that have already passed, but i think there'll be a stark difference between those and november, december. the summer and autumn may be more of passing periods for you; a lot of you will let your hair grow, things are going to be more of a constant than rapid changes. this can unsettle some of you who always need to be busy with something, but this is a time to nurture your talents. you'll need all the strength you can get for later parts of your life. many of you are going to be growing something; this can be as small as a literal plant, to a project, to a talent, to even a baby.
love messages; it seems like a lot of you lost hope with love. like reaching to a sky of stars, but your hands can never go far enough to actually grab one of the elusive solar bodies. 'no one noticed' by the marias may be significant. there's a lot of people that you'll meet who you'll think are attractive or interesting, but you won't necessarily feel a deeper pull to them, so you're kind of like 'mehhh maybe love doesn't exist for me'. i think many might end up falling in love with a friend or becoming friends with someone who you're like. really passionate about at first, platonically, then you realize 'oh shit i'm falling for them'. some of you are definitely already in that phase.
messages ab people; you'll have a lot of outings!! public places will be very significant, particularly bustling ones, such as malls, cities, etc. your friends will give you a very tender feeling that'll make you feel fulfilled. some might be younger than you or generally behind you in life lessons, and you'll be very motherly toward them. this will heal a part of you that always wished there'd be someone to guide YOU. you guys are very soft-hearted people but a lot of you doubt that quality of yours; i'm here to tell you, your friends see this! and they love it about you, even though they may not say it much. you guys are as sweet as cake <3 and ofc those who are worried you'll never find someone that'll actually like you?? honey i promise you will.
themes/lessons; mmm as for lessons you guys are going to learn how to not be so serious and uptight...this is a defense mechanism for a lot of you, and you guys are using this because you have trust issues and and lots of deep-rooted fears, but i think many of you will be able to heal and nurture this part of you, especially later on in the year. you'll learn how to rest and take care of yourself, and you'll build a 'fantastic life' for yourself. some of you will learn that sometimes there is no choice other than to leave an environment, or a bad person; you're going to realize that this shows your strength rather than defeat. many of you will learn how to be proud of yourself.
personal messages; a lot of you are closed-off at this current moment. many of you are rather deep people, similar to a maze; it's worth it, in the end though. many of you are lionhearted. many are deeply in tune with the universe. you guys are very loving people, and can come off as a bit loud or too bright; the truth is you're never ever going to be too much for the right people. many of u wanna give up a part of yourself in this current moment, DON'T. if you don't give up on yourself, you will be handed peace. eternal peace. you guys have a very drowsy kind of beauty. many of u are curvaceous or thick and this is a quality others find very beautiful about you. your eyes are particularly gorgeous, and others can get lost in them very easily. you guys relax others very easily and they see you as a source of comfort. your ambition to creating a good life for yourself is truly admirable, and many people see you getting exactly what you want because you deserve it, babycakes.
general messages; hmmm as for general messages, i'm hearing peace. i think a lot of you are going through a big transformation right now and everything that you've neatly built up for yourself is falling apart. but it's falling apart to reveal paradise behind it, honeydove. don't be afraid of the unknown. the rest of 2025 will bear plentiful fruit for you, fruit that you've grown and wanted from the beginning. i just heard 'a new kind of love'. yeahh platonically/romantically you'll be shown that you're not hard to love. a lot of you hold a lot of doubts about yourself, and trust me, this'll be the kind of love you've NEVER experienced before, from friends, family, all people in your life. you probably don't even believe it exists. this year will break apart your worldview and reinforce it into something much stronger than you thought it could ever be.
love messages; good fortune!! you'll succeed, proving the people who doubted you wrong. many of you will experience new things in the sphere of love, and right now, you have to stop setting mental limits for yourself. expecting that love will turn out a specific way for you is frowned upon. stop guessing and just let yourself feel. after all, that's what you're good at. you will learn that the sweetest thing you can be is yourself, and that you were never 'too much'. of course, some people won't be able to handle the love inside of you, but there will also be people who have yearned for someone who is as passionate and caring as they are. the rest of the year, ESPECIALLY in love, will serve to break the barriers that you've set up for yourself. you crave everything that's coming for you.
messages ab people; a lot of the people that come into your life (yes!! new people) will be a result of your boundaries being strong. you've resisted any attempts for people to get into your little world, knowing that some of them were just there to use you and wreck you. people will come into your life and you won't push them away, because you will know that they're the right ones for you. some of you may still experience social anxiety, but you will learn how to deal with it. a lot of core memories will be formed and you'll stop feeling that tension deep in your shoulders. your dream life is being carved out for you, bit by bit. i'm not saying that you'll get everything you ever wanted in a snapshot, babycakes. but the road to your desires is not as rocky as you think.
themes/lessons; so a big part of this year is learning how to be patient and how to not settle for things. i feel like a lot of you have this ability in you to recognize when you should give certain things up because they're not meant for you, and this comes to you relatively easy, but it leaves you mournful and empty. those holes will be filled up, and it'll heal certain parts of yourself too. you'll spend time with people who genuinely care for you and you'll be like...'oh. maybe i'm not as hard to love as i originally thought'. a lot of you will be healing your inner child; homecooked meals may be significant, and a lot of warmth will be coming to you guys, especially in the material sense. blankets, cuddles :) etc.
signs/confirmations; glasses. apples. black jeans. deep purple. stars. lamps. light. crabs. arachnids. watermelon. baby chicks. hoop earrings. cherry blossoms. strangers. jazz music. the internet.
p3.
personal messages; a lot of you are very playful people. ponytails and braids may be your style of hair. you guys can be considered clingy and are very verbally and/or physically affectionate, especially to your family n friends. you may be quiet at first but you end up being a rather bubbly person later. you enjoy nature and the small good things in life; many of you want to preserve everything you see, which can range from being a photographer, journaling things down, or hoarding stuff. you guys can get overstimulated very easily and this can come off to other people as excitement or nervousness. you guys are very clear to people and they can really see what you're feeling by your facial expression or tone of voice. many may have collections of certain things; particularly shoes or headwear or accessories. many of you prefer rain, cloudy weather, and the night to bright lighting. you guys have a knack for aesthetics and know where to look for beauty. microtrend baddie.
general messages; you guys will be getting lots of opportunities coming your way and you'll have to make a lot of decisions. 'wheel of fortune' popped out so i'm wagering that a lot of things that happen will be in the spur of the moment. new beginnings and endings will be significant, and a lot of things will be happening. you may be busy for the rest of the year, which will leave you with little time for the self; so i highly encourage you to find ways to nurture yourself even when you're hustling and bustling around. don't neglect yourself just because you want to take care of other people. some of you may get a gift such as a perfume or something expensive later on, particularly during birthdays/the holiday season.
love messages; a lot of the circumstances surrounding love will be a reflection of what you put in. those of you that were good-hearted people and hold yourself to a high-standard will have that returned to you; those who hurt others, especially on purpose, will have karma coming back. i get that a lot of you give compliments easily and you genuinely want people to win, so that can come back in the form of romantic offers and compliments back. most of you will have some sort of longevity in this; a situationship, staying w your current partner, or crushing on someone for a long part of the rest of the year. a lot of things won't be changing up this year, as it's meant to teach you something.
messages ab people; eeee as for people, you may feel that others are constantly attacking you because of the way that you changed. a lot of you underwent a metamorphosis and come out stronger, more beautiful, or with a stronger sense of self. other people have realized that it's harder to get you to react or to give parts of yourself away, now, and this can make them angry. you may feel as if a lot of connections are falling apart, but babycakes; it is all coming together. a lot of you will have a very solitary view on your life, thinking that you don't need anybody. at times this will be proven wrong, with strangers coming to assist you in a way that gives you more faith in the universe, and more faith that your goodness will eventually be returned back to you despite your current circumstances.
themes/lessons; a lot of you will be dealing with some bittersweet things. lots of lessons about sacrificing things for the greater good. a lot of this year's focus is going to be letting things go and trusting that they'll return to you. 2026 will be the result of your efforts, and you're going to have to grow a deeper strength in the spiritual, or your belief system. in order for you not to lose faith, you will be given tiny snapshots of belief; as i've said before, strangers, new friends, surprise gifts, or messages that you weren't even expecting will appear, and you'll feel a bit safer and more reassured when you see these things. many of you are like flowers; it takes time for them to bloom, and this year is going to be the year of the roots reaching deep into the rich soil. you will bear your petals next year, babycakes.
signs/confirmations; ichiko aoba. navy blue. monarch. border collies. blue wall color. moving away. returning back home. 0.5 pictures. lime. kiwi birds. spoiled food. round face. collar. lacey blouse.
I just read your Remmick fic and omg that was absolutely beautiful!! Could I request something sappy/angsty with a reader who is shy to intimacy? Maybe reader and Remmicks first time and he’s trying so hard not to scare her off in his vampire form because she’s finally ready. his instincts maybe getting the better of him in some moments though? Keep up the great writing ☺️.
God I love this. Thankyou anon for this wonderful request I’m screaming, SMUTTTT, YEARNINGGGG GOD, titty sucking, pussy eating (munch 🧐) disgustingly soft stuff iintertwined with some nastiness, monster fucking? Idk I feel like that’s valid , I went off from the prompt just a wee bit but like…hopefully it’s still good <3
You’ve got nothing to worry about. Well, not really. He couldn’t look more like he wants to devour you. Heart, body, soul, tsk- he can’t get carried away. He’s gotta put some intention behind this. How could he not savor it? Not savor you.
Get right in the head. He tells himself.
And you, well, you’re trembling. Just a bit, a slight tremor of the right hand. He hears the blood swishing around in your veins, that swift open and close of your mitral valve. So sweet, effervescent, and unaware of how much restraint he’s truly exhibiting.
You’d given him the go. Not just invited, no - beckoned him inside. Like you had no will to live. Or like you yearned for something - anything real. Shockingly, achingly, horrifyingly real.
“C’mere, you’re all the way over theeerrrreee.”
You say it petulantly and sweet. Playfully. He’s not one to boast - no, in fact he retains that sense of shame from centuries ago, lifetimes, deaths ago - but he’s brought grown men to their knees. Ravaged villages - not his proudest moments, really! I mean he can admit that now!
And you’re here in a little white nightgown, frayed and worn and made of cheap satin - it’s hugging you in a way that’s got his gums hurtin’ - he shakes his head, as if it’ll stop them from protruding behind his plush pink lips. Sharp - glistening in the moonlight like poetry.
“Might not be a good idea, darlin’.”
He scratches his forearms, fingernails clawing against his bestial skin. He’s got that itch. Oh but he fights it. Fights it hard. Here he is reduced to nothing but a man - steps closer cause he can’t not give you what you request.
You’re gazing up at him with this look that’s got his britches tightening - he smells the arousal on you like perfume, but he sees it in your glistening eyes - that timidness that drew him to you like a wildfire to whiskey.
“I’m not scared, Remmy. Swear it.” You say to him, watching closely, too closely as he walks into the lamp light.
“You’re lyin’, baby. Hey now now, don’t get all shy on me sugar.” He reaches a hand out, tucks your chin under two inhumanly long talons - your gasp is muffled by his thumb on your bottom lip. He doesn’t want you to be ashamed for lying. He thinks it’s endearing, god.
Of course you’d try to lie to a centuries old primordial being just to get get him closer.
You’re teetering with death. Playing with its still beating heart, kissing its knuckles.
You grab his wrist and turn it over, kissing the tendon there. You hear him make a noise in the back of his throat - something like a purr and a growl. He tries to flinch away from the sweetness - not cause he wants to, god he doesn’t want to, but it’s almost as if his nature is warning him. Haunting him.
You don’t deserve this. Pathetic. You know who you are.
“You’re leakin’ between your legs,” he notes quietly, and the burn beneath your skin almost makes you lightheaded. He sees your pulse quicken beneath that tender neck. “didn’t mean to be crass, m’sorry bout it sweetheart.”
You pull him by his shirt, the part that’s tucked into his trousers. He falls to the bed a little too fast, a little too eager, and it’s a flash of red and black shadowed eyes and sharp white teeth before he’s still in front of your face - forgetting to pretend to breathe. He turns his face away from you.
A creature, a hard shaped memory of a man.
“What do I smell like…to you?” You’re so curious, have to pry his chin in your direction with your hands - he forgets sometimes that he has to physically allow you to do things - otherwise he’s impossible to move, to shake, to nudge.
He closes his mouth, a failed attempt to hide a mouth full of razor sharp teeth. Tries to look down - can’t have him peering at you like that.
But you’re a nosy little thing, pulling slightly at his bottom and top lip, heart hammering like a wood pecker against your ribcage, begging to be let out.
His nostrils flare, and the corner of top his lip tilts into a smirk.
“Sweet and ripe and - hmm, tender. You make my mouth water, y’know that?”
You’ve got that feeling deep within your pelvis, it’s tightening and spreading throughout your nerve endings. All of them. Your core clenches and throbs - his nostrils flare again and his eye twitches.
“One day…one day I’ll let you taste my blood.”
You’ve got your hands tangled in the curls at the nape of his neck, and his face softens completely - he wilts against you, holds your face like its made of porcelain.
“Oh baby, oh you can’t just say things like that.”
He’s riled up and wild eyed and he kisses you like it hurts. You lean into it, settle your body against the hardness of his - there’s something empowering within the mix of bewilderment - that you can’t hurt him. You can kiss him hard, rough, bite his lips and writhe against him. And he’s unwavering, gives you what you need right back.
“S’true.” You rasp against a clash of moving mouths. Teeth. Tongue.
He’s moving to your jaw, the underside of your chin and it tickles - you wanna giggle but you can’t, not when he moves to the side of your throat and his mouth feels wet and cool and he’s making these animalistic sounds - it’s just too much. You’re arching into him like a vow of acceptance.
“Need ya’ forever an ever.” He’s rambling, tracing any bit of skin he can - he has to mark it, admire it, weep over it. He’s trying to be good. Trying so hard it’s almost unbearable. He cannot escape the confines of his ever craving skin - his relentless and never ending need for blood, for you.
“Take me then.”
It’s just three words. But it feels like he’s been saved, like every forsaken thing he’s ever done has been erased - decimated. You’re giving him permission.
He’s a little bit less human than before when he meets your eyes this time. You feel that instinctual, biological fear that’s programmed within you that starts in your stomach and spreads to your chest - but your desire is hungrier. Your yearning is heartier. You kiss him again.
He lets you, for a few seconds. Forgets what he was even gonna say.
“Y’mean it? I gotta know you really mean it, honey.” He says. He’s got drool falling from the right side of his mouth. You wipe it for him with your thumb, and he takes your digit in his mouth - gently.
You watch him with rapt attention - jaw slack and lips parted. His mouth is so wet and so soft, you forget you’re in the jaws of a killer. A predator. He lets you pull your thumb out - keeps your eyes connected to his while you do it. His teeth scrape the skin just enough, it’s not painful but it’s a visceral sensation.
“I mean it.”
It’s a silent pact, a promise. His jaw clenches and then he’s hovering over you, body pressed to you firmly, selfishly. He’s mumbling pleas through kisses of devotion and his manhood - hard and persistent, twitches against the crease of your hip and thigh.
He palms at your shape. Your ass and thighs and hips and shoulders - god he could drown in you. He could quite literally spend the rest of his existence touchin’ on you. You’re gripping the nape of his neck to stay afloat, your tongue is being sucked between his lips and he’s mewling into your mouth.
“Can I take this off?”
You’re breathless now, accepting what it is that you’re about to do with him, what you’re gonna let him do to you. It’s scary. There is so much pressure between your legs. You register that somewhere in the center of your mind. The vortex. You acknowledge that this will change things. You can’t go back after letting an immortal being inside of you.
“Mhm, take it off Remmy.”
He’s all teeth and lips and the ghost of admiration behind abyss - you swear you almost see pink blossoming across his nose and cheeks.
He’s very clumsy, for a vampire. He starts from your thighs and begins lifting the nightgown off of your body - your skin prickles with goose bumps when the all consuming feeling of exposure starts to settle. His hands dance upwards- large and rough, scale your hips and sides as he takes the garment off.
You are a stark contrast to him. For one, you are naked. And look - he’s not used to human women. Not in this way. And the part of him that remembers what it’s like to be human actually trembles - you’re just too much of a good thing.
You don’t even realize he’s pushed you as gently as possible, for him, against the bed - you don’t have time to be insecure, to cover up, even though he feels it like it’s a palpable energy around you. The eeriness of being seen. He’s having none of it.
“God, don’t know what I did to deserve you…just….fuck.” He’s driving himself mad but his restraint is necessary. Wouldn’t be ideal to shred you to pieces because he can’t get himself under control.
You tug at his worn top, your knees hike up and around his trim waist and he’s throbbing against your exposed, slick center through his trousers. The material feels foreign and good against your clit. He smells you like a fresh cut.
He’s decided what he wants to do. Decides it while he peers down between your bodies - sees your flesh in all its glory, weeping and leaking for him. He’s between your legs in the blink of an eye - and at first, there’s so much lack of traction from his drool and your arousal that you don’t feel it.
But you hear it, he’s whining.
And then you feel it. Nose and all, he’s licking stripes from the bottom of your entrance to the top, suckling your bud into his mouth over and over again. You just cry out - it’s all you know to do. Hands fly to his hair, tug at the muss of obsidian waves. The sight of his hands - his fingers, long and sharp prying your trembling thighs apart while red eyes peer from under your cunt. Yeah. It’s overwhelming.
The sounds are obscene. You hope no one is passing your home, you fear they’d be able to hear it even all the way past the dirt road.
They’re wet, loud, mingled with his petulant whimpers from simply savoring your taste - savoring the feeling of you against his mouth. The pulsating, the throbbing of it all.
“Oh - ohhhhh, Remmick. God, please.”
He makes a noise in the back of his throat - it grabs your attention. Enough for you to look down and see that he’s humping the bed like a dog - rutting into it hard and slow while his tongue slips through your entrance and prods at the spongy heat inside.
“Your little clit tastes so good.”
Your body aches - tremors from the words alone. The pit that’s in your lower belly fills with heat and you know you won’t be satiated until you get what you need.
You yank him by his hair. Does it do any good? No. But he gets the idea and with puppy dog eyes he removes himself from your heat - comes back up with a suck! (Just one more taste) and a wet mouth, empty eyes and a confused expression on such a horrifically handsome face.
“Need you inside, Rem - really bad. Please don’t make me wait please-“
He kisses you hard. You taste yourself on his mouth, on his tongue.
“Shh shh, all that beggin’ is useless,” he whispers. Kisses your hot face, rubs his hardness against your already sensitive mound, and you arch into him keenly.
“You know I’ll give you what y’need, need me to fuck you till you cry, sugar? That what you need?”
A sound leaves your throat and it would be humiliating if it was a human man hovering over you. But it’s not a human man. It’s the shell of one. And a deep rooted desire for nothing but flesh and blood and desire and connection runs through him like the ghost of life.
You realize, right then, shame has no place with him.
“Yes, god, yes.”
He’s quick with removing his pants, does it with one hand while the other is gripping the nape of your neck and pulling you to his mouth. He situates himself back on top with ease, knocks your legs open with his knees as he grips the base of his thickness.
He sucks on your tongue while he prods your folds with the tip - your flesh meets and you try to gasp but he swallows it for you.
“Y’feel that? Got me covered already.”
He rubs your clit like this for a minute, swirling your arousal and his spit around and around, up and down - teasing you with entry without slipping in yet.
Until he does.
“Ahhh fuuuuck.” He groans when it slips past that tight entrance into the spongy, unbearable warmth of your insides.
And you’re below him with your jaw half slack and eyes somewhere else - the stretch is too much, too good. It makes an embarrassingly loud squelching noise as it goes in - you’re soaked. It shouldn’t feel this good. It’s never felt this good. But your body doesn’t lie, not to him or to you. You’ve already got your nails embedded in his thick forearms, and your pulsating around him like a heartbeat.
“O-oh, Rem.”
You’re speechless and he’s still sheathed inside of you unmoving, so deep his pubic mound is pressed to your clit - he slowly starts humping into you, moving his hips around just to tease you. Just so you can feel his tip massage your cervix and kiss all the sensitive parts inside of you.
“She’s speaking to me baby.”
He whispers it low into your ear, breath on your neck when he says it. He’s straining to compose himself and his voice shows it.
He pulls out and you gasp, with no time to miss him before he’s sliding back in and forming a steady - gentle rhythm. It takes you by surprise. You pull his face from your neck - you kiss him. Like a human who is enamored and consumed from the inside out.
He groans into you and you pulse around him like fluttering wings. He holds you to his mouth and he begins rutting into you with a more bruising pace - something that’s got your legs feeling numb and wobbly at the same time. Your belly feels unbearably warm.
“Y’feel so good….so gooood, fuck.” He groans. He sounds otherworldly, like he’s just as fucked out as you are. You lock your legs around his midsection, and he uses two big hands to breach your thighs upwards towards your chest - he needs the leverage, has to be able to feel you from base to tip.
The tip of his nail knicked you in the process, and he hovers over your flesh like he’s awaiting permission.
He’s too deep inside of you, his scent and his strength and his willingness to give you everything he’s got is too much.
“Taste it.”
He licks the small cut with a full stripe, spit coating your skin and fangs bared like a true animal. Then, he places his lips around the area, sucking harshly. He does this while your centers meet - his hard cock spearing you again and again.
The bruise left is extreme but he kisses it softly, bends over your body again to kiss your face and cradle your neck.
“You know who you belong to? Right baby? Right? C’mon a tell me, use your words sweetheart - that’s it. That’s it.”
He’s speaking lowly, intimately and roughly into your ear, luring the desperation out syllable by syllable.
You nod, mouth open to form words but nothing comes out - not at first. But his mouth finds your neck and chills descend down your spine, a thrill of delight. You ache for it, your body is weeping for it. You wonder how his breath could be so warm. He licks the side of your throat, drags the tip of his teeth against the skin.
“I’m yours I’m yours, I’m yours.”
And it’s not the words themselves that make him hitch so harshly inside of you, but the way you say it. Such a sweet and utterly sincere voice - oh man, the human that once was him - he yearns for it. And then he’s the one babbling and it’s humiliating really - if he was capable of feeling embarrassment.
“Yeah, that’s right - oh if I were a man still I’d g-give you so many babies, knock you up over and over again - oh god, that’s it baby - right there hmm? Feels soooo good?”
He’s mocking your low lidded eyes and slack jaw. It’s uncanny and makes your belly feel too warm to be real - you nod your head as a response, and your heels instinctively pull him closer by the small of his back. You wrap around him like a lotus flower.
“Please don’t stop, please please.”
He groans like he’s hurt, wraps his arms around you like someone’s gonna come in and rip you away. The feeling in your belly is growing like a wild fire, each time his shallow strokes prod your soft insides. You couldn’t squeeze him any harder. The pressure feels almost impossible to bear.
You kiss the side of his neck, suckle on it so gently he starts to whine.
“Ohhhhh, fuck, gonna make me fucking cum.”
He’s barely moving in and out of you now, humping roughly like he’s in heat. His pelvis is pressed to your clit, kissing it with every beat. And his cock nudges every sensitive part - he’s so hot with you wrapped around him. The throbbing is the most inhuman part - it adds to the stimulation in a way you can’t understand.
He knows you’re coming before you do, he can smell all the blood rushing, can feel it and hear it swishing through you. It excites him - he watches you as you fall apart.
It spreads from inside out, the pleasure. You’re shuddering against him, and he wishes you’d open your eyes but you can’t - it’s so beautiful to watch. He’s completely apart of you- and it causes his own release to hit him harder than he thought possible.
“Oh fuuuuuck, oh I’m cumming I’m cumming - “
He tries to hide his face but your release has you fuzzy and euphoric and without thinking you grab his throat - it’s the easiest to maneuver and you don’t want to get too close to his teeth - and the look in his eyes takes your breath away.
He’s so fucked. Almost has drool spilling from the corner of his mouth, he’s so hungry. For you, any part of you. And his release is so warm you actually gasp as it comes in endless spurts.
It leaks out of you even while he’s inside - you feel it dripping down between your thighs, down your ass, everything feels hot and sticky. You let out a mewl when he pulls out and pumps back suddenly - still sensitive from your orgasm. Your eyes are so heavy, and you’re so warm between your legs.
You’re panting. He is still. Except for the hum in the back of his throat, a hum of satisfaction. He mouths at your collarbone sweetly, licks the sweat off. You tug at his damp hair and when he looks back up at you, it’s the face of a man again. Your heart swells.
“How y’feelin?” He prods, cradling your face. He’s examining you. Your heart rate has decreased significantly, he’s almost convinced he accidentally knicked an artery - till you smile up at him, out of your mind really. You’re sleepy, blissful.
“Good, I feel good - how d’you feel?” You raise a curious eyebrow, and he chuckles. He can’t believe he finds your dry sense of humor even the least bit amusing but here he is. Here you are.
A/N: Please be gentle with me during Smutmas, my writing sort of feels like it deteriorated. But to @redfoxwritesstuff you have my permission to pop party poppers around her when she posts her story tomorrow. She dislikes colours /nsrs
SUMMARY: You have reunited with Alastor in Hell, and after celebrating a holiday party at the hotel, he decided to take you back to his room. He has a gift for you, after all, and it’s meant to make up for all the missed opportunities you two had back when you were both alive.
TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, soft!alastor, somnophilia, tentacle s♡x, p in v, overstimulation, oral s♡x (m!receiving), established relationship, past human relationship with alastor mentioned
The room was a sanctuary of quiet intimacy, a haven far removed from the cacophony of the holiday party outside. The heady aroma of the bayou mingled with something ineffably him—earthy, dark, and comforting. You inhaled deeply, the scent curling through your senses like a caress, as you swayed slightly. The spirits you’d indulged in earlier still buzzed warmly in your veins, giving the moment a hazy, golden hue.
Alastor stood with his back to you, his silhouette framed by the low flicker of ambient light. He’d whisked you away from the festivities, murmuring something about a gift. The word had lingered, foreign on his tongue—he wasn’t one for giving, not like this. In all the time since your reunion in Hell, you couldn’t recall him ever presenting you with anything tangible.
"Al?" Your voice was a gentle tease, the nickname rolling off your lips with the kind of easy familiarity that made your chest ache. A giggle bubbled up, warm and effervescent, the alcohol making your joy feel boundless.
You caught the faintest intake of breath before he turned to face you, and the sight sent your laughter spilling over. There he stood, cheeks tinged with a rare pink flush, a comical yet oddly endearing bow pinned to his chest—a stark forest green against his usual ensemble—he was a walking Christmas decoration. The contrast of the absurdity with his usual self-assured demeanour made the sight even sweeter.
“Am I supposed to unwrap you, Al?” you teased, your laughter falling into the space between you. You saw the flicker of recognition in his eyes—he must have remembered Angel Dust’s teasing question to you the week before about what you wanted for Christmas.
Without thought, your body moved toward him, an instinct as natural as breathing. Your arms slid around his waist, your head tilting up to meet his gaze.
“You could’ve asked for anything, cher,” he murmured, his voice low and rich, like a melody meant only for you. His arms wound around you, pulling you closer. “Anything.”
The words struck a chord that resonated deep within you, their weight pulling you back to memories you’d tried so hard to bury. Before death, fate had been a cruel mistress, ensuring your lives had brushed against each other without ever fully entwining. You had died first, your last breath spent shaping his name in a barely audible whisper.
“Alastor,” you said now, his name a prayer, a plea, a promise.
His grin softened, and for once, the edges seemed less sharp, less dangerous. His hands rose to cradle your face, his touch achingly tender. His lips brushed yours in a fleeting kiss, a whisper of what was to come, before he dipped lower, capturing you more fully, tasting you as though he’d been starved for centuries.
In this place, there were no barriers—no rigid societal expectations, no cruel husband to keep you chained to despair. Hell, for all its torment, had given you the one thing life had denied: him. Wrapped in his arms, you felt an unshakeable truth—you could endure anything, so long as he was by your side.
“Do I get to unwrap my gift now?” you asked breathlessly, pulling back just enough to toy with the satin ribbon at his chest. Your fingers traced its silken loops before catching the end of the bow. Slowly, teasingly, you pulled, the ribbon unravelling with a soft whisper.
Before you could revel in your playful victory, a sharp snap of his fingers sent a shiver skittering across your skin. The temperature shifted, a sudden, electric charge filling the air. Looking down, your eyes widened in astonishment. You were completely bare, while he remained impeccably dressed, the undone ribbon dangling mockingly against his chest.
His grin grew, all teeth and mischief, his voice honeyed with amusement. “My, my, cher, you do get to unwrap your gift... but I thought it only fair to claim mine in return.”
Before you could retort, he guided you to the bed—its crimson sheets flawlessly pristine. You rolled your eyes, only for the motion to be cut short as he turned you to face him. His hands found your waist, and in a sudden collision of bodies, he tumbled you both onto the bed.
The mattress cradled you as he loomed above, his frame bracketing you in. His grin never faltered, the faint glow in his eyes smouldering with something darker, hungrier. The world outside ceased to exist, replaced by the magnetic pull between you, and the unmistakable sense that you had never been more wanted.
The atmosphere between you simmered with tension, the kind that sent electricity crackling over your skin and left your breath coming in shallow gasps. Alastor's grin was sharp, mischievous, as he leaned in closer, the weight of his presence almost suffocating in its intensity.
“Let’s see,” he purred, his voice rich and low, wrapping around you like velvet. His hips pressed forward, and the firm heat of his arousal met your core, a jolt of sensation tearing through you. “My gift to you is making up for all the missed...” He paused, his grin widening as he rolled his hips ever so slightly, the friction drawing a sharp gasp from your lips. “...opportunities.”
“Missed opportunities?” you murmured, your tone a sultry challenge as your fingers drifted to the buttons of his trousers. Your touch was teasing, light, deliberately slow as you felt the way his body tensed beneath your fingertips.
His forehead dropped to yours, his crimson gaze locking with yours, and for a brief moment, the playful glint in his eyes gave way to something deeper, more ravenous. “And your gift to me…” His lips brushed against your nose, his grin softening into something almost tender. “Is your soul.” He kissed you again, a quick, fleeting press of his lips. “Ah, figuratively speaking, of course.”
A laugh bubbled from you, soft and genuine, though your voice trembled with the undercurrent of arousal. “Naturally.”
For a moment, time seemed to stop. His gaze softened as he studied you, as if etching every curve, every detail, into his memory. Then, as though compelled by something far beyond words, he kissed you again. This time, it was slower, lingering, his lips moulding to yours with an almost reverent hunger.
His free hand drifted downward, deftly undoing the buttons of his pants. The air between you grew thick with anticipation, the faint sound of fabric shifting almost drowned out by the quiet, shared breaths and the soft, broken moans slipping past your lips.
“Cher,” he whispered, the word dripping with longing as his forehead stayed pressed to yours. His hips moved, dragging the head of his cock down through your slick folds, sending a shiver racing down your spine. His lips barely parted from yours, the taste of rye and something darker lingering in the kiss. “Cher,” he sighed again, the head of his cock nudging against your entrance, pulsing with restrained need.
Your legs wrapped around his hips, urging him forward, and the sensation of him stretching you, filling you inch by inch, stole your breath. The molten heat of him seared into you, leaving you trembling beneath his touch.
“A-Al,” you gasped, your voice breaking as you clung to him, needing him deeper, closer. His groan vibrated against your throat as his head dropped to the crook of your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin.
The moment his hips met yours fully, he stilled, shuddering against you. His claws threaded through your hair, their tips grazing your scalp, sending a tingle of sensation. His cock throbbed within you, the intensity of his presence overwhelming.
The soft fabric of his suit teased your skin, your hardened nipples brushing against the lapels. Heat built between you, your clit pulsing with aching need. A small, desperate moan escaped you, and Alastor chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating through you.
“My, my, how awfully impatient, darling,” he teased, though his tone was thick with lust. Without warning, he drew back and thrust forward sharply, the force drawing a sharp cry from your lips.
He pulled back, his grin morphing into something more wicked, more predatory. Sitting upright, he kept himself buried deep inside you, his sharp red eyes alight with sadistic glee. Shrugging off his jacket, he let it fall carelessly to the floor before setting to work on his shirt buttons. His hips rolled against you with a steady rhythm, pulling soft whimpers from your throat as he worked.
“Look at you,” he muttered, his voice heavy with a mix of affection and delight. His claws fumbled with one stubborn button before he tore the shirt open, the buttons flying, a few bouncing harmlessly against your skin. The fabric joined his jacket on the floor, revealing a chest marred with scars.
Your gaze lingered on them, but before you could look too closely, his fingers gripped your chin, forcing your eyes back to his. “Eyes on me, cher,” he commanded, his tone sharp, yet dripping with desire.
He thrust hard, the slap of skin meeting skin filling the air as you cried out, your walls tightening around him. “Good girl,” he murmured, his cock pressing against the sensitive spot deep within you, drawing another desperate moan from your lips.
He hadn’t changed—not truly. Alastor was still a contradiction, a walking paradox of hard and soft, cruel and kind, cold and impossibly gentle.
His pace quickened, the friction between you building until every nerve in your body felt alight with pleasure. The wet sounds of your arousal mingled with his laboured breaths, and you felt the tension coil tighter and tighter, drawing you to the edge.
Just as you were about to fall, he buried himself deep with a final, forceful thrust. His teeth gritted, a guttural groan tearing from his throat as his release flooded into you, hot and thick. He moved lazily, shallow thrusts prolonging the sensation as he spilled every last drop, your walls clenching greedily around him.
He slowed his thrusts to a near standstill, the aching stretch of him buried deep inside you. His chest heaved above you, rising and falling in a slow, deliberate rhythm, as if savouring the moment. His hands pressed firmly into the mattress on either side of your head, caging you beneath him. His eyes glinted with something dark, something possessive, as he leaned closer. His thumb brushed a damp strand of hair away from your sweat-slick cheek, the gesture almost tender.
“Don’t worry, cher,” he murmured, his voice a low, sultry promise that sent shivers racing down your spine. “The night isn’t over yet.”
Before you could respond, his form dissolved into shadow, leaving only a fleeting warmth where his body had pressed against yours. A gasp escaped you as he reappeared beneath you, his sudden shift causing a rush of his seed to slip free from your core. Strong arms wrapped around your torso, pulling you flush against his chest. His warmth seeped into your skin as his breath brushed against your ear.
“Alastor?” His name tumbled from your lips, barely a whisper, the question laced with curiosity and anticipation. But his answer was not words—it was action. His fingers found your swollen clit with ease, circling it with maddening precision. “Ah!” you cried out, your head falling back against his shoulder.
Your thighs quivered as your legs fell apart instinctively, granting him full access to your trembling body. His chuckle rumbled against your back, a dark, pleased sound that only heightened the heat pooling in your belly.
As his seed lazily trickled from your entrance, a cool, gelatinous pressure filled you, making you gasp. The sensation was unlike anything else—a shadowy tendril easing its way inside, gliding with ease. “O-oh,” you stammered, your gaze dropping to the writhing darkness between your legs.
The tendril curled, brushing against your most sensitive spot with unerring precision. “Th-that’s…” Your voice faltered, stolen by the mounting waves of pleasure.
Each deliberate motion of the tendril sent sparks of pleasure shooting through you, your inner walls clenching around the inky form. Alastor’s fingers, however, were merciless. They danced over your clit with a teasing rhythm, bringing you to the edge only to stop, denying you release.
Your breath hitched, and frustration bubbled in your chest as you squirmed against him. The corners of his mouth twitched with suppressed amusement, his grin as infuriating as it was captivating. “Patience, cher,” he purred, planting a soft kiss on your cheek.
That kiss spoke of unspoken promises, of history shared between you—a silent claim that you were his.
“Cher, you can hold on longer, can’t you?”
“Cher, let me have this just a little more…”
“Cher, my darling… stay with me forever…”
Each whispered plea dripped with longing, wrapping around your heart even as your body begged for release. Soft mewls escaped your lips, your abdomen tightening as you teetered on the brink. But just as you thought you’d fall over the edge, his movements stopped entirely.
“Al, please,” you whimpered, the words trembling with desperation.
But no answer came. Instead, you felt his breath grow softer against your skin, his touch slackening.
The soft cadence of Alastor’s breath ghosted over your damp skin, and the weight of his wrist rested limply against your thigh. For a moment, you thought he was catching his breath—teasing you with the stillness of his body before surging to life again. But as the seconds stretched into an eternity, the truth hit you like a cold slap.
He had fallen asleep.
Your chest heaved with indignation and disbelief. The shadow tendril nestled deep within you remained still, its presence a cruel tease against your quivering walls. Every nerve in your body was strung tight, the edge of an impending climax so tantalizingly close yet utterly unreachable. The audacity of him—Alastor!—to leave you hanging like this was almost enough to spark genuine outrage.
Desperation clawed at your senses, and your gaze fell to the inky black tendril still rooted inside you. A spark of determination flared as your trembling fingers trailed down to your abdomen, tracing the faint bulge the tendril made as it rested within you. You bit your lip, resolving to take matters into your own hands.
But just as your fingers brushed your swollen clit, a cold, serpentine tendril coiled around your wrist, halting your movements.
“What th—mmph!” Your protest was cut short as another shadow slipped between your parted lips, pressing insistently against your tongue. Shock and indignation flooded your senses, but they were quickly overshadowed by surprise as multiple tendrils sprouted from Alastor’s form beneath you.
Before you could react, they lifted you effortlessly into the air, suspending you above the bed like some obscene starfish. Your limbs were splayed wide, leaving you utterly exposed, while Alastor remained oblivious below you.
A flush of heat rose to your cheeks—not from arousal this time, but sheer disbelief. “Are you kidding me?!” you wanted to scream, but the tendril in your mouth reduced your complaints to muffled, garbled sounds.
The shadows pulsed and writhed, their cool, slick texture a stark contrast to the heat radiating from your overstimulated skin. One tendril inside you shifted, dragging ever so slightly against your inner walls, and your breath hitched despite yourself. The sensation sent a jolt of delicious pleasure coursing through you, making your toes curl in response.
“Alastor…” you moaned around the obstruction in your mouth, your voice a mix of frustration and pleading. But he didn’t stir—not even when his shadows began to move with more intent, exploring and teasing your body with eerie autonomy.
You tried to wriggle free, tried to regain some semblance of control, but the tendrils held you firm, their grip unyielding. The one within you began to pump lazily, its pace maddeningly slow, as if savouring your predicament. Another coiled around your waist, pressing you down, while a thinner tendril circled your sensitive clit, brushing it in featherlight strokes that sent shivers up your spine.
Your body betrayed you, arching into the relentless sensations.
The tendril in your mouth withdrew briefly, allowing you to gasp for air. “Al-Alastor,” you managed to rasp, glaring up at the ceiling. “You’re—mmph!” Your words were cut off as the shadow returned, plunging deeper and muffling any further complaints.
Your body burned with overstimulation, your walls pulsing around the tendril that began to move again, gliding in and out with excruciating slowness. Its tip curled, grazing your g-spot with surgical precision, the sensation making your toes curl. The obscene sound of slickness filled the room, each thrust sending a fresh wave of heat through your body.
Tears pricked your eyes as the denial of release became unbearable, but the tendril between your legs showed no mercy. It swirled against your inner walls, driving you higher and higher, until the coil in your belly snapped violently.
Your body convulsed, a scream muffled by the tendril in your mouth as your orgasm tore through you like a raging inferno. But the tendrils did not stop. They pressed on, their relentless movements prolonging your pleasure until it blurred into overstimulation.
Another orgasm built, faster and sharper than the first, and your head lolled back as tears spilled freely down your cheeks. Your muscles twitched violently, your hips bucking as another wave of ecstasy crashed over you, leaving you trembling and spent.
Before you could catch your breath, the tendrils shifted, flipping you onto your stomach and angling your hips upward. Your lips were now mere inches from Alastor’s softened cock, lying exposed against his trousers. His tendrils, however, showed no signs of stopping.
The one inside you continued its rhythmic pumping, keeping you teetering on the edge of pleasure and overstimulation. Your body quaked as yet another orgasm loomed, relentless and inescapable. And still, Alastor slept.
You were trapped between torment and ecstasy, held captive by his powers even in his unconscious state. Each movement of the tendrils, every teasing caress, reminded you that you were his in every sense of the word—and he, whether awake or asleep, owned you completely.
The shadow tendril withdrew from your mouth in a slow, languid motion, leaving you gasping for air. Saliva trickled from your lips, pooling in shimmering droplets on Alastor’s cock. The sensation stirred him slightly, a twitch signalling his body’s eager response to your presence. Your limbs, trembling and weak, were now bound snugly behind your back by the same inky restraints. Gradually, they guided your body downward, your lips brushing against his softening member.
A faint exhale escaped you, warm against his sensitive skin, and his cock twitched in reply, stirring to life as blood began to fill him once more.
“Alastor…” you murmured, your voice rough and tinged with the weight of exhaustion and desire. The air was thick with the scent of sex—a heady, intoxicating blend of sweat, musk, and release. Just as a fresh wave of sensation overtook you, the tendril inside you shifted, pressing deeply against your cervix. Your mouth fell open in a soundless cry.
A slender tendril of shadow slithered around the base of Alastor’s cock, guiding his thickening length toward your lips. Inch by inch, it slid past your tongue, filling your mouth with salty, musky warmth—the combined flavour of both of you.
“D-darling…” Alastor’s voice cracked faintly, a low, drowsy murmur. His hips jolted the moment your tongue swirled around his sensitive tip, and for a fleeting moment, you thought he was awake. But the lazy thrusts of his tendrils inside you told another story. He was still lost in his dreams, his powers acting entirely of their own volition.
The thought sent a shiver through you. You wondered if Alastor dreamt of you, dreamt of this.
Your lips tightened into a seal around his now fully hardened cock, your head bobbing slowly as you savoured the weight of him on your tongue. Each movement was purposeful, drawing out his pleasure as you worked him with your mouth. The wet sounds of your efforts filled the room, each slurp and suck echoing alongside the squelching rhythm of the tendril thrusting inside you.
Your breath hitched when the tendril quickened its pace, its thick, writhing form pushing you toward another peak. “Mmf—!” Your cries were muffled by Alastor’s length, his cock throbbing insistently against your tongue as you gagged lightly. Immense pleasure overwhelmed your senses; every nerve ending felt raw, every touch electric.
The tendril inside you coiled and thrust, dragging against every sensitive spot with ruthless precision. When it pressed hard against your cervix once more, your body seized, and a scream tried to escape around his cock. Spasms wracked your frame as a gush of wet warmth spilled from your core.
Alastor’s body responded in kind. His hips bucked, his cock surging deeper into your throat as a guttural growl escaped his lips. Thick ropes of his release filled your mouth, the bitter saltiness coating your tongue and sliding down your throat. You swallowed instinctively, your breath shuddering as the tendrils binding you moved once more.
They flipped you effortlessly, turning you to face Alastor’s peaceful visage. His expression was serene, utterly unaware of the chaos unfolding around him. Shadows curled and slithered along your body, their cool touch contrasting with the heat of your overstimulated skin.
“Al-Alastor…” you rasped, voice breaking on a moan as the tendrils grew thicker, stretching you to your limits. The slick noises of their movements mingled with your cries, filling the room with the notes of your surrender. “H-how many…?” you whimpered, your words dissolving into incoherence as one tendril flicked over your swollen clit.
Tears welled in your eyes as another orgasm built, your body trembling with the relentless onslaught of pleasure. Alastor’s earlier promise echoed faintly in your mind—he’d make up for all the missed opportunities.
You hadn’t expected this.
The tendrils’ rhythm grew merciless, coaxing another scream from your lips as they found another perfect spot deep within you. Your body convulsed, overwhelmed by yet another climax, the waves of pleasure crashing over you with brutal force.
For a fleeting moment, you hated him—hated his unrelenting power, hated his absence at this moment. But beneath that frustration burned something deeper, something primal: a longing for him to see what he did to you, to witness how completely he owned you.
As you trembled through the aftershocks, you swore you’d make him pay for this. When morning came, you’d demand retribution—a night where you held the reins, where you edged him to the brink of madness.
But for now, as the tendrils shifted again, coaxing yet another orgasm from your spent body, you could only give in to his power. You clung to the pleasure, to the rare, dizzying sensation of being utterly ravished.
A weak, breathless laugh escaped you as his arms instinctively curled around your trembling form. His shadows retreated, their touch replaced by the steady warmth of his hands.
Your muscles quaked as the final wave of bliss overtook you, your eyes fluttering shut as exhaustion pulled at your limbs. Somewhere in the haze, Alastor stirred, his his crimson eyes opening to find you sprawled and trembling in the aftermath of his power. His grin widened as realization dawned. “My, my, cher… it seems I missed quite the show.”
“You’ve always had such a soothing presence on my twisted soul,” he murmured, his voice a low, velvety hum that wrapped around you like a warm, toasty blanket. His eyes softened as he pressed a tender kiss to your sweat-damp brow. “I haven’t rested this well in ages,” he added, his words brushing against your skin like a gentle caress.
His arms pulled you closer, his embrace firm yet comforting, as if shielding you from the world. “I’ll take care of you properly in the morning… so rest now, cher” he whispered, his voice trailing off into a soft hum.
You couldn’t help but relax into him, the weight of his arms around you melting away the tension that had held you so tightly. Your eyelids grew heavy, each blink slower than the last, as his warmth seeped into your bones. His presence was a lullaby, coaxing you into a peace you hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever.
As you drifted into the edges of sleep, a faint smile curved your lips, your body thoroughly spent but your soul somehow alight. Indulging in the quiet hum of his breathing, you felt a rare sense of satisfaction settle over you, a fullness that made you feel whole in a way you hadn’t dared to dream of.
But just as the lullaby of slumber began to pull you under, you thought you heard it—soft, so soft you almost dismissed it as a figment of your imagination.
“My love.”
The words lingered, wrapping around your drowsy mind like a bittersweet ribbon. Your heart stuttered, warmth blooming in your chest, only to be tempered by the ache of reality. A faint, forlorn smile tugged at your lips, even as exhaustion claimed you.
That couldn’t be right. Alastor… he didn’t do love. Not in his lifetime, nor the next.
For someone like him, love was an abstraction, a concept too fragile for the sharp edges of his world. And for someone like you, love was a distant star, shining brightly but always unreachable.
Still, it was nice to imagine.
Just for tonight, you allowed yourself the indulgence. To believe, even fleetingly, that you were his love. That in the quiet moments when the world felt so far away, and it was just the two of you, he might feel something more.
For tonight, it was enough.
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cw: gn!reader, no pronouns used, but use of word "wife"
you make a marriage pact with childhood best friend karasu at age nine where you pinky promise to each other that you won't let each other die alone, that by the time you're thirty-three and if both of you are single, you'll marry each other.
you ignorantly think that it's enough time for you and him to find someone to settle down with, but adulthood topsy-turvies you in ways you don't expect and after an abundance of up-and-down failed relationships, you find yourself single just a two weeks shy of your thirty-third birthday when your boyfriend tells you that "this isn't working out."
karasu has been by your side through it all; he's had his fill of partners too, but after his latest relationship, he figured to take a break for himself from dating.
it's not until you and him get drunk one night at a bar where the alcohol suddenly fizzes up a long-lost memory that you and him completely forgot about until you slur it out to him.
"you still wanna marry me?"
karasu blinks. then cocks his head. "come again?"
"the big ol' three-three is coming up," you mutter blearily. "remember what we said?"
it's only then that karasu gets shot back in time, to when you and him were hiding in a playground slide one summer afternoon, giggling and whispering secrets to one another, where you and him made that pinky promise he always kept in the back of his head.
he won't tell you, but he's thought about more often than he should. that little ghost of what-if always whispering to him.
"oh, yeah," he swallows thickly, gulping some beer down to try and smooth his senses. it backfires—creates some sort of film in his throat that makes it pass through a little harder than usual. "... um. depends. you still up for it?"
"we're not getting any younger," you sigh with a loose smile. "i'm down for it if you are."
karasu can't help but mirror your grin. stupidly so, just like whatever events are about to play out.
what unravels next is made up of a drunken proposal with an onion ring on your finger with karasu in his inebriated stupor loudly announcing he's engaged to the bar that whoops and shouts in celebration.
and karasu suddenly finds himself standing at an altar only several months later, in front of a small batch of shared friends and families all the familiar with a pressed suit at the ready. otoya fidgets with his tie at his side as best man, with yukimiya as the officient on his other arm.
out of all the things he didn't expect to come out of this year, being married to his longterm friend was certainly not one of them—and yet here he is. watching you as you delicately float down a tiny aisle with a cheap wedding dress you carelessly picked out for the sake of time and budgeting.
somehow, you make it look regal. the polyester spins to silk when it drapes on your skin and karasu finds himself itching to leap from the alter, lift that veil, and kiss you senseless.
he pauses. odd.
he finds that tightening feeling in his chest as he stares at you walking down in the aisle rather odd. he shakes it off, thinking it's just those pre-wedding jitters he's felt for the past couple of months.
yukimiya lets you unfold your vows to each other and say "i do", and it's only then that you share a kiss to seal the deal. it's brief, but it's warm and soft—a tender thing. it leaves a effervescent feeling on his lips that he's never felt before.
clumsily, you both pull back and share the same stupid smile that you gave each other at the bar, as if to say, "we really did it, huh?"
the night lasts longer than usual, as if time slowed down to help you savor this moment that you thought would just run over like a work meeting. but you find yourself having fun, talking and laughing with loved ones with karasu holding your hand throughout the entire night.
each time you look at him, you find him looking at you softly with a twinkle in his eyes, something that makes your stomach flip about. it doesn't help that he's always smiling so delicately—dare you say, with adoration, even.
and it's not the platonic kind that you've grown accustomed to.
you shake it off when the thought arises.
you can't be fooling yourself like that—this marriage was more of a business deal than anything. you know what he likes, who he likes. and you're far from the usual mold he finds himself going back to.
but it's hard to keep that affirmation grounded when it's time for the couple's dance, where karasu still has that sweet look in his eyes as he stares at you, hands settled on your hips to sway you to a sweet tune that you and him have loved since you were snotty-nosed brats.
you thin your lips to keep yourself from smiling. "do i have something on my face...?"
he hums, blinking slowly, affectionately. "yeah. ya got a little smear of beautiful right here, i think."
his thumb wipes away nothing on the high of your cheekbone, a smirk blending in with his grin. you snort with a slight simper.
"didn't know my husband could be so cheesy," you press on the foreign word as you roll your eyes.
"i like the sound of that," he murmurs. "'husband.'"
you falter and pause in your tracks a little. karasu is quick to pick you back up, pulling you a little closer to him.
"yer my wife now," karasu takes the word out for a test drive, the word melting like sugar on his tongue. sweet, palatable. it's fitting. "that okay with you?"
"you're asking me that on our wedding day?" you raise a playful brow.
karasu barks out a laugh, the rugged one you've heard and can play by ear at this point. a melody you suppose you're not tired of.
he caresses his thumb over your cheek, hand cupping your face. you realize he hasn't removed it yet from your face.
"no harm in askin'," he shrugs. "just wanna know what my wife thinks, that's all."
"you like that word, don't you?"
karasu drums his fingers on your hips. "feels good to say."
the lights sparkle around you, a gentle warmth flittering on your skin and creates almost this dazzling halo-effect around him. he brings your face closer to him and your breath hitches. he stops just a few inches shy of your face, his hand blocking everyone else from view to properly let you and him have some alone time for a few spare seconds.
you can feel the warmth of his breath on your lips, sharing the air.
"... can i kiss my wife again?" he whispers.
it's the way he says it that makes you wonder about your initial thoughts with all of this—this supposedly "platonic" bond between you and him that you've agreed to seal off.
you've always loved karasu; he's always held a part of your heart since your first bicker on the playground at age seven when you and him fought over your turn on the swings.
but you think something new has bloomed for him now, amidst your wedding day out of all things. an odd predicament to blossom such a newfound love, but regardless of how you got lost and tangled along your way, all the roads still led back to him.
you nod shyly.
karasu quirks his lips up in a spark of excitement, one that makes you bite your lip to keep from laughing. he sighs breathlessly, just before he kisses you again—this time, just for you.
Smut prompt with Terzo (as sender: 2, 8, 12, 14) and reader (as receiver: 9, 17, 22)? 👀
I haven't written in such a long time, and it's just like me to start again and take on such a big list of prompts 😭 I'm so sorry for how long you waited and for how rusty I am, but I hope you like it! It can sometimes be hard to incorporate so many prompts naturally but I tried my best. I've missed writing so, so much!!!
Terzo was my first Papa and though I'm a Perpetua girlie now, I'll always have a soft spot for him ♡
Tags: Fem & AFAB reader, affectionate/loving Terzo, established relationship, penetrative sex
18+ MDNI ♡
The silvery moonlight creeps in between weighted velvet drapes to meet the warm glow of the ministry lights, shading Terzo's bedroom in a deep mauve that blends to shadow in each corner of the opulent room.
You can hear soft footsteps as he tiptoes in the darkness in an earnest but futile attempt not to wake you from your slumber, only as peaceful as it could ever be without the warmth of his body against you, his familiar scent enveloping you as he whispers into your ear to narrate your dreams with his honeyed voice.
"Terzo?" you mumble, the words clumsily leaving your lips as you search the shadows for the silhouette of your love.
"Tesoro," he breathes, his husky voice low and tender as the glint of a single moon-kissed eye catches the light from the shadows. "Forgive me, I thought I was being quiet."
"You were," you coo, extending out an arm as if you could pull him into bed from across the room. In a covert way, you always can.
You can make out the corner of his lips lifting into an endeared smile as he makes his way towards you, clad in only a soft white towel secured around his hips, a sense of immediate peace overcoming you as his hand finds yours, his thumb carefully circling the skin stretched over your knuckles.
"How is it that you always look so beautiful," Terzo muses, shaking his head as his contrasting eyes narrow playfully. "Even when you aren't trying?"
The shadows of the young night could never veil the crimson flowering on the apples of your cheeks, your eyes shifting away from his loving gaze in embarrassment as you press your lips together to suppress a smile.
"Hey," he purrs, slowly lowering himself on top of you until his slender hips are gently pinning you to the mattress, a hand reaching up to brush your flushing face. "Still so shy, angel…"
When you turn your head to meet his eyes once again, you're met with his undeniable, beguiling beauty. Straight tresses of sable hair fall over his forehead, shielding you from the effervescent light of his eyes, one coloured shades of fawn and green and the other a crystal white. You reach up to stroke the curve of his jaw, admiring the perfect slope of his nose before your gaze falls to the soft curve of his Cupid's bow.
"You want to hear about beautiful…" you mutter, raising an eyebrow at him as your directness seems to amuse him before leaning in to press your lips to his, met with the soft, clambering embrace of his own in the dance you both know so well.
Terzo deepens the kiss as he allows more of his weight to anchor you to the bed, a gasp escaping from your lips as you can feel him pressed to the soft skin of your stomach, his hand finding its way behind your head to grip your hair as he softly commands your body; both of you speaking in little whimpers and moans as it becomes clear what you need from each other.
"I need you," you whisper into the warmth of his lips, the words getting caught between your desirous mouths.
Terzo pauses for a moment before planting another kiss to your lips. "What was that, Tesoro?"
You scowl at him for barely a second before you have no choice to surrender, his Hell-blessed face flushing to contrast the cold moonlight and betray his lust as his chest heaves into yours.
"I need you."
The shadows shrouding your bodies seem to seep into his eyes for a moment as they darken to mirror them, a poorly constrained smirk twisting his perfect lips as he inhales.
"Then you shall have me, sweetheart."
The inflection on his voice, almost a growl now, sends a shiver down your spine as he trails his kiss from your parted lips down to your neck, and then your chest, suckling softly on each nipple as he tugs at the fabric to expose them.
He takes his expedition down to your navel, glancing up at you as he slides the silken fabric over your hips and over your thighs until you can kick it off, rendering your body completely bare beneath him.
You flinch when adept fingers dance down to where you're squeezing your thighs shut, blood rushing to meet his long, pale digits as every nerve ending is set alight.
"Open your legs for me, angel. I want to see you," he breathes, his voice thick and heavy with longing as the first signs of your arousal begin to wet the tips of his fingers.
You can only nod as you part them, a gentle nudge of his hand encouraging the soft, dampened flesh as it trembles.
"That's it," Terzo praises, your core tightening at his collected praise.
He slips a finger beneath your folds, admiring the slick dripping from them before pressing his thumb to your delicate nub, electrifying pleasure coursing through your body with each circling stroke.
"S-so good," you whimper, closing your eyes as you reach down to grab at his wrist.
"Don't close your eyes, baby. Look at me," Terzo purrs, his other hand gently gripping your chin as your eyes flutter open.
You shift on the growing wetness on the sheets below you as you grind your hips into the bed, at the entire and hopeless mercy of the beautiful man before you as every adulation is transformed into soft utters of his name, over and over again.
"Please…" you cry softly in desperate prayer, panting as your legs squeeze around his wrist in an attempt to stave off the sweet tension building inside you.
Terzo cocks his head, enchanting eyes half-closed as he smiles weakly. "Please what, amore?"
You shake your head in resignation as your eyes burn into his.
"Tell me what you want."
"Fuck me," you groan, tugging at where the towel is folded over his hip to unveil his snowy skin. "Please."
His hand covers yours gently as he assists you in shifting the towel all the way and your eyes find their way to his already hardened cock, pulsing vines undulating with need in rhythm with his racing heart.
You don't have time to admire his slender but strong frame further as he takes your hands in his again, fingers interlacing as he holds them on either side of your head against the pillow as your bodies meet again and he leans in to whisper in your ear.
"Wrap your legs around my waist, Tesoro,"
You oblige, hands resting on his shoulders as his throbbing cock is nestled in your folds.
"Love?" you breathe, finding a strength and confidence only his love can afford you as he listens intently. "D-don't hold back."
"I've got you, amore," he whispers, lips pressed to the shell of your ear as he slowly eases inside you, your walls closing around him as sweet, searing heat spreads throughout your body.
"F-fuck," you moan, trying in vain to spare his perfect skin the wrath of your fingernails.
"There, now," he gasps, his voice threatening to break as he draws his hips back only to sink into you again and again, filling you completely as your bodies collide.
"Faster…" you moan. "Harder, please…"
"Arch your back for me," Terzo growls, his arms wrapping around you as you follow his command so he can hold you closer than before.
With a fervent grind of his hips into yours, he's back inside you, working the sweet spot swelling to meet his length as he pounds you into the downy confines of his safe bed.
"Terzo!" you cry, tears of bliss streaming down your face as he catches them with tender kisses in contrast to the way his hips are slamming into yours.
"My angel," he coos, gritted teeth grazing the delicate skin of your neck as he alternates between playful nips and apologetic kisses.
"Mark me," you beg, your skin tingling with hunger for the sting of his teeth. "Mark me, so everyone knows who I belong to."
You hear a sharp intake of breath as he takes a slip of skin between his teeth before sucking hard, the sharp pain drowned out by pleasure to barely a graze as he leaves his brand on you.
"I-I'm going to cum," you murmur, the world around you nothing but a strobing, nebulous blur of midnight and wall lamps as constellations of stars burn in and out of existence in the periphery of your vision.
"Cum for your Papa, Tesoro," he breathes, his fingers soothing your cheeks as he keeps the infernal pace, delivering an unrelenting, fiery pleasure unto your body that your wildest dreams could only hope to conjure.
You tremble and writhe beneath him as your release overwhelms your senses, all else in the universe fading to inconsequence as he finds his own release at the clench of your body, both of you panting and crying out through the ferocious tide of bliss sweeping over your bodies.
You lazily wipe the sweat beading on his dark brows as you catch your breath, both of you glistening in the warm afterglow of your brief but cherished excursion to Heaven.
"I love you," Terzo whispers, taking his time to let each syllable sink in as he searches your face.
"I love you more." you say without thought, only to be met with furrowed brows.
"What a sweet little liar you are, hm?" he teases, the soft lines on his face contorting as his lips twitch into an almost-smile.
You want to protest, to spend all night sitting in his lap and describing your feelings for him, knowing with all of your lovesick heart that mere words could never do them justice - but as he pulls you into his arms, your head resting on his firm chest as he pulls the comforter over you - your conviction is no match for the heaviness of the slumber overtaking your body, never having felt so totally safe and relaxed as Terzo softly strokes your hair.
A continuation (the first part) of how the demon brothers would react to you feeding them, this time focusing on the younger ones <3
Satan | Asmodeus | Beelzebub | Belphegor (separately)
cw: gn! pronouns, nothing just fluff :)
word count: around.4k words each (a bit longer at beel's part)
Satan 💚
You're lounging on opposite sides of the library, engrossed in your respective books. You let the comfortable silence bloom between you, savoring the way the candlelight dances across your shadows, casting flickers of gold and warmth against walls lined with books and beloved trinkets, each one holding a story of its own. All of this is ruined when your stomach lets out a quiet rumble, that's when it dawns on you that you haven't eaten anything all day. Determined to fix the oversight, you quickly excuse yourself and hurry to your room, footsteps light but hurried. As you pass Satan, he casts you a curious glance, brows quirked, book momentarily forgotten, but you’re already halfway down the hall. A few moments later, you return, arms full with a small assortment of snacks, carefully balanced and clearly chosen with care. You settle beside him once more, your expression softened with quiet concern as you realize that he must've not eaten much today too. You sift through the pile as quietly as you can, selecting something simple and familiar before gently unwrapping it. With a tender smile, you turn to him, hand lifting the bite-sized snack toward his lips. “Ahhh~” you coo sweetly, voice playful but laced with a genuine warmth that makes it impossible to ignore.
✿ His brain short-circuits. For a moment, Satan just stares at you. His head tilts a fraction, expression unreadable.
✿ “...You’re joking,” he mutters, but his voice is soft, almost uncertain. The way you’re smiling, like this is all perfectly natural—makes something in his chest twist. He hesitates, internationally though, he's panicking (Guys he's so similar to Lucifer).
✿ He's read about this trope a million times before, he shouldn't be flustered yet here he is, a complete mess. Why is my heart beating faster—? You really are an enigma, aren't you?
"I suppose it would be rude to decline." He's looking away from you the whole time, trying to hide the furious blush creeping up his pale skin. He leans in, slowly, as if moving any faster would scare you away. His lips brush the snack you’re offering, and as he takes the bite, he makes sure not to meet your gaze. "How was that?" You ask earnestly, "it was alright, thank you." you let out a muffled laugh, "Stiff much?" he takes his book and throws it playfully in your direction, muttering a string of false threats as he does. You're not getting away with this.
Asmodeus 🩷
The two of you are sprawled out comfortably on his bed. Dawning ridiculously extravagant robes lined with the softest fur grimm can buy. There's soft spa music playing in the background, the room was thick with the scent of honeyed roses, sandalwood, and something distinctly effervescent. The two of you are chattering about the latest gossip in Devildom, when you start to feel hungry. Seeing this, Asmo props himself up on his forearms, eyes gleaming with their usual mix of curiosity and affection. With a soft hum, he reaches over to his ornate bedside table and picks up a small bowl of snacks, the bowl itself is made of shimmering sea glass with a delicate pattern. Gently, he slides it your way without a word, the soft rustle of fabric the only sound in the room. You offer him a quiet smile in return, the kind that feels warm and grateful without needing to say much. With a lazy sort of ease, you pluck one of the snacks from the bowl, then pause—without thinking twice, you hold it up to his lips and sing softly, "Say ahhh~" you finish, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
✿ To no one's surprise, Asmo blinks, once, twice as a small grin starts to spread across his face (And the audience is... Not surprised)
✿ He looks at you again, analyzing your expression, before tilting his head back slightly, lashes fluttering, lips parting as if you’d just given him a stage cue.
✿ Aren't you just the cutest? He thinks to himself as he leans in impossibly closer, practically breathing in your space.
“Well,” he purrs, his voice low and flirtatious, “if you insist.” He leans forward and takes the bite, eyes never leaving yours as if making sure the moment lasts long enough for both of you to remember. "Delicious" he whispers in a sultry voice, "Though, I think it tasted better coming from you~" that minx you think to yourself. You roll your eyes, but your heart flutters anyway, “Careful,” you warn playfully, "Keep talking like that and I might have to start handfeeding you everything." he fawns at that and starts fanning himself. "Darling, if this is your way of pampering me, I am very ready to be spoiled rotten" and just like that, you've trapped yourself in a cage of your own making, not that you mind of course.
Beelzebub ❤️
Somehow—after a casual conversation that turned into a challenge—you found yourself in the Devildom gym with Beelzebub, under the loosely defined role of his "spotter." In truth, you just wanted to spend time with him. And really, what better way to do that than cheering him on while he went through rep after rep with ease only someone like Beel could manage? The air was thick with the familiar blend of deodorant spray, protein powder, and faint traces of electrolyte drinks, overhead, the cool fluorescent lighting bathed the space in a glow that made the sheen of sweat on Beel's forehead gleam, catching on his skin like dew on polished stone statues. You sat comfortably against one of the padded benches, noticing the way his arms would flex and how his broad shoulders moved with each rep. Somewhere in the middle of admiring the view, your stomach gave a soft grumble. Eyeing the vending machine across the gym, you get up abruptly, causing Beel to scrunch his brows in worry, as he trails behind you like a lost puppy. You make your way to the vending machine, punching in a rhythmic combination of letters and numbers right as you hear the distinct thump of your snack dropping into the slot. You kneel down to grab it only to jump back slightly when you see Beelzebub standing behind you, concern written all over his face, you huff before explaining why you're there. He lets out a sigh of relief while eyeing the snack in your hand—you chuckle lightly, before opening it and lifting a piece up to his mouth, gently pressing against his lips as you coo "Here, ahhh~", your voice dipped in that saccharine sweetness you know drives him absolutely crazy.
✿ For once, he doesn't immediately crane his neck down to grab a bite, instead, he hesitates for just a bit.
✿ A small pink blush spreads across his cheeks, as he clears his throat.
✿ "Sorry, I'm a little breathless." Breathless? you? You think to yourself, looking straight past his flimsy excuse.
His lips close around your fingers for the briefest second before you pull away, and something in his gaze shifts—darker, more focused. He chews slowly before thoughtfully swallowing, a rare deviation from his more common mannerisms. “It’s good,” he murmurs, but it’s quiet, almost like he's searching your face for some sort of reaction. His eyes drop to your hand, then trail up the line of your wrist, your arm, your shoulders. When they finally land on your face again, he looks… full. Not just with food, but with something warmer, heavier. You flash him a bright little smile, brushing your hands together, "Oh yeah?", your voice far too innocent to be genuine. “Feed me like that again. I didn’t realize how much I liked it until just now.”, you let out a small giggle from his blunt request, eagerly nodding.
Belphegor 💜
The room is quiet except for the measured breaths of the demon curled comfortably on your lap. You’re curled up on the plush bed tucked away in the attic, your back resting against a stack of soft pillows that smell faintly like Belphie. A thick blanket, one he draped over the two of you without a word, lies comfortably across your legs, its warmth a quiet contrast to the attic’s cool air. You don't quite remember how you ended up here but you don't or rather can't dwell on it for too long when the moonlight spills in through the cracked window, casting a gentle glow over the room, silver and soft, like it’s cradling everything into sleep. Despite this serenity, you can't fight the growing feeling of hunger, slowly overwhelming you. Reluctantly, you shift slightly, causing Belphie to stir lightly in his sleep before you guide his head from your lap and onto the bed. You tiptoe quietly, making sure not to wake him, before opening a drawer nearby and grabbing a bag of snacks. You settle back down, maintaining silence as you slowly open the bag, the sound; however, is still loud enough to earn you a disingenuous grunt from the Avatar of Sloth. Humming to yourself, you brush a stray strand of hair from his face, before grabbing a piece, you let out a teasing “Say ahhh~”, smile curling like warm honey, eyes gleaming with mischief as you nudge the snack gently against his lips.
✿ He blinks awake slowly, groggy as always, the blanket slipping off his shoulder.
✿ His lips twitch into a barely-there smirk. "Really?" he mumbles, voice rough with sleep. "You're feeding me now?" (WHAT A BRAT)
✿ His eyebrows knit ever so slightly and his eyes narrow, trying to read your expression as you hold back a smile.
“Mmh,” he hums, eyes sliding half-closed again. “Tastes better coming from you.” you let out a huff, rolling your eyes though he doesn't miss the smile plastered on your pretty face. You know he’s got that quiet charm buried beneath layers of sleep and snark, and right now it’s slipping out like morning sunlight over his lazy grin. "You know, you're pretty cute for someone who doesn't like getting woken up during naps." you snort, earning a grumble from the still sleepy demon. He leans closer, the tip of his nose brushing yours like a sleepy challenge. "Who knows, I might actually like you." he retorts. You laugh, shoving the next snack between his lips before he can say anything more dangerous.
