#I'm still writing but y'all are making it fucking difficult

[rebuke-me]

im gonna rant in the tags for a sec don't mind me

[htchnr]

ミ★ the walls come down ꜜ WARWICK!VANDER.

𖦹 masterlist. 𖦹 buy me a ko-fi!

「 summary,, requested by a lovely anon; could you write a smut fic where Warwick!Vander recognises reader?. 」

「 ꜜcontent,, smut ⋆ unprotected sex ⋆ monster fucking ⋆ belly bulging ⋆ creampie ⋆ overstimulation ⋆ kinda of sweet sex(?) ⋆ sappy and cut off aftercare. ꜜwc,, 1,1k. 」

© 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐇𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐍𝐑. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦, 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!

you don't know how this spiralled the way it did — your back being harshly pressed against the crappy sleeping bag you had dragged into the greenhouse when Viktor let Vander sleep there — his impossibly fat cock filling you up in a way that makes you feel like you're suffocating.

low animalistic grunts and growls sound from him as he hammers his heavy hips into yours, his pace not once faltering. your eyes roll back each time you catch a glance of the clear bulge in your stomach, as your fingers press down against it occasionally Vander lets out a rough snarl. his pace only quickens at the feeling.

" Vander-! slow- " you gasp, your nails digging into his thick and hairy biceps. your finger tips occasionally reach the metal, flinching at the somehow cold metal. " oh fuck! " you cry out as the bullying of your insides causes you to tip over into what you think must be your fourth orgasm by now.

Vander growls at the feeling of your tight, hot and wet walls spasming around him once again. finally, it was enough to tip him over the edge as well — his heavy hips stilling with a brutal final thrust and what could only be described as a roar as he spills his load into you. he buries his head against your chest and you gasp at the feeling, his thick cum leaking out in obscene amounts. you could feel your belly swell with each spurt.

you lay there, occasionally spasming beneath him as you both come down from your intense highs. all you can do is look up at the glass roof, your hands still firmly holding his thick biceps as you feel him take deep and heavy breaths.

" Vander? " you quietly call out, dragging your hand to hold the back of his head.

he lets out a sound, low and rough, akin to what you could only assume to be 'five more minutes' as he nuzzles his face impossibly closer into your chest. you let out a breathy laugh, combing your fingers through the thick fur atop his head. your eyes watch the small twitches from his long ears each time your gently brush against them, mesmerised by this intensely calm version of him.

" okay, you can have five more minutes. " you quietly respond, a tired smile on your lips. Vander lets out a pleased sound and a long exhale. " you better not fall asleep on me big guy, cause i need to get us cleaned up in a minute or two. " Vander makes a displeased sound — typical Vander. even before he was changed he'd love nothing more than to stay buried inside you for as long as he possibly could.

your heart clenches at the thought, and Vander can feel the sudden change in emotion. he grumbles, slowly lifting his heavy head off your chest to look at your face. he tilts his head, a clear 'is everything okay?'. you smile, smoothing your hand down to his cheek. " i'll be okay, now that i have you back again. " you whisper.

Vander's eyes close, a low, sad sound leaving him as he leans down to press his forehead against yours. you close your eyes too, nudging your nose against his much, much larger one.

life was going to be difficult for him to adjust to again, but you think everything will be alright again now that he's here with you.

authors note y'all..... that turned out way sweeter than i intended. i wanted to go crazy with the feral fucking, but honestly i just wanna hold Warwick!Vander and tell him everything will be alright... 😭🫠 act 2 of s2 F U C K E D me U P and i'm gonna slowly heal by writing these Vander fics 😭❤️‍🩹

[formulawolff]

"my hero" - m.v.

pairing: social worker!reader x max verstappen

word count: idek tbh (i’m posting this on my lunch break hehe)

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, max in bf mode, long distance couple, cursing here and there, mentions of mental health, mentions of mental health disorders, mentions of physical health, yada, yada, yada

a/n: i know i said i was working on requests but this idea would not leave my brain all day. i couldn't stop thinking about it so i had to write it. (it's def a little self-indulgent) i hope y'all enjoy!

"ah! there you are. i can see you now!""

a giggle bubbles up in your throat, your lips forming a wide smile, "hi baby, how are you?"

he shrugs, the image distorted for about a millisecond. he comes into frame once again, slightly pixelated. however, you can make out the sleepy grin plastered across his face, and the twinkle in his eye as he looks into the camera.

max verstappen, three time world driver’s champion, is on facetime with you, donned in nothing but a black cotton tee and his boxers. you can tell from the background that he’s in his motorhome, settled in his room.

his hair is a disheveled mess, sticking up haphazardly. he more than likely just got out of the shower, as the fabric of the tee clung to his toned frame. underneath his eyes were two faint circles, the skin slightly puffy.

yet, here he was, calling you at god knew what hour just to hear the sound of your voice.

"tired. very fucking tired."

"i can imagine so," you nod, typing along at your laptop, "what time is it there?"

he hums, leaning over his phone, "it's about eleven thirty?"

"max!" your eyes widen, "you need to get some sleep. it's qualifying tomorrow!"

"and?" he counters, arching a brow, "i wanted to hear how your day went. from your messages, it seemed like it was quite eventful."

"i'm just wrapping up my notes now," you exhale, your shoulders slumping slightly, "it was a long day."

"i can imagine my baby," he coos, settling underneath the covers, "tell me all about it."

"i can assure you being a case worker is not nearly as riveting as a formula one driver," you snort, shaking your head, "you go first."

"nope," he was not budging, his attention still fixated solely on you, "tell me about your day, and then i'll share about mine. it's only fair."

"well," you wrinkle your nose, glancing over the open document on your laptop screen, "my day started with one of my clients experiencing a small crisis. she was without food so she called me, asking if i could take her to the nearest pantry. while i was with her, another client of mine called asking if i could transport him to his appointment.

i probably could have, but he reached out to me only fifteen minutes before his appointment time. i received my new staffing form today. i have a couple of clients who are in need of housing so i had to make some calls to some local agencies."

"and how did that go?" you can't help but feel heat flourishing into your cheeks at the intrigue laced in his tone, "were you able to make some progress?"

"not really," you inhale sharply, "housing is really difficult to find right now. it's sort of like when your tires are giving out, but you need them to last a few more laps. you have to remain hopeful so that you can keep pushing."

“i like that analogy,” he fights a yawn, but continues regardless, “that’s a good one. i’m going to use that.”

“as long as you credit me,” you muse, clicking your mousepad as you finalize your note, “how was practice today?”

“so-so,” he chirps, “i missed you a lot today. thought about you nearly every second of the practice session. you’re flying out next week, right?”

you nod, shutting your laptop, “yes. i’ll be leaving wednesday evening and catching a late flight. hopefully when i land, there will be this insanely handsome dutch man waiting for me.”

“is that right?” max’s dimples appear, causing your heart to skip a beat, “i’m hoping that my good luck charm arrives safe and sound. i can’t wait to see her.”

“counting down the minutes are we?”

“you have no idea,” carefully, he plucks his phone from his makeshift stand, bringing you closer into the bed with him, “will you stay on till i fall asleep?”

at his request, there’s a tug at your heart. fuck, if only you were with him. then he would have been able to lay on you until he dozed off. his head would have been snuggled into uour collabone, your hands tangled in his hair, playing with it as his chest steadily rose and fell.

if only you were there. if only you were an influencer or a model. if only you could take work with you, dropping everything to fly all over the world. if only you weren’t separated by time zones, where you had to carefully coordinate facetime calls.

if only you weren’t long distance, then maybe you wouldn’t feel like this.

if only.

“hey,” max’s voice is merely a whisper, “are you okay?”

your lower lip trembles, tears welling up, threatening to spill over. there’s a choking sound, as you attempt to suppress a sob.

yet, it was too late. they were streaming down your cheeks now, your hands instinctively shielding your face.

“baby,” max murmurs, “what’s going on?”

“this shit sucks,” you shake your head, the words strained, “i hate that i’m not with you right now. i hate that we’re long distance. i hate that i have to stay here and—“

“but your clients need you,” his tone is delicate, “you’re the one person they can count on when everything else is going to shit. they need you like i need you. i can tell you had a long day baby, but i’m here. i’m here for you, no matter what.”

“i-i love you,” you manage to sputter out, wiping your cheeks, “i love you, max.”

“and i love you more than you’ll ever know,” in the frame, a pillow is held against his chest, “i’m even cuddling this pillow right now pretending that it’s you.”

“i can’t believe you fell in love with some plain girl from the states,” you sigh, resting your head against the couch cushion, “out of everyone in the world, you happened to fall in love with me.”

“you’re not just any girl from the states,” for a moment, you’re shocked at the firmness in his tone, “you’re my girl. it takes someone special to do what you do. you’re my hero baby. i aspire to be as strong as you.”

“i love you,” the corners of your lips curl into a quaint smile, “am i really your hero?”

“of course,” it doesn’t even take him a second to respond, “like i said, you’re the strongest person i know. you inspire me.”

“i can’t wait to see you,” you murmur, taking note of the way his eyes were drooping, “i’ll stay on till you sleep, my love. it seems like you need it.”

“hey,” one eye opens, barely a slit, “i know this shit sucks right now, but we’ll make it. okay? one day you’ll get to come home to me and tell me all about your day rather than calling. it’ll be worth it. i promise.”

“i hope so. i love you, maxie. sleep well, my love. i’ll be there before you know it.”

“try to have a good evening,” you could barely make out the statement, as he was beginning to doze off, “just end the call when i’m asleep. i’ll message you in the morning.”

“i’ll be here,” opening your laptop, you prop it against the screen, “goodnight, maxie.”

“night, night, baby.”

as sleep takes a hold of the dutch driver, you remain on the call, opening youtube. cautiously, you click on one of your favorite videos. it’s a montage of all of max’s wins, starting from the 2016 spanish grand prix.

the video begins to play, the volume carefully adjusted so that it doesn’t wake him.

as your gaze shifts to your phone once again, you can’t help but hear his words ringing in your ears.

one day this would all be worth it.

and one day, max verstappen would be able to be with his hero.

every single day for the rest of his life.

[minikoko-a]

general relationship headcanons —proxies x fem!proxy!reader

including: ticci toby, masky, hoodie and kate the chaser (individually)

suggestive mentions, mentions of murder, creepypasta masky and creepypasta hoodie (but with some features of MH tim and brian).

i'll make a distinction between Tim and Brian from MH and Tim and Brian from Creepypasta, if i'm writing of both and i don't mention if it's the creepypasta version, then it's from Marble Hornets! but in this case, i mentioned that is their creepypasta version (if it's said like that? (⁠ᗒ⁠ᗩ⁠ᗕ⁠))

i did my best with my proxies characterization, hope you like it! 💗⭐

Masky/Tim Wright

oh Tim my beloved.

one thing is to interact with Tim outside of work and another one to interact with Tim as Masky while working.

he's protective way too much.

please understand him, everything is already very fucked up and even more to being controlled by Slenderman.

y'all live in cabins in the woods! and even though you have your own, you tend to spend a lot of time in Tim's cabin.

since you started dating, you both made one thing clear: private relationship.

and to be honest, helped you quite a bit.

it didn't suit either of you for others to know exactly what's going on.

when y'all aren't deeply under his command, Tim is more soft and more talkative. his sarcasm makes you smile and he then sometimes initiate some kisses and physical contact.

but you are more of the one who initiates it.

when he has missions where the two of you don't go together, he tries to bring something to you.

but when you both go together on a mission, you take things and he covers them up and also you both deviate a little from the path or take a little longer to return (if you understand me wink wink)

but it isn't so common that you deviate from the path.

use honey, dear or your name

he holds your hand when you are together.

sometimes he wants to be alone but he always tells you before you give him space (something that he had to learn and it's difficult for him but he tries to do it to avoid arguments between you, he is an exhausted guy).

when this happens you go back to your cabin or take a walk nearby until Tim is the one who comes to find you.

his jealousy is more of a pessimistic comments to himself.

he loves you and he doesn't want to lose you.

he genuinely cares about others despite his reserved demeanor.

when you go shopping, even if he says that only what is just and necessary, he buys you what you like without anyone knowing.

but when he's Masky.

well... it's almost the same attitude.

he doesn't soften his voice to you.

just wants to do the mission, finish it and leave.

but also, that everything goes well and ends well.

he actually talks more than Hoodie.

more reserved.

he doesn't hold your hand at all.

but his protective attitude is still there!

if you get hurt during one of the missions, he will help you.

says your name, no nickname, no pet names.

but in the end, he knows you are his partner and her girlfriend.

"look at her, i would die for her, i would kill for her" vibe.

"older sis of her family x older brother of his family" vibes/trope

his kisses are long but with a strong charge of emotion.

he's a soft dom.

and again, the difference between when he's outside of work and when he's at work is not much, it's just that he acts more distant and less expressive, but for the rest, he is still a big protector.

he also values autonomy!

don't get him wrong, he just enjoys seeing his girlfriend being self-sufficient, especially with the life y'all lead.

it's between Toby or Brian that teases both of you.

Kate doesn't care much.

he loves it when you squeeze his shoulders! even though your hands hurt from how tense they are.

please give him words of affirmation and quality time :(

his love language would be acts of service and quality time!

your dates are going to the nearest city or town or just hanging out inside his cabin or yours.

there are times when it's already daylight but he doesn't let you go, for him, you're the only that can keep him putting up with that shit any longer.

and vice versa.

the sound of leaves colliding against each other thanks to the gentle gust of air was the background noise of the scene.

your head was resting gently on his shoulder, somewhat snuggled into him being greeted by the strong smell of coffee and cigarettes, his arm around your body to be more in contact with you. Tim's breathing was a little slow, you thought maybe it was because of all the cigarettes he smoked or the scene was really peaceful, a calmness that you always appreciated.

"Tim, honey..." your voice brought him out of his thoughts.

"yeah, dear?" you opened your lips, thinking a little about the words you would say. "if we get through this, will we be able to live far away and have a life together?"

your question made him go back into his thoughts, that question was so sad but Tim knew the answer for a long time.

"honey, we both already have a life together and when we least expect it, we will be living in a house somewhat away from the woods."

"love you" your lips joined together forming a beautiful connection and dance, that words were not enough because of how much you loved each other.

although you both know that it's increasingly a distant dream but he couldn't say no to his future wife.

Hoodie/Brian Thomas

ALRIGHT HEAR ME OUT.

Brian is a great boyfriend.

Hoodie absolutely not lol.

i started with Brian outside the power of the operator/slenderman.

brian is a golden retriever vibe, something in his past remains present and that is his charisma.

although his charisma is later interrupted by more sarcastic tones. after all, he's not the same as years ago.

the first to know about your relationship with Brian was Tim.

after all, he's his friend.

then the next to know it was Kate and Toby almost at the same time.

Brian does the best he can, knowing the shit y'all live, he tries to make sure to have at least some good moments within that... exhausting reality you both live in.

use honey, babe and love.

the kind of give you some flowers that are picked up in the forest.

remember when i say y'all live in cabins? well, he also has his own but he's constantly in yours.

his love language is words of affirmation and quality time!

he's not a jealous type at all, yeah sometimes he is jealous but he's more the kind of "yeah, she's my girlfriend, all mine, look at her because that's the only nearest thing that you're going to have something about her" "proud that she's my girlfriend, so what?"

your relationship is also private!

your dates consist in going to the nearest city.

a great kisser (i still hc that he's the top 1 among them lol)

an absolute service dom.

when he sends both of you on missions, he tries to do the hardest parts (although you don't care much about that later and end up doing too).

the cool aunt and cool uncle couple vibes.

but when he's working as Hoodie... well

you missed your Brian when he's not completely under the slenderman's control.

i mean y'all are completely but when he put y'all to "work".

when he's as Hoodie, he doesn't speak.

he just sighs, pants, grunts but doesn't say a word.

but those sounds sound different, because he carries a voice changer inside of his hoodie and balaclava.

Hoodie just treats you as an equal like the other proxies.

kind of stubborn (but not as toby)

Hoodie genuinely cares for you, if you go the wrong way, he grabs of your clothes and pulls you back to the right path.

there aren't many displays of affection when he's in the mission, to be honest.

but it doesn't mean that he doesn't do it completely, he is, along with Toby, the one who mind the least about showing affection (knowing the current situation everyone is in).

but he adores you, and even though you're under Slenderman's command, he's afraid that he will do something against you.

your footsteps that made the old dry leaves scattered on the dirt ground crunch made Brian turn his head to you.

"hey babe" he showed you a smile, revealing his small tooth gap.

"i didn't know you had arrived" the sound of crushed leaves began to get closer to Brian, you stopped your walk when you were already next to him. "Tim told me you got injured"

there was no response from Brian, he kept his gaze in the direction where you were but without seeing you as such, appreciating the green grass with brown tones due to dryness. the only thing he could enjoy about this shit was nature in its purest state and you by his side.

he let out a small chuckle and looked away, now looking at the lake in front of you. "just a little scratch".

your mouth curved into a smile, taking your hands out of the pocket of the large and thick jacket you were wearing, you ran your hand over his abdomen, causing him to press his lips together. "you got me, you got me" now you let out a little laugh.

there was a brief silence, the sound of leaves rustling against each other from the gusts of wind that appeared was the only noise between you and him. his hand slid down your back, at the height of your waist, curling his fingers at the end of.

"hurt or not, i'll always come back to you, love" he murmured near your temple, placing a kiss. in response, you tilted your head to his shoulder, still not losing your smile.

one thing you both know is, wounded, healthy or dead, you will always come back for each other.

Ticci Toby

OH THIS BOYY

being with him everything is a box of surprises.

he's so spontaneous, seriously.

and stubborn.

when you accepted to be his girlfriend, that same day everyone already knew it.

"hey, can you tell your boyfriend it's his turn to take out the trash?" "how do you know- nevermind"

"I LOVE MY WIFE!!!" vibes

laughs and jokes will never be lacking!

he has a terrible diet and terrible habits, but you help him improve it!

he really tries hard to make the relationship work (and he achieves it very well).

for Toby, you make him live his teenage romance (although he's no longer a teenager).

he says things directly and, well, someone said that truth hurts.

it's not his intention (sometimes it is) but he doesn't know how to be "delicate" with what he says.

he tries it but after a while, he does it again.

when you go on dates, he wears a mask and something to cover his wound. all to prevent everything from spilling out when he's eating or drinking.

after all he's been through, he would never dare treat you badly or hit you. he lived with an abusive father and he saw what his mother and sister were suffering, including himself.

but it doesn't exempt him from the fact that he can fuck up on some occasions.

sometimes he leaves you on seen, sometimes he forgets to go see you at your cabin, sometimes he tells you something and can hurt you his words (by the way he said it), that kind of things.

he has not filter when saying things, to be honest.

uses princess, babe, love, honey or a nickname of yours.

i dare to say he's the one who doesn't mind showing affection at all.

"Toby! you stink of blood!" "just another kissss c'monnn"

he's a switch.

can't keep his ass in just one role.

when he's working under Slenderman's control, he is much less careful.

even with you.

if you fucked up something, he will tell you much more directly.

if you get injured, he'll bring you or will be healing you without much care.

doesn't measure his strength.

he spends more time in his cabin than yours.

his love language would be words of affirmation and maybe physical affection, but the last one would be when he has too much trust in you.

he's the most jealous of the four.

but just like Tim, his jealousy would be self-sabotaging.

and maybe a little finishing off those who are in your way, OH! who said that?

his kisses are kinda sloppy and with tons of little smiles between kisses to kisses. just sloppy and passionate.

he just hopes that you both will get away from that life and still living in the woods, without being tied to him.

the thick sheets that were impregnated with the aroma of fresh oak managed to lull you more and more in your sleep.

your mind was blank, you were eternally grateful for that, genuinely missing dreaming. your chest rose and fell calmly until you quickly became alert when you felt the sheets lift slightly, quickly you turned around pulling a dagger out from under your pillow but it was stopped by Toby's hand holding onto your wrist with a smile on his face.

"what are you doing, honey?" he smiled making short sounds with his tongue, pretty amused how your muscles seemed to have memory.

"sorry, love" his arms quickly caught you, leaving you lying on his chest and his back being hugged by your soft pillows. the dagger was left on the nightstand. "why aren't you this quiet when we're on our way to missions?" you said playful.

"i don't want to" you chuckled. he didn't say anything, he just held you in his arms.

"babe, i want to live with you" "well, you can come to my cabin-" "not that way, du-dumb"

you looked up, could see a beard just trying to emerge from his skin, his pale skin looked similar to the moonlight and then, he sighed.

"i mean far away, where we are not tied to this" he lowered his gaze to you "would you promise to be with me?" "ye-" "forever" "forever"

both lips collided in a slightly rushed kiss but you could feel his feelings on the surface of the skin of his lips.

this is forever.

Kate The Chaser

MY GIRRRL KATEEEE

"toby i'm lesbian" "i thought you were american"

the majority of your dates are at dusk and at night.

sometimes she tells you about Lauren and Chris but just a little of what she can remember.

actually she's pretty good at drawing!

usually draws you recycling pages.

be patient with her, she isn't very familiar with relationships, not romantic ones.

but still, she's a sweetheart!

she goes to your cabin very often.

every time you go out of the woods to go shopping or just to go on a date together, she tends to hold your hand or be very close to you.

although most of your dates are inside the cabin or near the forest.

the first to know it definitely was Toby and it was by accident.

he saw you kissing behind a tree and almost got killed by him thinking you both were intruders.

and then Brian and Tim knew.

praise her please.

sometimes she just walks away and leaves you, when she does that you know he's starting to torment her.

when she is on his mantle, you don't say a word, she just nod and sigh.

then she holds you, she wants to confirm that you're real and not another hallucination of Slenderman's part.

when the both of you go on missions, you're quite fast, which is why there isn't much interaction between you.

but when she comes out of that trance she asks you if she was ever too harsh with you.

she loves you, like, way too much!

you both have an engagement ring (don't ask where she got it).

when she's with you, the mask is freely removed.

how is she going to kiss you with the mask on?

use love and honey.

there are times when she snuggles up on your chest when you're lying down.

her jealousy is just like Tim's, it's self-sabotage and tends to grab you with more intensity.

the relationship is private but the affections are obvious.

her kisses are slow and shy.

her love language is definitely quality time and words of affirmation.

tell her you love her and spend time with her, she has been through so much.

she's a switch.

although she's more a top but she's beginning to accept receiving.

the kind that brings you many objects that remind you.

often lend you her clothes.

although your lives are no longer part of you, you both have each other's hearts.

the large, rough trunk of the tall tree behind you made abrupt contact with your back. you had leaned on it without much care, watching as Kate desperately cleaned the fresh blood from her hands.

"love, you did it amazing" you tilted your head slightly without receiving a response from her.

"how can you be so calm and, i mean, how can you get used to it?" now you were standing next to her as she looked up to you, she didn't have her mask on and her reflection could be seen faintly in the lake thanks to the sunset.

"because it's not like we can leave and he won't find us" you stopped for a little moment. "apart from that, the only thing i'm grateful for is that i was able to meet my fiancée" you extended your hand showing the ring. you finally achieved your goal, a soft smile curved on her lips.

"do you think this will end at some point?"

"i hope not" she looked at you again. "because I know i couldn't be with you" now you were both looking at each other. "and if it ends, i would go with you, no matter what"

your voice was silenced along with your lips as you felt Kate's lips on yours, she's fast definitely. her hand descended, passing through your abdomen until it reached your waist as your hands made a short journey between her shoulders, neck and ending on her cheeks.

you both separated with your breathing agitated but the sweetness in both eyes made a genuine smile appear, reuniting again in a much slower kiss.

you couldn't say if you were sure that this control and nightmare was going to end, you and Kate wished to know the answer but it was almost impossible.

but what you both were sure of, was that you didn't want the relationship to end.

[fresalana]

you told me your new man don't make you nut that's a damn shame.

synopsis: showing caitlin what it feels like to feel.

warnings: referring to c*nnor, sex. idk how to write warnings.

type: long blurb?

a/n: new tag. first time writing smut. i hope y'all missed me, because i missed y'all.

you knew caitlin wasn't cumming the way she deserved to. c*nnor was definitely not making that happen. she was constantly working hard, giving but never receiving. you wanted to help your friend relax; you wanted to her show her what it was like to feel. you wanted her to understand that dick wasn't the only thing that could make a woman cum. not that she was getting any real dick, anyway.

caitlin's back arched involuntarily off of the bed, a whimper leaving her lips as her hands gripped the bedding tightly – she was going to rip holes in it if she continued gripping it any harder.

"i feel like i'm gonna die, please," caitlin whispered, the desperation in her voice evident as she looked down at you, pleading with you to do something.

"you're not gonna die." you replied, rolling your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips. she had squirted at least eight times on the towel beneath her. your fingers were deep inside her pussy, massaging her g-spot, forcing her to cum again and again. your thumb was rubbing her aching clit.

she knew she wasn't going to die, but you were driving her so insane that it felt like she was. "i feel like i am," caitlin whined quietly, her body shaking slightly, her head falling back against a pillow.

you leaned down, kissing her aching clit. "again, you're not gonna die, cait" with your voice muffled against her wet pussy, you licked a stripe up her clit, causing her hips to chase after your mouth. your teasing and condescending remarks were driving caitlin insane – and it wasn't the good kind of insane.

"yes i am," caitlin whimpered, shaking her head. "please, oh my god," and even caitlin could admit that she was being totallydramatic.

"all you can say is please." you scoffed, pumping your fingers into and out of her pussy at a rapid, steady pace with a wet plap! the fact that you had so much power over caitlin was irritating, she'd never admit that. she would never tell you, but there was a certain level of irritation when she was so desperate for something only you could give her.

"mmm," caitlin whined in response, her back arching and hips bucking into your hand, her head falling back against the pillow. "i - i can't, please please-"

"can't what?"

caitlin had no idea what she was even capable of saying and doing at this point, the only thing she was thinking about was what you could do to her. she had completely lost control of her body and was completely at your mercy, and it was killing her.

"i can't take it, i - i really can't," caitlin's words were cut off bay a whine, her hands still gripping the bedding on the bed.

"you want me to stop?"

there were many things caitlin wanted to say and do – but she was too busy feeling the pleasure and overstimulation that you were giving her, which made it difficult to form sentences.

"no, no, keep going, don't stop – oh please -"

"you don't even know what you're saying." you sighed, massaging her g-spot faster.

"your boyfriend ever make you cum before? hm?" your words were, once again, incredibly annoying but arousing to caitlin, who really didn't want to think about c*nnor. being with you was nothing like the relationship she's in now.

"no, god, never," caitlin responded through a whimper, looking down at you. "never like this." your words were incredibly true, and they bothered caitlin; her boyfriend was nothing like you. with you she felt so much more comfortable, free to lay back and have north care for her without having to worry about anything.

"mhm. he probably didn't even fuck you. made you do alll the work. you don't have to do that here, baby. just lay here and "feel .." as you planted a gentle kiss on her stomach, you quickly moved your thumb in tight, fast circles over her clit.

"i love you," caitlin spoke quietly, her eyes shut tightly as she trembled, her back arching as she came again that night. safe to say she'd be coming back for more, and more, and more..

[reverseexorcist]

★ 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐬 ★

Wow just realised this entire time my asks have been off woopsie ●_● Should be fixed now.

Anyway, since y'all went feral over this dynamic (and I can't blame you), here's more of Carmilla with her adopted fallen angel child.

I know I said part 2, but I'm honestly considering making this a sort've slice-of-life series seeing as I absolutely love this dyanmic and I'm having some serious brainrot over these two.

Part 1 ↫ Right Here

➲ 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚 Carmine + !Fallen Angel!Reader

➲ Romantic ☐, Platonic ☒

➲ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 Count; 3,662 Words

➲ Warnings/notes; Female reader, somewhat depressed reader, minor mentions of gore, sleep deprived writing, potential ooc Carmilla, mother mode Carmilla increased

Getting used to your new life required more effort than you ever thought was ever needed. Getting used to living in hell was a chore in of itself, and quite a tedious one, and getting used to the new family you now found yourself surrounded by only piled on a tad more stress.

Unlike heaven, the land below was almost always swathed in some sort've darkness - There was literally no day night cycle at all and it was fucking with your head. Your poor circadian rhythm was completely thrown all over the place when three in the morning was just as bright at two in the afternoon. Not to mention the smoke ever present in the air. You weren't sure which you hated more between the two.

(Probably the air. You actually liked it when you breathed and didn't hack up a lung.)

It was a lot, especially when you were getting used to your new wingless life.

(Which sucked, by the way. Every time your fight or flight response kicked in, you found yourself straining your back muscles trying to lift off with nothing to support you and it made you want to cry every single time it happened.)

However, all of this was way better than what could've happened had Carmilla not saved your life. Your back still ached and the phantom pain still tortured you at night, the feather-fluff nubs of your old wings only served as a painful reminder. As much as you hated to admit it, often times you'd spend the entire night longing for the newly comforting touch of your adopted mother figure…

Wow. That felt weird to admit. That and a whole lot of other repressed emotions and memories.

You groaned and sighed, clutching your head and threading your fingers through your tussled bedhair. Your back muscles flexed, the sound of rustling feathers muffled by the mattress. The sensation was weird enough to make you 'gwak', roll on to your stomach and faceplant into your pillow. It was more natural that way, anyway - When one has wings it was rather difficult to sleep on your back, afterall, at least after your first growth spurt. You never thought you would miss the feeling, but you fought to find any silver lining in your new life. And in a world that was mostly shades of red, silver was quite a luxury.

Your somewhat depressing quiet time was broken by the gentle tapping of steel carefully approaching your room.

"Mi peque?" You didn't have the energy to jump, already having heard the delicate 'tink' of Carmilla's pointed shoes against the hardword floor of your new home. Her silhouette took up most of the doorway, the faint light spilling in from the hallway making the angelic steel decorating her body glow, much like the warm lull of her crimson eyes. Your head tiltied to the side to stare at her, but otherwise you made no movement.

She blinked once and ducked her head to step into your room. If you were, well, you from about a week ago, you probably would've been shitting bricks at the sight. It was lowkey terrifying, mostly because Carmilla was so much taller than you and had the expression of a constantly pissed off commander or something. However, it didn't scare you - Mostly because your worst nightmare had already come true.

"Can't sleep?" Her voice was soft, something that completely contrasted her outward exterior. It was soothing, though, and you found yourself not caring when she settled herself on the end of your bed.

(Your new bed. Your new bed that you could, for once, comfortably stretch out on.)

"Something like that," You mumbled, practically whispered. Your eyes glowed much like Carmilla's, like a mischevious cat from your spot hidden under your multiple blankets. "It's, mm, weird. Sleeping by myself."

Her eyebrow quirked, a silent invitation to continue if you wanted to. Maybe? Emotions were still hard to read for you.

"Well, because I'm used to sleeping in the barracks with the rest of my platoon. It's apparently really comforting, seeing as I haven't had a good sleep since I got here," You grappled your blankets a little tighter, as if doing so would provide you with some sort've phantom comfort that you secretly longed for.

A breath of silence hung steadily in the air, as if both your minds were churning on what to say next.

"I'm sorry."

"M'sorry."

You both said at the same time, which seemed just a little cliche. Slinking out from underneath your covers, you couldn't help by eye the demon across from you warily.

"Why're you sorry?"

"Because, I'll admit, I'm a little rusty," She reached up and untied her buns, letting her hair loosen and tumble down her back. "It's been a while since my girls were young like you-" You scoffed, which prompted an amused smirk "And it's not like I know anything about taking care of an angel."

"Well, you're doing better than what they were doing up there," You blankly motioned upwards where the pearly gates shone brightly in the sky like a constant sun. "Plus, I'd say you're dealing with me as gracefully as you can."

"Elaborate?" Carmila carded her fingers through her hair, tilting her head curiously. The mountain on your shoulders threatened to stumble, and by god you were ready to let it fall.

"Well, it's not like any heaven-born has parents. Heaven was always all about equality and shit, and every single child was raised by the community. And yeah, it was all rainbows and crap because everyone was loved mostly equally, but it sucked because I was always just another nestling that someone had to keep an eye on," You brought your knees up to your chest. "That's why, when the lieutenant gave me her offer I didn't refuse, cause I thought 'wow, someone noticed me!' and it was a feeling I chased ever since."

It felt nice to let it all out for once. Not like anyone else around you back then really cared, cause they all went through the same thing.

Beside you, the covers rustled. Carmilla opened her arms wordlessly, minutely enough that if you didn't want to, you could probably brush the motion off as stretching. But, the warmth the she radiated was sorely tempting, and your little serotonin deprived brain was severly touch-starved.

Wow, four days into your new life, and you found yourself snuggling into the arms of one of Hell's overlords. And, sullying the lord's name, by god you loved it.

Not a single word had to be uttered between the two of you, not as long as you didn't want it. That was the silent message that you both clearly understood.

It kind've made you want to cry, if you were being honest with yourself. In a place that had seemingly been perfect, you found your life lacking, and in the burning pits of eternal damnation, you'd found yourself feeling loved for the first time since you could remember. The way Carmilla's hold around you grew tighter, just ever so slightly - A comforting weight draped across your shoulders as you leaned into her warmth. That, along with her mellow breathing, it felt homely and nostalgic.

Tugging your blankets a little tighter around yourself, you didn't even fight the way your eyelids drooped.

Two weeks.

It felt like a lot longer, but you'd been living in hell for fourteen days, and it already felt like you'd been living here for months.

Well, it certainly didn't help that you never really left the main house. Like, ever. And you, for one, weren't complaining. The burning pits of Hell left much to be desired, and as a little angel who hadn't even had her first adult moult yet, you didn't really fancy going galavanting off around Hell, even if Carmilla was hovering over your shoulder like a helicopter parent.

Still, after the first week where you'd discovered and explored all the places that you were allowed to (the allure of the armory was great, but the potential wrath of an angry demon was greater), there wasn't really anything to do around the house. Sure, it was probably one of the safest places in the eternal firepit, but neither Carmilla nor Clara and Odette were ever really around, and it left you bored out of your mind.

Sprawled out across a rather decadent couch, soaking up the hellfire from outside, you found yourself wishing that something would happen that would hopefully prevent your mind from rotting further. But, if the big man from upstairs was paying attention, he surely must've hated you, because literally nothing was happening.

Unless…

You sat up, straining your ears.

Nope. Absolutely nothing.

You flopped backwards dramatically, back of your hand against your forehead and all.

Maybe, if you still had your weapon, you could've spent your time training or practicing or something. There was a training room somewhere in the house, and you weren't explicitly banned from using it, and it wasn't exactly a useless way to spend your time.

(At least that way you'd be able to get some reasonable exercise in rather than just moping around all day.)

Maybe that was something you could ask Carmilla later. She wasn't the type to be against learning self defense, however you had no idea if even she deemed yourself too young to learn how to fight. She certainly was not happy when she found out about how you were sent to fight with baby feathers still warming your wings, that was for sure.

At least you had something to talk about when she got home.

…

"You want to learn how to fight?" As expected, Carmilla didn't seem entirely thrilled at your idea.

"Not necessarily. Just, how to use weapons?" It was more of a question than an answer, but it seemed to ease the tenseness in her shoulders.

"What type of weapons? Swords? Spears? Firearms?" She fixed you with a look. "If you want to get started, the first thing you could do is be a little more specific."

Which was certainly not the answer you were expecting, so you took a few moments to blue screen.

"Well, I wasn't too fond of using spears… Swords don't sound to appealing either…" Your eyes started drifting, and soon you found that your real answer was right in front of you.

"If possible," You wrung your hands nervously, "could I use shoes like you do?"

Honestly, Carmilla's unique fighitng style had piqued your interest ever since your head became clear enough to notice. Having your hands free sounded more appealing than lugging around a heavy blade.

The demoness paused for a moment, completely silent as she studied you with a stern gaze. It wasn't negative or positive, if anything it was most likely calculative. You weren't entirely stupid, even if you were young, and you weren't naive. Carmilla was weighing the pros and cons of teaching you her trade.

"Why? They aren't exactly easy to use," That wasn't a no, at least.

"I don't like melee weapons, not hand-held ones at least," There was more to your answer that Carmilla already knew. Months of cycling through weapons till you landed on one you could somewhat use you realised that you absolutely hated using hand-held weapons.

Carmilla sighed, a small smile appearing on her face.

"Okay, but it's not like I have spare angelic steel laying around. We'll have to wait till I can melt more down," She mused, almost seeming excited about crafting you your own weapon. But her words only confused you more.

"But, we do, don't we?" You furrowed your brows.

"The steel in the armory is meant for prepaid orders-"

"I was talking about my old helmet," You hoped that didn't sound too rude, interupting her. "I mean, the entire thing is is technically angelic. I don't know if it's steel exactly, but I know for a fact it's just as solid!" Now you were the one musing.

Like mother like daughter, almost.

"We could certainly try…" The two of you shared a look.

"Like… Right now?" You prodded almost mischeviously.

Tired as she was, Carmilla couldn't help but falter and smile, your enthusiasm almost contagious.

"Well, we can have a look."

After that it was only a matter of days. Carmilla was far more invested in your new project than you had expected, and even Clara and Odette had briefly joined in, if only to get a sneak peak at the workings behind an exorcists helmet. For the briefest of moments, with all four of you crowded around a table with tidy plans sprawled all over its surface, it almost felt like you were a family. Which, did prompt a stray thought in your head.

After gently pulling the threads of angelic steel from the rivets in the helmet's horns, you couldn't help but bundle them to your chest. They weren't exactly big, nothing compared to the horns of a full fledged exorcist, but they were still something.

So, while your mo-… Carmilla was busy melting down the odd, almost obsidian material of your old helmet in preparation of your new shoes, you were busy tinkering away with your own little side project. Of course, it was hard to explain the various little burns marks littered across your palms that had started appearing, but that didn't deter you one bit.

In fact, during this time, you found yourself shyly approaching the taller of Carmilla's other daughters, Odette.

One thing about her that confused you was the fact that her horns were fake, merely attatched to the band that held her hair up. But right now, that was exactly what you needed.

It was a sweet sight, honestly, at least to Carmilla.

You were huddled against Odette, listening with rapt attention as she explained something to you, finger brushing against what was most likely some sort've plan.

With a smile, Carmilla got back to work.

At the end of it all, you were left with a pair of shoes similar to the overlord's. Pointed and shiny. Sharp and deadly, yet oddly comfortable. The only key difference was the colour - Forged from the scrapped glass of your old helmet, the shoes were jet black inlaid with threads of silver, trailing all the way up the ballet ribbons.

And with your shoes, a matching set of your own horns. Odette seemed proud at the sight of you with small, obsidian horns branching from your head, unable to stand still as you clutched your new weapons to your chest gleefully.

There was a massive learning curve to your new weapons, but at least you weren't bored around the house anymore. Most of your time over the next month had been dedicated to learning how to move around in your new shoes, building both the strength and balance so you could walk, let alone run. So many bruises had been blemished into your skin, but in the end you were able to walk almost as easily as Carmilla did.

(Of course, the demoness had way more experience under her belt, but you were still doing pretty damn well.)

And during that time, the bond between you, Clara and Odette had only grown. Sure, they were only around as much as their mother, but after donning your horns, it seemed whatever barrier that had been built between you and the sisters had been torn down. Seeing as the two could also walk en pointe like their mother, many a helpful tip had been shared from them which served to get you walking faster.

It was endearing as it was funny to watch.

But, being couped up inside all day everyday was starting to wear you down, which was certainly starting to show with the way your pep had slowed down significantly.

With a heavy heart, Carmilla finally unleashed you on the world outside, accompanied by Clara and Odette.

In reality, you were just tailing behind the sisters on one of their usual deliveries. This way you could stretch your legs and practice on terrain other than the smooth floors of your home, which, while it was more difficult, was learnt within no time.

As dreary as the place looked, there were certainly sights to see around ever different corner. You'd found yourself tempted to wander off every five minutes or so, especially when you passed by a rather bright looking… hotel? The entire vibe seemed friendly and inviting, unlike the rest of Hell, but you really didn't fancy getting lost, so sticking close by Clara and Odette was the most sane option in the moment.

Or, at least that was the plan.

Really, with your head on a swivel trying to grasp every sight and sound (which you regretted not a moment later) you'd lost sight of the sisters and found yourself completely by your lonesome.

Which… Fuck.

That wasn't the most ideal position, especially when you really couldn't do more than walk in your new shoes, but they couldn't have gotten far, right?

You were wrong. Turning either corners of the street yielded no Clara or Odette, which only made your heart sink further into your stomach because you really didn't fancy getting cornered in an alley.

Backtracking, you tried your hardest to think. Perhaps, if you could find your way back to the hotel, someone there could help you? It was wishful thinking, because this was Hell after all, but the aura was so different compared to the rest of the ring of wrath that maybe, just this once, luck would be on your side.

But of course, since this was you, luck was mercilessly right out of your reach. Not a moment later, a rambunctious howl pierced the air and a group - a pack? Of hellhounds started approaching you. Which, y'know, wasn't good, especially with the way their ears were pinned back and grins plastered across their faces.

Oh shit.

You started speed walking away, or your best attempt at it, in what you hoped was the direction of the hotel. Down in the streets without either of your guides, it all seemed like one continuous labarynth of red, LEDs and very questionable stores. And, as it turned out, lots of dead ends that you could easily get cornered in.

With the blood thrumming in your ears, heart pumping in your chest loud enough that it shook your head and just the general sense of 'oh shit I am so fucked', you really didn't pay attention to whatever the hounds were spouting off about. Lots of snapping of teeth and snarls, some crude gestures that made your gut twist anxiously and your feathers rustle nervously.

(You were seriously considering using a shoe as a knife. It wasn't like it was impossible with how sharp they were.)

At least, that was your train of thought. Until a resounding bang pretty much deafended you, echoing a chorus of ringing in your ears as the middlemost hound collapsed, head exploding with the force of the bullet that lodged itself firmly within the back of his disintegrated skull.

With dramatic timing, the others peered over their shoulders, only to be met with the towering, thoroughly pissed off form of Carmilla Carmine.

The barrel of her rifle was tinted with holy silver, but she seemed perfectly happy and prepared to behead them with a well placed kick. Whichever worked, you knew Carmilla prioritised your safety over the method of execution in the end. And in the end, the alley was scattered with various corpses in various states of limb loss, and you were carefully toted away in the arms of Carmilla.

She was furious. Probably. Maybe. You couldn't really tell. her face was completely stoney, and you were still awful when it came to identifying emotions. You assumed most of the anger had been taken out on the unsuspecting assholes that had cornered you. And for some reason, that only made you more anxious.

Not being able to tell what she was thinking was off. Back in Heaven, you could tell when Lute was pissed off, or proud, or indifferent, or whatever other emotion she was feeling at the time because she didn't really give two shits about what the recruits thought of her. And at least that way you could prepare on how to react. If she was angry, you knew to stay out of her way. If she looked indifferent, you knew you had to work harder in training. If she was proud, well, also best to stay out of her way so you didn't ruin her mood.

You whimpered and huddled a little closer. Carmilla clutched you a little tighter.

"Are you alright?" She finally asked once you were close enough to home that is was mostly just her employees around the two of you.

"Please don't be mad at Clara or Odette. It was my fault for getting lost," Was what you went with anyway. Carmilla shushed you gently.

"I'm not mad, I just want to know if you're okay."

Which completely threw you off. But you just went with it.

"M'fine. You got there before they could do anything," Those words seem to put her mind at ease, her shoulders visibly untensing as she exhaled a long sigh.

She hugged you, closer and tighter to her chest as if scared you were about to disappear from her hold. And you could only return the gesture, sinking into her comforting warmth. It made you feel small, almost like a little nestling on her first trip out of the nursery, but you found that you didn't really give two shits in the moment because you felt completely, wholly safe right where you were.

"Mi peque, mi querida, mi corazón," She uttered softly, "never wander from your siblings again."

Despite the firm tone, you could feel the care dripping from her words. You sighed and relaxed.

"Of course, mother."

Rules + Info,

Masterlist,

[transmascpetewentz]

hey so. can we all agree to stop saying "asperger's syndrome".

the arguments have been made already for why the term is offensive to autistic people as a general whole, so i'm not going to repeat them here. what i want to focus on is the less talked about issue with the fact that we as a community still use this word.

there is literally no excuse for any person, but especially jewish & romani people, to have their medical condition named after a fucking nazi who tried to genocide their ancestors. ZERO.

and before i get a ton of people in the replies trying to make excuses, let me pre-emptively answer the most common replies i know i'm going to get.

"ohhhh no but it's sooooo hard for me to switch my language, it's only been ten years since the dsm five came out!!!!!"

boo hoo, it's hard for you to use a different word after over ten years of the dsm five removing asperger's as a diagnosis. it must be soooo much more difficult to give a single shit about jews and roma than the experiences of jews and roma who went through a genocide and are still facing violence to this day /s

"but i'm an aspie and i get to reclaim that word if i want!!!!!"

yeah, the term asperger's syndrome is offensive both to autistic people who fall under the criteria and to autistic people that don't. but do you know who else that term is offensive to? the people who went through a genocide. unless you are jewish or romani i don't want to hear it.

"but i was diagnosed with asperger's syndrome before the dsm five came out!!!!!"

see the above two points about how not continuing to glorify genocide is more important than keeping the same words we've always used for things. it's fine to say you were diagnosed with asperger's, but you do not have "asperger's", you have autism (or are autistic if that's the language you prefer).

"but i didn't know that asperger was a nazi!!!"

well, now you do.

"but naming a medical condition after someone doesn't necessarily glorify them!!!!"

would you apply this logic to literally any other field of science? if we decided to name an element after a nazi, people would rightfully be angry. people have been calling for years to rename a beetle named after a nazi. if you name a medical condition after someone, that generally means one of two things: the person was a very important and good researcher in the field, or the person was a notable person who had the medical condition. this might be a hot take, but i don't think that a nazi scientist working for the nazis should ever be considered the best and most important early researcher in any field to be deserving of having a discovery named after them.

"but you can't speak for all jews!!! look, you aren't even jewish yet, it says that on your profile!!!!"

no, i cannot speak for all jews. but i am speaking for myself when i say that all of your (general) excuses have stopped working, and that y'all need to put others' needs above your feelings sometimes. during the writing of this post, i spoke to other jews who have made posts about this before, but y'all continue to ignore jewish voices and make excuses for yourselves when it really isn't that hard to just stop saying a word.

"you're being ableist by telling me, an autistic person, how i can and cannot identify!!!!!"

i'm writing this post as someone who is autistic and would have been diagnosed with "asperger's syndrome" had i gotten my diagnosis before the dsm five came out. being autistic is no excuse for being racist, antisemitic, or any other bigotry. autistic non-jews have continuously spoken over autistic jews on many issues, including this one, and guys, it is not that hard to care about jews and roma enough to make this tiny change to your vocabulary.

i hope all of this has been enough to ward off some of the responses that i'm going to get to this post. i'm willing to engage in good faith if you're genuinely ignorant or confused, but if you have read this post, you no longer get to say that you "didn't know" that hans asperger was a nazi and that we shouldn't name any medical condition, but especially one that many jews and roma have, after people who committed genocide.

[slater-baby]

Texas Red Update!!

Okay guys let's FINALLY address the elephant in the room. First of all, I wanna get your most burning question out of the way: I HAVE BEEN WRITING IT THIS WHOLE TIME LMAO Like I said, I don't abandon works. I might let them sit for a while, but I have never thought of abandoning Texas Red, nor will I ever. That being said, however, I have some relatively important reasons for not having released the next chapter yet. Here they are so that you guys understand!!!

Okay so, in terms of story creation, we've gotten through the first arc. We're entering the second (which will have some important changes to the first). However, for those of you that aren't aware, I've written Texas red entirely without any planning. Everything you've read thus far? Made it up as I went along lmao. Usually, it can work out pretty well. However, we've reached a part of the story where there actually needs to be concrete plans and resolutions, and I hit a goddamn wall on that front.

I changed the ending of the book (and, yes, it's literally novel length already--my estimates place the final word count somewhere between 250-350K words in total). My original thoughts about what the ending were had to change given what was already written, so.....basically had to refigure how I'm gonna get us from point A to point B in the story. NOTHING ABOUT WHATS ALREADY WRITTEN HAS CHANGED!! It's only future events that I've had to reconsider.

Idk if any of you have picked up on the messaging I'm trying to convey through the characters just yet, but in the second act, the theme of the story is a BIG, BIG thing!! Like, it's both fun, exciting, adventurous, and complicated. On one hand, it's going to be a lot of action, but on the other, it requires creating caricatures I've never considered before--mostly in reference to moral concepts.

My real life is HELLA complicated. Writing isn't what I do for a living, and sometimes, finding the time to be online is pretty difficult. Basically, I'm busy as fuck, this year is crazy for me, and I've been dealing with helllaaaaaa writer's block.

So there you have it folks!! There is good news though. Why, you might ask yourself, did I wait so long to make this post? Why didn't I make this post like a month ago? Well, I have an answer for you.

Chapter 20 will be released VERY soon!

I've rewritten it several times over, still don't exactly like where it is right now, but this chapter has been a huge work in progress. I'm a perfectionist when it comes to things like this, and I'm not going to release a story/chapter to all of you people if I don't believe in it. Your passion and support guys are my biggest motivation for writing, and to do that enthusiasm justice, I won't lie to you if I think my own story craft isn't up to par.

So, in short, I'm sorry for making y'all wait this long, but!!!

We are back!!

[vrmxlho]

-ˏˋ ur socials as sae's gf ˊˎ-

-`♡ ´- liked by karasu, mikage and 876 others

yn: why is this man making me gym im already hot enough 😒😒😣😣

tagged: sae

sae: may i remind you that you came willingly ?

↳ yn: that doesn't make a good caption tho does it?

↳ sae: whatever

↳ sae: but you're right, you are hot enough

↳ yn: oh 😏

itoshi_rin: how you are able to deal with someone so flippant and rude is bewildering

↳ karasu: charity work fr

↳ sae: this is why isagi's better

↳ itoshi_rin: bitch ass

↳ isagi_11: ty bae 🫶 🫶 🫶

↳ sae: never speak to me directly again

-`♡´- liked by itoshi_rin, mikage and 987 others

yn: literal love of my life

location: disneysea, tokyo

sae: why am i competing with a little green man?

↳ itoshi_rin: cuz he has a better personality than you ❤️

↳ sae: do you have a death wish?

↳ isagi_11: rin using emojis is gonna haunt me forever

↳ 666666: fr i crange 😧

sae: i'm never taking you to disneysea again...

↳ yn: yk i love you so so much, right?

↳ yn: but u being jealous is saur funny 🤭

↳ sae: i'm not jealous

↳ yn: you're so cute

↳ sae: shut up

↳ itoshi_rin: oh my god just blind me already

-`♡ ´- liked by eggod, mikage and 1.6k others

yn: 🖤💖

tagged: blackpinkofficial, sae

eggod: man’s is literally sulking at the concert of the century smh

↳ kaisersexc: he’s sad they’re more famous 🤣🤣

↳ 666666: LMFAOOOO

↳ sae: strikers think they're so cool when they can't even score goals without a midfielder

↳ yn: pls stop being a football nerd, love...

↳ eggod: why are y'all still replying i don't wanna see any of this

yn: @sae you're pretty even when you sulk 🫶

↳ sae: i wasn't sulking

↳ itoshi_rin: must've been difficult not getting yn's attention

↳ yn: rin ily but pls stop fighting under my posts this is why they invented dms!!

↳ 666666: you HWAT 😱😱😰

↳ yn: nagi stop instigating 🙁

-`♡ ´- liked by mikage, isagi_11 and 2k others

sae: here i posted you now will you hop off my dick??

tagged: yn

666666: pls keep your bedroom activities to yourself??

↳ sae: stop being a perv nagi

↳ 666666: YOU KNOW MY NAME???

karasu: never thought i’d see a man ask for this

↳ eggod: ong he must be crazy!

↳ karasu: nah ur just a touch-deprived loser

↳ eggod: dawg 💔😞

yn: SAE???? WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT CAPTION

↳ sae: did you not want me to post you?

↳ yn: yeah but you could've written something cute or smth 😒

↳ sae: i'm not writing something corny i dont like pda

↳ yn: wtf 💔

↳ sae: i still love you

↳ yn: OKASGJDBFS THIS MAKES UP FOR EVERYTHING

sae: yn told me she likes calvin klein so i became a calvin klein model

tagged: calvinkleinjp

yn: UR SO HOT FOR THIS 😭😭

yn: come home rn

↳ sae: i'm training

yn: i wanna make out w you

↳ sae: nvm i finished early

↳ yn: thought so 😇

yn: in those 😏

↳ itoshi_rin: oh for fucks sake

666666: what the fuck are these prices?

↳ yn: bffr nobody's looking at those prices

↳ 666666: you're the only person alive attracted to that ogre

↳ itoshi_rin: i'm in love with you

↳ 666666: oh damn 😏

[portgasdwrld]

📞Wait a minute while I make you mine part.4(final)

Featuring: Ace x F!reader

Warning: NSFW content, MINORS DNI !!!

Note: I’m back I’m sorry 👩🏻‍💻idk if I hate writing smut because it takes me so much time, or because I wish IRL men were like this.

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

4.Giving up

Ace looked at you as he expected some sort of words to exit his mouth. Every of his heartbeat felt closer to death to him as his mind rushed with thoughts he has been having of you. He was put on the spot and Ace couldn't find a way to portray his emotions to you in words or actions, tell you exactly why his heart always felt warmer near you. Faced to your question, his basic ability to speech were gone.

-What do you mean?

It was the best thing he could let out. His heart was beating fast as he watched your features change to a defeated smile that covered your lips. His hand reached the back of his head where he let it slide back to his jawline, to finally let it fall back to his side.

-I don't know Ace? Do I really need to be more direct than this. I just don't know how to feel about you anymore..

You replied with a dry chuckle, your eyes flickered to his figure. His heart winced at your words. Were you mad because of the stunt Enya pulled? It wasn't your type to get jealous over someone or even show you care. You never did with him or with anyone so what could've possible happened to make you switch your behavior.

-I'm not sure I truly grasp the situation, y/n.

-Ugh, you can be so dense.

You exhaled as you stand up and face him. You sighed in frustration as you walked towards him with your heels in one hand. You pulled your short dress down and pushed your hair out of your face. Eyelashes a little wet from the slight crying, you looked up to him and quickly bit your lips.

-Listen, dumb fire boy. I like you and a part of me hate to admit it, but here it is, you do what you want with this information.

You admit through your lashes. Ace watched you closely with lips parted, surprised by your sudden confession. Your gaze shifted from his eyes to the red lipstick's mark left on his neck. You trailed it with the edge of your fingers, before brushing it with your thumb, smudging it away from his skin.

-..And honestly I hate seeing other persons leave marks on your body if it's not me

Ace surprised expression quickly changed into the familiar cocky grin you were so familiar to. He closed the distance between you two and tilted his face down. His breath brushed your nose as you felt his fingers softly grip your waist.

-So, you like me, huh?

You roll your eyes as a smile curved your lips. Your eyes flickered to his lips for a quick second and back to his brown eyes as you took the opportunity to wrap your arms around his neck.

-Yeah... I like you … very much.

You let in a shaky whisper as your own nervousness was now difficult to hide. He slightly giggled and his eyes stared at you for a moment, enjoying the proximity of your body after imagining it for so long. You were so pretty to his eyes.

-I like you too

-Then, just kiss me already

And without missing any time, Ace pressed his lips against yours. The earning you two had for each other for such a long time was clearly being shown through the kiss, it was bit rough but still sensual. Ace's hands travelled down to your hips and butt as he brought you closer to him. Your fingers interlocking with his darks locks as you barely pulled them, it left him grunting in your mouth. You wanted more, he wanted more.

-fuck.. I can't get enough of you

He panted between the wet kisses interchanged between y'all lips. You let one hand slide to his nude chest as the other cupped the side-end of his jawline. You didn't even want to hide that your need for him was almost unbearable at the moment.

-Ace.. I need you.

As if he was only waiting for you to say those words, he quickly pulled you towards one of the long chairs where he sat and brought you down to his laps. You hovered over him and his hands directly went on your ass where he grabbed it earning a gasp from your lips. But, he didn't even let you react properly as he dived back into kissing you more hungrily than ever by grabbing the back of your head with one of his hands.

-Ace you're not going to fuck me here, aren't you?

You ask pushing him away with your two hands pressed on his chest. He laid back and looked at you with a challenging smirk.

-Whos going to see anyway, its so dark out here

-Ace...

He slapped your ass making you gasp once again. You stared at him defeated by his totally nonchalant and shameless behavior.

-Since, when did I ever care about that. I'm a pirate baby.

He concluded the "conversation" by pulling your wrist towards him so your body fell on his, once again. He cupped your cheeks with one hand as the other pushed away the few strands of hair on your face.

-Is it fine with you sweetheart?

You took a big breath. At this point you didn't even care because you felt so wet and you desperately needed release no matter what. You looked down at his eyes and smirked as you pecked his lips.

-Yeah, it's more fun this way

He smirked right back and adjusted his position, but thrusted into you in the process. His growing hard bulge brushing against your wet core, made you moan , a moan that you quickly tried to conceal with your hand.

-Don't do that

He whispered into your ears, nibbling on your neck. sucking your skin while you started to grind against him.

-I don't want people to hea-

You quickly got cut off with a moan escaping your lips as he intentionally pushed his hips up again. You quickly glared at him as you watched a cocky smirk grow on his face. You rolled your eyes and lightly pulled some of his hair intertwined between your fingers. He chuckled and gave your collarbone a last kiss before he looked up at you with the same shitty confident grin.

-Be vocal, I like it

He said smiling while playing with your ass and jiggling it in his hands. You looked at him almost speechless at his incredibly laidback attitude. You would never believe that he has touched himself multiple of times imagining you on top of him, fucking you or you sucking him off, that he was eager to feel you around him.

-Alright, as much I want us to take our time, let's hurry. Need some prep, angel?

-What happened to your "I don't care who see us" bs?

You asked with a cocked eyebrow as you felt him slide his digits under your panties. He pushed your panties to the side as he let his fingers get coated by your wetness. You gripped his shoulders as you pushed your body forward, inviting him to push them inside.

-I take this as a no?

-Acee, stop being a tease.

You whined as you let your head rest on the crook on his neck. You felt his torso vibrating against your arms as he giggled at your whines. He pushed two of his fingers inside of you, thrusting them in and out of you in the perfect needed pace.

-Fuck..

You sighed as you felt your pleasure slowly building up. He quickened the pace, making his fingers roughly hit your sweet spot as your juices ran down his hand.

-So good to me, you want my cock sweetheart

-Yes, please

-What do you want baby? Use your words

-I want your cock Ace, please

He pulled out his fingers bringing them over to his mouth where he quickly sucked away the juice and opened his belt.

-Wait, let me do that

He put his hands back on your hips as he watched you do your thing. You sat a little over his knees and unzipped his shorts. You took his already hard dick in your hands, smearing the pre-cum on the tip. You leaned over him, kissing his lips as you stroke his length. His hands cupped your face as he deepened the kiss by pushing his tongue in your mouth. Drool all over y'all faces and his dick twitching in your hand, you got closer to him angling his tip closer to your hole. You slowly sank down, earning both of you to moan in each others mouth. Ace finally let go to catch his breath, his head resting on the back of the chair.

-You feel so good, fuck

He let you some time to get used to his dick inside of you before he started to move slowly his hips. You sighed as the fullness he provided you, was enough to make you easily build up the pleasure you had earlier with his fingers. You closed your eyes as you once again rest your head on his chest.

-You're okay baby?

He asked making sure as he softly caressed your head. You nodded and with that he adjusted his position to have a better angle to thrust in you. He was slow at first, but he gradually caught up the pace. You started to move your hips along with his to add more friction. The sound of your bodies loving each other quickly filled the empty quiet space. You unintentionally bit his chest to muffle a loud moan when his dick hit a perfect spot.

-Hey...what did I say earlier..

You couldn't even talk back as you were simply too focused with the feeling of his dick hitting you so good inside, the way his thumb rubbed against your clit and how his other hand was gripping your ass.

-Can't ..even talk h-huh?

He teases in a shaky voice before letting a groan out. He loved feeling your breast rubbing against his chest and your ass clapping against his shorts as it moved up and down. With the rush of adrenaline of possibly being caught and fucking outside, he felt like he was almost over the edge already.

-Ace...I'm so close, faster please

He moved faster, controlling now your hips pace too. Your nails dug into his shoulders as a last stroke accompanied with his thumb pressed slightly against your clit, made you release all over his dick. You screamed his name, your body shaking in his hold as he thrusted harder and faster to reach his own high, cumming inside of you. You two were panting hard as Ace fingers were brushing up and down your back.

-My legs feel numb...

You pant as you looked up to him. He opened his eyes to stare at your eyes, before you two chuckled.

-It's fine, ima take care of you after we get back to the ship. i just need to catch my breath.

A comfortable silence set as you let your head fall on his chest, hearing his quick heartbeat.

-You came inside huh

-Yeah, sorry about that-

-It's fine, im on the pill dirty ass.

-Dirty ass??

-Yeah??It will be dripping down my legs when we walk back to the ship, gross.

-Oh..., didn't think about that. Ima carry you, don't worry.

-Thanks

Ace smiled to himself enjoying your presence and the moment. His hand was still caressing your back.

-Soooo ...we are going out now?

-That's a stupid question

-Okay mister-super-dense

He laughed as he remembered the early scene where he was totally confused to your indirect confession. He kissed your forehead, loving how your eyes glittered when they stared into his.

-Yeah, yeah whatever.... but yes, I can finally call you mine

[mcrololo]

Bechloe fic recs

(in no particular order)

You Make Me Believe In Magic by @shikariix

In the opening stood a woman with a tiny frame, bending forward slightly and breathing heavily. The light pouring in from behind her made it hard to see just how dirty and scratched up her clothing was. “Hey, uh,” she started loudly, still panting, “not to freak anyone out or whatever, but there's kind of a dragon on the loose. You all gotta evacuate.”

What can I say? It's got magic, it's got dragons, it's got gay flirting AND a kick-ass moodboard that inspired the whole shebang. Exactly up my alley, and if you said 'hell yeah Rolo, me too!' then what are you waiting for!! (nudges the author to write the soft epilogue i so truly desire) (in the meantime also read this new years one-shot & also this incredible piece of writing by my love and heart)

All is fair in Love and War by @pulledpurplecurtains

It's not about having feelings. It's about what you do with them. There's never a choice where the heart is concerned. The mind, however…the mind always comes up with choices. And sometimes life tends to happen as well.

Honestly I'm due for a reread of this but I remember immensely enjoying this fic. I certainly had a blast getting the go ahead to analyze it, almost as much as Ana probably had writing it! They're in high school, they're in gay love & also they are idiots. What else would you need?

"Something angsty, Rolo," you might say. And boy do I have the fic for you by the same author! (read the tags, be mindful of the warnings)

it takes two (to be santa claus) by @becasbelt

With their marriage on the brink of divorce, Beca and Chloe vow to do whatever it takes to give their daughter one last perfect Christmas- even if it means tracking down a rare American Girl doll two weeks before Christmas.

I know I already recommended this the other day but I just... It's so fucking good. I don't have words. Actually I do, go read it y'all (and when you're done then also read the cream in my coffee by the same author because I'm also still thinking about that one.

i think (s)he knows by @pinkpastels113

The Starbucks espresso machine broke again and Chloe is supposed to be taking care of everything, but the mechanic who showed up to fix it is making her job more difficult than it already was.

I forgot how much I love me a coffeeshop AU until I read this one. I don't often see flustered Chloe Beale in fic but here it's so blatant and I adore it so much!! I need more flustered Chloe Beale in my life pls (also go read this one too it's so fun!)

All I Ask of You by @kailoraurelius

From day one, Beca has always been there for her. If Chloe can count on anything, it's Beca. So now, pacing her kitchen anxiously, she waits for Beca to show up. Chloe has something very important to tell her…

Listen, Stained Glass will always have a special place in my heart, but I think AIAOY actually knocked it off its place because the found family characterization in this one just HITS. It's off the charts!! It's got everything; love, humor, and me on the floor crying (positive!) tears because the writing is so so beautifully descriptive.

naked in manhattan by @afh48

"Hi, it's Chloe! I know you just landed, and I know you're probably busy. But I would love to see you! So call me when you can!"

From the first chapter onwards I was HOOKED. I love experimental works and what is a first ever fic if not finding your writers voice? I enjoyed the journey of unlearning internalized homophobia; of characters clearly making decisions that were bad for them because of fear. But the fluff is the sweet, sweet cherry on top!

those days turned into nights by hedaswolf (the baddestwolf)

Beca kisses Chloe in the heat of the moment after winning Worlds. Of course, she proceeds to avoid the topic altogether. You can imagine Chloe’s surprise when Beca suggests they change their flights so they can drive to Stockholm in search of Swedish Princess Cake. But how long can Chloe go without bringing up the kiss? or, the Denmark to Sweden roadtrip fic that no one asked for

I swooned reading this. It's romantic, it's funny, it's angsty because they're pining idiots.... On top of that it's in 2nd pov and I LOVE 2nd pov <3

Life on Shuffle by @yelena-belover

“I know you don’t know me, Beca. But I’ve basically known you my whole life.” Bechloe // The Time Traveler's Wife AU -- Beca Mitchell suffers from Chrono-Impairment, a rare genetic disorder that causes her to spontaneously and uncontrollably time travel. Living life out of order isn't easy for Beca, and it's just as hard for Chloe, who struggles to cope with her frequent, often dangerous absences.

Chapter 8 and 11 shattered me in all possible ways. The way this fic weaves the timeline together so seamlessly... Time fuckery is hard to write, and it needs to be done right in order to feel satisfying; though still an ongoing fic, this one does it so masterfully that it scratched all of my itches as is.

Forgive Me These November Days by @obstinate-questionings

Why Chloe Beale didn’t graduate—and why she finally did—as told through yearly celebrations of Thanksgiving.

This fic made me take the first step into loving myself. imho it's one of the best Chloe Beale character studies out there and I genuinely can not stop thinking about it. If you're having a rainy day and need a pick-me-up, I definitely recommend reading this!

[applbottmjeens]

A VERY IMPORTANT MESSAGE.

Now, I have never been one to sneak diss. I've never been one for internet drama. I hate conflict. I hate bullshit. And I hate the fact this is all coming from a bum ass video game fandom where we all fuck around and write and draw fanart and fanfics. This shit is for FUN. This isn't real life. But the people you're dissing and going after are REAL FUCKING PEOPLE.

I had no beef with none of y'all. I was always telling you all about how I can still be friends. And you come after them for what?

Because you're upset? You want vindication?

You're not ostracized because these people are in some cabal actively working against you. Everyone's minding their goddamn business and trying so hard to enjoy themselves. You're ostracized because of your own patterns and behaviors you refuse to fix in yourself but constantly point out in others. I offered you my friendships and kindness and I know now I'm just the fool who dared to give ANY OF YOU the benefit of the doubt.

I can't believe this. It's fucking fanart. Of ocs. On the internet. It's for fun. PERIOD. Doing this for clout is doing this for the wrong reasons.- we're too grown for any of this shit and you know it.

I can't keep making fucking excuses for you or how you treat others and how you treat me. I've had enough defending you. And I've had enough being kind when my kindness means I get talked down to.

Things like this was part of why making art and shit became so difficult. Because sometimes people forget THIS IS A FANDOM ABOUT A MILSIM VIDEO GAME FRANCHISE AND NOTHING WE FUCKING DO IS THAT DEEP TO WARRANT ANY OF THIS.

me of all people, saying this...but grow the fuck up. Internet clout won't fill the void. If you failed at networking in your space, you find a new fucking space and move on.

None of the people you've hurt deserve the hate given. And I'm disappointed to see how all of this has devolved.

Get help. Both of you. I'm done playing your naive advocate.

[lasnevadaslaborunion]

Okay, finally caught up on the full VOD and here are some messy thoughts

...

So. UHHH. On a gut emotional level, I fucking hated that lmao. Whole chapter of my life finished with a bang and a whimper. Las Nevadas Labor Union is over, y'all. The boss just deny, defend, deposed himself. Holy shit.

On an intellectual, thematic level... I... can't really... argue with that? Like, we didn't actually expect a character that cc!Q explicitly said was inspired by Walter White to receive a happy ending or a functional relationship, did we? We were really high on our copium supply, good grief.

I could, and still might, write a whole meta about how c!Quackity has been passively suicidal with a foreshortened sense of future for a very long time. As far back as Doomsday, he didn't care if he lost his life, as long as he got to watch those who hurt him go down first. He declared so many times that he would die with his country. He was incessantly compared to c!Wilbur, both by other characters and by the narrative itself. He was fucking terrified of being betrayed again, but he always expected it, and moreover did nothing to prevent it. He told c!Foolish and c!Purpled outright that they would have every right to kill him for what he did to them. Didn't even consider making himself immortal with the revival book, instead focusing on making sure c!Dream would no longer have it. Didn't fight back when Slime killed him. Doubled down on his mistakes, and in hindsight rationalized everything as inevitable. Wrested back control the only way he knew how, following another's model. Las Nevadas was a broken institution, built by a man who had given up on fixing anything. His story was always about the self-perpetuating cycle of power and abuse.

This... isn't shocking, unfortunately. If anything, it was too obvious an ending.

I won't go too deep into the OOC implications, because they will make me sound... way more parasocial than I want to be. But I don't think it's controversial to say that the DSMP holds a lot of complicated, difficult, bittersweet memories for many of its former members. It does not surprise me at all that the ending cc!Q chose for his arc was an unhappy one. There are several possible conclusions I would have greatly preferred, but none could have realistically happened without Certain People returning. I wonder how aware the creator was of that, and how much those emotions bled into the writing.

And while I'm... still not certain how I feel about c!Quackity blowing himself up even after being given a second chance (I will always prefer "live and try to do better" à la Bojack Horseman for characters like this), I see the in-universe logic behind it, and everything up to that point was completely in character. Right down to his denial of having ever done the deed, boasting that his enemies deemed him important enough to kill, while ironically taking hollow pride in denying them the chance to take the revenge he so desperately sought for himself, showing no mercy to who he maybe subconsciously believed was his greatest obstacle to true glory... ughhh, c!Quackity makes me so fucking SAD you guys-

Ahem. Anyway. Could he have forgiven himself? Would he have ever accepted the forgiveness of others? Perhaps, perhaps not. In two other lives, those he unknowingly gave a second chance to, he did. q!Quackity went on living for the sake of someone he loved, knowing he, too, was loved. k!Quackity went on living until he found justice, knowing he did not deserve to be wronged. c!Quackity... what other legacy would he have left? Does he know what he truly wanted, before all that fear and hunger for control tainted his heart? Was he content to know someone would remember him with a shred of fondness? That he left a single positive impact? That his life did have a purpose?What if he knew that even some of those with the most reason to hate him still wanted him to be better?

I suppose one might imagine an open-ended resolution, exchanging that last shot of c!Q's last life vanishing with him riding Boner/Ossium away from the explosion and into the sunset to build a better legacy. What would that new legacy look like? I have no idea. I don't think he knows yet, either. But we can pick our favorite based on the day. Time travel is real, and canon is made up. We can do what we want forever now. Enjoy.

...

He's not a fucking gringo, though. c!Quackity is Mexican, importantly so, full fucking stop. Stop infecting him with more Trump particles than he already had. "Oh great, a foreigner" honestly FUCK you Alex. 0/10 for that

[headcanonenthusiast]

Kyle Garrick NSFW headcanons

This was so difficult to write for some reason and idk why 😭😭 I think I just had a lot of trouble writing for Gaz, because as much as I like him as a character, I'm not much of a Gaz girl. (Or, I wasn't before writing this. I think I changed my own mind with these headcanons 🤭)

(I completely understand that this type of content is not everyone's cup of tea, and that's ok! But, please scroll and ignore if this type of content isn't your thing as opposed to leaving any sort of negative comments.)

Enjoy!

Nsfw under the cut.

-His biggest mission during sex is to make you scream.

-If you haven't screamed his name so loudly that it gets you a volume warning on a smart watch, he isn't done.

-Will beg you to be even louder if he isn't satisfied with your volume.

-"C'mon, louder. Louder, baby, you can be louder than that."

-Lowkey doesn't mind fucking you near an open window. Def leans down to whisper in your ear to encourage you to be louder.

-"Don't go covering your mouth now, love. Let the neighbors hear how good I'm making you feel."

-3 inches soft, 5 inches hard.

-Calls you pretty girl/boy all the time.

-Especially if you're wearing something of his, whether it be a shirt or necklace or his dog tags.

-Honestly, whenever he sees you in his clothing, especially his dog tags, he goes crazy.

-"Look at you, pretty boy/girl. Keeping my shirt nice and warm for me."

-OBSESSED with taking you while you're on your stomach.

-He'll lean down to kiss your shoulders and back, fingers switching between your hip to your side.

-Isn't opposed to you being on top, as long as you're both enjoying yourselves.

-Like I said, he loves taking you from behind. As such, he sees any sort of marks or dots that you normally don't even see. And he'll run his fingers along any birthmarks/scars with his face buried in the crook of your neck.

-Feel like he'd like recording/taking pictures of it, too. (With consent ofc)

-And he definitely won't share those photos with anyone. They are only for his eyes and your own.

-"God, baby. I ruined you last night. Look at how messy your hair got."

-I feel like he sends the most gorgeous nudes.

-He basically poses for you like a model in front of the mirror. Mf knows he's hot.

-I feel like the main way he asks for sex is sending you a nude or spicy message. Normally doesn't ask for it outright, kinda let's it go over text or come into the night randomly.

-He sees eating you out/sucking you off as a great way to calm you down.

-If somethings got you upset, he'll get a small frown on his face and look more concerned. You don't have to tell him anything if you don't want to, though. Just let him gently eat your pussy/suck your dick and I can guarantee that you'll forget about whatever was upsetting you.

-If you feel more overstimulated or just have the tendency to cry from the sensations of sex, he's stopping and pulling out with a hand on your shoulder.

-"Oh shit, did I hurt you? I'm sorry, babe."

-And even if he didn't hurt you at all, it just felt super good, he never pressures you into continuing. If you want to keep going, he'll return to a similar pace but with more awareness of your facial expressions and noises.

-I feel like he'd want to try cockwarming you, but he's honestly so bad at keeping still. It's not his fault you feel too good to not move inside of.

-"Come on, baby. You feel so good, you're so fucking tight. It'd be sinful of me not to move."

-Please put your hands on his shoulders if you're on your back. Nothing will get him harder than you touching his shoulders.

-And if you cry out his name? His confidence shoots through the roof and he nearly cums right then and there.

-Prefers cumming on your stomach, back or thighs so he can take pictures afterwards.

-Aftercare includes him handing you some water before grabbing two game controllers, asking if you'd like to play a game before bed. And if you agree, y'all's moans won't be the only thing the neighbors complain about. Your laughter will probably be as loud as the moans, too.

-And maybe whoever loses the game has to bottom for the next round, idk 🤭

My hands hurt from typing so much 😭 but thanks to everyone who voted! It was challenging to write for Gaz, bc like I said, until an hour ago when I started writing this I wasn't super attracted to him, but I need to learn to write for characters I don't often think about more. Hope y'all enjoyed! Alejandro is up next 😏

[cozy-cinnamon-roll]

Stitches (Part II)

(Read Part I Here! used to be We Interrupt This Broadcast... changed the name because I feel like this fits better 😅)

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairing: Ler!Rosie, Ler!OC, Lee!Alastor (strictly platonic)

Content/Trigger Warnings: tickling, very brief blood mention, medical themes (non-graphic & painless). And again, this is set right after Alastor gets his ass handed to him by Adam, so you can expect some angst (don't worry, he gets better).

If there are any trigger warnings you'd like me to add in the future (and/or to this fic), PLEASE let me know! I am always happy to oblige. 💕

This is a ticklefic! If that's not your cup of tea, kindly move along.

"Almost ready" I said. "Basically finished" I said. Sorry y'all, the Chronic Illness Fairy struck. 😅 I will say this was my favorite part to write, but also the one I'm most uncertain about... bit more angst in this installment and I'm not much of an angst writer lol... but with Rosie in the mix (especially as a ler), angst never lasts long. 🥰

Also I changed the title. Hopefully it's not confusing that way... cuz without Part 1 this fic makes zero sense 😅

One last thing... I'm so happy y'all like Trudy! Was thinking about posting a lil sketch of her at some point (I need a new insomnia project now that this fic is done 😅). I've been having a truly awful few weeks on the anxiety front, so all the positive feedback on Part I has been quite literally making my days 💕

Hope you enjoy!!

--------------------------------------------------------------

"Ooh, you stubborn little bastard. You're still gonna refuse to laugh?" Rosie mutters.

Alastor doesn't dare try to speak. All he can manage is a defiant shake of his head.

"Look, my friend. If you 'don't mind a little tickling,' and getting all giggly is your specialty…" Rosie tweaks his bottom rib, eliciting a noise that comes just short of a squeak. "What, exactly, is the problem here?"

"I'm supposed to be in control!" he grinds out through his twitching grin.

"You are in control, sir." Trudy abruptly withdraws her hands, holding them up innocently. "You can tell me to stop at any time."

Alastor cringes. He was sorta hoping no one would point that out.

"Which is why I find it so fascinating that you haven't yet." A sly smirk creeps across Rosie's face.

Oh, for fuck's sake.

"I- I'm humoring you!"

"Humoring me?" Rosie tilts her head. "My dear, I hope you're not doing this just for my sake. If you don't want Trudy to check for further injury-"

"No, I do! O-on my terms!"

"This is on your terms."

"Yes, but-"

"In fact, you insisted."

He stumbles again, before mumbling another meager, "…to humor you!"

Trudy shoots her boss a disoriented look - but Rosie, as usual, is hearing her friend loud and clear.

"Alastor." Rosie rolls her eyes, gestures for Trudy to step aside, and scoots over to place a hand on his knee. "Adam is dead. Everyone in hell thinks you're either succumbing to your wounds in some remote gutter or hiding in whatever alternate dimension you just spent the last seven years. You're not even 'on air'." She leans in. "You can drop the act for a moment, if it's what you need."

That certainly hits the mark. For the first time, Alastor's smile falters - not completely dropping, but certainly losing much of the strained quality it's had since he arrived.

"I wish I could, my dear."

Encouraged, Rosie continues. "Well, what's stopping ya? As much as I love spending time with Alastor the Radio Demon… if you wanna take this opportunity to let out whoever's underneath that effervescent grin of yours, you know we wouldn't mind."

Alastor swallows - and for the first time in a decades, Rosie finds his expression difficult to read. "Rosie, I'm afraid I can't really..."

"I mean, you've been holding that same silly show-host-smile for years! Don't tell me you've never gotten tired of it!"

"It's sewn on, Rosie."

"…What?"

He hesitates. "Let's just say today wasn't the first time I've been, ah... stitched up." As he speaks, he gestures to his toothy grin. And for once, there's not a trace of distortion in his voice.

Rosie's dark eyes go wide when she realizes what he means. The cannibal overlord just stands there for a beat, in an uncharacteristic moment of shock.

But, being Rosie, she quickly recovers. "Well, so what?"

"I'm just saying, I'm afraid I can't really drop the act."

"Nonsense! Since when has your act had anything to do with your face?" Rosie flicks her hand, as if brushing the thought aside. "Who cares if you can't show genuine Alastor. I wanna hear him."

"But my microphone..."

"You're doing just fine without it."

Once again, this attempt at reassurance only makes Alastor look more disturbed. "Th-this can't be me!"

"...Well, no. This right here sure isn't the Alastor I know. But…"

Alastor is barely listening to her anymore. His broadcast persona has been his sole identity since he was alive. Now his radio tower has been reduced to rubble, his microphone snapped clean in half, even his carefully-styled clothing left in tatters…

If this is the Genuine Alastor he's now stuck with - panicked, stuttering, weak - he can't imagine how he'll ever be able to face the rest of hell…

But these racing thoughts are once again interrupted by nails tracing up his sides. A sharp yelp cuts the air as poor Alastor just about jumps out of his skin.

"…Perhaps I can offer a little help?" Rosie suggests gently, once she has his undivided (and adorably flustered) attention. "On your terms, of course?"

Alastor just gazes back at her for a long moment. "What do you have in mind?"

"I happen to know something about you that even you can't fake."

The radio demon hesitates… before heaving a sigh and, to Rosie's surprise, giving a small nod of consent.

She breaks into a brilliant (and frankly terrifying) smile.

Before Alastor can brace himself, Rosie's hands have both found his sides and begun working into his waist. Having just watched him squirm around under Trudy's thorough probing twice (and adored every second of it), she already has a pretty good idea of where his worst spots are.

Which is made abundantly clear by Alastor's reaction. Within seconds he's gone from still trying to hold it all in by habit, to giggling into his hands, to cackling hysterically.

And it's the kind of laughter she's spent the last seven years missing. This isn't the confident, taunting chuckle he brings out for battles or brushing off rivals; this is bright, helpless, occasionally hiccuping laughter, the kind that is nearly impossible for him to stop once he starts - and the kind she only has the privilege of hearing when something truly amuses him.

"You can't sew your laughter on," Rosie reminds him. "This is all yours."

Rosie's fingers creep up under his shirt to scribble on bare tummy, adding a couple new sweet spots to her mental catalogue. This technique brings out even more of her favorite little quirks: the way he bats playfully (and completely ineffectually) at her wrists; his repeated attempts to speak around his laughter that only result in frantic spurts of incomprehensible, giggle-laced gibberish.

As she traces her nails across his lower belly she also finds a tiiiny layer of unexpected pudge. Which probably shouldn't surprise her - he's been out of the battle scene for seven years, after all. All those deer carcasses have to go somewhere.

Regardless, she finds it terribly endearing for some reason... and the surge of affection translates into a corresponding surge in the intensity of Rosie's tickles.

"AHaha! Ro- Rosie!" he blurts, his voice jumping a full octave higher than normal. "Stop!!"

Rosie removes her hands immediately. "Stop?"

"Aha- ah- well- I mean, er…" He stumbles breathlessly, and gives a sheepish cough.

"You didn't really want me to stop, did you?"

Rosie resumes with a chuckle, reeling herself in just a little. "How 'bout we say... oh... 'enough,' if you really want me to quit?"

Of course, she has to go and say it out loud.

"M-more of a reflehex..." he admits reluctantly.

Alastor tosses a shaky thumbs-up at her, already too lost in his own giggles to manage a verbal reply.

And he's gotta admit… Rosie was absolutely right. He wouldn't stop her right now for all the souls in hell. There's a reason Alastor has the most recognizable evil cackle of any other overlord. He can't help but find dissolving into laughter as cathartic and exhilarating as always - even if this time, it's not at some poor soul's misfortune. It's a result of his best friend's affection for her darling deer demon.

"As fun as getting your soft little belly is," Rosie muses, pausing to let Alastor catch his breath for a moment, "I can't help but wonder if you're ticklish anywhere else…"

Alastor may be off the air, but Rosie can practically hear the screech of microphone feedback just by the look on his face. "….I plead the fifth."

"Have you considered his ears?" Trudy pipes up shyly. While she'd managed to restrain herself behind an impeccably professional bedside manner earlier, it had taken everything in her power not to stroke Alastor's ears when she'd been close enough to do so. They were just. so. fluffy.

"Ohhh, heavens…" Alastor, for his part, curls in on himself at the mere suggestion.

Rosie grins. "Hey, 'no' is always an option."

A long pause. Alastor can't believe he's considering this. But the sensation of being tickled, as unbearable as it is, does feel awfully pleasant… and it's been so long since anyone has dared to touch him…

And what else does he have to lose at this point, anyway?

"I suppose if you're… very gentle…"

"Are you aware that your ears are the softest thing in the nine circles?"

This stipulation ends up backfiring. When it comes to his ears, gentle is worse. So, so much worse.

Poor Alastor is too busy clutching his stomach and snickering madly into his sleeve to reply.

"I should know, I work in retail. These right here-" Rosie traces her fingers down the feathery-soft edges, sending the radio demon into a new round of hysterics. "-Would fetch a pretty penny."

"They're nohot for saHA-ale!!"

"Nooo, I should say not." Rosie's hapless victim lurches back into the cushions as her fingers find the fluffy region at the base of his ears. Even without the microphone, his cackles have no problem filling the room. "You're the only demon classy enough to wear them."

"And don' you - GAHaha! - f-forget it!" He's so drunk on laughter now that he's beginning to slur his words. His careful elocution has gone the same place as his steady tone, and lack of stutter.

Luckily, he's also far too drunk on laughter to care.

...Right about there, Rosie notices that the faint hum of radio static in the air is no longer just in her head.

He is laughing his heart out for the first time in weeks. Genuinely laughing for the first time in decades. And laughing completely for himself, for his own enjoyment, without need for intimidation or control or image or audience, for the first time since long before he died.

While Trudy typically can't say much for her self-preservation instinct, she's got enough of one to feel hesitant joining her boss in tickling the most powerful overlord in hell (outside the pretense of medical intervention, at least). So she just stands back, watching fondly as The Most Dangerous Overlord This Side of the Pentagram utterly destroys the deer demon.

...At least, until she notices a flicker of green light out of the corner of her eye. Lying forgotten on the end table, the splintered ends of Alastor's microphone are sparking and crackling like live wires.

The surgeon creeps over for a closer look, staring in fascination. And then - just as Rosie gets poor Alastor behind the ears and delivers a scribble to his tummy at the same time - she ever-so-gently nudges the fractured ends closer to one another.

To her surprise, a bright green spark arcs clear across the gap. For a fraction of a second, the whole staff radiates a flash of a familiar green glow.

--------------------------------------------------------------

"Keep him laughing, Rosie," Trudy murmurs over her shoulder. It appears the Radio Demon's downfall will be nothing more than an intermission.

Thanks for being so patient with me y'all! Hope it was worth the wait 💕

💜- Cozy

[wojcheks]

Stuck — Murdoc x F!Reader

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: NSFW, enemies to fucking, unhealthy relationships, undercover mission gone wrong, reader works for an unspecified organization, sexual tension, rough treatment, tied up, dub!con (?) (reader wants it but physically can't leave), choking, biting, fingering (f!receiving), PIV, unprotected sex, blood, possessiveness, murdoc is his own warning. 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.1k 𝐀/𝐍: first smut i've ever posted!! the david dastmalchian obsession finally got me y'all. while looking for fics of his characters i decided to write my own. i only watched two episodes with this man so i'm pretty sure he's incredibly ooc. hope it's enjoyable regardless! ❤

You were told you’d be working with a wild card during this mission.

They assured you it wouldn’t affect the overall difficulty of the job. In fact, your partner had excellent skills in all the areas useful for achieving your objective. Weapons expert, proficient in hand-to-hand combat, knowledgeable, and calculated in his actions. All good things in your line of work.

What you didn't know was that they assigned you Murdoc.

And that was information that one needed to know prior to running face first into the aforementioned man. Especially during a job that would undoubtedly involve violence. For fuck’s sake, you would tear your handler a new one after this was over and done with.

Your first instinct was to put a fist through the hitman’s face.

A fair assumption was that he was here to derail you or, at the very least, complicate things. It wouldn’t be the first time he showed up simply to cause mayhem and be a thorn in your side.

Snarling, you threw his body against the wall and the assassin’s head hit the concrete with a sickening thud. With a forearm over his throat, you pressed down, immobilizing him.

You could admit that you were being a little too aggressive than necessary about it.

His dark eyes sparked with an unsettling light, something so unthreatened and unalterable about him it made your hair raise. He wasn't intimidated, you could tell. He treated you more like a nuisance to wave away, not an equal.

You felt his throat move against your skin when he swallowed, and it made you wanna press down harder.

“Calm down, sweetheart. The night's just getting started,” Murdoc murmured while leering at you from behind a wall of long eyelashes. They were so pronounced you wondered if he was wearing mascara.

His eyes suddenly grew wider in a mockery of fear, tone climbing to a falsetto, "Oh, dear god, what did I ever do to deserve this treatment?"

His voice grated on your nerves on the best of days, and this was a pretty bad one. A scoff rose up in your throat, but you crushed it before it could escape. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

The clear irritation that lowered your tone into a harsh whisper, however, was unmistakable. A small twitch of his cheek indicated that the hitman found your reaction highly amusing. He made a move as if to raise his hands towards you, but you clamped down on his trachea harder, and he stopped. And as the meaning of your words sunk in, you could almost see the gears start turning behind that smug facade of his.

“Murdoc. Stop thinking of ways to make this more difficult for me, and tell me plainly. What’s going on?” 

A shade of disappointment marred his face before disappearing as quickly as it showed. “Come on, agent, you know me. Where would be the fun in that?”

“Don’t talk to me like we’re friends,” the reprimand barely left your mouth before Murdoc’s fingers wrapped around your elbow and painfully bent it at an angle, removing it from his windpipe with a sharp tug. 

Wide-eyed indignation contorted your face as your places suddenly reversed and Murdoc crushed you into the wall, not holding back either.

You weren’t some dainty, fragile damsel in need of rescue–there was hardened muscle hidden under your evening attire. And yet, Murdoc still overpowered you, both in terms of height and sheer strength.

Your nostrils flared in anger, and you threw your body weight against his grip to dislodge it. 

He made a disapproving sound and let his weight fall on the point of contact between the two of you, driving the sharp parts of his slender fingers into the softness of your neck. You tried to suck in a breath and rasped instead.

“Now, now, you’ll either continue to throw your little tantrum, which won't end well, or start being useful by helping me,” as his words caught up to him, a displeased crease appeared between his brows.

“Although, using the term ‘help’ would be a dire exaggeration. I could be finished here long before you pick yourself up off the floor.”

You knew he was aiming to hurt your ego and rile you up, throwing you off balance around him seemed to be the primary goal. If you lost control and started lashing out against his mockery, the man would undoubtedly win.

He usually attempted it when the two of you ran into each other; it was a path well trodden, with various results.

Admitting it never even crossed your mind, but you were aware, deep down, that he was damn good at it. The words he used were one thing, and as cutting and shrewd in his judgements as he was, sometimes all it took for you to lose it was the damned look on his face. Always so superior and above it all. Like he wasn’t even human.

It drove you nuts.

You geared up for another round of verbal sparring before parsing his meaning. You hissed out the next words; the pressure exerted on your throat proved to be a pretty good deterrent from speaking. “Y-you’re the partner, the informant, that I’m... I’m supposed to be working with?”

Something in your face must have betrayed the distaste stirred up by the idea because Murdoc chuckled and then finally let go of your neck to bow with a flourish. 

You coughed loudly, to get rid of the intrusive feeling of somebody being in control of your breathing. You massaged the bruised flesh where Murdoc’s gloves likely left indentation marks in their wake, then rolled your eyes at his theatrics.

“I don’t think letting your guard down around me is a good idea,” you said dryly when he finally straightened up from the exaggerated pose.

“Oh, sure it is,” another wide grin split his mouth, and you gritted your teeth in muted frustration. “And oh so thrilling, I assure you.”

You didn’t grace that with an answer.

Ten minutes and one barely civil conversation with your HQ later, you and Murdoc walked arm in arm into the towering building.

With only a few minutes to spare, you didn’t even find time to touch up your make-up. Or double check your gun. And as luck would have it, what you were infiltrating was a ball. With dancing included.

You'd groan out loud, but you knew your companion had a biting comment prepared if you so much as blinked wrong. Murdoc seemed thoroughly entertained by the whole debacle and made no effort to hide it, strutting along with all the subtlety of a battering ram.

It was supposed to be his strong suit, being a shadow or whatever, but driving you up the wall must haven taken priority.

In fact, there seemed to exist nothing that made him giddier than getting a reaction out of you, for whatever accursed reason.

“Now, wife,” his lip twitched at the word, “how about we get this party started?”

“How about you never call me that again?”

“And blow our cover? I would never do that to you.”

You glanced towards him. He caught you instantly, his dark piercing gaze dedicated to not letting you get away with anything.

Those dilated pupils peering from beneath half-open eyelids were anything but easy to withstand, but you held your ground. That is, until he gave you a slow once-over, complete with a too-long pause focusing on your cleavage.

“You are infuriating,” you snapped and whipped your head away in the other direction, barely managing not to raise your hand to cover the gap in your clothing.

The man only drew closer and raised his own arm towards you in an inviting (taunting, something inside you whispered) gesture.

“I have my charm. Shall we?”

—

“Would you let go of me, you animal?” While you tried to keep the hissing to a minimum, he wasn't making it easy.

And Murdoc’s hold on you didn’t release, obviously, the words entirely ignored. You expected nothing less.

The leather of his gloves was smooth and firm against your skin, colder than expected, artificial feeling. The sensation was unsettling, a barrier between you that you'd normally welcome with open arms, but something felt different tonight. Instead, you wished he’d take them off, bare skin on bare skin.

The visual had its… appeal.

Even if the man it centered on did not.

You stopped pulling away to not attract more attention from the surrounding people. A couple on your left already began to whisper while unsubtly pointing towards you. Making everyone think that they were witnessing a domestic dispute was a terrible way of staying unnoticed, even Murdoc had to know that. 

He didn’t seem to care about it at all. 

He pulled harder until you had no choice but to step closer towards him. Your palm fell on his chest, breath catching in your throat.

You never really noticed just how much he towered over you when in close quarters, and you wished you still hadn't. Sticking out your chin was a childish move, but having no control over your present movements brought that out in you. 

Where you stood wasn’t a ballroom exactly, but the lofty ceilings and ornate columns lining the walls gave a strong impression of one. Grandiose was one word for it. Over-the-top was another.

Massive mirrors adorned the sides, and you caught a glimpse of your silhouette, partially obscured by the imposing shape of the man gripping your side. You shivered and turned away, oblivious to Murdoc's curious gaze following.

You skimmed the crowd in an attempt to locate the person you were after. It wasn't just to distract from the heat that image caused. Obviously.

“Enjoying yourself?” The singsong lilt of Murdoc’s voice coming from above drew your attention. You reluctantly looked up, ready to chastise him for his pestering; there were things at stake here more important than his pathological need to feel superior.

With languid steps, he swirled you softly to the side, and then pressed you into his chest, his grasp the very opposite of gentle. His fingers were demanding, leaving no room for physical distance.

It felt like a display.

Like he was showing you off.

He had to bend over to reach properly, the tips of his fingers running over the gap in your dress, moving the red material to the side, exposing more skin. You grabbed onto a lapel of his coat, feeling shaken from it.

Some strange stupor fell over you. Staring up at the length of Murdoc’s neck, watching him breathe in and out, the rhythm was almost hypnotic.

You had to dispel it, needed to focus. There was a tremor in your voice, one you hoped he'd take for anger.

“Did you forget why we’re here? It isn’t some fun little outing concocted for your amusement–”

“–I’d beg to differ–”

“–but a mission of significant importance to the security of–”

“–I thought this was a date–”

“–individuals invaluable to not only my organization but society as a whole–”

Murdoc abruptly leaned forward, cutting you off. “Do you even listen to yourself anymore? You’re really starting to sound like a talking head for your little agency, sweetheart, and that’s not very attractive.”

Biting down on a “go fuck yourself”, you turned, lips touching his cheek as you answered. “I don’t recall ever asking for your opinion, Murdoc. I think it’s better if you refrain from sharing it in the future.”

He caught your eyes with an empty smile, a shark showing his teeth. “Zero promises.”

—

You didn’t end up dancing for long before everything went to shit. 

Splitting off from your partner for the night gave you some room to breathe. It also provided a unique opportunity for an assailant to knock you out cold in a deserted hallway.

Later you’d curse yourself for making such a rookie mistake—never split up without letting the other person know—but at the time you weren’t thinking clearly, a little preoccupied with things. You weren’t prepared for it, was the point, and you paid for that mistake dearly.

A sharp acute pain in the back of your skull jolted you awake. There was a building pressure behind your eyes and a pounding headache that turned your stomach.

You felt sick, and that wasn’t a good sign.

One failed attempt to open your eyes later, you realized what must have happened. Your previously done up hair was tangled with a makeshift blindfold, the cloth covering your line of sight. A twin piece wedged into your mouth stopped you from screaming for help.

Trying to push it out with your tongue brought only frustration, alongside a coughing fit.

Too much time couldn’t have passed, right?

You truly loathed the idea, but still dearly hoped that Murdoc was on his way to get you.

If someone told you a few hours ago that you’d ever count on Murdoc for back-up however, you would have laughed at them.

But life has a funny way of fucking with people, and this must've been karma for all the times you talked back to your boss. That's what he'd say, at least.

And with your shitty luck, the hitman was already gone, sporting a martini in some luxurious hotel suite, ogling strippers, or whatever men like him did to relax. Shooting innocents for fun was more likely.

That measly hope was dashed when a small groan reached your ears. A familiar chuckle followed, close nearby.

There was a hand wrapping around your wrist and you scrambled backwards, heart-rate skyrocketing. Trying to get away from the touch proved unsuccessful–your hands were connected to a chain, which was connected to a wall, keeping you firmly in place. 

Deep breaths.

Looking for information was your first priority in a crisis, so you moved a hand over the ground, searching for anything to use. It was smooth but with loose gravel in places, like the coating of an underground parking lot, or more likely, a basement. 

Attempting to calm down the thundering beating of your heart, you leaned back against the firmness, letting long fingers caress the inside of your wrist.

“M–uh–rdoc?” Your attempt at words was muffled and barely audible, but distinct enough.

“The one and only,” the assassin's response came back loud and clear–no obstruction in its way, a luxury you weren't afforded.

For a split second, you entertained the idea that he knocked you out cold and dragged your unconscious body down here to do god knows what. It didn't seem beyond him.

Fingers clamped down on your pulse point, forcefully grabbing your attention. "You're tied up, agent, and I can help you with that, but you'll have to push that ego aside for a moment."

A protest rose in your throat.

“Be a good girl and do as I say, got it?”

With a swallow, you stopped. The near silence of the room made it impossible to tell if the assassin noticed your reaction or not.

You weren't sure how close he was. How much attention he was paying. Dealing with this strange thing that's been chasing you all night was the last thing you wanted to do.

Murdoc's voice was calm and in control, a tone that inspired confidence and trust—emotions you were, as a rule, reluctant to feel towards him. But you had no choice. This was the fastest way to get out of your restraints, so, keeping your worries in check, you nodded assent.

Seemingly able to both move around and see, he hummed his acknowledgement.

“Good girl.”

“Now, scoot over to the right, yeah, just like that, use your legs. Keep going until you hit my side, you're almost there,” he directed, clearly aiming for something.

A stream of soft murmurs of apology filled the air at the pained noises you made when dragging your ankle. Someone clearly bent it at a shitty angle when they were attaching the chain, and you weren't sure if it was twisted or fractured. It fucking hurt though.

The pain must've made you delirious, because Murdoc was not the sort of man to know what an apology even was.

“Now put your leg up, the right one, try to sit up and then turn your body around. God, sweetie, it's been a while since I've seen good old-fashioned chains… not even handcuffs, they have us in chains,” Murdoc's voice ended in a high-pitched giggle, disbelief mixing with mirth at the absurdity of it.

You successfully followed directions and suddenly found yourself sitting on his propped up leg, balancing on it; your dress riding up on either side of your hips from the clumsy movements. Goosebumps rose in the cold air's wake.

Your face heated at the image you must have made, all wobbly and sweaty, desperate for guidance, barely covered up by the torn dress. Everything on display for Murdoc.

It became hard to breathe.

“That's right, just scoot closer, so I can reach you,” the tone of his voice was lower now, not quite a whisper, but close enough to make you shiver.

Keeping balance with arms bent behind you and wrists tied together was not easy. More soft pained noises, more maneuvering into position and you slid down, your ass landing directly on the hitman's lap.

Was that a gun in his pocket–?

“That's perfect, baby, just a little bit closer, so I can get rid of that pesky gag,” he grunted, sounding momentarily caught off-guard. “You do look good in it, though, I have to admit.”

Incapable of hitting him square in the jaw, you resigned yourself to leaning forward instead.

Curious fingers ran through your tangled hair, fingernails catching against your skin in exploratory touches, until finally making their way lower, towards the gag. Moments of fiddling later, the gag was gone and you could speak.

So you did. “What the fuck, Murdoc, are your hands free?”

“Shhh, agent, what if they hear us?” The way his voice caught on a snigger, bereft of any actual worry, threw a gallon of gasoline under the low level rage that's been burning in your chest the whole evening.

“Are you fucking kidding me, you fucker?"

It hurt, just how much he didn't care.

“We could die here, in this stupid basement, surrounded by nothing but trash and bound in some medieval ass chains, because you’d rather play around than do something useful for once!” Your voice grew louder and louder, and being unable to see his no doubt self-satisfied expression made it significantly worse.

“I’m asking you to help me, just once, just this one single time, you asshole. To put my well-being over your own, think of someone else but yourself! And take this stupid blindfold off me–Please–” You were on the verge of begging now, voice breaking on a plea.

A long stretch of nothing followed, disturbed only by your heavy breathing. Then, a light trace of fingertips over your cheekbone. “I didn’t know you trusted me so much, agent.”

“What–?” 

Wet lips crashed into yours and Murdoc grabbed a fistful of your hair, pressing you against him. His smell filled your senses, something sharp and spicy, with an undercurrent of leather. The sound that left you was embarassing.

His palm was so big it encircled the back of your head effortlessly, fingers unkind in their urgency. He jostled your wound and you struggled within his grasp, trying to pull away with a distressed whine. Unable to see, unable to move, your body overcompensated for the lack of senses, making it feel like he was pressing into an exposed nerve. "Mu–urdoc–”

The groan made him pull away, sticky red smeared all over his hand now. He looked at it and chuckled. "Ah, they got you good, sweetheart. Let me make it worse.”

He didn't sound apologetic at all, and stuck his mouth to the underside of your jaw, sucking on the sensitive flesh. Tongue lapping up the saltiness of your skin, he let out a satisfied groan, hand wrapping around your neck to keep you from moving.

You let out another stifled whimper, part of you wanting to pull away from his possessive grip. The other part knew it would leave a mark and craved it more than anything.

Head falling back, your chest rose with laboured breaths, small sounds of exhilaration falling from your mouth. “Fucking hell–Ah–”

His other palm grabbed your breast, kneading it forcefully, wringing more gasps out of you. You felt his lips turn up in gratification against your tender flesh.

“Does that feel good?” His usually airy tone was raspy now, the gruff whisper making you shudder against his torso. “Tell me.”

You couldn't stop it; your hips ground down onto his own, dragging against the growing hardness beneath you. The emptiness inside you was infuriating, and you couldn't even reach down to relieve the pressure. You needed him now.

A loud cry left you when Murdoc bit down punishingly on your throat and gripped your chin between his fingers. He pressed his lips against yours before speaking, as if he couldn't stop himself.

“Fucking tell me, agent. Tell me what I should do with you. So powerless, all tied up, mine to control. I could do anything, so what will it be?”

“Murdoc, please–”

“Please what?” Cold air hit your skin as he pulled the dress up and slapped the back of your thigh, then snapped his fingers twice. “Focus, agent, right here, focus on me.”

This was all wrong; the way his gloved hand rubbed the stinging spot afterwards, his demanding tone, just how wet you could feel yourself becoming the more he touched you. The more he made you his.

“Touch me, please,” the words came out as a whisper, and were met with another chuckle.

“No no no no, sweet girl, that's not good enough. You gotta work for it.”

You couldn't escape, so you lowered your head into his shoulder, hoping to somehow disappear.

“Don't hide.” He yanked the blindfold off and threw it to the side, moving your head up so he could catch your gaze.

Despite everything happening between you, the mercenary looked near unbothered. His hand on your face felt steady, his breathing only slightly elevated, an expression on his face that you could only call triumphant.

It made you burn.

Your lipstick was smeared over his mouth, the red streaks physical proof of the way he crushed your lips together. You wanted to sink your teeth into his flesh and tear, a visceral representation of what he made you feel.

If your hands weren't bound, you'd be shoving them against his chest and running your fingernails down, marking him as yours too.

As it was, you only had your words left.

"Just fuck me, Murdoc, or do you need written instructions?"

The smug smile he sent your way was answer enough.

He grabbed the dark red material of your dress and tore the bottom part in half, a sharp exhale leaving your chest at the action. Then he stroked your ass, roughly stretched it and parted your legs, toying with the muscle.

You felt beyond exposed, a butterfly pinned to a board. Hair in disarray, flimsy panties not enough cover against forceful fingers and the hitman’s searing gaze. Naked planes of skin kept growing more and more red from the pleasure he wrung out of you. His hand reached between your thighs, and you closed your eyes.

He openly stared, drinking you in. Sharp canines peeked from behind his lips, mouth half open in captivation, and the black strands of hair fell over his eyes.

"What a sight you are," Murdoc murmured and palmed you over the thin material, fingers gathering moisture that soaked through it already.

You bit down on your lip and moved against his broad fingers, your muscles straining from keeping upright for so long.

He kept looking at your face and cataloging every little expression that passed over it, his eyes ablaze with a frenzy, an expression that in any other situation would make you shudder in fear.

Hell, it still did.

Impatiently, he pulled the material to the side and easily sank two fingers inside you, moving them in and out with a beckoning movement, rubbing against your clit until you let out a sob.

His wrist grew still for a moment, watching you grow frustrated in his lap, twisted satisfaction burning in his gaze. Then he added another finger, plunging all three as deep as they would go.

“Fuck, Murdoc, you shit–!”

He giggled and shushed you, "Stay still."

"Fucking bastard–"

"You telling me you don’t like this? You're not a whore who gets off on getting finger-fucked by her enemy?"

You wailed as he hit a spot inside you. “Shut the f-fuck–up–” 

“Aw, but you don’t want me to, do you?” He shot forward, pressing his face to yours, hot breath hitting your lips as he continued, “I’m gonna make you cum on my fingers, agent, and then I’m gonna force them down your throat. Would you like that?”

Keening growing louder at the words, you moved your hips faster, panting against him, already nodding your head before realizing.

“I thought so,” the thrusting of his fingers grew quicker and you writhed in his lap, unbothered by what you looked like, only chasing your release with a single-minded determination.

Every once in a while your ass moved over Murdoc’s still clothed cock and he let out a pained-sounding hiss, his grip on your throat growing tighter.

You’d feel victorious if you weren’t so out of it.

Murdoc wrenched his fingers out of you and licked the moisture off, closing his eyes in pleasure. "God, you taste so good. How am I ever supposed to let you go?"

The sudden emptiness made you panic, and you caught his mouth in a kiss, urging him to continue. You could taste the slight saltiness from his fingers, your own flavour.

He pulled away from you with a laugh, then hissed again when you licked the side of his throat.

“Patience, agent, patience.” The grip on your neck disappeared and you heard his zipper open, a relieved exhale following.

The flicking of his wrist kept going for a few more seconds before he pulled out and ripped the flimsy fabric of your underwear off entirely. With an arm around your waist, he steadied you, before pressing the head of his cock forward.

At first, there was a dull sensation of resistance, Murdoc being bigger than you expected. But before you could protest, your cunt gave way, and he slipped in, the fullness and drag on your insides making you tighten around him.

The man rocked into you, his arm pressing your bodies so close together you could feel every laboured breath he took. You wanted to rip off the coat he was wearing, taste the naked skin over his ribs on your tongue.

You barely even noticed the changing gravity as you got pushed into the ground, your back painfully dragging against the rubble.

“I wanna spread your legs and eat you out until all you can think of is getting filled up to the brim,” Murdoc sounded almost delirious now, his hips speeding up, “wanna bury myself in you and keep going until you’re screaming–”

You encircled his waist with your legs, the pain of moving your ankle getting lost in the white noise that filled your head. You wanted him closer, you needed him closer.

Every time he pushed back in you squeezed him harder, wanting the stretch, urging him to thrust faster, squirming when he hit that spot inside you. It was almost too much, waves of pleasure twisting your insides, breathing near impossible.

"You'll feel me for days, agent, won't be able to look in the mirror without remembering my cock deep inside you," he groaned loudly, pulling you up into his lap without stopping the movement of his hips.

He bit down on your collarbone, leaving a red imprint of his teeth behind.

"Wanna mark you, scar you, make it so no one will ever touch you again–"

Your fingernails bit into the palm of your hand, his rasping voice pushing you over the edge. Knowing that you made him sound that way, that you brought out something desperate and reckless, a frenzied stream of litanies, from a man like Murdoc.

That was what did it.

Your legs tensed and clamped over his thighs, and you let out a string of curses. “FuckfuCKFUCK! Please–M-Murdoc, I–!” 

He covered your mouth with his own and swallowed the shrill sounds, kisses turning brutal as you trembled in his arms. First his tongue ran over your teeth, then he bit down on your lower lip until the skin broke, a small stream of red immediately smudging between your lips. The sting sent a pulse down to your cunt, sucking Murdoc's cock in deeper.

He kept thrusting even as you stiffened, insides clenching around him like a vice, and with a short bark of your name he spilled himself on your inner walls.

Your exhausted body was pressed against his chest and you were empty for a moment. No worries, no thoughts. The aftershocks wiped your head clean of everything.

Your torn dress fell off your shoulders, but you didn't notice.

When you came to, your wrists were free, and the two of you were laying side by side on the floor.

Murdoc was staring at you like the cat that swallowed the canary; strands of hair were sticking out of place and a thin sheen of sweat covered his face, making his skin look glossy. It made him look so young, but you knew better.

His fingers kept running over the red imprint on your chest, eyes occasionally glancing at your scratched up wrists. He seemed... content. Some of that ever-present frantic energy looked to be gone.

You exhaled softly, the man's lips grabbing your attention. There was a redness there, lipstick or blood, and you weren’t sure which option was more appealing. Either way, you couldn’t take your eyes off it.

With an unsteady hand, you ran a finger through it, captivated by the sight, and the feeling of warm, malleable flesh.

Murdoc almost seemed human like this.

In a deliberately slow move, he ran his tongue over the tip of your finger and licked the ruddiness off. Grinned again.

God, you wanted to punch that smug look off his face, and you wanted to kiss him until he couldn't breathe.

What a fucking day.