#Just a hellish shit show of a week

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

There is a platonic explanation for all this. Right?

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[all-with-angel]

High Voltage

❥ Electric Fly Swatter Sukuna x reader

❥ With the heat being unbearable and flies swarming you practically every minute, you have nothing except a faulty fly swatter on your side. even then, the thing does nothing except zap you randomly! Sick of its shit, you throw it out the window, only for it to come stomping back to fuck some manners into you! Don't you know its rude to throw things out of windows?

Content. CRACKFIC, smut, dubcon, afab!reader, sukuna is mean(duh), grinding, oral(f!receiving), his fingers vibrate, he zaps you sometimes, p in v, doggystyle, dacryphilia, begging, creampie :P

A.N. I blame @yenayaps and @madamechrissy for enabling me so i take no accountability whatsoever. @yamadramallamaqueen here you go unc ily

It was hot.

Like, skin-sticking-to-furniture, every-fan-sounds-like-it’s-pleading-for-death, consider-lying-on-the-tile-floor-like-a-cat kind of hot. It was hellish during this time of the year. The heat outside would've been fine, if not for your AC breaking at the start of the week and your landlord doing absolutely jack shit about it. Thus, your humble little home had turned into a sauna and your overhead fans could only do so much. And if that wasn’t bad enough?

Flies. So many damn flies.

It was just the season for them, and you were getting tired of swatting them to death manually. Lucky for you, you stumbled upon a quaint little yard sale on your way home. It was small, stacks upon stacks of books and old cds, and a few barely-working pieces of electronics. A worn out looking fly swatter caught your eye, and when you asked the old grandma about it, she gladly gave it to you in exchange for a few dollars. It was black with pink highlights, residue of stickers clinging on to the plastic.

Lucky you, It was way cheaper than any of the newer models you’d seen, and it worked fine. Sure, it vibrated and shaked whenever you turned it on, and it took way too long to charge, but it worked.

For a while.

A week later, the thing turned on you. You were waving it around in your living room, a surge of slight satisfaction at every loud bzzt! that signaled the death of another one of those flying bloodsuckers. You were about to walk to the kitchen, satisfied with the lack of any more flies buzzing in the room when you felt a sharp sting of electricity course through your hand. You yelped and dropped it, hitting the edge of the sofa and clattering loudly onto the floor.

“What the hell?!” 

You hissed, massaging your hand for a moment before grabbing the fly swatter with a cloth. “Stupid old thing.” Murmuring curses and complaints under your breath about how its faultiness was showing after just a week of owning it, you set it on the counter and plugged it into its charging port. You eyed it as it lightly hummed and a red light blinked on and off, you could've sworn it started blinking out of sync— its patterns more similar to a human blinking than an electronic with a set program.

Whatever. It was too hot for this. You brushed it off and turned away.

Over the next few days, it kept zapping you. Randomly. It started when you were just holding it, using it actively when it would zap you when you even dared to put it down. Then, it started to zap you when it wasn't even on. You had turned it off, the phantom pain of getting electrocuted in your hand earlier fading as you tucked it under your arm. Before you could even reach halfway to your room, it had zapped your entire side. 

Nothing too painful, not exactly enough to be an immediate health hazard– but the surprise made you scream and drop it (again), clutching your side in betrayal.

 It was less a bug killer now and more of an abusive relationship that you couldn’t let go of. At least not with your current fly problem.

On another day of trying to survive through a damn heatwave, you were sweating even as two fans were working overtime fanning you. They were your real friends in this situation, even if they just blew hot air around the room, doing little to help you. 

Still, help is help.

But that morning, sweaty, stressed, and so over it, you swore that anything would set you off. As if sensing that you were on your last straw, the fly swatter had zapped you mid-swing. You flinched, face contorting from pain to anger. “Motherfucker!”

You shriek as it hits the floor, except this time you didn’t use a cloth to pick it up, you didn’t fear it anymore. Who the hell cares if it zaps you again. You grabbed it and threw it out your window, hearing it hit the soft grass of your yard as you huff. 

“You wanna fucking electrocute me?? Well I’m not having it anymore!” you yelled, flopping onto your couch with all the grace of a damp spaghetti noodle. You swung an arm over your eyes, cringing at the feel of your own sweat-slicked skin but too tired to care. With a sigh, you slump further back and practically melt into the couch.

The crawling feeling of exhaustion caught up to you, crawling from your head down to your chest. A nap at this time would probably fuck up your sleep schedule, but you couldnt seem to care in between the heat and the occasional buzz of a mosquito in your ear. The lull of sleep almost drowning out the sudden bang of your back door.

Wait, what?

The sudden bang of your backdoor startles you awake, loud stomping accompanying your racing heartbeat as you shoot upright and turn to see a very naked and very angry looking man. He was broad, large with black inky tattoos adorning his chest and arms. His head almost reached the ceiling and  you were sure that his dick— DICKS, were the size of your forearm.

You could feel both heat and fear crawling up your spine, settling uncomfortably in your throat as you try to find your words. Before you do, he beats you to it.

“You–!” he snarled, pointing a finger at you. “Did no one teach you to not throw your shit out windows!?”

“What the hell are you talking about!?” You stammer for a moment, eyes flicking around you to his glaring red eyes. You grab the nearest thing to you, a throw pillow and point it in his direction. “Who even are you?! And why did you just break into my house!?”

The pink-haired hunk of a man rolls his eyes, muscles flexing as he crossed his arms. As if this was just another nuisance to him. “I’m your goddamn fly swatter, or whatever the fuck you call it.” He hissed. “Congratulations, you broke the seal and set me fucking free. By throwing me out the window.” His voice was laced with sarcasm and brimming anger, finger tapping idly on his forearm.

“You’re my what??” You asked again, stunned. Unconsciously lowering your protective throw pillow as the hot demon man snarled at your stupidity and confusion.

“Your fly swatter.” He repeated through gritted teeth. The fact he was such a menial object irked him, clearly so.

Your eyes raked over him again, from his broad chest to his.. Sizable cocks. Your eyes seemed glued to the pair, your gaze sending a pulse or arousal through Sukuna. One that went straight to his dicks, making them twitch.

God, how long has it been since he’s had a good fuck? Too many years, that's for sure.

You made a noise in your throat that may or may not have been an inappropriate giggle. That seemed to piss him off. He clicked his tongue stomping over to you, who took a few steps back his looming figure. “Something funny, brat?” He snarled, glaring down at you like he hates your guts. But his half-hard cock(s) told a different story.

You swallowed, breath hitching as you craned your neck to look up at him. God, he was so much bigger upclose, not to mention that his chest was right up in your face distracting you from making any proper thoughts. “N-no. Just— this is so weird.” Your voice drops into a mumble as you continue, every three steps you took back, Sukuna would take one– And it was enough to bridge the gap. “Who knew my shitty fly swatter was hot..”

“HUH? The fuck you just call me?” He roared. “I’m Sukuna, the King of curses you heathen. Not some ‘shitty fly swatter’– Who said you could talk to me so casually!?” Sukuna, now you knew his name, had cornered you against the wall. “Throw me out of the window, no less.” He added, seething.

Alarmed by the dangerous— almost predatory look in his eyes, you hit his chest with the pillow in your arms a few times. “THE HELL? How was I supposed to know that?” Unknown to you, with every shriek and pathetic excuse for an attack, Sukuna could feel his cocks harden– throbbing painfully as his body screamed to show you your place. 

He was grinning, the hungry look in his eyes snapping as he grabbed your wrist and halting your (fairly worthless) struggle against him. You gasp as you feel your wrist get engulfed by a much bigger hand, shame filling your head as you feel the warmth pooling in your stomach.

“You really think that’ll do anything, brat?” He inches closer, scarily handsome face inches away from yours. “Or did you just want to piss me off even more?”

As if caught like a deer in headlights, you stammer, feeling his intense gaze on you making your heart clench and stomach flutter. “I– No, I mean I didn’t–”

“Shut it, slut.” He grabs at your throat, not quite squeezing— But just enough pressure to shut you up. “I don’t need your excuses.” Sukuna grins. “I know what you want, anyway.” He slides his thick leg in between your thighs, putting pressure on your core as you let out a mix of a yelp and a moan.

He grabs your hips as you slowly start to grind on his leg like a bitch in heat. “Ha, pathetic. Is that all it takes for you to give up?”

Your hips stutter, but Sukuna continues to guide your movements against his thigh. “N-No,”

“Liar.”

Sukuna pulls his leg back and in a blur, you end up manhandled onto your couch with your shorts pulled off of you. “Tsk. No panties? What a perfect whore.” He snickers, and as soon as he sees your already dripping cunt, he knew he was in for a sweet treat. He dared to look at your face, waiting in anticipation and beautifully aroused. He took it all in, the curve of your body and every inch of skin bared all for him. He was one lucky fly swatter. And you were one very, very lucky owner.

“W-wait–” You tried to plead, but Sukuna wasn’t a patient man. He didn’t wait. He took what he wanted when he wanted it. And he wanted you. He took his sinfully long tongue to drag across your folds, groaning loudly at your taste. “Fuck..” He muttered, immediately grabbing your hips to pull you into him as he let his tongue explore your perfectly sweet cunt.

Sukuna was like a wild animal– Or an insatiable toy, brimming with electricity ready to be expended on poor you.

He let his tongue curl inside of you, nose brushing and rubbing against your clit as your hands found purchase in his pink hair. The same shade that matched the fly swatter form this so-called King of curses had unwillingly taken.

Suddenly, you feel a zap of electricity on your thigh, making you flinch further into Sukuna’s mouth. “So fucking loud.” You could feel him smiling against your pussy, just before he continued devouring you like a man starved.

You held into his hair for dear life, tugging whenever he’d hit just the right spot, making him groan and send vibrations straight to your core. It felt more intense, more electrifying than anything you could have ever felt from any other man. 

“That needy, brat?” Sukuna pulled away, licking his slick-coated lips before tucking one, then two fingers right into your needy hole. Just as he did, he put his mouth back to work. He could feel you clench against his fingers, the tightness of your hole having Sukuna’s cocks leak pre down his thick cock.

“Y- Y-es!” You moaned out, voice breaking as Sukuna curled his fingers up into that sweet spot of yours. You couldn’t control the desperate gasp escaping your lips when you felt his fingers vibrate inside of you, right against your G-spot. “Oh- Oh god, fuck–” The stimulation felt intense, so much pleasure all at once as Sukuna licked and sucked at your clit.

He was merciless as he finished you off, lapping up at the juices squirting out of your fluttering pussy. You could practically feel electricity shooting up your spine as your back arched further into him, as if fucking his face.

You were definitely testing this demon(?), incubus(?), whatever the fuck he was’ oxygen, but he wasnt complaining. Not even when he pulled away from your cunt, slipping his thick fingers out of you and licking them clean.

“On your stomach. I’m not done with you.”

That's how you found yourself face-down ass-up and drooling onto the couch as Sukuna pounded his fat cock into your pussy, the other slapping against your abdomen with every thrust. You just felt so full, every push of his dick into you hitting every single spot you thought couldn’t be reached.

“Fucking— Fucking slut, shit–” Sukuna growled from above you, barely holding back his own moans from how fucking good you felt around him. So warm, practically made for him— Even if you were such a disrespectful brat. “Throwing me out the goddamn window–” Ah. He still hadn't let that go.

His eyes were glued to the back of your head, occasionally tracing his warm hand on the arch of your back, all to zap you randomly. Relishing in the way you’d flinch and tighten around his length, a condescending grin spreading on his face as he felt himself getting closer to filling you up. To put you in your place.

“Puh-lease–” You gasped as your legs shook, if not for his bruising grip on your waist, you’d have collapsed into a pathetic cum-puddle by now. Tears streamed down your cheeks, staining the couch along with various other fluids.

“Please what, huh?” Sukuna taunted, continuing to thrust his hips into you at an unrelenting pace. His lips parted, breathing heavily as he could feel his cock throb and twitch at the idea of cumming inside of you for the nth time.

Your hips moved back to meet his thrusts, you let out a pleasured sob at the feeling of attempting to rearrange your own guts on Sukuna's dick. “Please cum– I’m sorry, so so sorry for throwing you out the wind-AH!��� You shiver as you felt Sukuna slap your ass, his eyes following how a red mark slowly started to imprint itself onto your skin. “What was that?” He mocked, voice condescending as he leaned forward, his chest flush almost flush against your back. “Say that again.”

“I'm sorry for throwing you out the window!” You repeat, moaning and gripping at the sheets as you feel Sukuna angle his hips to fuck you deeper, harder.

“Yeah, you better— fuck, you better be.” Sukuna continued to pound into you, twitching as he felt your pussy spasm around him. His breath was hot and heavy above you and you could feel your eyes roll to the back of your head as his other cock was slapping up against your clit again and again. “Take my fucking cum, take it since you’ve learned your lesson you brat–”

In a second, you could feel warmth start to flood your insides, making your pussy flutter and cum around his girth with a strangled cry. The pleasure was overwhelming, white-hot and so fucking good. Sukuna growled and grunted as his hips continued to fuck his cum deeper into you, cock throbbing with every shot of his seed pooling into you. There was just so much, enough to start leaking out your pussy along with your slick.

You were distantly aware of the cum sticking to your stomach and the couch, but your muddy, post-orgasm brain had barely adjusted when Sukuna's voice had cut through the haze. Unforgiving.

“You think we’re done? I haven’t even gotten my second dick wet yet.”

A.N. I was projecting my breeding kink a bit. Woops

[hyruling]

Hiiii! I love your fics btw (I just got done re-reading know it’s for the better for like the 5th time). Anywho if you’re still doing domestic prompts, I think number 74 (vhs tapes) could be super cute and fun!

Love your work 💋

74) vhs tapes

—

“Eddie, what are these?”

Eddie looks up from the Sisyphean task of untangling a box of seemingly random cords that he's accumulated over the years. Buck is holding up a couple VHS tapes, each tucked in one of those white cardboard cases, the kind with the rainbow splashed across the front, tattered with dust and age. Eddie groans.

“Sophia,” he swears under his breath, and Buck chuckles.

They’re surrounded by boxes — Eddie’s pretty sure if someone were to walk in the front door right now, they wouldn’t even find Eddie or Buck for a good long while, as buried as they are. It’s a good mix of Eddie’s and Buck’s stuff, nearly a decades worth of things accumulated between the two of them. Buck is packing up boxes with miscellaneous items that are destined for Goodwill or storage, while Eddie unpacks his things from El Paso that need unpacking, and combining what doesn’t with whatever Buck deems donation worthy. Buck had let Chris off the hook today, sending him off to meet up with his friends at the mall because he can’t help but be Good Cop all the time, and so it’s just the two of them drowning together in the mess.

It’s an unspoken thing, their arrangement. When Eddie announced that he and Chris were moving back, Buck said, “I can start looking for a place." To which Eddie said, “No, you don’t need to do that,” and Buck had nodded with a flush in high on his cheeks, and that was that. They’ve spent the three weeks since in the hellish throes of moving, an exhausting endeavor between his shifts back at the 118 and the travel to El Paso and dealing with his parents. Only this time, Buck was there to carry it with him, easing the heaviness of it all with more cheer than a cross-country move warranted. 

Buck is inspecting the tapes carefully, and his face splits into a wide grin when he finds the one Eddie knew his sister must’ve snuck in under the guise of being helpful. He should’ve known when she showed up with a box of childhood memorabilia for him to take with him and a shit-eating grin.

“El Paso Regional Dance Competition, ‘04,” Buck reads, then looks up at Eddie with a similar grin. “Is this… Eddie, were you a dancer?”

Continue reading on A03

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

omg can you pls do what tangerine would be like w a reader who’s doing their masters of clin psych - great at her role as a therapist but the degree and internship environment (supervisors, colleagues) are straight up draining her soul. and she’s like bubbly, sunshiney, people pleaser - opposite of him. and he sees her drained and dulled, tired of the constant “resilience” to complete the hellish post grad degree. and she’s like ‘wish i was more like you.. not givin a shit about others and their opinions, emotional guarded and neutral’ and he scoffs almost indignantly because her personality is what makes her, HER… and he’s so soft for her like that (also like grouchy and protective over her crying every other week??) - pretty please?

ofc!! thanks for requesting💌

TAKE A BREAK.

tangerine x implied fem!reader

wc. 949 warnings. none

⎯ ☆ ⎯

There was a realisation within you that grew more and more apparent with each passing day: the undeniably heartbreaking fact that you may not quite be cut out for your dream like you had planned to be. 

A change within you had become obvious to yourself and to those closest to you, your once charming bubbly self beginning to deteriorate — opposing traits moving in to replace the ones before. It wasn’t a nice change you particularly welcomed. You were consistently groggy and drained with what was repeatedly asked of you. The unattainable amount of work already a hellish task without supervisors and colleagues making everything all the more difficult.

It had grown late and you were still no closer to finishing what you were assigned with. Many many hours passing with your attention solely occupied by your laptop screen and the stacks of papers beside it on the kitchen table. The ache in your eyes and butt still going ignored.

You were far too consumed with the task at hand to even notice Tangerine standing in the doorway with his robe and pyjama bottoms on. 

“I thought you were coming up,” he starts, voice quiet so as not to disturb your thought train. He hovers in place when his words fall on deaf ears, your eyes still in pure focus. “Love?” he calls softly, slippers scuffing across the tiles as he walks towards you. 

“Yeah, be up in a minute,” you mutter, not even looking in his direction. 

He knew something was up. Very rarely did you speak to him without meeting his eyes. It was one of your tells that something was on your mind and you didn’t want him to find out.

Tangerine sighs faintly and takes a seat beside you, his eyes flicking across the mess of papers across the table.

“You said that two hours ago,” he says, tone calm and cautious — not wanting to sound accusatory. “It’s late, you really should be sleeping.”

“In a minute,” you snap and shake your head, immediately regretting your mini outburst. You bring your hands to your face as if to hide the shame. “I’m sorry,” you muffle into your palms, voice beginning to crack.

“It’s okay,” he coos and wraps a hand around one of your wrists, trying to pry it away but you don’t budge. “Come on, move your hands.”

You shake your head and the motion urges out some tears you weren’t so keen on letting spill. “It's hard,” you sob, the feelings far more intense with your tired, delirious state. “It's so hard.”

“I know it is,” he whispers, trying to show his understanding. “It’s not easy, I know,” he continues and runs a hand up and down your forearm — not wanting to push you too far by pulling the shield away from your face.

“I wish I was more like you— I really do,” you admit. “You don’t care what others think— or do. You just do your thing and people let you… and I can’t do anything,” you cut yourself short with a small sob.

Why would you want to be more like him? It makes no sense to his mind. None at all.

“How am I supposed to help others if I can’t even help myself?” you mumble and you hoped it would go unheard, but that’s not the case. Not while Tan’s present, anyway.

“Come on, you’re tired. You’re just saying things.”

“No, I mean it,” you pull your hands away and quickly wipe under your eyes, ridding the tears as you turn to look at him. “How can I help people with their own problems when I’m like this?” you shake your head and scoff. “I’m miserable.”

Tangerine’s stumped. He doesn’t know how to comfort at the best of times and right now he cannot think of anything to say that may bring you an ounce of comfort. He would frankly make it worse. 

So instead he offers his comfort with everything but words. Showing his understanding through his gaze and his hands — soft eyes offering empathy, gentle touches reassuring it.

It's as if he’s winded by your dismay, unable to function seeing how hurt and upset and tired you are. He wanted to take it all from you and carry it all on his own two shoulders.

He reaches for your hand and holds it atop the table, his thumb beginning to draw small circles into your skin as if to soothe you. You look down at the little display of affection and your mind begins to ease, slow down even. While you focus on the interlocking of your fingers, his gaze remains solely on you — watching a small wave of calm flutter across your face. 

“Press save.”

You look at him as if to silently contest, and get met with a singular shake of the head.

“Save it, then log off.”

You do as asked, knowing in your heart that he was right. You shut your laptop and close your eyes, immediate relief replacing the discomfort in your body. You let go of his hand and begin to stack and organise the papers.

“Nuh-uh,” he shakes his head as he stands. “That’s for tomorrow,” he simply says and reaches for your hand once again, silently guiding you to your feet.

You oblige and stand, giving your back a quick little stretch — rolling out the aches.

Tangerine places his hands on either one of his shoulders, pressure firm like he was trying to ground you. He presses a kiss to your forehead and lets his lips linger there for a moment, allowing some time for it to soak into your skin. 

“The bed’s empty without you, come on.”

⎯ ☆ ⎯

[gabrielsbubblegumbitch]

✨Staticmoth wedding headcanons✨

Because I have a lot of thoughts but can't come up with the plot to turn it into fic

✨ Vox absolutely loses his shit. You would think that Valentino would be a groomzilla material but oh no no, Val just wants sexy dress and enough coke to last three days of partying. Vox needs everything perfect. He has his grand vision and is ready to tear with bare hands everyone who does not deliver. During the preparation time, he murders as many people as Val usually does. Velvette bails on being the wedding planner after just two weeks because it was seriously straining their friendship. But after a month, she's back in the game. Why? Because Vox strangled three other wedding planners in frustration, and things weren't moving forward, so Val was starting to freak out.

✨ The event is held at the Vees' Tower. I reckon they've got a venue suitable for hosting conferences and porn award shows.

✨ It's a grand event. I'm talking Grand™, like the Kim K and Kanye West of Hell kind of grand. But it's also elite, so the guest list isn't that long, around 200 invited people plus 50 ticketed spots for anyone willing to drop 100k hellish bucks to attend. Everything is dripping with gold and diamonds because "quiet luxury" isn't in the Vees' vocabulary. The whole affair reflects Val's aesthetic more, as it's Vox's love letter to him. Vox already had his wedding, and now it's time to fulfill his husband's dreams. So Val makes about 90% of the decisions without shouldering any real responsibilities. Which is fine by everyone because he's annoying as hell when it comes to picking roses, flamingo feathers, and starters. Nobody wants to put him in high-stress situations. Expect lots of red, pink, and gold, with heavy, decadent fabrics and neon lights; it's like an exclusive brothel meets the Las Vegas strip.

✨ When it comes to flowers, they settled on roses because they're Vox's favorites, which naturally made them Val's favorite too, given the sheer number of bouquets he's received. Vox, being the freak he is, counts every single bouquet he's ever given to Val. So, for their wedding, he ensures there are twice as many roses. Yes, he's a pathological overachiever.

✨ As for attractions, there’s a plethora of erotic dancers in cages and mesmerizing drone light shows. Karaoke, slot machines, live cooking stations, and all the drugs you can imagine. And let's not forget a fountain flowing with tequila. It's a true adult wonderland.

✨ Valentino skips the whole white dress thing and rocks a fierce red latex gown that's very Mugler but with a fetishcore twist. Vox keeps it sleek in a sharp black three-piece suit. His shirt's a bold blue, and his tie matches Val's dress. His shoulder pads are pointy, his waist is slutty, his ass looks divine. Oh yeah, about slutty waist - underneath the shirt he is hiding a leather corset, as a treat for the wedding night.

✨ Also none of them really have friends other than Velvette, just associates so there are no groomsmen/maids.

✨ Since there aren't any traditional churches or government officials in Hell (if there's even a government at all), Velvette takes on the role of officiating the wedding. Vox isn't entirely thrilled with this choice because there's always the risk she might crack a joke or publicly rib him, but hey, there's really no one else who could pull it off. I imagine that a wedding in Hell is also some form of magical contract but more about partnership than ownership. They do not exchange rings but blood sksksk also I don’t think that Vox can really wear rings with his claws? And they couldn't quite agree on a design that satisfied both of them. In the end, Val ends up wearing his illegally imported engagement ring from Earth, featuring four pink diamonds shaped like a moth's wings.

✨ Val's vow is, well, atrocious. It's the kind of thing that would definitely land him in one of those TikTok compilations of terrible grooms ruining their weddings. He mentions cream pieing Vox at least once. Vox at first freaks out but seconds later realizes Wow that's the man I'm marrying. I wouldn't want him any other way On the flip side, Vox's vow is immaculate. Crafted with the assistance of Voxtek's CMO and practiced to perfection, it leaves everyone in awe. He has out-of-body experience playing this role of prince charming.

✨ For their first dance, they opt for a steamy tango. Picture this: swirling red smoke on the floor, making it seem like they're dancing on the sky of the pride ring when the sun is setting down. Little do the guests know, the smoke is laced with drugs, sending most of them on a wild trip. The party quickly goes off the rails, but in the best way possible (according to the Vees’ standards).

✨ The cake is a five-tier monstrosity with five different flavors: tres leches and chocolate-cherry chosen by Val, confetti cake and strawberry cheesecake chosen by Vox and Red Velvet for Velvette because she couldn't shut up about it To top it all off, there's a big chocolate figure of Vox and Valentino dancing. Val is later caught drunk, eating it with his bare hands like the filthy animal he is.

✨ Velvette’s wedding gift is a pair of customized matching guns with small engravings that read "Partners in Crime."

✨ Valentino pulls off a surprise special pole dance performance as a wedding gift for his husband. Let's just say it's scorching hot and leaves at least 50 guests with, uh, visible excitement. Later on, things almost escalate to a full-on table bang, but...

✨ Velvette spends the entire evening reminding them that they can't just vanish to consummate their marriage because this whole party took months of preparations, and they need to be present. After all, people paid good money to be around them. The threat of cock cages hangs over their heads, but they promise to behave. However, Val being the horny beast he is, ends up taking Vox to the bathroom for a quickie anyway. Velvette decides to let it slide this time.

✨ At least 20 casualties mark the night. Vox ends up zapping one of the guests who gets a bit too clingy with Val during the dance. Meanwhile, Val gets into a brawl and, well, let's just say it doesn't end well for the other guy. Surprisingly, everyone seems to be having a great time, but hey, these are the Vees' colleagues we're talking about—they thrive on violence and sex.

✨ Yeah, there's no shortage of sex at this party. With a guest list mainly consisting of businesspeople, adult performers, and mobsters, tensions escalate rapidly. By around 3 A.M., half of the party is busy getting down and dirty in every corner imaginable.

✨ When Vox reaches the perfect level of drunkenness, he seizes control of the DJ station. Surprisingly, he's a natural, dropping beats like a pro and having an absolute blast. Val, meanwhile, goes absolutely wild watching him, thrilled to see Vox letting loose and embracing his creative side.

✨ Derek, Vox's assistant, is the odd one out, the only low-status person to snag an invite because Vox felt kinda generous. But truth be told, Derek hates the idea and wasn't keen on attending. However, when Melissa caught wind of his invitation, she practically dragged him there to be his plus one, desperate to get closer to Velvette. Derek's terrified of most of the guests, but Melissa's over the moon. She later fucks him as a reward for being a very brave boy. Angel is not invited because he would ruin mood of both grooms.

✨ Valentino had prepared the filthiest, kinkiest, most elaborate wedding night, but it doesn't go as planned. Surprisingly, things turn out very vanilla for their standards, with a lot of missionary, eye contact, and hand-holding. After 16 hours of non-stop action, they're both too exhausted to even think about getting creative.

Thank you @purrpleowl @watcherofeternalflame @canadianlucifer @aroromantic @malu897 @staticmothed @chaggieslovechild @gumm1defloor @mayflowersfly for your thoughts!

[thedelusionreaderbitch]

Nikolai Lantsov x gn! Reader - Kings and fools

A/n: whoops, cannon? she died yesterday. also translations at the end

Summary: Being trapped in a Fjerdan lab isn't much fun, but things do start to get interesting when someone you recognize shows up.

Warnings: Swearing, implied death, implied torture, beating people up, prolly ptsd, just all around fun times.

[Pronouns used: You/your] [Pov: 2nd person] [Pairings: (romantic!) nikolai x reader]

You were going to laugh because of the sheer hilariousness of this situation. Never-mind, you were currently laughing your head off.

One of the guard's turned around to look at you with fierce eyes and smacked your face thrice just for little a giggle slipping past your lips.

"Tig!" He shouts at you in Fjerdan after hitting your face repeatedly. "Tig!"

But you could care less, because they obviously didn't realize who they had just captured, because if they had, they would be carrying a body bag instead. War would start between Ravka and Fjerda, or perhaps they would keep it a secret and invade Ravka knowing they had a dead king.

The King of fucking Ravka was shoved into your cell.

The Fjerdan guard scampered off probably because he had spent too much time on such a lowly prisoner not knowing if he used his fucking eyes he would see that he would be getting a raise within the hour.

Alas, he didn't and now you were stuck with an unwanted roommate.

"Are you okay?" He whispered to you, and your breath stopped.

You had not expected that, you had expected some arrogant fool, as kings usually were. Kings and fools were one in the same after all.

"What?"

"He hit you."

Blinking a couple of times, you just shook your head. "He was being kind."

The King narrowed his eyes. "Unless I'm mistaken, kind people do not hurt someone."

You wanted to say that it didn't hurt, but you were weak. The bruises forming would say otherwise, and lying wouldn't get you anywhere. Even so, the only way to survive this place was to be strong, someone slapping you three times because you laughed wasn't the worst you've experienced or seen. A slap was child's play.

"You'll soon find out kindness comes in more forms then one."

___________

It was Nikolai Lantsov's first true day in this hellish Fjerdan laboratory.

Now he would find out what you were used for.

"Get up." You kick his side as he groans on the dirt floor. "Get up, you babink!"

He throws his head up to look at you with curled lips.

"I certainly won't if you don't ask me nicely."

You have heard of his ability to charm, and you've heard of his large ego, you've found the only thing that's true is the latter. Nikolai has an incredible ego whether it be a facade or not it didn't matter. It was going to cost him his first real beating, and make all the other ones look like mercy.

"Unless you want one of the guards to kick the shit out of you, get up!"

He sighed, but quickly followed your orders and you vaguely wondered if he was used to giving orders rather then receiving them, or if he let all his generals do it for him.

You shouldn't be helping this poor fool, but some part of you still burned with the need to protect your country, and by extension of that the king. It was a part of you that dared to hope, it was weak, and the reason you were in this situation. You thought that hopeful part of you had died the first week you were here, and you knew they weren't coming for you. Despite being their best.

You should have known better then, just like you should know better know.

But you're a fool.

Somehow, for the next five months you manage to shield Nikolai away from the brunt of the nasty atrocities in this lab-rat prison. Both of you do your labor with no foul-language, or whimpers escaping. You manage to stay quiet and to get the guards off his, and your backs. It's a miracle considering he talks so much.

You just hope you can keep him out of the lab.

"So, you know how to speak Ravkan?"

Your back stiffens, and the cuts there sting a little as you do but you manage to ignore it in favor of glaring at the man who's sitting in your cell beside you. How he managed to remember you cursing at him in Ravkan that first morning is beyond you. Usually time will seep deep into bones until there's nothing but the memory of pain, and the moments of suffering. Having someone else there is dangerous, because it lessens the load and makes you a fool, for it gives you hope.

"You should stop asking questions you know the answer to." You muttered while rolling your eyes at him.

"That wasn't my question." He shoved your shoulder, if you weren't here he would have had more strength to not shove it so weakly. If you weren't here, you wouldn't wince slightly anyways, if he hadn't shown up this would have never happened.

His bright piercing gaze meet yours and you wanted to curse for your heart stuttering in your chest. At least you knew there weren't any grisha around to hear it.

Now, that very thought made you sick.

"What do you want to ask me then?" You ask him, as his eyes glint dangerously and you wonder whether kings are the fools, or if it's just the people who get caught in their snare that are.

"Three questions," He bargains. "Then I'll let you sleep."

Pursing your lips, you think about what could go wrong, but you find you don't care. You've been fearing for your life, and pain for over three years, if your name was still uttered around Ravka then Alina Starkov was going to come running for your rescue. It didn't matter if he found out who you were through some silly questions, it was just leveling the playing field. It wasn't fair, you mused, that you knew his identity, but he didn't know yours.

"Fine." You snap.

Plus, you were feeling slightly more sappy tonight, if he wanted to hear your sob story that he's already been told but has forgotten then he could be your guest.

"Where did you live?"

"Fjerda, then Ravka."

"What did you used to, do before all of this." He gestured towards the cell.

"I hunted down the people I used to work for." You speak rather curtly before facing away from him, unwanted memories flickering behind your irises. "I think that's enough questions for tonight."

But he grabs your chin and turns your head to face him as he shifts his body closer to yours so you were only a breath apart.

"I have one more question left."

"I hate you."

He smiled, "No you don't, drüskelle maleni."

You slapped his hand away from your face, and moved away from him with a furious expression written with the frown on your lips.

You thought if anything, he would know you as the spy, not as the drüskelle maleni - the drüskelle ghost.

That's what you were before, someone who had been raised to kill without thought, to someone who found humanity again. Then lost it as they had to repent for their sins.

"I'm sorry lapushka, I shouldn't have-" Nikolai tries to reach out for you, but even in your tiny cell do you manage to move away from him.

"Don't Moi Tsar." You hissed, quickly silencing the King. You didn't hear from him again that night

_____________

Of course the next day was shit.

Nikolai refused to follow any orders and you knew the guards were getting fed up with his behavior. Currently, so were you, did he just forget every lesson you taught him to stay quiet? Was he such a fool as to not realize that if he didn't stay hidden enough they would figure out who he was and he would be dead by morning?

Yet it was not in Nikolai Lantsov's nature to stay quiet, saints, you doubted he even knew the word.

If he was going to be this reckless than you couldn't help him, you wouldn't help him. What's the point if he was bargaining with his own life?

That's what you repeated to yourself anyways, as he was slowly getting dragged off.

"We're taking this demjin to the lab." One grumbled as they pulled Nikolai with a group of soldiers.

Your blood went cold, and your eyes started to fill with dread.

You had been in the lab, once, but they decided they didn't actually need you. Still, you got to see the people being put under terrible things, testing them to see how much the body could handle. There were crimes not even imaginable, so bad that when someone opened their mouth to speak about them, a scream got let out instead.

The unlucky ones would disappear once they crossed the border into the lab. The lucky ones would come back alive, maybe even a little maimed, but alive.

Maybe they weren't so lucky than, maybe the real curse is going through it than surviving it.

Djel, You prayed. Please let this work, for once let me save something instead of kill. Don't use me as your blade but as your shield. Just this once.

You ran up to the guards and tore them off of Nikolai, breaking their grip on him.

"Me jer jonink." You whispered to the King in your mother tongue, not quite knowing what you were asking forgiveness for. Perhaps it was for the way you snapped, or for the lives you've stolen, you don't quite know. Maybe it was for the way he laid his eyes on you, and you on him. The way you've protected him, and the way he's given you hope.

Kings and fools are one in the same.

"What do you think you're doing!" One growled, while the other two held down your arms against your thrashing.

Saving him. "Helping my country, Fjerda." You lifted your chin staring defiantly into their faces. Knowing that you were like them once, killing grisha, only to be shown mercy, and turned into a weapon against the Drüskelle. You could be that one last time, you could serve Ravka, even if it meant death.

You could serve your love.

"You should know that grisha anything but vile, they are good, they are-"

The guard not holding you down, knees you in the gut, causing your knees to tremble and your strength to waiver. Yet the men gripping your arms forced your legs to work, lest you break them.

"Grisha will run this country to the ground!" He yells at you, spit hitting your face.

You knew you had to go further if you wanted them to forget about Nikolai and his stunt of, existing.

Taking a breath you opened your eyes and hoped.

"Fel holm ve koop djet."

Immediately they start to drag you away from Nikolai who tries to shout, to get them to stop, but they ignore the King. Instead they seem to find enjoyment with bruising you up on your way to the lab.

Now you truly understood why you asked for forgiveness, because the look in his eyes as they pulled you away could only scream love.

Words 1843

-thedelusionreaderbitch

Translations:

Fjerdan:

Tig - Shut up

Drüskelle - Witchhunter

Demjin - Demon

Me jer jonink. - Forgive me

Fel holm ve koop djet. - Our home is better for it

Ravkan:

Babink - Barbarian

Maleni - ghost

Lapushka - Darling

Moi Tsar - My King

Grishaverse taglist: @kaqua @rika90 @thefandomplace @gallysonegoodlung @navs-bhat @sumsebien @dontjudgeabookbythecover @brekker-zenik @alohastitch0626 @brekkers-desigirl @emmsamultifan06

[merrygay]

“Ah ah… What did you say ?”

Alastor x reader

Warning : NSFW, Dacryphilia, Dark Themes, cannibalism, Alastor is a Warning himself. English is not my first language. I’m bad at writing synopsis. I’m bad at writing in general in fact.

Synopsis : Innocent reader tries to make a deal with Vox in order to protect herself from Alastor.

Other : Lovely ; Alastor x reader

(Sorry for the long delay, college is kicking my ass)

————————————————————————

It’s been a week since the incident with Alastor happened, he hadn’t touched you since or even come your way.

Though you still tried to avoid him like the plague, every time you saw him, around the corner, in the living room, anywhere, you just quickly run away for dear life.

You were scared, what if this time he eats you for good ? What if he does the same thing he did last time and then proceed to eat you at the same ? You were getting paranoid at this point.

Seeing your small figure scare away from him like the pretty prey that you are made him grin even wider. He was clearly enjoying this, enjoying you, at first he hated that he lost control to a miserable thing like you, but as time passes the idea of a plaything didn’t seem to bother him anymore, especially when he was this hungry.

You've tried to forget what happened, you've really tried, but every night when you're alone in bed, you can't help yourself.

The pulsating feeling between your legs won’t stop, oh poor you, it gets even worse when the image of his head between your legs becomes clearer, his tongue unashamedly licking the most intimate part of your body, making a mess of himself with your juices as they drip from your sensitive pussy while you moan and whimper.

An innocent thing like you can’t even understand why you are feeling like this.

You rub your thighs to cease the sensation the same sensation you felt when he did this forbidden thing to you but it doesn’t work, you keep whining until you finally fell asleep.

You had to find a solution and quick, you don’t know when he’s going to jump on you again and this time eat you for good.

So Here you were, in front of the building of nonetheless than the Vees. It was a dumb idea let’s be honest here. Each step you take to get closer to the doors makes your heart beats faster. Making a deal with Vox must be better than being killed by Alastor right ? Right ?

_

“You want me to do what now ?”

The man in front of you, with a flat-screen TV for a face, looked at you as if you'd said the stupidest thing in the world.

“Why would I make a deal with an employee of this stupid fucking hotel huh ?”

You swallow nervously at his answer, playing with your fingers as you try to avoid his piercing gaze.

“I-I need to make a deal with you because I heard you are the only one who is as strong as Alastor-“

Vox smiles widen as he seems to like the compliment, “Ahah. Go on, continue I don’t have the whole fucking day” he says tapping against his office table.

You then proceed to explain, trying to avoid some of the… more embarrassing details.

he begins to laugh… laugh ? Why is he laughing ?

“You’re telling me that you are the new toy of Alastor”

He pauses for a second smiling devilishly while looking at you from head to toe

“You know what I’ll make deal with you, stealing Alastor fucking food is much more fun I can’t wait to see the face of this old prick when-”

His TV face starts to vibrate, you could see it was one of the other Vees calling. He puts the call in one of his other TV.

“Hello there, Velvet. How are you this Hellish morning”, in stark contrast to Vox lively greeting, Velvet response was one of pure annoyance.

“Cut the shit vox, i need you up here NOW. Your little boy toy is wracking my department while I tried to put together a show !”

Other voices could be heard behind her notably Valentino’s who was cursing around, yelling and destroying the entire department. Velvet ends the call without giving Vox any chance to say something.

Vox’s smiling face drops, he lets out a loud sigh.

“Here I was.. excited for something… anyway come this afternoon, so we can finalize our deal, I have a fire to put out upstairs”

With that, you leave the building, and quickly go back to the hotel avoiding the sinners running around and killing each other.

-

You open the doors, but it's strangely quiet - maybe they've gone out, you wonder. You climb the stairs back to your room, but when you finally reach the corridor, you suddenly hear a static sound.

“Are you still going to avoid me hmm ?”

You hear that familiar voice, filtered through the radio, with that all-too-familiar smile. He appeared right in front of you. You flinch and take a few steps back, your legs ready to run in the opposite direction.

He chuckles, his smile widening, awnnn how cute, you're still this scared of him.

“Now now don’t be scared, I just want to have a little chat with you” he says while turning around. Alastor was now walking towards your room Insinuating you to follow him.

“N-no ! I’m not going to, you should stay away from me, I made a deal with Vox !”

As those words settles in, the corridor seemed to shrink, suffocating you in a claustrophobic embrace.

The lights starts to flicker casting grotesque shadows on the peeling wallpaper.

A sudden chill permeated the air, causing goosebumps to rise on your already trembling skin.

“Haha.. What did you say ?” His voice took on a deeper timbre through his radio filter.

An oppressive weight settled over the corridor, squeezing the breath from your lungs and filling your minds with irrational fear.

He turns to you, his predatory eyes shining through the flickering lights. Each step seemed to echo with ominous intent while he grew taller and taller and his antlers increased in size.

"Do you really think he can keep me away from you? I don't think you really understand the situation you're in, my dear… You're my plaything, my prey and my meal. If you utter those stupid words again... I'll end Vox's life and broadcast his screams for every disrespectful wreck who dares to take what's MINE”

You were on the floor, you shaky legs were to weak to stand on their own, while Alastor’s glowing eyes pierced through your soul.

"Have I made myself clear?" He asks, leaning slightly so that his face is close to yours. You nod, lips pressed together, too scared to speak.

He tilted his head, his eyes softened, but the smirk that played on his lips refused to yield, a silent mockery that belied his gentle gaze.

In stark contrast to the anger that had consumed him mere moments ago, his voice now returned to its normal tone as he uttered the words “good girl” while petting your head.

The transition was jarring, as if a storm had suddenly given way to a calm, clear sky, leaving those around him bewildered by the sudden shift in his demeanor.

He straighten up and turns his back to you “Come now, I don’t know for you my dear but all that action has worked up quite an appetite, I'm absolutely famished !” he chuckles darkly as he starts walking towards your room.

He didn't give you time to get up, as one of his tentacles wrapped itself around your waist forcefully.

-

Next thing you know, Alastor was sitting at the edge of your bed, you straddling his lap facing him, with only your bra and skirt remaining still while your shirt was torn on the floor.

“You are terrible liar” Alastor force you to look at his smirking face.

“You didn’t make any deal .. yet” as he states those words without any warning he bites your neck, you let out a cry of surprise, you tried to get away, pushing him away in vain, he had one firm hand placed on your hips his claws digging in harder and harder each time you moved. Ironically his other hand holds yours in a romantic embrace, your fingers intertwined to his.

“Stay still, or I will devour you. You have no idea how much I’m restraining myself right now little one”, he can't help it, it's been a week since he's tasted you, since he's bitten your pretty little body, everything about you drives him crazy, your smell ahh your smell.

He goes back to your neck this time nestling there, inhaling deeply and then proceed to lick the spot he bit earlier, licking up the blood, his tongue started to go down, until he reached your breasts still covered with your bra, he looks up at you, smirking.

You were a trembling mess, your emotions swirled like a tempest, fear tightening your chest with every breath, embarrassment flooding your cheeks with a telltale blush. Yet amidst the chaos, a stirring of arousal sent shivers along your back, a well too familiar feeling between your thighs started to show up much to your dismay.

His hand, which was on your hips moved with a slow, deliberate, grace, gradually tracing a path upwards, each caress sending shivers down your spine until it reached the delicate lace of your bra.

His eyes were still staring into yours, drinking in your every reaction as his claws ripped the clasp of your bra, freeing your breasts for his hungry eyes to see.

You tried to cover them with your hand but He withdraws it “a-a”, he says sarcastically before his tongue trace a sensual path along your neck, gradually venturing lower and lower, your breath came in shallow gaps, each inhalation tinged with anticipation.

He finally reaches your chest, his tongue tracing precise circles around your nipples, you try to stifle your moans with your hand, but he suddenly bites your breast, making you cry out his name as he chuckles.

He continues for a while without ever ceasing to lick and bite, his hand still intertwined with yours, as you keep whimpering.

He was getting excited each sounds that came out of your mouth made him feral making his antlers grow and his eyes took on a predatory gleam, a never stopping hunger.

Without Warning, he forcefully lifted you from his lap, abruptly changing position as he pushed you down onto the bed, he slid your legs up onto his shoulders, giving him access to your thighs which he didn’t wait a minute before biting on it much more harder this time making you yelp in pain.

You watch his shark like teeth digging into the flesh of your skin, eliciting a crimson flow that trickled down you thigh, his tongue darted out to lap at the blood pooling around the wound, hungrily savoring again the metallic tang of the fluid.

“P-Please stop” you begged, tears rolling down your cheeks. He ignores your plead instead he keeps going, biting your other thigh, licking it and then taking another bite, while he slowly gets closer to your cunt.

His fingers played with the edge of your damp panties, teasing you. Your pussy was dripping wet. Your scent was intoxicating, everything about you was intoxicating, the way he was ruining you, both physically and mentally turned him on even more.

He abruptly ripped out your panties, your pussy was now exposed to him, it took him a lot of restraint for him not to eat you right fucking now, just like before.

His index finger teased a delicate trail along your belly, he descended lower his nail traced a deliberate scratch along your skin, igniting a surge of desire that pulsed through your vein.

You weren’t supposed to feel like this, but instead of hating it, you were desperate, one part you wanted him to touch your pussy, make you feel the same feeling of just pure bliss, and the other part, fear just pure fear.

“P-Please don’t go any lower” you plead again each word punctuated by a stifled sob, but it was too late, the demon before you was too intoxicated by your scent, by your wetness, your whole body really.

Again your pretty little mind had no idea about the struggle he was going through right now, struggling to restrain his cannibalistic impulses, and hearing your cries wasn’t helping at all, in the contrary, he derived such pleasure from your tears.

The way your puffy eyes would look at him, lips cutely pressed together, face flushed ahhh don’t blame him for acting out while you look this delicious.

“I want your soul” the demon says, before his finger applied gently pressure to your sensitive button, making you gasp in pleasure, he stroked circular motions over your clit heightened the pace, while watching your face which was trying not to moan but failed miserably.

“Let’s make a deal”, you were surprised by his sudden request “w-what” you stutters out, is he really suggesting it now ? Like right now in the middle of that ?

You couldn’t think straight you were too absorb by the pleasure he was providing you, you shake your head no, which made him stopped his movements making you whine, you look up at him, with that desperate look on your face.

Suddenly, he thrusts two fingers inside you, causing you to let out a moan of surprise at the sudden intrusion.

Alastor didn’t like the way you reacted to his request and it showed, as he pushes his fingers in and out with a forceful intensity.

He easily found your sweet spot, not letting you the time to process anything, you were a moaning mess at this point, clutching the sheets, fingers digging into the fabric while you begged him to slow down it was all too much for you.

“I will take you under my wig, and in exchange your soul would be mine forever” he declares.

Oh how ironic was it ? The problem himself proposing you this offer, it’s not like this morning you were literally trying to find a solution to get away from him.

You couldn’t reply back, only moans came out of that pretty mouth of yours making him chuckle, the intense heat that was building inside you, ready to be released at any moment was making you dizzy.

And then

He stops

Completely

Leaving you in a state of desperate longing, denied the released you craved.

“A-Alastor” you keep whining, moving your hips desperately.

“Accept my deal… just let it go” you couldn’t resist anymore you needed this so badly, you finally nod which made Alastor’s smile became more sinister as he starts to push his fingers in and out again, each stroke hitting your sweet spot harder, his other free hand comes towards yours to take, “it’s a deal then ?”.

The atmosphere changed drastically, Alastor form was becoming more demonic but you couldn’t care less at this point fear already consumed you, you were too absorb on reaching your climax now.

You hold his hand, nodding eagerly, moaning out a yes, and that’s all he needed to hear. Before you know it a collar appeared around your neck its chain dangling freely for Alastor to hold, which he does.

His fingers was buried deep inside your pussy while his other hand grasped the chain of your collar, you were his now forever there’s no going back.

Your body quivered with anticipation as you were reaching you peak, your tried to speak but your words were incoherent, but Alastor knew what you were about to say.

He suddenly buried his face between your legs, his fingers remaining inside you pumping in and out rapidly, while his tongue was devouring your pussy as if each taste was his last.

Your arched your back and with a shuddering gasp your body convulsed letting waves of pleasure washing over you, your moans getting louder as you finally came.

Your juices were all over his mouth and fingers. He eagerly took all in swallowing it without hesitation, while you were laying there panting and whimpering trying to regain some sense.

Alastor straighten himself, pulling out his fingers and bringing it to his mouth to lick it clean while fixing you with an intense gaze.

After regaining some sort of composure, a flicker of realization crossed over your features “n-n-n-noo what have I done !”, your voice rise in panic as you seat up, which made Alastor laugh with mockery each chuckle making you realize even more in what situation you were in now.

You tried to get off the bed but the grip that had Alastor on the chain held you firmly in place.

“Oh my dear, but I’m not done yet” he says before slamming you back into the bed.

Indeed he wasn’t done yet.

———————————————————————

It’s 3 am and I hope what I wrote made sense

[warnersister]

Post Show Pleazures (Twizted Bliss) - Rockstar!Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

[Bradley Bradshaw x reader, rooster x reader]

Summary: your band was performing as DaggeR 1’s warmup act on their world tour; a group significantly younger than the Nu metal heads - and Rooster thought he could handle having you around, could handle his own hard on’s. But you’re a month in and Manchester proves otherwise.

Warnings: smut, age gap relationship 35//24, degradation, p in v, no protection, oral (m receiving), begging, basically Roo being a perv

This was originally about Munky from Korn, but it didn’t do well so if you’re into Korn maybe check out the original here

Rooster was a respectful guy, he’s midway through his umpteenth fucking world tour for God’s sake, a grown ass man. He kept his distance, stayed way back, promised himself he wouldn’t do anything to make you uncomfortable; only a young thing after all.

It was all fun and games until it came time for the bands to be introduced to one another. DaggeR 1 had sit in their studio and their manager had put on your music for them all to listen to before they agreed to anything, just like them - a Nu metal mashup with screaming and incoherency every now and then. And they had to admit, you could fucking sing.

And then it was organised, the posters printed, the ads sent out - Twizted Blizter would front for DaggeR 1 in their upcoming tour, formally meeting the week prior in order to get all your affairs straight. “I’m telling you dude she’s real good” Jake said, pushing open the door to the studio as himself and Rooster discussed you.

Rooster stopped in his tracks when he was faced with a young woman with her hands on her hips, stood like some undead Avril Lavigne, smoky eyeshadow, pierced brow, sharp dark nails and this stupid shit eating smirk that he could kiss off your face- wait what?

“Hey! This is the band I was telling you guys about!” Jake introduced you all to each member of the band, Rooster’s eyes lingering on you a little more than necessary. And as you shook his hand and your tongue protruded to wet your blackened lips, teeth bared as you grinned up at him and voice a hell of a lot softer than he expected judging on your voice’s ability to warp into some hellish chant. “It’s a pleasure to meet you” you say meekly, nails scratching his skin slightly as he reluctantly pulled his hand away from your own. “You’ve got rhythm” he tells you and you smile again, appreciatively “that’s what they all say” you reply with a wink. He hadn’t a chance to compute that underlying meaning that sentence suggested, before you shook Coyote’s hand.

“Y’ wanna watch the band?” Coyote asked, walking out of his dressing room; beer in hand. Rooster looked at him and shrugged. “Alright man” your set had already started, band already getting into their stride as the beat gyrated through the venue’s flooring. Rooster took a swig from the bottle as he watched you throw profanities into the mic; hair frazzled around your head, makeup running, sweat dripping off your body, nails digging into your thighs and creating crescent shaped indentations beginning to leak with blood as you scraped them up your skin like a satanic tattoo artist.

Rooster barely made it through the first song before he had to force his way back to the bathrooms, just to rub one out before the show - angrily cursing himself as he hated the way he thought about you, the way you carried yourself, the way he could have you. You were over a decade younger than him and this was disgusting. But as he climaxed and moaned out your name, it felt so goddamn right.

“Mr Bradshaw?” He heard from behind him as he prepared for his own set, head still foggy. He turned to see you staring up at him through your lashes, fingers on one hand fiddling with the index nail on the other, nervously chewing your lip. He gulped at the way you called him. “Yeah hun?” He found himself saying, like some pensioner talking to the teenage intern at the nutcase ward. “Did you like our set?” You asked him, tone dripping with nerves. “Holy fuck yeah it sure was good” he tells you with a smile “really?” Your face lit up as you took a step forward and he certainly didn’t step back. “Yeah. Damn good singer you are.” He tells you and you giggle giddily. “Thank you” you tell him, appreciatively. “I really look up to you as an artist, Mr Bradshaw.” You tell him, honestly. And he almost can’t help but think your honey-laced words are fakery for the horny shit you were doing ten minutes ago. “You do?” He found himself asking, dreamily. Get your shit together, man. You nodded in response. “It’s an honour to be working with you and your band.” You say with a child-like grin, your eyes darting down and up again as fast as they had. “Best of luck for your set.” You said, taking a sip of water. “Not that you need it” you tell him, pivoting and walking in the other direction.

Rooster sighs heavily and runs a hand over his face, seeing his flustered reflection in the mirror across from him, distracted by the obvious wet patch on his trousers. Did you see that? Shit.

And that’s how it went for the rest of the North America tour. You’d play, he’d rub one out, and then he’d head to the stage already dripping in sweat as he’d see your eyes watching him tentatively.

It was on the way to the UK tour when the two bands were mingling on the plane, Rooster excusing himself to get a drink and walking past your group. He looked at your face, sleeping soundly in the arms of your drummer who looked like a shitty Travis Barker wannabe, who raised an eyebrow at Rooster and smirked.

He felt his nostrils flare as he walked on, having to force himself to walk past the two of you again only to see not-Travis stroking your hair and pushing it out of your face and Rooster could tell it was clearly for his benefit. He felt a twisting pang of jealously in his chest as whatshisface threaded a hand under your thighs to pull you closer. Rooster just shook his head and walked back to his seat.

God this is so fucking wrong.

Manchester, England. Ironically where your band formed so you knew exactly where all the best bars were in the area - and as usual, your band was on before DaggeR 1 - your expression hazy and dazed as you blared into the microphone, clawing at your own skin with such desperation Rooster so wished you’d take out on him. And of course, he had to have his inaugural trip to a more private area to sort out his predicament before anyone saw the boner he was nursing.

In his dressing room, he sat palming at the obvious tent in his pants. Cursing himself as he urged his cock for some sort of relief, moaning your name reiteratively like some sort of sickened chant. “Mr Bradshaw?” He heard your voice from the door as you looked at him with widened, evidently startled eyes. “Shit! I-” he began before you slammed the door behind you, him hearing a “sorry!” Squeaked from you and he rushed to pull his pants up and sprint for the door, grabbing your wrist before you could go anywhere. “Did you hear that?” He asked and you gulped with a slight nod. “Shit I’m so sorry-” he began as you pulled your hand away “I didn’t mean to interrupt-” “you must think I’m such a pervert.” He says, running his hands through his hair. “Look I’m so fucking sorry, you must think I’m a real creep, I’m so much older than you and I’m rubbing one out after your sets and it’s disgusting and-” he rants. “Mr Bradshaw” you cut him off and he looks at you. “It’s ok.” You say and he raises his brows. “It is?” You nod “it is perverted but it’s okay cause I get off to you too-” you say honestly and he grunts involuntarily. “You what?” “You heard me” you reply and he grits his jaw. “I can help you Mr Bradshaw-” “shit” he swears and drags you back into his dressing room, making sure to shut the door tightly and pushing you against it.

“Are you okay with what I’m ’bouta do to you?” He asks and you consent “I’m a grown ass woman Mr Bradshaw” you say “I’m okay with it” “shit call me that again” “Mr Bradshaw?” He groans “yeah that” “Mr Bradshaw” his knees go weak and he slinks back onto his couch with a groan, watching you sink to your knees as you undo his pants and palming him through his boxers. “Please forgive me I’m so disgusting” he says, as you take him into your hand “I’m a filthy pervert” he breathes as you lick a stripe up the bottom of his cock “you’re too pure for a sick old man like me” he says, as your head begins to bob “I don’t deserve this.” He says, embarrassed how quickly he was building up to his orgasm “please make me cum” he begs as you hollow out your cheeks and he shoots cum into the back of your throat, throwing his head back as he watches you swallow his cum through hooded eyelids.

“Shit” he groans as he pulls you forward as he stands up, laying you on your back on the couch “how much do you like these pants?” He asks and you shrug as he uses a decent deal of effort to rip the flimsy material along with your underwear. “They were expensive though-” you sigh “shit I’m sorry. I should’ve checked, I’m such a sleaze. So desperate for you. I’ll take you shopping, I sound like some goddamn sugar daddy-” “Bradley, it’s okay.” You tell him and he groans pathetically as he sinks into you, your arms reaching around his neck as he peppers kisses onto your stage-sweated face. “M sorry. ‘M such a perv.” He reiterates again and again and you shut him up by kissing him firmly on the lips and clawing your sharp nails into his back.

“You are a perv” you breathe “‘nd this shouldn’t feel right” you agree and he cries out “I look up to you” you say “and I’m letting you down” he groans, feeling you hook your legs around his waist. “But I can’t stop it’s so good” he moans as he cums inside of you, watching your face contort in pleasure as you came moments after. “Shit I came inside of you, I’m sorry, I’m sorry” “you’re good” you breathe with a smile, catching your breath as he pulls out of you and provides you with an oversized pair of khakis in lieu of your trousers in odder to accommodate the lack there of, collecting himself and looking at you, hands delicately reaching up to cradle your face as he looks you over, touch so gentle as if you were an antique doll. “M sorry you’re too good for me. He says, kissing your forehead. “It’s okay Mr Bradshaw, I liked it.” He groaned as you kissed his palm and leant into his touch.

“Oh Mr Bradshaw, I made your back bleed” you say, eyes full of concern as a drop of blood seeps onto your thumb. He takes your hand in his and licks the blood off your thumb “good I deserve to be punished.” He says, walking you backward until your back hit the door, leaning against it and effectively trapping you on it as he leans down to pepper your lips with hot open mouth kisses. “M such a pervert”

“Two minutes, Rooster” you heard from beyond the door as he moaned, frustrated. “You’ll be great, Mr Bradshaw. Like you always are” you tell him, eyes full of pride. “And I’ll be in here when you’re done” you promise and he whimpers “make sure you don’t have the pants on” he says, before smacking his own head “asshole” he curses himself as you open the door “go be great, Rooster” you say as he walks over the threshold. “Don’t you want a shirt?” You ask and he walks away with a bleeding back “nah they can watch me bleed knownin’ it was you, princess” he says, thrusting his hands into his hair as he cursed himself for being such a crude and corruptive son of a bitch.

And he cried and fucked you all over again once the show was done, feeling every bit guilty- but not really.

And in the following show, Leeds, he sat through your whole set and as soon as you walked off stage, he picked you up at the waist and slung you over his shoulder, marching running to his dressing room not really taking care as to who sees, offering a cocky look to your drummer as you head past him. “Pervert” he says under his voice “hell yeah I am!” He shouts with a holler as he licked the exposed skin on your upper thigh, “and she’s gonna fuck me and call me names until I feel so guilty I cry!” slamming the door shut behind the two of you.

[lightaflaem]

𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 [𝐨𝐧𝐞]

content warnings: heavy gore, zombies, infectious disease, mentions of blood, hospitals, cheating, profanity, violence, usage of weapons and guns, mental health problems, implied anxiety attacks, explicit smut, oral (f!receiving), fingering, protected sex

word count: 5.5k

summary: just when everyone thought that the flu-like virus which led to a global outbreak four years ago had finally settled down, a new variant struck that escalated rapidly and became out of control. with limited supplies and life at stake, you were left with no choice but to team up with your ex-boyfriend, oikawa tooru, to navigate and seek shelter.

keiya.speaks: this is an entry for @pixelcafe-network 's 2024 spooktober event 🎃

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You wished that all of this was just inside of your head.

You begged the ups that once you open your eyes, you’ll be in your favorite figs scrub suit, caressing your Beckman Coulter DxH 900 hematology analyzer, praying that the reagents would be enough for your hospital’s bed capacity as your laboratory supervisor forgot to place an order for this month’s supplies.

Or maybe wooing your Cobas e601, hoping that your quality control would be in the range of the mean so you would be able to run all your chemistry specimens smoothly. Maybe when you finally open your eyes, you’ll be back inside the laboratory, signing all your patients’ results as a Medical Laboratory Scientist.

However, when your eyelids unfolded and a baseball bat swung towards you that nearly grazed the tip of your nose, you were back in this stinking reality.

“I swear to fucking hell, Tooru, stop spinning the bat like that, you nearly hit me again!” you hissed, trying to avoid the piece of wood for the nth time. Your eyes caught a glimpse of the nip of skin that has been hanging around the bloody barbed wires wrapped around it for heavens knows how long and instantly, you felt your insides turning upside down, nearly throwing the acid of your stomach in disgust. 

“Aww, chibi-chan is annoyed, you’re too cute to be annoyed. You can’t be annoyed at me, darling. You’re stuck with me.” Tooru smiled, his eyes turning crescents while grabbing a few cans of easy-open tuna paella and throwing it into the creaky shopping cart.

You’re back in this reality where everyone around you has turned into a living dead—basically zombies. People might think that this is just a foolish tale told by someone like you however, it wasn’t. When everyone thought that the Corona virus that set the world into a pandemic four years ago had ended, well it hasn’t really ended that well yet.

A new variant mutated and current vaccines didn’t work that much into protecting the people. Eventually. Everyone started getting sick again and the cases doubled, tripled, and continued proliferating like hell. Hospitals were full of patients with flu-like symptoms and quarantine was implemented once again. With the lack of research and scientific approach, never have you ever imagined that the simple flu virus that was once contained will mutate into something more damned, something more hellish—and that is taking over its host’s nervous system and respiratory tract, owning it completely just like the mad cow and rabies disease. At this point, you didn’t really understand it that much because there’s a lot of factors and unknown elements. With that, the once feared virus has already taken over the world again but this time, much worse than the first one.

Two weeks since the virus has flipped Japan 360 degrees, 14 days of being stuck to survive with Oikawa Tooru, your ex-boyfriend. 

Shit happens for real, right? But when that menace, caramel-eyed, 6 footer guy who dragged his best friend, Iwaizumi Hajime, into his shenanigans suddenly showed up in your workplace with a bouquet of flowers 3 years after your break-up, you felt your blood boiling as the last thing you wanted to see is his face.

And another shit happens is that the very same day he showed his arrogant face to you, that’s also the day when the whole city went rabid and everyone suddenly started biting each other as the undead symptoms manifested in most of your emergency room patients. It was like a trigger that suddenly detonated, sending signals to all of the infected to attack.

That’s how you found yourself in an abandoned grocery, picking up some goods before you eventually hit the road to seek a temporary shelter while looking for a permanent one with your ex-boyfriend, who’s now taking advantage of the life or death situation to get closer to you once more.

“Phew, looks like we got everything we needed.”

Your gaze shifted to the items inside the cart. Canned goods, instant meals, protein bars, biscuits, some snacks, bottled waters that could probably last up to a few days depending on the consumption, energy drinks, basic medicine and first aid, batteries, ropes, some toiletries and personal necessities, and a box of condoms.

Box of condoms?

“Oikawa Tooru, you perverted sex animal!” you felt your face heating up despite the broken air conditioner kept on running, setting the whole area into freezing point.

Tooru was laughing his ass off as you picked up and threw the packets of rubber on his chest. He was bursting so much that he dramatically wiped his fake tears.

“We’re in the middle of a fucking apocalypse and you still have the time to pull shitty pranks just like that!” you exclaimed, face puffing in vexation. “If you don’t have a goddamn thing to do—”

“GRRAAAGH!”

“Fuck!”

A squeal leaped out of your mouth as you saw a flesh-rotting guy approaching Tooru from behind. It let out a deafening howl, echoing in the empty store. Its skin was pale, almost white with purple veins popping in its throat up to its face. The pieces of tissue that were decomposing and filled with maggots were falling into the floor, scattering everywhere. Eyes were bloodshot and scarlet red blood was pouring out of its mouth, approaching the both of you with speed. It can fucking run?! 

In an instant, Tooru secured you behind his back and gripped on the bat’s handle with force. As the raving undead approached, he swung the piece of wood with full strength, leaving a huge missing chunk on the man’s head as the muscle flew away due to the impact. Blood spurted out everywhere and you could see pieces of its brain being tangled in the barbed wires. It fell on the ground convulsing before becoming motionless, indicating that it’s already finally dead again.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Tooru’s eyes landed on you, checking you from head to toe.

You were frozen in your place, still trying to comprehend what happened. It wasn’t the first time that you were attacked yet you could still feel your insides being scrambled whenever you’re placed in the exact situation. You felt like you’ll seriously never gonna get used to this scenario.

“Y-yeah, I’m alright. A-are you okay?” you questioned, meeting his brown orbs back. Tooru just laughed hysterically, pushing his hair back and settling the wood just above his shoulders.

“Of course! It’s the grand king after all.”

Piece of shit. You thought. He’s already 27 yet the silly nickname that he was given way back in his junior high volleyball days were still fixated on him. He’s a serious menace.

“C’mon, Iwa’s probably wondering why the hell we’re taking too long. As much as I wanted to say that we took this precious time to make out, I’d rather not.” he commented as he pushed the cart forward. You could see from his back how his gaze changed, sensing if there’s still a threat around you.

When the both of you exited the store, you were greeted by your two companies.

“Y/N! Are you alright?” Tobio hurriedly went towards you, examining your physical state. “We heard the noise from outside. We're ready to barge in, you know?”

“Oi. I’m here. Why didn’t you ask me too?” Tooru sniggered in annoyance as the black-haired man continued ignoring him as he was not existing at all. Of course, the former did not let it go and started a childish, rivalry eye to eye against each other.

It was just broken when Iwaizumi squeezed himself in between to check the items inside the cart.

“You guys forgot my snickers, you fuckers.” his forehead creased when he did not catch a glimpse of his favorite chocolate bar that he clearly instructed earlier. You mentally slapped your head as you realized it just now.

“Now Iwa-chan, this is not the right time to freaking enjoy a chocolate bar.”

“Shut the fuck up, you trash. I’ll stuff this cart into your mouth.”

“And I love you too, Iwa-chan!”

Both you and Tobio stood there with a facepalm on your faces as you watched the two best friends bicker with each other in the middle of goddamn ruins. Some people wouldn't be convinced that they have been friends since high school but they really are.

One of the few good things despite the catastrophe is that you somehow luckily ended up with the people you’ve already known. When your workplace turned into madness, Tooru and Hajime managed to pull you away from the crowd of insanity to hide and ended up escaping together safely to the hospital’s parking lot. However, little did the three of you know that there’s also a few undead lurking there. You felt the numbness taking over your body as you recognized some of them as your colleagues—Yamaguchi Tadashi, a nurse on the 6th floor and Sugawara Koshi, a pediatric resident. They were moving mindlessly, drool dripping on their lips as they no longer recognized their own self.

Before Tooru could drag you away from it, a familiar Suzuki Jimny in solid kinetic yellow stopped in front of you. The door flew open, revealing Kageyama Tobio, a phlebotomist and your college friend, screaming to the three of you to get inside the car.

And that’s how you ended up navigating the now ghost roads of Miyagi with these three. The first instinct is to drive to the government facilities in Tokyo to get help; however, it is nearly impossible to reach your destination when you’re unarmed, have no supplies, and do not know what terror lies ahead on those roads. Good thing is that there’s still electricity and water, however, cellular phone signals and wifi are now down so you couldn’t get any help through local authorities. With that, the three of you decided to stick with each other to gather and prepare everything you needed and move little by little at a time.

“Man, you seriously have horrible taste in color.” Tooru spoke to Tobio as he closed the door of his Suzuki Jimny, clearly provoking the younger one instead, all he received was a scoff, ignoring his remark.

“Tooru, stop it.” you berated your ex-boyfriend and blew you a kiss instead that made your eye roll heavenly.

In no time, you’re back on the road with Hajime driving, Tobio on the passenger seat, leaving you and Tooru in the backseat. Your itinerary for today is to find a house to stay in for a few days before finally driving out of Miyagi for good since the last house you went to got infested with undead.

Every night, you get nightmares from the images of the undead. Whenever you dream about it, it’s always detailed to the point that you could smell the malodorous odor of the rotting bodies. The terrifying screams were also echoing in your eardrums that sometimes sent a strike of headache on your head. But sometimes, you also dream about your life before all of this happens. Your happy life whom you’ve worked hard to achieve. Somehow, you managed to pull yourself together otherwise, you’ll lose your sanity and even worse, become one of the undead. However, you really don’t know how long you could still hold yourself in one piece.

“A penny for your thoughts?” Tooru managed to tickle your sides as your mind was hastily floating in cloud nine. You turned to him and saw his soft gaze locking on you. You noticed how his hazel hair that matched the color of his eyes is now cropped into a shorter one compared to its length when you were still dating him three years ago. He’s also wearing a graded specs now whom you did not recall him having one before. His pointed nose and chiseled jaw are now more prominent due to the weight and baby fats he lost. Arms and body became more muscular, skin got a little tanner than usual probably because of his training in Argentina as a professional volleyball player.

Tooru’s really handsome. He’s got the type of attractiveness where you’ll look over your shoulders to glimpse at him once again whenever he passes by. Despite his childish personality, he’s really kind and a gentleman that made him easy to penetrate inside the heart of his crowd. He’s got the aura wherein he can bring the best out of you when you’re with him. He's like the daylight you’ll see when you reach the end of the night sky.

Your relationship with him was stable. You fight but all the arguments are talked and reflected thoroughly. He always gives you whatever you want and need. Handles your tantrums very well and does not hold grudges against you or anyone else. He makes sure that he can show and make you feel all the love languages he could ever think of. He’s the best boyfriend and best friend you’ve ever had. It was so strangely stable to the point that you thought that he’s the one you’ll marry. However, when he accidentally left his phone in your apartment and you caught a glimpse of a contact with a picture of a girl asking if he had fun last night with her on his text messages, your dream of marrying him and being each other’s end game shattered.

He tried calling and chasing you for almost a week after that but you didn’t give him a chance to explain, knowing that only bullshit will come out of his mouth after he blatantly cheated on you just like that. After that, the only news you heard about him is that he’s flying to Argentina to turn his dreams into reality of becoming a professional volleyball player. He never tried contacting you again after that, not even once.

Three years later, he finally achieved his dreams as he’s all over the news as the best setter CA San Juan has ever had and now he’s suddenly back as if nothing happened between the two of you, alive and kicking. 

“Nothing, just tired.” you lied, not having any energy left to converse with him. You felt a calloused, warm hand placed above your left elbow, thumb caressing your skin. Your eyes flew and saw Tooru’s bruised and wounded hand attempting to soothe yours. “What the hell—”

“It’ll be alright, Y/N. I promise you. We’ll get through this, just like we always have.” he left out a soft yet reassuring smile before releasing your arm. You don’t know why but you felt like a hope ignited inside you. A sense of solace hit as you felt that Tooru never once had second thoughts in you. 

You find yourself erupting a small smile. There’s indeed hope despite the darkest times.

Standing in front of a 2-storey modern house, you clutched your baseball bat as you prepared yourself for a possible undead atack. It wasn’t that big but it’s enough for a family of three to live in. The exterior has a monochrome color palette with wooden doors and tinted glass windows that reflect your worn out states. It also has a balcony that has a few clothes hanging on the railing.

“Do you think it’s safe?” Hajime looked up at the towering building.

“I hope so.” Tobio answered, leading towards the door.

Slowly, Tobio twisted the automated door knob that surprisingly opened without any difficulty. The four of you exchanged looks, swallowing the balling lump in your throats as you set a foot inside the house. You were greeted by an eerie silence upon entering the abandoned house. It was decorated with lavish interiors and monochromatic palette, matching with the exteriors. The floor is made with oak wood and the walls are marble that added extra fire to the aesthetics. The second floor has a bathroom, one master bedroom, a guest room with two beds and a balcony that faces the streets. Overall, it’s a nice house and seems like the owner is well-off based on their residence.

Hajime and Tooru checked the second floor and found nothing but a few pieces of clothes that seemingly belonged to a man. However, inside the closet of the master bedroom, they found a leather bag of guns, ammunition and a copy of the firearm’s registration. You were not knowledgeable that much in firearms but you immediately recognized AK-47, M16, and the famous Smith & Wesson Model 27 that you once saw in the anime Banana Fish.

“Damn, so those really exist in real life.” Tooru made an exaggerated comment as the weapons were carefully being laid in the long coffee table by Tobio.

“We’re already in an apocalypse, you shithead. Guns like these are more realistic than this fucking hell situation.” Hajime retorted, blood is always boiling at his best friend’s idiocratic remarks.

“Let’s just keep these in one place and take it once we’re moving away. For now, let’s stick with our current weapons so we can utilize everything at once.” you proposed, earning quick nods from the boys.

“Ah, my darling is so clever! Come and give me a hug.” attempting to cage you in his chest, you quickly dodged your ex-boyfriend's arms and pointed the baseball bat a few inches away from his face.

“Don’t you dare touch me, Oikawa.”

“Why? You loved my touches. You were begging for my touch—”

“Shut it!”

You shused him by swiftly covering his mouth with your right hand. You could feel his lips twitching against your touch, eyes forming a curve as he smiled infuriatingly.

“Love birds, take your business upstairs. Me and Tobio will share the guest room, the two of you in the master bedroom so you can make peace with your demons. Don’t think of bitching up because I ain’t taking any shit today.” Hajime firmly said before grabbing the weapons one by one to store them in the small compartment under the coffee table. You felt your face being flushed with much embarrassment as the two guys witnessed your bantering. Tobio was about to appeal but he met the death stare of Hajime, making him pursed his lips.

You couldn’t even remember the last time you shared a room with your ex-boyfriend. The whole 14 days with him, you either get your own space or share a room with all of them. That's why your vital organ is now leaping so hard that it might jump out of your ribcage.

After arranging and dividing the supplies so that it can last for a few days, the four of you improvised a barricade on the door and covered the window so that you wouldn’t see the streets outside that holds a few abandoned cars, splurt of blood on the road, decomposing human pieces, and some bodies that are unrecognizable.

Seeing the first-aid kit that you grabbed earlier in the kitchen counter, the memory of Tooru’s wounded and bruised hand suddenly flashed in your mind. Without a second thought, you found yourself getting ice from the functional freezer and wrapping it in a clean cloth before wetting the piece of fabric so that the cold temperature could easily penetrate. In no time, you were now standing in front of the master’s bedroom, slowly peeking to see if Tooru’s awake.

You saw him sitting on the edge of the bed that is facing the door, clutching a polaroid film in his hand. His face is blank yet a void of sadness was swarming in his brown eyes as he sighed and kept the picture back in his wallet. Your lips parted as you recognized that he’s still using the wallet you gifted him on his last birthday before you broke up.

“Tooru?” you spoke, casually pushing the door. “Can I come in?”

He let out a chuckle. “Of course you can.”

With that, you slid your body inside the room. His eyes were fixated on you as you sat down beside him, placing the kit on your lap. Your hands were trembling as you reached for him, which he willingly lifted without any question, gently patting the iced towel on his bruises that he probably got from mishandling the baseball bat.

“Wow, never have I ever imagined that I’ll get a special treatment from a medical laboratory scientist. You know you can just kiss the boo boo and it’ll go away instantly.” he winked, making you roll your eyes at him again.

“Shut up. My treatment fee is really expensive for idiots like you.” picking up the disinfectant, you slowly rubbed it on the sides of the small cuts with a clean cotton ball, earning a winced from him as the sting penetrated the wound.

Tooru was silent the whole time you’re icing and dressing his hand. He knows that whenever you're doing something healthcare related, you don’t want to be disturbed as you pour your hundred percent concentration into it. He knows this better than you.

“You never gave me a chance to explain myself, Y/N.” he opened up when he saw you finished sealing the wrapped gauze pad around his palm. “At least let me explain this time. I cannot swallow the fact that we’re already in the middle of this goddamn situation and you still haven’t got the peace of mind you deserve.”

You could feel his stare burning at you. When you met his eyes, it was full of perseverance as if he’s not going to let you exit the room without listening to his explanation. To be honest, you really don’t know to yourself why you’re refusing to hear his side. Maybe you’re afraid of the confrontation. Maybe you’re scared of the fact that he cheated and he’s going to confess it in front of your face. Maybe you’re rejecting the reality that Oikawa Tooru did cheat on you with somebody else.

Gathering all your strength, you let out a deep exhale before speaking. “Give me a reason not to kick you out of this room.”

Tooru’s demeanor changed when he heard those words. It was hard for him to gain your trust once again after everything but if he’s given the chance, he will never let go and prove himself to be worthy of your heart once again.

“It was a prank.” he started, making your face puzzled. “It was a fucking shitty prank pulled by my teammate, Kindaichi. I remember him doing the same thing to Kunimi before but we all laughed it off since Kunimi’s single. I don’t remember when he did it but I think when I left my phone in the locker. He changed his number’s contact photo and name into a girl’s name. After that I went straight to your apartment. I seriously forgot the existence of my phone that day since we’re really having fun and I was late for my practice the next day. When Kindaichi heard that I left my phone somewhere, he texted it and that’s the part where you saw it and thought that I was cheating on you. I confronted him after that with Iwa-chan. That's why I know all of it and he said sorry. I never spoke to him after that.”

He let out a sad smile. “That’s basically everything. I tried contacting you, calling, messaging, and waited outside of your apartment for three hours but you weren’t there. I really wanted to talk with you because we both know that I’ll be leaving for Argentina in a few weeks but yeah, it happened and we can’t really change anything about it anymore.”

Tooru’s bandaged hands slowly made its way to yours, clasping both of his palms on your hands. “I’m so sorry that I let it go just like that. I know that I’m three years late but if there’s anything that I can do to make everything right again, I’ll prove it to you in any way you want just to trust me once again. Even as just friends…Y/N, you’re the best girlfriend and best friend I ever had in my whole life and thinking about everything that happened between us and how it ended just like that puts me in misery.”

Fuck. you thought. You don’t know if the world is playing with your vulnerability right now but after hearing everything, you feel like you’re stoned in your place. You feel like your insides are being scrambled and you wanted to vomit every single thing you ate for the last 14 days with him. All this time, it was a prank. A fucking prank that caused so much damage in both of your lives and relationship. A prank that made you lose your former significant other. And the most fucked up thing about it was you could’ve done something to prevent your relationship from crumbling down. It was completely in your control yet you let him slip away from your finger. If it wasn’t for your stubbornness, Oikawa Tooru is still your partner until today.

“Shit! Y/N, I—sorry! Fuck, please don’t cry.” Tooru panicked when he saw the pooling liquid in your eyes start streaming down your cheeks, eventually wetting both of your hands. You didn’t even realize that you were already a crying mess as you hollow your cheeks to prevent the pitiful sobs escaping your mouth.

With much fragility, Tooru enclosed your trembling body into a warm hug that instantly melted all the pain you’ve been feeling. You could hear your hearts beating together against each other’s chest.

“It’s okay. We’re okay now. I finally found you again. I love you so damn much, Y/N.” he whispered in your ear, right hand caressing your back.

After a few minutes of staying in that position, you finally calmed your hurricane. You pulled away, greeting his worried eyes with your puffy and red ones. Upon meeting his gaze, you felt your heart soften as Tooru’s caramel ones penetrated in yours. His lips formed into a small smile when he saw the way you looked at him.

He will never forget those doe eyes of yours. The very first time he saw your eyes, he instantly fell in love and he knows deep inside that he’ll keep on falling in love with you in every chance he gets. In every universe and in every lifetime, his heart only belongs solely to you.

Your faces acted on their own, slowly moving towards each other until your warm lips clasped with each other. The tension that was middling the two of you finally broke today. It started gentle, lips moving together in sync not until Tooru’s hand grabbed your jaw, lightly turning your face to the side to deepen the kiss as he explored the cave of your mouth that he hasn’t tasted for years.

You pushed yourself above him, finally straddling his lap and wrapping both of your arms around his neck as the innocent kiss suddenly turned into a heated one. Tooru would lie if he said that he didn’t miss all of this. The feeling of being intimate with someone that he hasn't given a chance after your break up because he doesn’t want to do this thing if it’s not with you.

Grinding yourself against him, you felt the growing bulge that was now poking your heated core. You couldn’t help but to let out a soft moan that made Tooru halt his action. It turned him on.

“Y/N, do you want to do this?” he asked, eyes now filled with lust. You nodded, wiping the corner of your mouth. You could feel your cheeks firing up as embarrassment crept in your soul for wanting him.

“Words, love. I need your consensual words.” he commanded you.

Despite the awkwardness you’re feeling, you couldn’t help yourself especially when you felt him fully erected under you. “Y-yes, Let’s do this.”

That’s all it takes for Tooru to gently place you in the bed and continue kissing your unattended mouth. His hands started roaming around your breasts, squeezing both of it tenderly that earned another moan from you. You felt him smirking against the kiss before he humped above you, aligning his clothed bulge that was restraining against his jeans and rubbing it against your clothed pussy.

It ignited a pool of wetness as you felt the hardness being rubbed in you.

“H-hgggh…Shit,” you cursed, eyes shutting from the luscious friction.

“Fuck, Y/N. I’m so hard for you.” Tooru said as he massaged your core with his hand. He felt the wetness leaking from your clothes that made him bite his lip in horniness.

He went down from his position as he pulled the hem of your scrub suits down, completely removing your bottom garment that revealed your wet panties. Tooru mentally cursed at his view. All he did was kiss and teased you and yet, you’re already a pooling mess for him. The way how your body reacts to you is driving him insane.

Slender fingers started circling around your clothed core that sent a jolt of pleasure in your body, making your back arch. Tugging the only piece of your bottoms down, he successfully removed the clothing swiftly. He was welcomed with your dripping pussy for him. He didn’t waste another second and devoured it hungrily, tongue nibbling your clit.

“Ahh!” you let out a loud moan as his warm muscle made contact with your pussy. He was licking and placing soft kisses before alternating it with sharp circles by his tongue. The way he glides his mouth against it was driving you in nuts, almost making you see stars.

“Shit shit Tooru, it feels so good!” you did hesitate to let out another moan when he inserted a finger inside you. When he felt that your walls adjusted to it, he slid another one before moving his digits in and out.

You don’t know what to feel due to the intense pleasure that was being thrown at you when he started scissoring his fingers inside. You felt like you could cum with just his fingers. Tooru’s eyes never left your sight and watched how you’re taking his fingers really good.

“F-fuck, Tooru. Please! I want you…Fuck me! I want to come in your dick,” you pleaded messily as you felt your stomach being tied in knots.

With that, he took his fingers out and started stripping his bottoms. His aching hardened cock finally freed itself and slapped against his abdomen. This wasn’t the first time that you saw Tooru naked and this wasn’t definitely the first time that you saw his member but shit, its length and size never fails to amaze you.

Quickly grabbing his wallet, he took out a piece of rubber which you quickly recognized.

“You really took the condoms earlier?” you asked, eyeing at the packet of condom that is now being torn from its packaging.

“Just a few pieces. For emergency.” he grinned as he slid the rubber on his dick without any problem. You laughed as you already expected that from him.

Positioning himself between your legs, he grabbed the shaft and started rubbing the tip against your pussy, almost teasing you. The damn idiot was smirking the whole time and slammed his dick inside you that made you yelp.

“Fuck! Tooru, what the hell?!”

“You like it rough, don’t you?”

He started rocking his hips slowly before picking a consistent pace that made him groan in pleasure.

“You’re so fucking tight and wet, Y/N. Fuck love, I love you and your pussy so much.” he said in between the thrust like he’s worshiping your whole self. You let out a chuckle that was replaced with erotic sounds as he started thrusting in a much faster pace. You felt your walls being stretched out but at the same time, it felt so good that his dick’s the one who’s stretching you out. Tooru found your g-spot in between the thrust that earned you a loud moan as the waves of electricity slammed your body.

“Yes! There! I-it’s so good! Y-you’re so good!” you moaned out as the same spot was abused by his dick repeatedly.

You felt that he’s nearing because his thrust became incredibly faster and impatient. His face was now grunting as beads of sweat rolled down his forehead, lips parted in pleasure. Your stomach starts hardening as your core feels like it’s going to combust anytime. Your insides are tightening so much, indicating that you’re also nearing.

“T-tooru, M’gonna c-cum,”

“Me too, love. Me too.”

He replied incoherently, thrusting a few times more before pulling his member out, coming inside the piece of latex. You also released the coil that is forming inside you before he could even pull his dick out.

The both of you were panting so hard with your legs trembling and chest heaving. Tooru collapses on your top with a smile, kissing your lips once more before burying his face on your neck.

“I love you, Y/N.” he said, which made you let out a genuine smile.

Meanwhile, across the wooden door of the master’s bedroom, Tobio was standing with two cups of your favorite 3-in-1 iced coffee that was meant for you and him, right hand completely frozen on the doorknob’s surface as he listened to the alternating erotic moans launching from each other’s mouth while making love.

© lightaflaem. do not repost on any platform.

[str8aura-no-not-that-one]

This is a true story that happened to me. I was there.

This is also The Coffee Story, so if you've heard me tell it before, it was probably more accurate than how I tell it here.

So alright. Back in the day when I was a young tranny with a heart full of dreams, I knew this coyote. We'll call her Carmen. Carmen used to always copy my answers back in school, and when she finally cracked her egg, I used to joke that she stole becoming a woman from me too. All in good fun of course- She introduced me to Jojo, Blue Oyster Cult, and King Crimson, so I kind of owe her my life.

She also introduced me to coffee.

This was one of the last days I knew her. We had gone on a hellish road trip with some other droogs we knew where we jetsetted around the desert visiting libraries and antiques store and a sex shop, where she bought me my favorite collar. I still have that collar. If you ever end up at my place, I'll show it to you once I stop asking how the hell you got inside.

Anyway, we get back to her place, the other girls have pissed off, so it's just us about to kick back and watch Apocalypse Now on her big ass television screen. And before we put the disc in, she comes in out of nowhere with two cups of coffee.

Now, let me tell you, at the time I was young and consuming narcotics was illegal, so I didn't have experience with booze or drugs or self mutilation. But I had experience with coffee. Here in the US of A, people talk about coffee like it's the last shred of sanity they have holding them back from breaking down in the middle of their workplace, shrieking slurs and tearing coworkers apart with their bare hands. 'Don't talk to me until I've had my coffee'. 'Coffee understands'. All hail the great fucking god coffee.

I hated coffee. Every which way you can imagine, I've had it. And it all tasted like dogshit. Every few years I'd tell myself 'well, it can't be that bad' and it always would be.

But when a transbian tells you to do something, you do whatever the hell it is, right? So I took the coffee. And mid-conversation, i took a sip.

And I saw angels.

I'm not a good enough writer to describe how this ambrosia tasted, so you're really going to have to use your imagination here. But maybe I can assist with some key phrases you can use to shape your idea of it. Falling asleep in the arms of someone you love. Making eye contact with someone who's having just as much fun as you are. Your first bite of a rich chocolate cake. Late night masturbation. Cocaine, maybe, I don't know.

That mangey transbian coyote had made a diamond out of coal. A three course meal out of civet shit, condensed into one warm sip.

The coffee. Tasted. Fucking. Good.

When I finally realigned myself with reality and set my paws back on the ground firmly, I barely managed to croak out asking what she had done with it.

Carmen shrugged.

"Put stuff in it."

Carmen rode off into the sunset and out of my life that very week, and I've never seen her since.

I don't care who killed JFK. I don't care what happened to DB Cooper. I don't care what Bill Murray said at the end of Lost in Translation. But I would give every limb I have and spend the rest of my life as a quadruplegic hooked up to an IV full of Carmen's coffee if it meant finding out the exact combination of ingredients required to recreate this elixir. It's entirely possible, as a bird I told this story to once suggested, that she might have came in it.

But every time I get coffee now, I tweak the order just a little bit. And I pray, that through some Library of Babel, monkeys on a typewriter punching out the bible chance, I may one day recreate the Cup of God.

One day, may I finally know what 'stuff' is.

[deaddee-anime-brownfanlady]

Over last year and these past few weeks and mouths of seeing so-called "Leftists," mainly White ones out here saying that they refuse to vote in the 2024 election and that they seem to be fine with America becoming a hellish authoritarian state under Trump. Is exactly why I have a hard time trusting some White people that are leftist or liberal sometimes.

Honestly, I feel some of these white leftists & liberals or those who so-called "claim" to care about minorities tend to be full of bullshit and that their allyship is all a show , especially when witnessing the always anti-voting rhetoric with them or how some of them seems to be really fine & Dandy with America losing it democracy completely under White-supremacists loving Fucking Trump. Just so they can live out their big Revolutionary dreams like they see from the damned Hunger Games,

Instead of actually putting in the real work of getting shit done within the government and not letting full-on Fascism take root and FUCK over the very groups of people whose rights & FUCKING Lives! That they claim to support will be Destroyed under Trump if he gets back into power.

If you're going to call yourself a "Leftist" and say wholeheartedly that you care about minority people, yet! Are okay with wannabe dictator Trump getting back into the White House again and refusing to do anything to stop him from getting back into power... all you're telling me is how you actually don't give a shit about the minorities you claimed to support and that your white leftist allyship is fake as hell.

[irish-urn]

I’ve been on a big LWD renaissance lately and have loved going through all your fics and your tumblr - I love all your thoughts on the characters, they’re always so layered and interesting! Recently I’ve been thinking about what if when they first met, Derek and Casey had decided to make out/pretend they were super into each other as a way to delay/stop the wedding and I was wondering, what do you think would’ve happened if they’d gone that route?

Oh hai! Welcome to the insanity. Thank you so much for joining us in our hell, and thank you so much for enjoying my words! That's super cool!

Oooooh. Oooooh. That's... a thought. Hmmm...

Here's the thing: would that actually stop George and Nora from getting married? I mean, I know Nora asked for Casey's blessing, but realistically, would Casey not agreeing to it change things? As you've probably gathered by now, I have a LOT of thoughts about the Genora relationship and how little they actually considered their children when it came to blending their families, so I kind of suspect... It wouldn't stop things.

I think it would just blow up in their faces beCAUSE: it turns out that that cute nerd is actually a really good kisser and isn't that awful once you get to know her; I mean, she still SUCKS, but, like... sometimes she's kinda funny... And she does have great boobs... And, okay, even her retainer isn't that weird; it's almost cute... And, ugh, that stupid jerk is actually really cute, and he kisses like a dream, and sometimes he's almost a gentleman (but not all the time; but also never knowing what you're going to get almost makes it... fun?), and it's really nice to be wanted and to feel pretty; and yes, he's an idiot but it's so nice to have someone you can fight with, because life is so much and you have so many feelings and sometimes you just want to scream, and here's this boy you can scream at who just shouts back and then, y'know... Kisses you. A lot.

But it's ALL pretend and it's ALL for the scheme; but then it doesn't matter because their parents STILL get married because it's True Love (someone grab a bucket because Derek's gonna barf), and now Derek has to deal with the fact that when he goes to grab his hockey sweater from the laundry, Casey has already moved the laundry without telling him, and now he's face to face with a pink, lacy bra; and he kissed that girl. Shit.

And now his dad is, like, giving him lectures every. other. day because GOD FORBID Derek have hormones or feelings. Like, George didn't have to fall for a divorcee with a hot daughter; that was his choice and Derek didn't ASK FOR IT.

(So I think Derek would be EVEN GRUMPIER)

And Casey would be really conflicted for a few days before she decided not to think about it because it never happened. Never. Ever. it was a fevered dream. (Nora is also quite content to pretend it didn't happen, especially after Casey SWEARS she's TOTALLY over him.)

Of course, Derek can't take that lying down, so I think he'd be making Casey's life as hellish as he does in the show anyways PLUS flirting with her to remind her that she did stick her tongue into his mouth at least twice.

it would be messy. I think it wouldn't change too much in the beginning, but it would as time went on, because somewhere along the line, Derek would decide that he wanted Casey, and if they could pretend once, they could maybe do it for real this time -- and I can TOTALLY see him playing the "we could always pretend to be together" scheme for some reason or other in their senior year. Casey would freak. She'd call him a pervert. And then she'd give in with a list of rules; and half of them would be broken before the week was out. They go to prom together, freaking out Genora and Edwin, and Lizzie tells Ed that she told him so, and Marti calls Casey a princess and Derek her Prince Charming; and then Derek gets Casey off in the backseat of the Prince after Prom.

...something like that maybe?

[dreadnotau]

Happy three years everybody! As always, there’s a lot to say on the occasion, so pop in at the end of the post for the tl;dr if you don’t have time for my detailed diatribes, haha

Boy, time flies, huh? Feels like the second anniversary was just yesterday, but maybe that’s just the several long hiatuses getting to me. I’ve been scarce on uploading anything anywhere for a while now, even though I promised I’d actually pick up the slack this time around. What gives? Well…

For one, college hell, and for two, a lot of unfounded anxiety about putting my art out there. Allow me some theatrics for a moment and I’ll actually get back to the comic at hand… I’ve never had an exceptionally supportive environment for making art. It wasn’t suppressive, not in the slightest, but it also wasn’t… encouraging. It was always treated as a hobby or a distraction rather than something I was allowed to be fully proud of, especially because a lot of my art focused on more cartoon-y and fantasy ideas, rather than still life studies and painting (which people generally outside of the art sphere tend to value more, arbitrarily). Couple that with a childhood full of being bullied over minute shit you hadn’t even considered could be an issue before, and you get a teenager hellbent on never sharing his interests or ideas with anyone, mostly due to the fear of rejection.

I’ve grown, thankfully, but that paranoia and fear doesn’t go away overnight. As I’m sure you all know, Meowchela was the one who originally encouraged me to post this comic, and the only reason she succeeded was because she was the first person in a long time who listened and engaged with my interests and my art in a meaningful way. It’s kind of obvious her friendship had a profound impact on me, and I’d cite her as one of the reasons I was even hopeful enough to apply to an art college in the first place! This comic, and that bond with another person, proved that maybe these things I’m so passionate about weren’t duds, and weren’t something I had to keep to myself.

So, fast forward a few years. About three years, in fact.

During one of my classes, right before this hellish two weeks of exams started, one of the class assistants talked me into showing my comic pages to one of my professors. He’s generally a pretty open guy when it comes to new mediums, but I’m always… apprehensive about showing my less “traditional art”-y things to professors, but, he ended up being genuinely proud of it. Specifically, I showed him pages 85-87 (because they’re my favourites) and, he didn’t read the text, just the visuals were enough for him to say “good job, keep it up” (which is HIGH praise from that guy). When I mentioned I’ve been meaning to simplify the visuals because I didn’t have time to work on the comic very often because of college and classes, he dismissed it on principle. I was honestly caught off guard. Heavily paraphrasing, he suggested that worsening the visuals for an arbitrary deadline was counterproductive to making something that’s Good™.

That’s kinda stuck with me. For a good few years now I was more focused on optimisation rather than visual improvement for the comic, and though it HAS contributed to better visuals in some ways (cutting corners sometimes makes for a less pointy and jagged end result), it’s kind of weird I’m treating an art project that way, isn’t it? I set a lot of… arbitrary deadlines and standards for myself, in the form of expectations and what I “should” or “shouldn’t” be doing at certain stages in my life. I’ve thought of Dread Not as a passion project second and a stepping stone first, if I’m being honest. As if it was too… fandom-y and derivative to be treated with more gravity than that, like it’s an immature project because I was still a child when I came up with it. As if it was something I’m making to Build Up to Something Else, something Bigger and Cooler and More Important, and… the more I think about the future of Dread Not, and even my future career options, the more I realised that’s, ironically, a really immature way to think about it.

If there’s one thing going to this art college has taught me, is that there’s no “right” way to make art, and there’s no “right” way to success as an artist. There’s no clear-cut paths, just more commonly treaded roads, but even those are heavily overgrown. Why should I try to box myself into thinking I have to make things from complete scratch to be taken seriously? What’s so bad about Dread Not as a story and as a comic that’s caused me to vaguely keep it under wraps when conversing with people in my day-to-day life? Why wouldn’t I put all these skills I’ve acquired to improve and expand this project that’s Right There, WAITING for me to finally get off my ass and get pages out there again?

I wish I could say I’ve used all this time away in a particularly clever way, but I really haven’t - at least, it feels like I haven’t. My art has undoubtedly improved over time (though admittedly the art for this post was Very rushed, fuckin exams), and while I’ve been working on projects in the background, chipping away at them in a VERY disorganised way, I haven’t been posting that progress anywhere, and I haven’t made any good progress on my biggest project, Dread Not, because of the other ones. And, honestly? Admitting that kinda stings. This comic means a lot to me, and I wish I actually gave it the time and attention it deserves instead of letting it sit out hiatus after hiatus because I keep failing at structuring my time.

So, my new plan is a little more abstract: find a way to work Dread Not into my school schedule, and slowly build a habit of working on it more often. No clue how long that’ll take, but I think it’ll be worth it to consider it as an option, and hopefully finally end these long, drawn out hiatuses with short bursts of uploads in-between. HOPEFULLY. Building habits was never my strong suit, so please bear with me while I figure this out in what will probably be the most hectic upload schedule in this comics history, which is: no schedule at all.

From now on (until the end of Act 1), I’ll upload pages when they’re ready, and depending on how the weeks go and how complex the page is, they could be weeks or days apart from one another. Hell, some might even take a month to finish if school stuff gets REALLY hectic (god knows Hellish Exam Week number 1 and number 2 won’t be giving me much time to work on the comic), but I’m determined to do this. I want to be able to put my all into this project again!!

(And hopefully finish Act 1 by the end of this semester…)

TL;DR: College is giving me life lessons I didn’t expect, and because of them I’ve decided to give myself a non-existent upload schedule for Dread Not: Pages will be posted when they’re ready, and the spacing between pages could wildly vary depending on circumstances and the actual complexity of the page itself.

As always, thank you for being here, thank you for reading, and thank you for being patient!

If all goes well, there will be new content very, very soon.

[crack-whore-who-fuckedup-already]

Be My Witness {4}

Part 4 - Turn of the 21st Century

Word Count: 5414

Fem!Reader, intimate!platonic Reader x Angel, Reader x Stolas, (eventual) intimate!platonic Reader x Alastor

Trigger Warning!!- mentions of abuse (physical and sexual), heavyish (and in one instance, non consensual) drug use, alcohol use, light descriptions of blood, rich people

A/N: heyooo!! this chapter IS indeed linear just very fast paced until the end of the chapter! which goes into a plot line that i thought of LITERALLY as i was already halfway thru writing this part. its gonna be fun tho so stick with me and lets see where this goes! i promise we'll be getting to the characters and plot of HH vEry soon!! :)

~Masterlist~

SONG: A Pill To Crush By Evalyn

Y/n intended on keeping the details about that day to herself.

Apart from the trauma of rehashing the moment, she also didn't want to upset Angel anymore. She knew that he put up with his own load of shit when it came to Valentino. She didn't see a point in piling her own on top.

Angel left room for the conversation, of course. He didn't want her to think she couldn't talk to him about it.

But every time that heavy, tense pause came around in the conversation, she always pushed on with a forced twitch of her lips and an uncomfortable huff of air. Then she'd change the subject.

Angel tried not to let it get to him. He wanted to be there, to hear her out and help unburden her mind. It nearly frustrated him that she was always so quick to avoid talking about it.

But then, only a week or so after Y/n's scary encounter, Angel showed up at her door. Leaning awkwardly against the post, sporting a shiner, he held his side carefully and painfully.

Y/n was quick to usher him inside.

Even though seeking out Y/n had been his first instinct, Angel remembered then why exactly she didn't want to talk about the things Valentino does to them behind closed doors.

A new step in their relationship had been reached that evening .

As best he tried, Angel couldn't hide his nerves from her. He sat down on her sofa, slinging his bag onto the floor next to him.

Minding his jittery exterior, she joined him silently on the couch. 

Angel couldn't bring himself to say anything other than a string of courses. No names were given but she already knew who it was directed at.

She wanted to laugh. Just a small chuckle, to ease some tension and let him know she understood, but it clearly wasn't the time for that. 

Angel's chest began to heave with panicked attempts at breathing. His two lower hands gripped the arm of the sofa and his upper two held his shaking head. 

Y/n tried soothing him in any way she could think of, but nothing seemed to work; he just got more and more agitated. She stopped trying to use words or touch, and went straight for what he did best. Arguably, even better than sex.

She leaned over and snatched up his bag and, not bothering to ask permission, she rummaged through it. Finally, she pulled away with his makeup-turned-stash bag. She could feel his eyes on her.

There wasn't much in it right now. A couple of joints, a lighter, a small compact mirror, and a baggie of fine white powder. Bingo.

She snatched up the baggie and poured out two lines on her coffee table, then sat back for Angel to take over.

He did immediately. But when he pulled away, he had left one of the lines. He straightened, pausing to let the high hit, then he fell back against the couch with a heavy, relieved sigh.

“Fuck. That's exactly what I needed…” he breathed.

Y/n watched him for a minute. All the strain in his muscles eased away and he was finally taking deeper breaths. She could practically feel the relief radiating off of him.

She looked at the leftover line on the table.

Decades she had fought this temptation. She found motivation in her human death and hellish rebirth to find a way forward that wasn't dependent on substance. And making her movies had made that so easy. But now she got the feeling that that was all over. 

The last time Y/n had a bump, she was still alive on Earth. The cocaine craze had been entering a low point in the years before she died so it wasn't really her choice of drug. And she didn't have much experience with it to begin with. Especially when she had cabinets full of medical grade shit right in front of her. 

But difficult times….

Uncertainty flooded her mind, followed quickly by complete indifference. If Valentino was going to take one of the only good things she had, she was done being on her best behavior. There was no reason to be anymore.

She moved on impulse; leaning in close, plugging a nostril, and inhaling deeply in one swift swoop. 

When she sat back, Angel grabbed her shoulder. Y/n looked at him evenly. In his eyes was a mix of concern and excited disbelief, a total opposite to the pained scowl that donned his face only a few minutes ago.

He started with a chuckle. “You've got balls, sugar.” Then he turned serious, hands moving to hers. “You sure you'll be okay?”

He wasn't just talking about the drugs. That only came about because of what had happened a couple days ago, and he knew that. They both did. No, now he was confronting her about what she had been avoiding since that day. 

Until now, it had been a difficult question to answer. But as the stimulant hit her system, she found her reply came much easier than before. Her heart pounded in her chest and she felt a surge of boldness take hold of her.

Y/n reached for his face, grasping it firmly but tenderly in her hands. 

“I am now,” she said, a glint in her eye.

And that was the beginning of a new era. 

It was tame enough to start. The duo would go out clubbing nearly every night, against Valentinos wishes, consuming any drug they could get their hands on. 

It was an exhilarating new look on Y/n that Angel had never seen before. 

Meanwhile, Valentino was quick to put them back to work. Never mind that the bruises he had dealt her hadn't even fully healed yet. 

Valentino’s voice crackled through the phone. “Y/n. You've missed call-time thrice now, and time is money... Do you want me to come get you myself?” His voice was sickly sweet. It made her stomach churn. 

She answered quickly but quietly. “No, Val.”

“Then…?”

“It's just…” She paused heavily, afraid of what his reaction might be. “I'm still… bruised.” 

An airy little giggle floated through the line.

“That's what your gift is for, mami.” 

As she suspected, every week, there was a new porno for Y/n to shoot. And every week, she came in, wired off whatever drug she and Angel had gotten themselves into that week. 

Eventually, Valentino summoned Y/n to his office, though it took her a few days to gather the courage to face him. It would be the first time she'd be seeing him in person since he had roughed her up. 

Entering Val's office, she was greeted by his mischievous smile, him, perched on his desk. She didn't like it one bit. 

He had ruined himself for her and she couldn't look at him the same anymore.

Before, he had been her facilitator of dreams. They came at a cost but it was a small price to pay. Now she was still paying that cost and was getting nothing in return. Save for the housing, income and so called “protection”. 

A decade it took for her to regret her deal, as it turned out.

“Mami,” he drawled. “It took you long enough. I was starting to think you were avoiding me…”

She held her tongue, swallowing the wicked comment she so very badly wanted to spit at him.

“You'll be happy to hear, your newest films are doing amazing. Especially that first one,” his chest rumbled with laughter. “Audiences really liked the rawness of it.” 

Y/n stifled the chill that threatened to tear down her back. Instead, she forced herself to maintain his eye contact.

“Listen, mami. I've decided you and I are going to embark on our own little business venture together."

Now what the fuck did that mean? He was just putting her in her place about how she wasn't bringing in enough money, now he wanted her to head some campaign with him? Y/n was bristling. This demon's audacity never fucking ends.

“What do you want?” She bit.

Val's smile deepened as he stood, and Y/n braced herself. For what she wasn't sure, but after how he had left her last time…

His hands found her shoulders and guided her towards the loveseat in the corner of the room, sitting her down. Her ears twitched nervously when he sat closely beside her.

“Bueno, primero,” he took her hand, examining it delicately. “I need one final test run.” 

If it had processed faster, she would have fought him on it. But he was moving before he finished talking, reaching into his pocket and flipping open a small knife.

He nicked her quick on the flesh of her palm.

His grasp on her wrist tightened and he brought her hand up to his face. She tried to pull away but it only made his grip hurt more.

Frustration sat thick in her throat, silently furious as his tongue slipped out to collect a droplet of her blood.

His intrusion didn't stop there. He took his thumb and ran it over her fresh wound, collecting more crimson. Finally, he brought it up to her lips and swiped it across them, smearing red like lipstick. 

Defeated tears welled in her eyes as she looked into his. 

Full of intrigue, he raised an expectant brow at her before she finally succumbed, swiping her tongue over her lip.

The next few minutes went by grudgingly slow. 

After Val was satisfied with her obedience, he leaned her back against the arm of the sofa. 

She didn't fight him. 

He had his way with her while he waited for results, running his hands over her body, his lips following suit. She let him inflict his will on her, again. She figured, better let him have his way like this, instead of him beating on her. 

It seemed Val was starting to feel it, taking more time than usual to explore her body, tracing every stripe and dot. Kissing her hips like he'd never felt the sensation of skin on his lips before. 

She only noticed her own high when his kisses started slowing down. She had been too busy fighting off her emotions to notice when the first stages had kicked in. But now, the visuals were beginning.

They both slowed. Val in his soft afflictions on her body, and her in her inward struggle against him.

The ceiling above Y/n fractured and shifted, swirling like something was trying to break through dimensions. The colors weren't as vibrant as she'd seen them before, closer to pastels against the dark, shadowy ceiling. She only watched, relatively accustomed to the psychedelic visuals. 

Valentino sat up suddenly and surveyed the room, his gaze landing on her lastly. Still on the couch, he kneeled over her reclined body, trapping her beneath him.

“Mami.” 

His breath blew across her face, making her look at him. Never mind that he was already looming over the length of her body.

“Yes, Valentino?”

“We're gonna make so much money.”

There was no discussion to be had, but that didn't mean she wasn't going to try. She advocated, pleaded, begged. 

Val would have none of it.

He was lucky he had posted security outside his office or she would have taken off into the night. But they snatched her up and threw her back into the room with him. 

After Val managed to talk and sit her back down on the couch, he called out for one of his workers who rushed in with a rolling tray. There were various things on it; gauze, alcohol wipes, a handful of glass vials, a small surgical blade. 

“Just a little to start,” Valentino promised, leaving her with an incision on her upper right arm. 

And he was true to his word. Of the three sessions they had in the first month, he only took four or five vials. 

But then he started getting more and more greedy. Calling her over more often, making her stay, and bleed, longer. He went from simple bloodletting to full on blood drives.

Surgical blades were replaced by butterfly needles, glass vials taken over by baggies on a drip stand. 

Val was generous enough to get her an IV, but it only helped so much. 

Even Angel had started making comments about how pale or sickly she looked anytime he came over. 

Valentino only told her she looked sexy as ever.

This business venture was the exact thing she had been avoiding by keeping this knowledge to herself. It seemed all her worst fears were coming true in a matter of weeks. Her mind couldn't keep up with all the decisions being made for her, she just pushed herself along so that Valentino didn't kill her. Or whatever the equivalent to that was now.

Before she knew it, the next decade passed. She supposed fearing for you life makes the years flash by before your eyes. Or maybe it was the immeasurable amount of drugs and alcohol she and Angel souped themselves up on daily to cope with their boss.

Valentino had really stepped up to the plate towards the end of the 80's. When he saw an opening, he seized it, effectively claiming a chunk of territory for himself in the Entertainment District, and earning himself the official title of a Sovereign Overlord. 

The first couple of years, he was very distracted with all his new and heightened tasks; keeping souls and demons under control, maintaining territory borders, expanding where he could, etcetera, etcetera...

Y/n saw him less and less, and took advantage of that while she could, skipping out on her doctors appointments, as Val had come to call them. 

That didn't last long though. 

Valentino himself began accompanying her to her appointments. 

He had made his point clear to her the first time he'd stopped by to pick her up, giving her a dislocated shoulder before hauling her off to her session. Nevertheless, he showed up outside her apartment on the dot, every time after that.

"You know, I've got the hang of my appointment schedule now, Val. You really don't have to waste your time playing chaperone," she coaxed.

Valentino smiled wryly. "Its no problem, mami. You know I enjoy seeing you so..." He looked her up and down. "Vulnerable."

One of the brighter sides of this decade was when Angel met Cherri Bomb. If Angel was a connoisseur of drugs, Cherri was whatever came after that.

Her knowledge and ability to mix narcotics was like none other Y/n had seen before. Aside from knowing the combinations to get the exact results she was looking for, she knew all the best hangover remedies as well.

The three of them were inseparable for a time, gaining them quite the reputation of being reckless and destructive. That was mostly Cherri and Angel's doing, as Y/n was naturally the more laid back one. But she was always there, picking them up and half-assedly apologizing on their behalf. 

Unless, of course, she beat both of them to it.

When Y/n did have the energy, she danced. For as long as her body would physically allow her. And then she'd pass out. In their booth, in the bathroom, on the dancefloor. Wherever she happened to be when her body decided it had enough for the night.

When she got like that, Angel was never more than five paces away from her. He had to be ready to scoop her up at a moments notice before she got herself trampled, or worse, stolen away by some perv. Both situations very nearly happening before.

When she dropped, Angel was quick to get her home before heading back out with Cherri. He didn't mind being her lookout one bit. He knew it meant Y/n wasn't thinking about Val or whatever it was that was making her sick.

Speaking of, when he asked her upfront about her health and if she was seeking help, she curtly told him she already had doctors appointments every other week. Those doctors weren't doing shit, if you asked Angel. 

He even went to Val, boldly and earnestly telling him that he was very concerned for his friend and coworker. 

Valentino only patronized him before shooing him away.

With Valentino's new territory came new housing opportunities. Val up and packed from the apartment he and Angel shared, and moved to the heart of his territory; an unfinished, abandoned, and severely vandalized building. Val said most of the main part of the structure still needed to be built but that once it was, it would be their central hub of operation. Porn studios, sex shops, strips clubs, anything a twisted mind could come up with.

But in the meantime, Angel moved in with Y/n. 

And while the doe absolutely adored living with him, it made keeping her situation with Val to herself, pretty difficult. 

She had taken to wearing long sleeves around the house. Partly because of the ever present chill deep in her bones. But also because, with all her blood being drained, the needles left bruises. And she simply didn't have the energy to illusion them away when she was home.

She wished keeping this secret was as simple as wearing concealing clothing.

More than once, Angel had literally caught her as she tumbled through their doorway, nearly crashing to the ground. More than once, she's had to convince him that she would be okay, and that Val wasn't hurting her… not directly, anyway. More than once she fell asleep in Angel's warm arms, shivers melted away by his body heat. 

His arms were her new favorite resting place. 

Angel had assumed his role happily, beckoning her to sit with him whenever they were near each other, even if she wasn't looking particularly pale or chilled.

He found comfort in the way she leaned into him fully. Especially at nighttime, when the world got quieter but his thoughts got louder. The weight of her limbs across his antsy body, lulled him to sleep.

Oftentimes, Angel would wake with a jolt in the middle of the night, which in turn woke Y/n.

She would soothe him and ask what's wrong, and he'd recount his unsettling dreams. But whatever awful situation his subconscious put him in, he'd finish with how Y/n always found him. Sometimes, she convinces him to wake from his dream, sometimes she defeats the villains and rescues him from their clutches herself. In turn, Y/n would recall hearing his cries in her own dreams and seeking him out, refusing to give up till he was found.

Through him, she discovered she had another ability. One she was happy to share.

They experimented together, being able to test the bounds of her newfound gift in the safety of their shared flat. And Angel got some of the best nights of sleep he'd had in a long, long while.

All through the 90's and well into the early 2000's, Y/n, Angel and Cherri ran around the Pentagram, causing chaos and wreaking havoc on whoever dared step in their way.

Val was doing some schedule shifting and, in place of her obligations to film pornos, he sent her out for in-person gigs again. She was grateful to have the opportunity to be back on a stage. 

Back when she was doing films her way, live stage performances were up there with her favorite work to do. It was the one thing she still really looked forward to, despite the patrons wandering hands...

But next to cabarets and dance shows, she was also escorting again. She thought she was going to fancy parties before. Those paled in comparison. 

Huge, lavish mansions and haughty, royal demons. Valentino even took her shopping for clothing better fit for such occasions. And she was appreciative of the new wardrobe… not so much how he looked her up the whole time and insisted on taking her to bed afterward.

Still, she made a joyful routine of getting ready. And the days where Angel was home while she was getting ready, were that much more joyous. It was reminiscent of their early days hanging out together.

“Alright, sugar. You knock ‘em dead tonight.” Angel took her face in his hands and kissed her cheek tenderly. “I'll see you in the morning.”

Y/n nodded in his hands before pulling away. He opened the door for her as she tucked her handbag under her arm, and gathered the skirt of her shimmering purple dress, before finally ducking into the car with a final smile at him.

The chauffeur pulled away from the curb, and suddenly all her nerves came crashing down on her. Angel was disappearing in the distance, and her dress felt too tight and scratchy, her makeup, thick and heavy on her skin. The car was moving too fast and she felt like the back seat was caving in on her. 

She reached for her clutch and swiftly pulled out her own cache of powder, preparing some on her hand and inhaling quickly. She finally let herself relax and watch the world pass by outside the window. 

Eventually, they pulled up to a sizable gate. They passed through after a moment, and made their way around the driveway before the car slowed to a halt. Y/n took another bump, then scrambled to put her stash away as a footman opened the door from the outside. She clipped her purse shut and quickly brushed away the dust on her upper lip.

The footman took her hand and helped her out of the car, allowing her to take a look around. 

The mansion she had just arrived at was bustling with demons, mostly all large in stature, all holding drinks and mingling. The building's purple facade glistened with stars and constellations from the nighttime sky. An earthly view Y/n so desperately missed.

Elegant music drifted out of the grand double doors, enticing her to move her legs. 

She thanked the footman imp and continued up the staircase, ears twitching, listening for the subject of gossip for the night. From what she gathered, there was an upcoming royal marriage and sides were already being taken; bride or groom.

She already felt bad for the couple-to-be. And she didn't even know them.

She made her way inside the ballroom. In the left corner was a small stage and a piano where the music was coming from. To the right, an impressively large open bar.

And directly across from her, at the very end of the breathtaking ballroom, was a chandelier. Jeweled and gleaming, it hung high from the ceiling, but its crystals just about reached the floor, descending in a wide, gentle spiral.

Y/n nestled down at the bar, ordering herself a drink before clocking in. As she waited for her beverage, a pair of servants heatedly conversed behind the counter.

“What do you mean, we don't have more entertainment for the evening?” One said, incredulously.

“I mean,” the other gave a pointed look to the grand piano on the small stage across the room. A plump little imp sat behind it. “I thought I was bookin’ a whole group, but it's just one guy who plays a buncha different instruments. What a load of crap.” He threw his dish rag down. “And now the boss is gonna have my head for it.”

Her drink was placed beside her.

She sipped at it, listening to the two behind her bicker as she watched the little imp over the rim of her glass. 

The demon was focused on the page, following the music quickly with his eyes and fingers. Every once in a while his hand came up to find the corner of his page before flipping it hurriedly. He swayed with the music as he played, keeping tempo for himself.

An idea brewed in Y/n's mind, though she was sure it would get her in trouble with Val. Still, she contemplated for a short second. Then she set her resolve before finishing her drink, and making her way slowly to the pianist. 

She weaved through nobles, softly touching elbows and giving coy smiles. She did her job, being particularly alluring, flirting with anyone who looked her way. 

These avian aristocrats were the most aloof and conceited group of people Y/n had ever worked with. It was a strange new challenge, one she was quick to dominate.

She lifted her chin and sneered right back at any judgmental looks, mirroring arched brows and pursed lips to a T. It was as if these demons wanted her to be rude back at them, because as soon as she was, they actually, finally conversed with her.

She enjoyed playing their little game.

After making a few rounds, she found her way back towards the piano. As she approached, she noticed various instrument cases lined up against the wall behind the imp. They all remained closed.

The pianist didn't look at her as she approached, attention planted firmly on his pages of music. 

Luckily the song was coming to an end, the musician’s fingers slowing before striking a final chord and pulling away. She stepped up then, clearing her throat to pull his attention. 

“Do you know any standards?” She asked assertively, flashing a confident smile. The demon nodded slowly, then started listing songs she had never heard of before. “No, uh.” She laughed awkwardly. “Earth standards? Like from the living world?” 

He gave her an understanding smile paired with a raised finger, asking her for a moment. He turned away to shuffle through his bag.

Meanwhile, Y/n looked back out over the crowd. 

Against one of the windowed walls, near that gorgeous chandelier, was a baldachin of sorts. Jeweled cloths, purple and magenta fabrics, draped delicately next to each other. 

As she admired the assembly of textiles, a tall figure emerged from beneath it. He turned his head towards the small stage where she stood. 

Even with the several feet of distance between them, she could make out his birdish features. Long dark feathers framed his face and protruded up like horns off the top of his head, a large golden crown nestled neatly between them. His sharp eyes seemed to be looking at her accusingly. 

She turned back to the imp.

He had pulled out a binder of sorts, full of sheet music. Y/n moved around to stand behind him now, leaning over his shoulder to take a look as he flipped through his collection. Her tail fluttered happily; this was more than enough for her to work with.

After essentially telling him she was hijacking his set, which he took rather well, they exchanged names and came up with a quick run order. Finally, she set her purse down and stepped back towards the front of the grand piano. The music began and she sang along confidently, filling the room with no extra help of a microphone.

Her impromptu performance turned out to be a wonderful idea. Aside from the attention she garnered, she was able to exercise her mischievous streak and her creative side. It had been a while since her job felt that exciting. It dulled her anxious edge like no drug could.

She smiled graciously at her fellow performer as she grabbed her bag and stepped off the stage. 

He resumed playing his original repertoire.

Y/n intended to head back to the bar and get another drink. She wasn't sure where she could sneak away privately to take another bump of dust now that the adrenaline was subsiding.

But as she turned, she just about ran into a broad, tailored chest. A cape of deep maroon and golden orange adorned his shoulders and rippled onto the ground as he shifted to look at her. 

When she found his face, she recognized him as the bird who had emerged from the baldachin earlier.

Y/n suspected he had status. Every demon at this party did, of course, but not everyone had a crested crown resting atop their heads.

Y/n took a step back and dipped into a curtsy. She held it until she felt him shift again, signifying the end of his obligatory scrutiny. 

“You've made quite the impression, sinner. I thought we might be listening to that damned piano go on and on.” 

She straightened and met his eyes. They looked down at her expectantly.

“Thank you, your highness. Your kind words humble me.” 

If she weren't mistaken, he scoffed under his breath before murmuring, mostly to himself. “Oh, he's going to love you.” He inhaled sharply, getting louder again. “Do you know my name, woman?”

She shook her head softly.

“I am Paimon, King of the Ars Goetia,” he proclaimed, before dropping all formalities. “I've thrown this…” he searched for a word. “Function for my son,” he all but spat disdainfully. “He needs one last hurrah before he gets the old ball and chain.” It almost sounded like he was amused by that. “You are the whore, yes?” 

It came out so casually, she almost forgot to be offended. He was right, of course, but it still stung.

She went to reply but he moved on, signaling with his hand. It was a small, quick flourish, inviting her to follow him. “Come now, you are to be my gift to him.” 

He left her no room for discussion, turning suddenly and walking away towards his point of origin. The crowds of demons shuffled and parted out of his way as he moved. Their eyes watching him pass before flicking back to her as she followed. She held her chin high and took long confident strides, trying to offset her anxiety as she attempted to keep up with him.

She reminded herself sternly of the job she was here to do tonight. And it seems Paimon was going to drop her in the lap of a client.

Stares are a good thing, she told herself, whether they're good or bad.

She had just given them one hell of a spontaneous performance. Of course they'd all be looking. And it only means more potential clients for later.

Her grip on her handbag tightened. She so desperately wanted to tear into her baggie and finish off her supply right now. Instead, she smiled at anyone who she dared make eye contact with. 

She couldn't tell if it satisfied or terrified her, when they would quickly look away and start chatting heatedly yet quietly with those around them. 

There was no time left to mull it over, anyway. 

The royal in front of her ducked under the canopy. She remained just on the outside, partially apprehensive to enter, partially entranced by the sparking chiffon. 

A hand reached out for her, waiting for her to take it. She did, and it brought her forward until she was fully under the fabric she had just been fixated on. 

Besides Paimon, there were three other demons scattered among the couch. They varied in forms, but all remained in the realm of avian, all had glowing red eyes, and all were wearing golden crowns. From what she could tell there was a peacock, an albatross, and an owl. She looked them over and they did the same.

As soon as she remembered herself, she bowed deeply. 

Paimon moved in towards the group.

The owl stood abruptly. 

This bird appeared the youngest of the group. Aside from him being the smallest of the four, his composure wasn't nearly as resolute. 

His top pair of eyes were rooted on her. The bottom, bigger pair flitting back and forth across her face and off to the side. He had no pupils but his emotions were evident. He wrung his hands in front of him, looking like he wanted to say something. He only blinked.

She gave a soft greeting and introduction, looking them all in the eye, lingering a little longer with the owl. He didn't move.

Paimon smacked his back. It was harsh and uncomfortable, but it got him to move finally.

His eyes ceased their roaming, finding hers blushingly. His fidgeting hands fell to his sides, tugging at and smoothing out his formal, ruffled vest. He cleared his throat and with a forward tilt of his shoulders, he quickly bobbed down and up.

A bow? Did he just bow to her?

“I am Prince Stolas, of the Ars Goetia. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~

Previous < Chapter 4 > Next

~Masterlist~

A/N: aahhhhh my bouncing baby birdie boy T.T i just had to find a way to weave him in... i only intend for this portion of the plotline to be 2, mAYbe 3 parts long so as to set up their backstories w each other (lets hope it doesnt go longer than that*fingers crossed*) and then be brought back up later on... i hope yall love Stols as much is i do, if not, boohoo <3

[fandomworld9728]

Polyship Week - Blitzo/Stolas/Lucifer (Day 7):

"There we are. You look great, darling."

"You think so?"

"Yes. God, can I get out of this suit already?"

Lucifer couldn't believe this. It was their wedding day. When they had seen their two partners get married, they had been so happy for them. But Lucifer wondered if that would happen for them too, or if they would just stay dating. Which was fine! Thier relationship with Stolas and Blitzo made them happier than they had been in years.

When Adam and Alastor joined that relationship, Lucifer had been over the moon! More partners to love and that loved them. However, being married had been such a wonderful time in their life and now that they get to experience that again...

Well, they were nervous to say the least but also so excited! It had been arranged by Lucifer's father, but luckily, it was already someone that they loved very much. The rest of his partners and their daughters were so supportive and just as excited as Lucifer had been.

"Not until later Blitzy. Now, behave. We're here for Luci's wedding."

"How fun. Now our relationship has two married couples in it. What is it with you two and marriage? I only got married because it's what Stolas wanted. I think the whole thing is bullshit. We're together. That's all. People will know."

"Yeah. We know. But as someone who was in a former happy marriage for six years, it's just nice to have it all finalized. It makes it all feel so... whole and complete in a certain way."

"I agree. Though, my marriage to Stella was not very pleasant. I am so lucky to have found Blitzy. Oh! And you of course, Lucifer."

Chuckling, Lucifer fixed their hair in the mirror. They had gotten it cut for the wedding and slicked it back. It wasn't too bad of a look. Maybe they should keep it like this.

"I know Stolas. We can there are no favorites in a relationship but that isn't true. I know that you love me too, but nothing will come between that bond you two have."

There was a light knock on the door before it opened. "Are you ready dad? Everything is ready- oh my goodness you look amazing in your white suit!"

Smiling over at their daughter, Lucifer went and scooped her up in a hug. "Thank you, duckie. You look so good in your suit as well."

They couldn't believe how grown Charlie was now. Their precious little girl was a woman now. Hopefully, there would be another wedding for her and Vaggie. They had been together for ten years after all. 

"I should let you know that mom is here."

"Really? I didn't think she'd actually come when I sent out the invitation."

"Me either. She's here with her girlfriend. I feel like I've seen her before."

"That's because after we got divorced, she got together with Adam's ex-wife Eve. You've seen pictures of her. You remember his sons Cain, Abel, and Seth? Eve is their mother."

"Oh! Wow... what a twist."

"Alright. We can talk about this shit later. Let's get this show on the road."

~

"I never thought I would see the day. You're getting married."

Alastor couldn't believe it either. Yet he has grown to truly love Lucifer and when Satan had offered up Lucifer's hand in marriage he jumped at the chance. He had decided long ago that they were his mate, and this just confirmed it.

"I am quite the lucky man, aren't I? I was surprised by Lucifer wanting to incorrupt demonic traditions into our wedding."

"It's sweet. Though, I wish it were really blood in goblet and not wine."

"We do have to keep it a little tamer than a true Hellish Ceremony. There are humans in attendance. Not to mention so angelic beings. I am just thankful that I do not have to be in my human disguise the whole time."

"Dad!"

Running into the room with little warning, Niffty tried to climb him like she used to. Huffing when she couldn't find purchase, she gave up and stood in front of him. She looked absolutely stunning in her bridesmaid dress. While no longer a little girl she was still relatively short for her age. Not that she was bothered by it. She celebrated still being able to crawl through the vents.

"Yes, Niffty dear, what is it?"

"Charlie told me to tell you that everything is ready and that you should get to the alter."

"Is it that time already? I better get a move on and not keep my partner waiting."

{1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7}

[galaxacious]

If you worked on a chapter for 19 months, you would have insane thoughts about it and the whole story too:

Something I was careful to do the whole fic was never mention how many loops Piett though he'd been through. It wasn't really important to the story. But I'll say here I settled on the final number of 603. Great job, Piett. You did heaps better than some of the other unfortunate guys I've stuck in time loops.

I also never mentioned what exactly it was that Veers said to get Piett down onto Endor's moon. I had 2.5 years to think of something and I never thought of a plausible explanation so... I decided there wasn't one! In-universe I've decided that Veers just occasionally calls the Fleet Admiral down to discuss "war stuff" but everyone knows it's just a social visit. Vader lets it happen because he does not give a shit.

Throughout the whole fic, but I think especially in the last chapter, there's particular attention paid to names that I wanted to highlight. When Piett doesn't respect the Alliance, he calls them rebels. Once he's told they prefer to be called the Alliance, he sticks with that the whole rest of the fic. The lack of capitalisation for rebels is on purpose - he doesn't say it like a proper noun. He also never calls the little tree bears Ewoks until the very last moment - when he's joining the end celebrations. Like he didn't want to get their names right until they became allies. It's just something that he does and probably isn't consciously aware of, that he uses dehumanisation as a tool. He can't completely shed the teachings of the Empire in one story, he doesn't become the epitome of Good. But he does enough anyway, without being perfect.

There's a lot of care with how Piett addresses the Emperor as well. It's only in the second throne room confrontation that Piett even addresses the Emperor, and by that point Leia's convinced him he's basically a part of the Alliance at that point, and he follows Luke's lead with "Your Highness". So it's one way of showing that he and Luke are on the same side, and it also avoids Piett calling the Emperor "Your Imperial Majesty" which is like, an honour above Your Highness. It's a bootlicker phrase. Imperial Majesty, blegh. Jerk him off, while you're at it.

I changed the whole scene between Piett n Leia multiple times. The first complete draft of it (in September of last year I believe) had Piett giving an appeal to emotion, and Leia pretending to buy it, before beating him up and escaping. But I ended up thinking it was too out of character. Piett's not manipulative like that and Leia would never pretend to buy it. But Leia would try to sway Piett to her side, and Piett could have an emotionally stunted conversation about it, if forced :)

The conversations were so so difficult. I am an action writer, and I intended to write a crack-filled action romp, and I ended up writing a lot of conversations where no-one listens to Piett or they forget what he says and he has to repeat himself a lot. (Write what you know, I suppose.) When I get stuck in action scenes I can usually find a solution in a few minutes and carry on. When I get stuck in dialogue I have to do something else for a week while thinking through all the layers. What does a character actually think. What do they want to express. What can't they say. What is the other person picking up on and what are they missing or getting wrong. And then what are they thinking and saying in return. So I go through that whole process to write one line and then I have to do something else for another week. Hell. Hell on earth. Hellish.

But it was fun, that one and only time Piett got the upper hand in a conversation with Anakin. Every conversation with Lord Vader in chapters 1 - 4 is basically an opportunity for Vader to exert his dominance over Piett. But the last chapter? Piett's over it. There's a real "I'm not trapped in here with you, you're trapped in here with me" energy to the way Piett speaks to Vader. It pretty much equalises by the very end though, but inside the Millennium Falcon, man. Piett finally out-stubborns Anakin. I think that'd be the only realistic way to do it. I had a whole speech prepared where Piett tearfully emotes at Anakin until he agrees to live, but as Piett thinks in the story, if that sort of thing didn't work with Luke, it wouldn't with Piett. Perhaps if it was a love story...

Anyway, I was also proud of Piett's "it is sweet and right to die for one's galaxy" which some readers might recognise as the Star Wars version of a line from the famous WW1 poem Dulce Et Decorum Est. If you did, I am proud of you also.

Every time Piett said Kark or Force or Shavit, I wished he could say Fuck and Jesus Christ and Shit. It just fits so well, but I decided no real swears in this fic. "Kark me running" is almost as funny. (Horrifically, though, when I want to swear and I cannot, I automatically say kark now. Which is terribly confusing because here in aus we already say kark, we say "he's karked it" as a very casual way of saying that someone's died, but it isn't, like, a swear word.)

I love me some parallels. Okay, so in chapter 3, when Piett has his first major conversation with Vader, he's on his knees, surrounded by ice and water, and Vader's tall and imposing and water's dripping off his helmet like tears. Contrast that with the end of the last chapter, where Piett is on his knees, surrounded by flames, and Anakin drops down to the ground with him and offers him a hand up, OUGH that's what I'm talking about babey. That's the good shit.

Piett also has a sudden wicked thought in chapter 1 that the time loop isn't about him, and another wicked thought in chapter 5 on how to finally win an argument with Anakin. He's come full circle!

One last thing, I super enjoyed writing Piett's unreliable narrator perspective. I loved making him get things wrong, or ignoring things, or speculating in the complete wrong direction. I love how the audience knew more than him the whole way through. It was fantastic.

Those are my main thoughts. I have more, but I probably should have used the 45 minutes typing this up studying instead. Alas. Next up for Star Wars, I'd like to do a brief one-shot, then do the next chapter of Quadrillion, and then finally put to paper the horror fic I had the idea for about two years ago. Though maybe for that last one, I might write the whole thing before publishing the first chapter!