#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

[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.

[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.

[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

[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.

[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.

[ebonysplendor]

Perfect Love Review 💖

TL;DR: Yeah, Milo is toxic and all, but growing up is realizing that, maybe I'M the problem. Maturing is realizing that it's not even a damn maybe; we're deadass the problem this time.

Game Link: https://c4game.itch.io/perfectlove

Notable Features: Sadistic MC, Gender options, LI turned Yandere, (8) Endings Tracker, Self-Insert Spiciness: 0/5 -- As far as I know, there's no spicy scenes, but I was so shook after my first playthrough, I just ran to make a review. That said though, this game is by no means wholesome LI MC Red Flags: 7/5 -- Sadistic, vindictive, manipulative, drugged someone, accessory to crimes, conspiracy to crimes, gaslighter, blackmailed someone, emotionally/mentally abusive, just..a lot of shit (and you thought Castiel was toxic)

Wanna know more? Well, let's get into it!

Fair warning, there may be way more grammar errors than normal because when I tell you that I played the first ending and ran to make a review, I mean that quite literally. That being exposed, just bear with me because this had very little proof reading because I was way too excited to tell you all about this game (without spoiling too much, of course) lol

What's up! Welcome back to another review!

Two things to start this off:

1. I know I already posted another review today, but I couldn't not write a review about this game and tell as many people that would listen to play it as soon as they could! 2. No, my friends, that was not a typo. It's not the LI we need to be concerned about; it's the MC. Yes, we're the problem this time around, and holy shit, please allow me to tell you about it! Or at least some of it, because I don't want to spoil too much.

As angry as this game made me, and as open and as wide as my mouth was during pretty much the entirety of this game, this has been the best damn visual novel I have come across to date! Yes, you read that correctly, and I will double down on it without hesitation; this is the best visual novel that I have ran across! Bitch, I would've paid money for this visual novel it was so good, and y'all know that I'm a cheap bitch! This was a $12.00 game (no, I still ain't over that! lol)! I would've gladly dropped that amount of money on this!

And I really hope I'm not exaggerating or overhyping it either, because I don't know which visual novels you guys have or haven't played, so let me clarify: For me, this is 1000/10 the best visual novel that I have read up to date. The pacing, the art style, the story its damn self, the fact that we're the problem this time around! Like, ugh, I could go on and on and on and on and on some more about this masterpiece of a game. I'm dead serious. I really believe that I could do an improvised one hour powerpoint presentation with absolutely zero prep time on how much of a chokehold this game has me in and STILL need an extra 30 minutes to an hour to really get my damned point across. It is that real for me. It is that serious.

All right, all right, all right, I'm gonna stop myself here because if I keep gushing, the intro is going to get way too long. That being said, it is officially time for me to write the synopsis. More than ever, I really mean this when I say, I'm going to tell you as much as possible without spoiling the game itself, and gods damn it, is it going to be difficult because, holy shit, the stuff that goes down?! I really want to tell you about it but fuck, if I do, then you might not play it yourself, and I can tell you right now, you have got to play this for yourself, and I highly recommend this game! Y'all are seriously missing out if you don't!

Okay, okay, I'm shutting up, because the intro's for real, for real getting too long and really redundant. Like, we get it, you love the game, start summarizing the damn thing! No worries, I hear y'all, and that's exactly what I'm about to do. Just a heads up, you're gonna need to buckle up for this one. Like, no, deadass. Buckle the hell up. I don't know what the hell kind of ride I'm about to take you guys on, but it's a damned wild one.

All right. Enough intro, enough talking. Let's finally get into it.

So, boom, and gods damn it, I mean, BOOM.

The game starts off with a little introducty-duction about how fucked up we are as a person. I'm not kidding about that. Basically, you know how we play these "dark romance" visual novels because the idea of someone being so unhealthily obsessed with you to the point of literally driving them bat shit crazy is something that just excites us for whatever reason? Yeah, we're like that in this game, except, we're literally delusional. Not the "quirky", cringey "aha, I'm so crazy~!", not delulu, like full on, needs to be admitted into the psychiatric floor of the hospital, delusional.

Anyways, we aspire to experience and permanently have that specific type of psycho crazy love, and damn it, we're going to have it, even if we have to go past just manifesting it and instead creating it ourselves, and I mean that quite literally. Let me explain.

See, at this point, there have been many failed attempts at getting this form of toxic love that we're after. At first, (or at least it's implied that) we tried to find it naturally, but it wasn't working out because, quite simply, it was never enough. I mean, sure, they cared about us, and sure, they would fight for us. Hell, they would easily do things for us if we asked, but they would always fall short because they wouldn't be willing to do anything and everything for us, let alone without us just being straight up about it and asking them to do so, and that, my friends, did not and will not fly.

Because we were tired of the constant failures and the constant disappointment, we decided to get on our boss shit and solve our problem instead of complaining about it. How do we solve it? By simply creating the love that we're after, and the first -- and most critical -- part of creating that love, is to find the right type of person. Someone who was a loner and an outcast. Someone that people ignored without so much as a second glance. Someone who allowed people to walk all over them and treat them any kind of way because they had no sense of self-worth. Someone desperate for affection, touch-starved even. Someone like...that new kid who recently transferred.

Milo Change. The perfect sap.

So, for totally non-selfish reasons, we play hero, and we step in to save the day. The bully -- his name's Ryan, by the by -- pretty much hightails it out of there once we intervene, and we're left with our suitor, and a suitor he'd better damn be because we didn't save his ass for nothing.

Milo gets off the ground, and he stumbles into us because he had gotten beat down pretty bad. True to expected nature, he apologizes, and starts rambling on about his friends for a little. He basically explains that, even though he knows that the people that he hangs around are really shitty, being new and not being used to the area makes him anxious to the point where he prefers their company over having no one and being alone. How coincidentally in perfect character he is...this is the one. Time to turn on the rizz.

When he asked why we jumped to his defense, we hit him with the ultimate "I was worried about you". This man's heart immediately gets to fluttering, and he's just making this too easy. It gets to a point where we make this "arrangement", so to speak. In exchange for giving him pointers on how to start standing up for himself, he has to date us. Of course, he jumps on this offer, because aside from him being the very type of spineless dweeb guy we're looking for, we knew that he had a serious crush on us. We know this because we had noticed that in passing and in the classes that we had together that he was always sneaking glances at us, so why not exploit that shoot our shot?

Anyways, we flawlessly sink the shot, and we get our date established. When we meet up, we decide to go to the batting cages, but it throws Milo off because they aren't the kind of batting cages that he was thinking of. Actually, quite frankly, it isn't really a batting cage but instead this really creepy room that has bats and is filled with mannequins.

Naturally, Milo starts asking questions, because now he's pretty uncomfortable with this whole thing, and it only gets worse when he sees us haul off and take a pretty ruthless swing at one of the dummies with a bat. At this point, Milo is holding one of the bats in his hands, and he's like "Nah, nah, I'm not into violence. Like, this is wild", but we reassure him that this isn't so much a reflection of character but a perfectly healthy way to get his anger out. He's still a little hesitant so we start planting thoughts giving him things to consider, and we're just like:

"Dude, are you not angry about the way that your so called 'friends' treated you? Did you actually like that they would use and abuse you when all you did was try to be nice? You did nothing wrong, and yet, they found it amusing to see you in pain. Do you really think you deserved to be treated like that...?" In short, we're just like "Getting your ass beat for the sake of friendship? Couldn't be me".

Milo stops for a second and really considered our words. After he really thought about it, he realized that he was and still is pissed about everything, and he goes in.

Like, really goes in to the point that the bat shattered and his hands started bleeding.

This scares the crap out of him because he didn't realize how much anger he had been holding in, but we find his performance desirable, not to mention severely attractive. Insert the Kronk meme because, my bois, it's all coming together.

We see the potential in Milo, and we're more than happy to help him reach that potential that we know he's capable of achieving. That being said, while he's trying to process what's going on, we just reassured him that we weren't scared of him and that it probably felt really good to finally get all that anger out. The tragic part is that Milo innocently agreed that it did.

We smile about the fact that he unknowingly took the bait, and we keep reeling him in. We tell Milo that we're really happy that he was able to get that anger out, because we understood that the world could be and is super cruel. While we're on the topic of the world being a really messed up place, we just idly bring up the concern of something happening to us and whether Milo'd protect us or not. Milo is once again thrown off because, yeah, the world is cruel, but why would we even picture a scenario like that? So, we explain that it's not necessarily that we wanted to think about it, but that because there's so much violence going on in the world, it was natural to think about.

That being said, we double down and tell him that he may have to protect us one day and fight back. We already know how Milo feels about violence, so we tell him to think of it more as self-defense and not so much as an excuse to be violent towards others for the sake of being violent. It was protection, really, for both himself and the people that he loves and "Milo...you'll protect me...right?"

And, once again, very innocently, he promises us that he will.

With that declaration, he became stronger. He upgraded from mannequins to glasses, plates, and whatever else in ramshackled houses to cars in abandoned lots. He even did classes that taught him how to fight, whether for self-defense, to protect others, or to simply hurt someone. He had become a bit more brash, and the "friends" that he had before started to back off because he was so different, but that was okay; that was what was best for him, and even more importantly, that was what we wanted.

Milo clung onto us. He knew that he was the only one that we could trust because our sweet Milo deserved the world, but the world didn't deserve him. He knew this because we told him exactly that, and why would we ever lie to him? We wouldn't, and because of that, Milo believes that we're the only one that he can trust -- as it should be.

Milo was slowly, but surely, starting to learn, but despite this improvement and despite this change...

...It still wasn't enough. Just the same as before.

Nah, nah, nah, I'm not telling you anymore, because it was hard enough withholding some of the details here. Know this though: this isn't even the halfway point let alone the thick of it, and this is one route out of eight that I just described to you. Yes, it gets damned wild, way beyond this.

FRICKIN FINALLY. I was about to explode trying to get to this part!

Guys, if it was not obvious, you guys have got to play this game! Like, I usually be like "Oh, if you want, and you have the time and feel like it, play this game" but nah, nah, nah, nah, NAH. This is not optional. You will seriously be missing out if you do not play this visual novel. Now admittedly, I got pissed at the MC because, shit, like, there's an option for self-insert, but I was so far detached from this character because this bitch is -- and Markiplier said it best -- fucking psycho crazy bonkers! Like, I saw certain stuff coming, but it's like, when it happened, it would be 10x worse than I thought it'd be.

Like, you honestly have no idea. The lil' synopsis I gave you at the top isn't even really a synopsis; more accurately, it's a teaser, because what I told you didn't even scratch the surface of what is going on. Guys, gals, gays, theys, all of y'all...please...I beg...play this damn game. Like holy shit, I cannot push this game enough. Like, yeah, sure, just to provide criticism or whatever, certain things or scenes are worded really "Ooh, I'm edgy and fucked up", and (unless I just read it weird) I think there were a few coding errors for nicknames and some super minor grammar errors, but like honestly, it doesn't even matter. I honestly couldn't give a damn because shit, the game is damned good! Like, there honestly isn't anything significant to complain about or critique. The dev? C4Games? They are out here, and they are setting the bar damned high.

Like, oh my gods, the fucking concept had me tripping out! Like, the whole "sadistic MC" or "The MC is crazy, too" trope isn't unheard of but, as far as I know, the execution itself is original, and I'm super geeked about it! A sadistic and twisted MC who is literally corrupting and molding an innocent guy to be the yandere that she craves. Like...what the hell? Ahhh!! I love it! Like, I literally cannot hold in the amount of gushing that I'm doing, and you can tell when I'm gushing because every other sentence will be "like, like, and like, like, like, and oh my gods, holy shit, like, like, like". Like lmao, I am gushing. I am ruined.

At this point, I feel that no other game will top this game. If I was making a tier list of the visual novels I have been reviewing, this is by far, no debate, an S Tier, God Tier, "whatever your highest tier would be" game. This visual novel is good, and I cannot wait to play the other seven routes, and guess what? The best part of all of this is that it's released! This is the entire game, and you can bet your ass that I'm going to be playing every route MUTLIPLE times!

Okay, I feel like the review and this overall post is long enough, and I want to stop myself from rambling and gushing anymore than I already have. That being said, that is officially all from me, and everyone's homework-- actually, nah. Everyone's project -- and it's going to be worth 100% of your grade -- is to play this damned game. EXPIDITIOUSLY. This is a requirement. This is an order.

Side note, I'm back on my sims kick, and I'm half tempted to make a family of the Milos I unlock because apparently -- pay attention! This is about to be a "pro, not really pro, but super helpful" tip! -- Milo's appearance and personality changes based on how you choose to mold him. Interesting, right? So, considering that there's 8 endings, I'm thinking there's 8 Milos, so...that's a full household in the Sims. Lol I might do it. I think I am.

Lol all right, enough rambling, I'm outta here for realsies! I hope everyone enjoys whatever time zone they're in, and, in case it wasn't clear or you missed it, play this damned game!

Anywho! Huge reminder! Drink water, don’t be dumb, play this game, and hope to see you around~!

Perfect Love

[whatevertheweather]

Thank you @thewholelemon @moodandmist @run-for-chamo-miles and @youarenevertooold for the tags! I'm in love with everything y'all posted, what the hell.

In other news, it seems like my recipe for success is to have a Bad Saturday, unexpectedly write an unprecedented amount on Sunday, manage nothing throughout the week, then rinse and repeat. However, yesterday was a kind of okay Saturday, and I've still written a lot today, so maybe the point is really just Sunday.

In any case, what I've written today is from the same unexpected fic I mentioned in my last WIP post. But also like that post, that's not what I'm going to share, because it's not on my hit list for this year. Instead, I'm joining in with the CORB cheer by posting about, y'know, the one I started last year, good old Bait and Switch, because that's what I was getting all my words out for last weekend. Like, the next chapter is about 2 scenes away from done, when there had only been about 3 scenes in it when I started. So that's good?

Under the cut because this is already getting kinda long and I'm not stopping at six sentences.

I don’t know the answer to that. “Because I’m better than you. Now c’mon, get your head in the game. We have a plan.” “Do we?” “Here’s the plan. You give me a good zinger to make Simon go off—” “No.” “What?” “You think I can set him off with a zinger?” he audibly sneers. “This isn’t a one-liner trick. We build up to it.” “Fine,” I roll my eyes. “You long-con him, he goes off, I get my energy back. Easy-peasy.”  Baz is silent. Maybe being a dick and maybe asleep. I can never tell. Finally, he says, “And then you’ll let me out.” “Yeah,” I say. “Totally.”

The slightly difficult thing is that there's also rather a bit of angst being threaded through a fic that is at its core quite lighthearted, but I've received some comments in my time that suggest I may be good at writing things that make you laugh and then also hurt you in rapid succession, so hopefully I can pull it off without it feeling like we're switching genres.

Here's another that's a very little bit of both.

“I would not fucking say that!” Baz yelps. “Calm down,” I swat at him, but the tips of my fingers just slide through the edge of the coffin. I scowl at them. “I saw it in a film. It’s fine. It’s a totally normal thing to say.” “It’s not! It’s really, really not!” By the time he’s run out of steam screeching at me about it, I’m thinking there’s no way this ends up worth it. I don’t feel bad for doing it, but seriously, no one has ever yelled at me for this long. His voice is wearing down. Getting scratchier, which just makes him sound more violent, but then quieter. He ends by mumbling, “I hate you.” It hits weird. I mean, I don’t know. It just sounded sad. And it’s not true.  He doesn’t hate me. We’re helping each other.

Now, tags!

@you-remind-me-of-the-babe @fatalfangirl @cutestkilla @artsyunderstudy @whogaveyoupermission

@mooncello @monbons @aristocratic-otter @bookish-bogwitch @facewithoutheart

@alexalexinii @rimeswithpurple @ivelovedhimthroughworse @martsonmars @ileadacharmedlife

@confused-bi-queer @iamamythologicalcreature @noblecorgi @forabeatofadrum @emeryhall

@hushed-chorus @onepintobean @raenestee

[bookshelfmonkey]

Thanks for the tag @storkmuffin :)

Are you named after anyone? Not my first name, which I just chose because I liked it, but one of my middle names is Bowie (as in David Bowie).

When was the last time you cried? A couple of weeks ago, when I was feeling completely overwhelmed by the state of trans rights globally and especially in the UK (where I live) and the ongoing tragedies happening as a result. (Sidenote: it's weird to me how little I've cried since starting T, I used to cry multiple times a week and now it's every few months)

Do you have kids? No.

What sports do you play/have you played? I swam for about 6-8 years as a kid but always kinda hated it, and eventually quit when the dysphoria became too much. I did football and badminton on and off too, but was never really good at anything (asthma & possible dyspraxia & hypermobility etc.). Now I'm trying to run and work out mostly just to stay healthy. I'd like to get back into swimming but can't really afford to go to a pool regularly and I'm scared to go by myself. I also go to a lgbtq+ football club weekly when I'm in my hometown (my friend started an under-18s one which I used to do too and it was pretty much my only positive experience of sports).

Do you use sarcasm? Rarely, and only with close friends where we mutually joke like that with each other.

What's the first thing you notice about people? I actually don't know. I think most of the time I'm too caught up in the anxiety of meeting someone new that I'm more focussed on myself.

What's your eye colour? Bluey grey.

Scary movies or happy endings? Happy endings. I'll watch some scary movies but sometimes they just make me too anxious to enjoy them.

Any talents? I can read pretty quickly with good comprehension (I like to take my time when reading for fun, but as an english lit student who always has a fuck ton of essays and shit to read, it's handy), I can bake really good gingerbread, and I'm weirdly good at immitating people's walks (the same way some people can do voice impressions).

Where were you born? A small city in south west england (not saying more than that for safety/privacy).

What are your hobbies? I read (a lot); I write fiction, poetry, book reviews & TV show reviews (see pinned post on where to find some of these); I embroider and sew; I enjoy baking and cooking but don't do it much atm because I don't like my flatmates so I spend as little time as possible in our kitchen where I might see them; I like going for walks but it can be difficult to get out into nature without a car (ironically) and sometimes I just solve number puzzles/do maths for fun.

Do you have any pets? Yes, this idiot (affectionate). Technically she lives with my parents, but still. Her name's Pepper and she's a generic black cat (it's hard to work out breeds of cats and she's an adopted former stray so there's no breeding history or whatever).

How tall are you? 1.72m

Favourite subject in school? It alternated between english literature and maths.

Dream job? Author/forest wizard/please don't make me enter the workforce (I'm a uni student atm)/I don't know what I want to do with my life.

@yourlocalcorvidcryptid @autisticfordprefect @feral-enfield-with-wifi sorry if any of y'all have already done this and I missed it.

[aesteraceae]

Since I'm not there...

Summary: In which d (predicably) goes feral over the lollapalooza performances and (unpredictably) writes their first ever Dom chan fic.

Or: You've seen Chan's Lollapalooza performance and have some thoughts about his outfit.

Notes: y'all I wrote this like 20 minutes ago and I hope u can tell how insanely unwell I am. Chan is.... Whoa. Just whoa.

Tags: chan/reader, fem reader, soft Dom chan, sub reader, phone sex, fingering, petnames (baby and sweetheart), patronizing language, aftercare

Lovely taglist: (special thanks to @snow-pegasus @simpracha & @jxsungie01 for indulging my brainrot) @sunnyville36 @toastyseungmo @sstarryoong @decaffedthoughts @bunnypig18 @xcookiemonsteer

You're pacing up and down the house, phone pressed tight to your ear and eyes glued to the tablet screen in front of you, showing a recording of the performance.

---

"Bang Chan!"

He just laughs over the receiver, full bodied and just the slightest bit mischievous.

"I guess you've seen the performance?"

You don't respond at first, just let out a pained scream-like noise as the video replays.

"You are so fucking lucky I'm not in Paris right now, oh my god-"

Chan laughs again, but it's darker, with a more dangerous edge.

"Oh yeah? And what would you do if you were here? You can barely hold yourself together watching a video."

You go still, blinking at nothing in particular, and you can almost imagine his grin at your silence.

"That's what I thought. It's cute that you were at least trying to be angry, though."

You scoff, but it sounds pathetic even to your own ears. "I am angry. I want-" You groan again, biting your lip.

"What? What do you want, baby?"

His voice is dripping with both condescension and amusement, and the pairing goes straight to your hips, pooling warmth there until you have no choice but to press your thighs together.

Still, though, when you open your mouth to respond, nothing comes out. You want to tell him that you want nothing more than to be bent over a couch or desk or hotel bed, split open on his cock while you watch his arms flex above you, but all you can manage is a pathetic sounding whine.

"Aw, baby. Is it too much for you? Too difficult, not being able to have me right now?"

You curse, and retreat to your bed. You have half a mind to fuck yourself on your fingers just to make him as desperate as you are, but your hands stay put on the phone and on your thigh.

"When are you getting back?" You ask instead of answering his question, and he laughs again.

"Tomorrow morning. How about this," There's a slight shuffling on the other end, like clothes being pulled off, "I'm going to send you a photo, and you are going to fuck yourself to it while I jerk off,"

You're already climbing up the bed, slipping lube out of a drawer and pulling off your pants.

"And then, when I get home, I'll fuck you properly, and make sure you have something to remember next time I have to go somewhere, yeah?" His voice is breathy by the end of the sentence, and if you listen closely, you can hear the telltale sound of slick skin against skin.

"Because, baby, I'm sure millions of people want me right now, but you are the only one who gets to have me."

Your phone pings with an alert, and you quickly put the phone on speaker so you can look at it and hear him, one hand already pressing between your legs.

It's a photo, just like he promised.

Chan is lying on the bed, wearing nothing but that fucking white tank top, shoulders glistening with sweat. His cock is hard and flushed and perfect, and you feel your mouth watering as your fingers push fully inside yourself.

"You're the only one who can make me this hard," He whispers, voice brimming with barely restrained pleasure, "The only one who can make me cum, just from the thought of your fingers buried inside yourself, so desperate for me that you can't think of anything else."

You whine, writhing on the bedsheets, and you realize with a breathless moan that you're already getting close.

"Chan," You sob, gasping, and he just laughs at you again, hitching into a moan that makes your toes curl.

"That's it, baby. Come- come undone for me." He moans and growls, and you can hear the slick sounds speed up, "Want you to cum on your fingers, but know that it's not enough, not what you need."

Your back pulls up off of the bed, chest heaving, fingers moving hard and fast, like Chan would if he was here. But just like he said, it's not enough. Chan is thicker than your hands could ever be, hotter than any toy, and a distant memory of him inside you, pulsing and hot and moaning into your ear makes a scream build in your throat.

"Chan, Chan- Please, Please, I need it, need you-"

Chan moans on the line, and he sounds just as wrecked as you feel. "I know, baby, I know. Come undone for me, sweetheart, and I promise, I'll be there soon to give you what you really need."

Tears cling to your eyelashes as you push harder, deeper, dropping the phone onto the sheets to push another hand over your clit, tight circles, and you can't help but think of Chan like this, his thumb circling you, urging you over the edge of a cliff—

"Chan, Chan, Chan!" You shriek as your self control snaps, thighs snapping around your wrists and quivering, throat nearly raw from the noises that follow as you come fully and completely undone for him.

"Yes, that's it, baby, yes-" Chan's voice pitches up and you listen, dazed, as he groans through his own orgasm, and he sounds so perfect that you clench down around nothing again.

Chan comes down faster than you do, whispering soft reassurances as you shake through the aftershocks. You drink some water and clean yourself up a bit, but that's all you can really manage.

"Rest, baby. I'll be back home soon, I promise." Chan whispers, sweet and gentle. Your eyes are fluttering closed as he speaks, but you mutter, "Love you," Before sleep fully drags you into it's hold.

"I love you too, sweetheart."

[dykeomania]

𝒎𝒊𝒂'𝒔 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕 𝒃𝒍𝒖𝒓𝒃𝒔: parenthood (3).

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: parenthood means stress, and endurance, and exhaustion, and learning curves, and ... sometimes, really, really, really good sex?

𝐚/𝐧: this is my Parenthood (Thought) Piece because i understand that i am mentally 30 but i llloooooooooooveeee a good domesticity concept i eat that shit up nnomnomnonmonmnom. i needed to talk about early parenthood with ellie and i needed to talk about some of the ... Alternate Consequences ... of early parenting .. if you will. this was fun. this was also composed between the hours of like, 2-4am. i think it's pretty literate, and kind of alright. you may have a fun time reading it. if you don't, sorry i'll venmo you a dollar. not ssssure if i really have anything else to say, honestly. proofread (at a very early hour, mind you) but i always make mistakes, i'll always edit over time.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: i understand these tags are like super weird and i always preface my fics like "fuck around and find out," but just to be clear, this fic does not sexualize children in any way. any way. just to really make that clear. mentions of you and ellie being engaged. joel's technically alive. mentions of children. parental uncertainty. stress. a little bit of sub bottom!ellie. we're dipping our toes in. also dom top!ellie. mentions of oral (both receiving), mentions of vaginal penetration (reader receiving). both ellie and the reader being milfs / ellie thinking its really hot how you are a good mom (there are still so many things in this category that i could've hit that im probably not even thinking of, so if y'all like this and wanna talk about them, Please talk to me) i write in past tense for literally all of it and this is just a me thing, but that's not really my style, so things may be .. off. or maybe it's just me. maybe i'm tripping. we'll see. it's like, 4am. so.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.1k, just about (i did too much).

.   .   .   .

you both lived on the farm. it was a quiet, proud little life that you lead. a picturesque actualization of all of the little thoughts and dreams that you and ellie have had about living together, about having a family. though, parenthood was new, and difficult. there were some nights that the baby wouldn't stop crying, and both of you would take turns feeling like shit -- one usually at a grander magnitude than the other --  because neither of you would know what to do. what, am i like, a bad mom? does he hate me? you spent time convincing each other that that is simply not the case, and that this was all part of the process. that you were both new, and learning, and that it's okay.

if you knew nothing else, whether that be due to not having experienced parenthood before or the delirium accompanying the heavy set bags and dark circled ruminating under both of your eyes, then you did know that there were a few things for certain: he will suck his thumb. his cries will turn to wails which will turn to sniffles, which will turn to sighs. he will get tired. he will roll over, and coo, and will go to sleep.... eventually.

granted, while this mentality in general made things easier throughout the early days of raising your newborn son, there was still no doubt that it was.. exhausting. in every way. parenting was a constant learning curve, and it took tolls on both of you in different ways. for ellie, she'd get quiet. snippy, even, and gain a little bit too much audacity at times. a snarky remark or demonstration of blatant impatience towards something minuscule, but still hurtful. her frustration would always point toward some deeper issue that she often struggled met with annoyance first, and words second. one of the first things that ellie learned while parenting was that she was really bad at communicating. she'd find herself throughout the first three, maybe even six months, constantly finding ways to say sorry.. even without saying really having said it. like, slipping into bed when after you'd finally went to sleep, and pressing kisses to your temple. or making sure the dishrack was completely empty, so you'd have one less thing to work about. albeit she struggled to verbally explain that while she understood you were too, she was just.. a little tired.

maybe it was the sleep deprivation, or her willingness to take up most of the tasks that required attention in areas other than just the inside of the home. which.. you did have to admit, were a little bit more intense than cleaning and washing dishes. no one asked her to do all of that. she took it upon herself to do extraneous tasks, like fix the fucking roof, during the peak of summer. and you'd always offer to help, truly. but it was always no, i've got it. you've got other stuff to do. you just go play with him, and i'll be in to take over in a little, okay?

you would, at times, have to sit her down and remind her to take it slow. that the roof isn't really bothering either of you, right now, and it won't until .. october, probably. that it's okay to swap out, if need be. she can do dishes, cook if she wants (burn down the house, if she wants), clean up while you go fix the wiring of the fence, tend to the horses, whatever the fuck she feels the need to do, on top of having to do already.

you would have to remind her, that she just can't do everything all at once. and that's okay. but that's also neither of your faults.

both you and parenthood alike would teach her to .. slow down, take it easy, and to talk.

ellie would have to teach you something similar, believe it or not. your back hurt. your tits wouldn't stop fucking leaking, and ever since you gave birth, you wouldn't stop getting these aching migraines that made your ears ring. you quite literally found yourself bending over backwards, trying to do everything all at once all of the time (sound familiar?), because you knew that it was as much of your job as it was ellie's. you can change the diapers, you can pump the breastmilk, you can clean the house, you can stop him from crying, you can read him books (that he couldn't understand, yet, technically), you could do everything. and theoretically, you could. and you would, until it made you frayed, and unhealthy.

that would be enough to make ellie to step in, put her hand on your shoulder, and advise you in a tone that was about as gentle as it was stern:

hey, let maria take him for a couple of days. you're tense -- i can feel you from across the house.

despite the anxiety and the frustration and the sleep deprivation and the exhaustion, you really would feel grateful to be experiencing this trying time together. there were some patterns characterizing it that were obviously stressful, and anxiety-inducing. but there were some consistencies throughout it that were be sweet, and tender. like, running each other warm baths. sitting – either in the bath, with the other, or on the toilet, or the side of the bath – and talking in low volume, not really out of fear of waking the baby, but just to kind of relish in the pocket of peace that existed between the two of you in that moment. the affection never died between the two of you. you were always snuggling close to each other when it came time for bed. always pressing tender kisses to each other's shoulders, holding each other's hands, circling your thumbs and indexes over each other's engagement rings.

… But!

you know... i'm a whore. so honestly, what really spurred this whole thought, is the fact that .. during parenthood your sex lives would practically be nonexistent. and it's not something that either of you really notice, until one of you explicitly brought it up. raising a child -- especially raising one in an environment that you both worked to keep safe, secured, and comfortable -- is a lot of work.

it wouldn't dawn upon either of you until you both were eating one night at the table - another tradition that you did not forfeit. you managed to dance around the subject due to something entirely tangential, and then it hit you, and you said – out of pure realization, ellie, we haven't had sex in .. like, months.

and just like that, the consequences of at least 98 days of involuntarily celibacy hit you both like a fucking truck.

for you, it came in the form of .. the simple reminder that your soon-to-be-wife is really... really fucking physically flawless. you'd notice this everytime she'd wear short-sleeves, or shirts no sleeves, which was really only.. every once in a while, as jackson got colder, or whenever you both woke up. sometimes you'd find yourself looking at ellie's back profile as she sat upright on the bed, adjacent and turned from you, stretching a big, grand stretch, and you'd feel a specific heat beginning to tickle the insides of your thighs. you found it harder to keep your gazes to yourself as ellie exited the shower, muscles apparent, and glistening. her whole body was littered with scars, and yet she was still so gorgeous. it was hard to believe that even for a second you failed to recall – or be conscious of – the fact that as much of a teddy-bear as she was, you were practically dating a fucking sculpture.

naturally, you would act on your desires first. and frankly, ellie would be so willing to lean into them. 

she'd be lying if she said sometimes she didn't wake feeling a bit restless, and like there was only one thing that soothe her. she craved it, sometimes – your hands, on her. all she needed were some quick rubs against her clit and kisses against her skin to motivate her to get out of bed and feed the animals. and she was so, so fortunate to have a fiancée good enough to her to give her just that.

she dared, shame on her, to forget how good you could make her feel. ellie never really let anyone touch her, before she met you. before she met you, she was honestly convinced a lot of the parts "down there" didn't work. she could hardly achieve making herself cum. it’d take so long. ellie hardly masturbated because she’d get impatient in any ordeal that wasn’t some needy, feral 3am occurrence that left her stirring, sweaty, and overwhelmed. it was a lot of buildup for what she saw as, in the end, very little payoff. and as far as other people making her cum went? well, no one had ever gotten that far. frankly, she didn’t think anyone would get that far.

that was until she met you.

it definitely wasn’t easy. there were a lot of tired wrists and upper biceps, and your jaw did get pretty sore. her pussy was gorgeously messy. but her clit liked to hide sometimes underneath the extra skin. when you found it, you learned that it was usually, extremely sensitive. but you told her that that was okay. you could make that work.

you spent a lot of time learning all of the technicalities. what was too much, what wasn’t enough. what to say to her; how fast to rub her.

it paid off, because about a month into dating, you showed her that it — and frankly, anything — was possible. just takes a little bit of time, and patience, kisses and whispers of affirmation how about how good she feels. how good she’s doing. takes some listening, intently, to what she needs. to what her body needs. 

can feel you twitching. you want my finger right here?

fuck, yeah. right there. just like that, baby -- please don't fuckin' stop.

and once you got good at it (and you got so fucking good at it), ellie couldn’t get enough. she jokes, regularly, that that’s one of the reasons why she’s going to marry you.

ellie's voice in the mornings would breathless and empty. all bostonian accent, rasp, and nothing else. they were vulnerable. whenever she'd let you between her thighs and you placed those kitten licks across her clit transitioning into these longer, learned drags, her moans would break, like glass. her hips would shuffle. sometimes, you’d have to hold her still.

no no, fucking running. it’s okay. just let me. can you let me? can you let me take care of you, baby?

fuck. yes. yes, yes, fuck. s— sorry just – oh, fuck.

it would mostly just be wake-me-ups. but ellie's back would always be arching by the middle of it. she'd find herself gasping, and sighing, and fucking -- against your tongue, against your finger -- and gripping onto whatever, all while mumbling to gods she didn't believe in.

that feels so, so so fucking – g–good.

so fucking good to me; feels so good, babe, thinki'mgonnacum–

ellie's orgasms hit her the same way every time. hard. ridiculously hard. leaving her breathing heavy, and screwing her eyes shut while she grasped at your hand, or your hair. her thighs would tense -- sometimes scramble -- and then collapse, after a while. she became this perfect amalgamation of tinted cheeks, chapped pink lips, messy brown hair, and sticky skin. 

she was such a fucking .. painting. she's so incredible.

the plan, as she wrote it, often was to immediately get out of bed after you made her cum. but oftentimes, she couldn't do anything for the first couple of minutes except lie there, body just a sack of bones and jello. her head would rest instead of pressing into yours, or would nuzzle its way deep into your neck. both occasions a precursor to her finally catching her breath. when she moves her head to kiss you, capturing your lips in something thankful, and sweet, it is almost always grounding for the both of you.

better?

so much better. holy shit, babe.

and that's not to say that ellie would never act on her desires. she was always just a little more calculated.

for ellie, her frustrations would creep up on her in the weirdest ways. it would be.. small things. things that were, actually, probably mutual. watching you wash the dishes, even when you’re not bent in a particularly promiscuous way. watching you cook, even when she wasn't really watching you, 'cause she was keeping the baby busy. but what really did her in was watching how you handled your son. something about seeing you have him on your hip, cooing at him or laughing with him, or playing with him, or smothering his cheek in big kisses that elicited these big, big giggles from him, drove her.. a very, questionable? kind of crazy? it was pure. it was so sweet, and most of the time, it was just that. but you were so, good with him. after so many months, despite all of the struggle, you really did blossom into a beautiful, capable mother, who still held the glow and all of the weight from the pregnancy and just–

ellie would realize how good it all looked on you. she would feel.. really proud.

and it made her feel like you ..  deserved something.

you both remember the first night she’d acted on her desires like it was yesterday. it was on the night that you two had hosted a dinner party for all of your mutual close friends and people who you called family. the dinner was a 3-week-long process of grocery picking, tablecloth finding, invitation designing, and recipe collecting. it honestly stressed you out more than it did ellie because, to be honest, she was kind of just there for moral support. it was your idea, after having had maria over for dinner once. and it was a great idea. but it left you drained – defeated from the final week of preparations, which was especially hectic. when you bathed that night, you bathed alone, a little overstimulated from the day. but you’d let ellie run the bath, though. only because she insisted on doing so. 

the soak cured some of the ache that settled deep into your joints, muscles, and bones.. but not all of it. after you'd set the tub to drain, brushed your teeth, and wrapped a towel around your body, you entered the room with an expected level of silence. you slathered moisturizer on your face, over your arms, over your stretch marks. when it came time to take off your jewlery, the rings – except the prized one – came off easily. but when it came to your necklace, your hands were simply too slippery. you sucked your teeth. you always did this. 

you eventually sighed, filling your lungs to call:

hey, bug. can you come help me take this necklace off, please?

ellie eventually would appear behind you, probably shuffling off of the bed or rounding some corner after changing and becoming into her own definition of comfortable. if she seriously complained, you didn’t hear it. you only felt her, how her hand placed itself on your shoulder just to let you know that she was behind you.

some things never change, move your hair over.

you do as asked, and hang your head. ellie's fingers brush against your skin with a kind of delicacy that makes shivers run down your spine. you lift your eyes, catching ellie's in the mirror before you. yours, heavier than hers.

you watched as she fought a smile, or a smirk. either was a given with her, honestly — in retrospect, it was most likely the latter. you couldn’t really tell, though. she’d dipped her head, eyes fixated on her fingers that fiddled with your necklace clasp.

you did a really nice job on the dinner, tonight.

suddenly, you were the one fighting the smile. you watched her, still.

yeah?

oh, you like.. completely knocked it out of the park. you did great. it was really, really really nice.

you didnt know if ellie was referring to the food, or the setup, or the wine choices – whichever. but something about the appraisal made your head buzz, like you were coming down off a two glasses of champagne (which.. maybe you were). ellie successfully removed your necklace, and yet didn’t back away. instead, she pressed herself closer to your back, and tilted her head so that she could speak just above the top of your ear,

you looked really nice, too.

been waiting for you to settle down, a bit. so i could tell you.

you probably hummed something in response, something that was probably suggestive but also thankful at the same time. it gets lost, though. because ellie bent down, and placed these slow, unassuming, appreciative kisses down your neck, and against the plateau of your shoulder. between those words and the way her hands lingered over your skin, the way she was breathing you in and drinking up the moment, and your scent, made you melt into her way too easily. like butter in a warm pan.

you exhale, like you've been meaning to for .. you don't even know how long.

el..

mhm?

you realize though, that the house is quiet. too quiet. there is a stillness to it that makes the pit of your stomach twist, and anxiety and guilt bubble in the base of it before you could even stop it.

...where's our baby?

you felt ellie grin against your shoulder. she masked it with a peck,

he’s at joel’s.

and then you felt her tongue drag across your skin. a long, open-mouthed kiss across the midpoint of your neck. she presses the padding of her tongue against tender flesh, sucks hard enough for blood to make the skin bloom, and almost -- against your own will -- makes your eyes roll shut.

the simple act -- acts rather, of ellie coordinating behind your back to have the baby taken off your hands (you knew it for a few days –  it's always a few days). she thought she was so slick. it was odd, how much relief those three words gave you,

but at the same time, you kind of wanted to be mad at her.

it was hard to, though. but you couldn't think straight, with how her hands were moving over you, over your towel. with her pelvis pressed against your ass, and her lips on your neck.

you tried,

he was fine here. everything was .. fine, ellie.

but she was so..

i never said everything wasn't fine.

i just think... you've had a really long, stressful week.

you hate how your body reacts to ellie's hands smoothing up your towel. your whole body broke out into goosebumps, seemingly trying to fit into the pores of ellie's palm, 

and i think i wanna make it better.

ellie's breath was hot on your ear, and you didn’t realize it, but your head was already tilted. your eyes had begun to flutter closed. you felt yourself, almost swaying against her. your mouth hung as her teeth grazed over sensitive flesh. her tongue pressed against familiar spots that had been untouched -- like the rest of you -- for so, so long. it was too activating.

in your best effort of defense, you spun yourself to turn around to face her. ellie’s head was tilted, her eyes were low. her breath spanned over your mouth while your palm laid flat against her chest. you stalled – shivering, shaking, suddenly caught in a rapture of toiling emotion that you hadn't felt that strongly in .. god knows how long.

her head dipped back into your neck. she pressed her cotton-clad hips against your towel-covered ones, and it just wasn’t enough. it was a lot, and yet, not enough.

your hand snaked over the nape of her neck as you breathed against your cheek, whole body feeling heavy and compliant. your knees were jelly. you could feel your clit. pulsing, and pleading. it ached as you feel ellie's hand slip over the backs of your thighs, inching under the cusps of your ass.

you needed something. you needed anything. you like to think that you had no idea what necessity meant before this moment, because you had never felt it so strongly. it knocked the wind out of you, only leading you to ask – to plead, without pleading,

e... ellie?

and she understood.

ellie’s head lifted from the crook of your neck she crashed her lips upon yours. the kiss was heavy, and deep. your knees buckled, and where you swore you may fall, she made sure you didn’t. you were shuddering, a hand suddenly possessive around the back her neck. her hands suddenly possessive and stabilizing with the grips she held on your ass. months worth of unknown tension relinquished itself in the pushes and pulls you demanded from each other's bodies while teeth clattered and bit into chapped flesh, turned glossy. moans and breaths circumvented between the two of you, and suddenly, the whole room felt like it was on fire.

she delivered a verbal command, teeth tugging at your lower lip as she half-way parted from it, 

jump.

you’d used whatever remainder of your energy to follow the simple instruction, your legs wrapping around ellie's waist like she was your lifeline. they remained around her as your back fell against the duvet, and as she kissed you so deep, your head ran dizzy and your body was left no choice but to arch into her.

you remember your hand smoothing over her abdomen, and reaching up to grab her chest. you remember sighing into her mouth over the fact that you could. you relished in the moan she released your mouth, and only returned it halfway. 

you remember gripping her and massaging her and bucking your bare hips up against her in hopes of making her make that noise again, louder. you remember how she bucked her hips into you in hopes of the same sentiment, her waistband grazing against your bair clit cauisng her to succeed far quicker than you. 

the night was filled with mind-blurring, fuck-until-the-sun-rises kind of sex. sex that you had no idea your body had needed until ellie had given it to you. your body reeled with every kiss that she'd placed over your skin – you’d watched as she peeled back your towel, and replaced bits and segments of the fabric with her lips in soft, attentive kisses.  it was hard to believe that they would transpire into messy, sloppy things. wet, tantilizing things that would trek down the axis of your body. that would hold your body hostage as her tongue and her lips worked on your clit to bring you closer and closer to your third orgasm of the hour. 

your body wasn’t used to it. any of it. it was, however, too used to and hyperaware of having a tiny human in the house that you simply couldn’t wake at this time of night.

you were shuffling, at one point, scrambling to put a hand on your mouth, or to bite your own knuckle.  when that didn’t work, you let your head fall over to a pillow while you fucked up against ellie’s tongue and bit the fabric, trying so hard not to moan. but you felt yourself cracking. 

you’ll never forget how ellie looked up at you. eyes a deep, pointed shade of green as she shook her head – mouth still attached to your clit – which in and of itself had almost made you cry. when she pulled away, it was the only time you let yourself make a noise. only because the whine that was ripped out of you was entirely unanticipated, just like her action.

her breath rippled over your the nerves as she ran her fingertip up, and down your hole. you whimpered, hips shifting up relfexivley, cunt tightening just from the invitation. nearly gushing from the feeling of her beginning to small rub circles against it, instead.

i’ve missed you so fucking much.

she dipped a finger inside of you with such ease, and no warning. a long, slender digit bottomed out inside your cunt, before she pushed in another, and made your jaw go slack. her eyes hung on yours – glossed over with lust and a bit narrow as a result of the devious smile that’d begun to overtake her expression.

she’d begun pumping her fingers.

he’s not here, baby.

it’s just us.

her fingers were so fucking long, you swore to god, you would never want a life without them in it. couldn’t bear another 3, 4, 5 months without having them in you. jesus fuck.

wanna hear you. 

wanna hear you be as loud as you fuckin’ want.

ellie emphasized her words by proceeding to fuck you faster. her tongue latched back onto your clit, rolling over and slurping at the nerves, rolling beads of saliva and your juices into and against the bundle. the sound of your cunt was so encompassing, it was hard to believe that it became the backdrop for the moans that ellie had ripped out of you. that made it into, and mostly out of, the pillow, amidst a sea of praise and bucking hips.

the next morning was luxuriuosly unproductive. ellie had only woke to feed the animals and returned to bed and slept with you until noon. she was always affectionate, come mornings. but especially riding off of the honeymoon buzz of the night prior, she made the morning after memorably tender, often pressing kisses to your forehead, and your shoulder, regardless of how awake both you or she was. she’d whisper sweet nothings into your ear, promises of how much she loved you. how she’s really glad this is how she gets to spend her life, as long as it’s with you. all of the sugary things that eventually caramelize into jokes and giggles and laughter, and that how you’d know it was time to get up.

it’s safe to say that parenthood brought you and ellie both very interesting things. it brought you challenges, and it brought you lows. it brought you highs, and photographs, and moments where you did feel like all of your hard-work was paying off, even when it didn’t seem that way. having a family meant having the opportunity to open your house up to people you who you loved. having a family meant having traditions, and things to fall back on – things that you would develop over time, as you learned more and discovered more of what you wanted. and having a family with ellie meant that you could fall back on each other, no matter how tough things got.

.. it also just meant sometimes having really.. really good sex. 

(whenever you remembered that that was something that the two of you could actually do, that is.)