#Whisky the mouse

[raccoon-crown]

Whisky (Whiskers) the mouse

The owner of the "Snow Whisker Café & Bar"

Finally done! The digital version of Whiskey the mouse. The favorite bartender and coffee maker in Snowpoint (@son1c AU not really an AU) and the mug he usually gives to Sonic!

I may even do something else today about him! (please ignore yesterday's cómic and that ugly resolution...)

[atrwriting]

thinking about logan with his cigar.

...and you know you are too.

you weren't sure why, but you did know when it started... it was the first night you had ever seem him in his preferred outfit and setting: outside, in boots, jeans, leather belt, and tight white tank top tucked into his jeans. his chest and facial hair on full display, in the same way a person would accessorize with gold or silver. and in his mouth? between his lips, that he always ran his tongue over? a fat, dark cigar. lit at the tip, influencing him to take small puffs of smoke into his mouth.

"you don't inhale, sweetheart," he would tell you. "not a cigarette."

you rolled your eyes. "i know – jus' don't understand why."

"that's just how 's done."

you were both the type to escape outside, sharing the same terrace as you were neighbors. sometimes, from your window, you could see him sit back in his chair – manspreading, staring off into the distance at the tres as if he longed for the forest. to you, logan was the epitome of masculinity – rough and rugged, around every edge of him. sometimes – late at night, when you could see him through your window from your bed – you would let your glances linger. linger for just a little bit longer than they should have, but who could blame you?

"if you're gonna stare, sweetheart –" he'd begin before he took a pull from his cigar, keeping his eyes on the window as he did. he would puff his cheeks once, twice before he would hold the smoke in his mouth for a moment – just a moment – before he would let it escape past his lips. "– you might as well come out 'ere."

like a good little mouse, you would come out onto the terrace. in the night – and only in the night – you would have enough courage to walk over to where he sat on the bench. as always, he was leaning back against the back of the outdoor couch with his arm across the back – usually you'd be scared and weary, but not at night. never at night. at night, he couldn't see the blush on your cheeks. at night, he couldn't see how the heat that rose on your face was hot enough to rival the heat at the tip of his cigar. at night, you felt braver.

you would sit next to him – planting yourself right on his side, leaning into his warmth. the first time you did it – he was surprised. but every time after? he never winced again. every time after, he'd eye you through the window – as if he was wondering why you weren't already out there, and chose to instead pretend to not stare at him through the window where only the glow of his cigar could illuminate his handsome face. it was like he could see through the window in the darkness – staring right into your eyes.

soon, every time you tucked yourself into his side – his arm would fall from the back of the outdoor couch. it would fall, and his fingers would catch themselves on the skin of your upper arm. they would lightly rub against your skin, goosebumps immediately rising. you would shiver, and he would hide a chuckle. soon, he wouldn't even try to hide the affection. he would wrap his arm around your shoulders and pull you into his side – until the only thing that hit your senses was the smell of whisky, cigar, worn leather, and wood.

logan. all of those things made up logan.

and when you continued the charade after some time – pretending he couldn't see you through the window – he had enough. why weren't you already out there, and instead insisting on playing these games?

"cigars only keep me so warm, sugar," he'd say, sparking the end. "better come out 'ere and keep me company."

____

brothers soft logan has got me feelin some type of way -L xoxo lmk ur thoughts

[zablife]

A Cozy Night in with Tommy

Tommy Shelby x female reader

A/N: Wrapping him in a blanket and putting logs on the fire, requested by @brummiereader. Children's story referenced is the Aesop fable The Lion and the Mouse. Part of my Corrupt a Wish challenge.

Warnings: drinking, unwanted advances, bodily harm Corrupt a wish reminder: If you think this story has a happy ending, you haven't been paying attention. Proceed with caution!

"A lion lay sleeping in the forest...," a soft voice lilted, the melodic tone wafting into Tommy's office like a gentle spring breeze.

Removing his spectacles and dropping back into his chair to listen, Tommy hummed in contentment. This was his favorite part of the evening because it signaled the beginning of the children's bedtime routine. Within the hour, you would be here with him, reading your own book quietly on the sofa as he finished his paperwork and stole glances across the room.

It had taken weeks for you to feel comfortable enough to accept his nightly invitation, thinking it improper to be alone with a man twice your age whom you'd just met. However, you acquiesced as the pained look of sorrow grew in his eyes.

Frances explained he'd lost two wives under tragic circumstances which left him an achingly lonely widower. Upon hearing this, your kind heart urged you to look after him. It was the least you could do considering his benevolence, offering you shelter when you came to him for help.

Now you'd been with the Shelbys six months and you'd made it your duty to bring cheer to the entire household. One thing the family seemed to enjoy was your storytelling and though Mr. Shelby didn't often finish his work in time to join you, you always hoped he was listening.

You had no way of knowing he cracked his door at the same time each night, straining to hear every word. In fact, he was in rapt attention at that very moment. When you imitated the roar of the lion followed by the high pitched squeak of the captured little mouse, he couldn't help the grin that tugged at his lips.

"Spare me! Please let me go..." you begged in an overly exaggerated plea, clasping your hands in prayer dramatically until Charlie and Ruby erupted in giggles at your theatrics.

However, little Ruby soon turned pensive. "Does the lion hurt the mouse?" she gulped, clutching onto your sleeve.

The contact startled you as Ruby had been decidedly standoffish, unwillingly to accept any sort of mother figure so quickly after the death of her own. You placed an arm around her shoulder with a gentle squeeze. "No, he's quite generous," you assured her.

By the time you'd finished, Tommy was relaxing with whisky tumbler in hand, trying to be patient as you answered the children's questions about the moral of the story.

"It's about repaying debts," Charlie nodded solemnly. "Dad says a person should always pay their debts. Do mice?" he pondered, tilting his head to think for a moment.

You giggled at the firm assertion and his businesslike tone, so much like Mr. Shelby at times. "Well, according to this fable they do," you conceded. "But more importantly it's about kindness and how it's never wasted." Ruby hugged you tightly in reply, proof that the time you'd spent with the Shelby family was bringing her out of her shell.

Your heart swelled at the notion, a contentedness coming over you as you tucked the children into their beds and watched them snuggle beneath the covers. With a feeling of satisfaction, you skipped happily down the stairs toward Mr. Shelby's office in hopes of brightening his evening as well. Only then would you feel your day was complete.

However, the moment you glimpsed his hunched postured and tense looking jaw in the fading firelight, you paused. He seemed as though he were considering something of great importance and you were reluctant to disturb him. "Is everything alright, Mr. Shelby? Would you like to be alone?" you asked, peering into the shadows of his office.

He slowly raised his head from the desk, exhaustion evident in his bloodshot eyes. "'M fine," he mumbled before straightening in his chair. "Come," he urged with a wave of his hand.

In accordance with your nightly routine, you crossed to the fireplace and carefully added enough wood to last until you retired. However, as you turned to select a book from the large shelves by the desk, the now roaring fire illuminated Mr. Shelby's face, which was much paler than usual. Your fingertips lingered over the spine of a leather-bound volume as worry began to crease your brow.

Noticing your hesitation, Tommy asked, "Haven't found what you're looking for?"

You shook your head softly to indicate that wasn't the problem. Meeting his gaze earnestly, you ventured, "I hope you don't find this presumptuous, Mr. Shelby, but I think you could do with a bit of rest. You look unwell."

He pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled a heavy sigh. The silence that followed set you on edge, wondering if he might correct you once again. He was insistent you call him Tommy, but the informality of it still seemed disrespectful.

As you studied his graying temples for a hint of what he might be thinking, Tommy revealed the problem. With gravel filled voice he admitted, "It's true, I can't sleep...haven't been sleeping for some time now."

You felt an ache bloom in your chest at the thought of his suffering, wishing you could ease his discomfort. Without hesitation you complied with his request to join him on the sofa, happy to see he was taking your advice.

Removing the cozy blanket from the back of the sofa, you lightly draped it over his shoulders. With a warm smile, you offered to read aloud while he closed his eyes. However, he politely declined as he reached for your hand instead. Your heart skipped a beat as his long fingers closed over yours, giving a gentle squeeze.

"I like having you close to me, Y/n. Say you'll stay." His penetrating gaze made you feel small beside him and a ripple of anxiety coursed through you at the thought of confiding your plans for the future.

You took a deep breath for courage as you explained, "Mr. Shelby, I can't tell you how much I appreciate your kindness, but it isn't my intention to rely on charity the rest of my life," you began. "I've taken a job so I won't be a burden to you any longer."

His jaw clenched almost imperceptibly at your statement. He disliked the news coming from you even less than Maggie at the exchange. She'd dutifully informed him of every call you made to town inquiring about job opportunities for young women. It was the beginning of his many sleepless nights, wondering how he might keep you here.

When your plans sounded like idle gossip, they were easy to ignore. Now the threat of you leaving was real and immediate. He knew he had to do something drastic. Opposite hand rising to stroke your cheek with his knuckles, his sharp blue eyes darted to yours as he blurted, "Marry me."

"I-I don't know what to say," you stammered, head spinning at his overly familiar show of affection. In all the time you'd spent with Mr. Shelby, he'd never once touched you. You felt it had to do with the respect he held for you, or at least that's what you told yourself until now.

"Mr. Shelby..."Tommy," you corrected yourself. "I'm very fond of you, but you've been like a father to me. So you see, I couldn't possibly mar..."

Before you could finish the thought, you felt the rough, chapped skin of his lips brushing against yours. He was tender at the start, but the first taste of you only made him hungry for more. Deepening the kiss, he slipped his tongue into your mouth roughly, making you startle.

He paid no attention to the way your body stiffened, a firm hand coming to rest at the back of your head. Locking you in place, his opposite hand unclasped from yours to roam your supple curves. Heart slamming against your ribcage, you tried to speak, but only a pathetic squeak emerged.

Tommy chuckled darkly, the innocent cry reminding him of the little mouse from the fable. He not only found your shock amusing, but arousing as well. Although you tried to jerk away, he forced your hand higher on his thigh until you brushed against the growing bulge in his trousers, making his need for you apparent. "I've been more than patient with you, darling."

"What do you mean? Please, you're scaring me," you pleaded in a quivering voice. As his teeth grazed the column of your throat, a strangled cry escaped. "Stop!"

He pulled his face from the crook of your neck, a storm of emotion passing through his eyes. You watched them darken menacingly as he wound his fist in your hair and gave a harsh tug. "I don't think you understand how this works. You came to me, remember?" he emphasized, tilting your neck back at an awkward angle. "Show a bit of gratitude," he scolded.

Tears pricking your eyes, you countered, "I know you don't want to hurt me."

The force he was exerting over you proved otherwise, a sneer curling his lip as he watched you tremble under him. "I gave you everything," he spat. "For what?" he asked rhetorically, tossing you away in disgust.

"Kindness is never wasted," you implored, reciting the message from the fable you so fervently believed.

Tommy scoffed at your childlike naïveté. "You've mistaken my kindness for weakness, love. You have no idea what I'm capable of," he threatened. Then with all the rage of a spurned man, he grasped your throat.

Fingers clutching onto his wrist, you silently pleaded with him for mercy, but his grip only tightened in response. "Spare me," you mouthed, unable to croak out the words.

Tommy shook his head at your request, "I won't let you go."

As you slowly lost the fight against him, he leaned down, stubbled cheek brushing against yours to place a kiss. The low whoosh of blood in your ears nearly drowned out his final declaration whispered calmly into the night. "You belong to me."

-----------

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[moineauz]

helooo, 1 ticket for Exodus, starring Boothill & gn Reader as main leads

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ THE HOUSE OF MUSICA PRESENTS... 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐒𝐘𝐌𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐘 𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 ノ𝐄𝐗𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐒 — boothill !

synopsis: a gradually rekindling bond between two ill-fated souls. in other words, you encounter a partner you never thought you'd see again.

side comments: not me writing more boothill... also this was partly inspired by the song too sweet by hoizer.

extra: boothill calls reader 'doll', uses the word pretty for the reader, mentions of alcohol, boothill and reader have their issues ig, gn reader, boothill backstory spoilers, fluff and angst word count: 1, 385

Being part of the IPC was like a ticket to an expressway: smooth sailing amongst galaxies and stars. You could have slipped your wrist in the rings of planets; allowing them to adorn your human flesh in glitter and gold.

"I reckoned the IPC would send one em' tonight," insinuated the man beside you, his voice husky and gruff, "Didn't think you'd fancy your whisky neat."

You share a winsome smile, still gazing ahead, lifting the glass to your lips unfazed, "Who said I couldn't have my whisky neat?"

The man scoffs before chuckling lowly, "Well, I thought the IPC are a little..." he leans forward, his cool breath brushing against the shell of your ear, "Soft, don't you think doll?"

The bar is thronged that evening. Chatter warms the walls while candlelight swishes above in scintillating opulence. One chime after another, click and sway, swish and pull. Your ears heed the bar lines of inordinate movements like a song. Even the subtle whirl of the man's arms and the click of his heel is oddly pleasant.

"And I thought galaxy rangers keep to themselves," you languidly turn your head to meet his face; fixing your eyes on his like the head of an arrow kissing its bullseye. "A shame I have to endure your presence. Considering you're a ranger, you're awfully loud," you riposted.

"Ha! You don't know what you're missin' doll," the man teases, yet, there is an edge to it, "Do all IPC members talk like that? All bark and no bite?"

"I'd like to say bite and no bark," you reckon smoothly, like velvet curtains draping over the walls. "Why waste your breath when all you need is a single shot?"

A splitting grin grows on his face while he shakes his head charmed, "Now you're talkin' my language doll! One bullet does make a heck of a difference."

You bite the insides of your cheek, your jaw tight before him, "Spare me the small talk Boothill," you retorted placidly: a facade of indifference casting a shadow over your face. "You know I don't fancy playing cat and mouse in your boots."

"Oh you never change," he chides, placing his left shoulder on the bar's smooth counter. Boothill's face rested in his metal palms as his shiny eyes settled on you. "That's your only fault."

The corner of your lips quiver slightly, he doesn't notice. "Even metal carries its dents," you pause, your words suspending in the air's murky atmosphere, "And it seems you carry that burden quite well."

Boothill stills as you call for another fill. Whisky trickles into your glass; swishing in hues of sweet amber. It soothes the bitter lump in your throat as it gushes down sip after sip like the ocean current churning away.

Silence draws you closer; knitting you together. You heave a sigh, gingerly placing the glass on the counter, not a sound echoing above. "You always drank your whisky neat," you remarked bitterly, "And you always got drunk afterwards."

Boothill's smiles echo some ineffable tenderness and it caresses your cheek despite its distance. "Ha! Don't make me all sappy over here doll, might have to bring her out if you keep this up." Despite his words, Boothill's voice is strangely hushed: hollow like the crevices of a skeleton. Or a body that doesn't quite fit its soul.

You smile, pushing the bounds of his words with your voice, "Then bring her out Boothill. It's been some time since I last saw your precious gun. A shame you hold her so much closer."

"As sharp as ever," Boothill conceded; twirling the gun like a toy. Its varnish slick like butter as it glistened under candlelight. "Seems I have to up my ante."

In one swift movement, Boothill instinctively slips his nippy hands around your waist: his belt of bullets pressed against your hips with benign familiarity. His other hand intertwines with yours, like the lacing of a corset- tight and tender. Boothill lifts your arm, raising it with frivolous flare accompanied by a wicked grin. Your shoes click against the bar's smooth surface and Boothill leans forward. The shadows of his bright face made known to you anew. Now, the two of you stand, one breath apart.

"Seems like old habits die hard," he mutters, his eyes following the curve of your lips and the pools of your eyes, "Can't help it when you keep sittin' here all pretty. Sippin' whisky for fudger's sake..."

You raise your eyebrow tentatively before an unabashed smile stretches across your face and you giggle. Your laugh slips through the air like a fine mist and Boothills breathes it in. The cogs of his chest whirl a touch faster as you sparkle in all your quiet limelight: tucked away in a corner bar, it beats boldly one step at a time

"Looks like the IPC employee can laugh," Boothill teases, the jazz band kicking off its rhymes with the beckoning call of the trumpet.

"Is that all you think of me?" you surmised, a mirthful expression pressed against your skin, "I expected better from you," you teased.

"Shallow?" Boothill muses, the band's drummer now pushing the song as you and Boothill shuffle to the center of the bar, feet moving as one, "I'm all but shallow; especially when I'm dancing."

You press your hand on his metal shoulder, the spark in your eyes dimming slightly, "Then show me."

Being part of the IPC was like a ticket past the waiting rooms and into the hospital bed: refuge under the captive's wings. You could have laid your heart there to rest; allowing yourself to be part of a grand tapestry, one of them.

"Looks like you still have it in you after all this time," remarks Boothill as his fingers find their way to your waist, "One more song?"

"I've had enough," you state, yet, the roused smile on your face still beams, "It's late."

Boothil clicks his tongue. "Come on... just like the old times, wouldn't hurt for another spin," surmised Boothill, his voice oddly mellow with a trace of dejection.

"You don't want to dance," you rebutted, "You want to talk."

You slip your hand off his metal body, its coolness lingering on your fingertips like a ghost. Boothill blinks, his hands now fallen by his sides, the grin on his face tight as he shakes his head.

"I'd reckon you'd... catch on. You always had bigger fish to fry."

"You know I hate fish."

Boothill chuckles. However, it's mellow and lush. Reminiscent of the open plains the three of you once wandered. Sweetgrass brushing against your legs in rhythm with the breeze. The cusp of the morning sun nestled in the palms of your hands like a nest. In the evenings you lingered amongst free horses; braiding through the stars and their lush mane while weaving through riverbeds, singing sweet dreams.

"I miss the kid too."

Boothill smiles, "I know."

"Then keep your promise," you amble towards him, your shoulders in parallel as you promptly seize his hat, swiftly placing it on your head. "If you want your hat back," you jested, "Meet me at the bar when you're done catching your 'Acheron.'"

Boothill smirks, placing his hands on his hips, languidly leaning to the side, "And why would I do that? I've got plenty of hats."

You scoff, "Is that so? Then I guess I don't owe you my answer."

Boothill pauses abruptly, his eyes wide, "You-"

"I still have the ring," you interject, a subtle quiver emerging from the back of your voice, "But I never gave you my answer."

"Doll I-"

"You vanished before I could give you my answer."

Boothill grows quiet and you sigh. Neverthless, you slip your business card into his pockets and press a curt kiss on his cheek, his hat still on your head, "So keep your promise, Boothill."

Boothill nods; heaving a prompt sigh before gazing up at the ceiling, a spark flickering within the corners of his eyes, "I won't let you down."

"Good," you surmise, gradually ambling away, his back still turned from you and vice versa, "I won't let you down."

Boothill grins quietly, muttering to himself as the aroma of whisky clings onto his metal body, "You never did, not once doll. Not once."

masterlist.

[citrusses]

10 incredible fics by @oknowkiss 😘🎈

elaine's work was some of the first to grab hold of my arms and drag me headfirst into the full-on drarry hyperfixation. picking only ten fics I'm obsessed with was basically impossible--how dare someone be so talented??? if you've already read all these, go read the ones you haven't!!

9 to 5 (E, 2K)

Draco Malfoy hates Mondays.

e's microfic may is a genre in and of itself.

Hyacinth (M, 7K)

Draco receives a letter. Inside is a note from a lawyer and a single, purple petal, the same color as the hyacinths his mother used to grow. This is what happens after.

this fic broke my heart. it's so beautiful, you have to experience it to understand.

the long ways (M, 10K)

Five times Harry thought he was seeing Draco for the last time, and one time he didn’t. OR: what it’s like to fall in love, slowly and without realizing it, over the course of 20 years.

Falling in love over 20 years! Need I say more????

draco malfoy's substitute murder service (E, 10K)

When Harry joins the Curse Breakers shortly after his twenty-fifth birthday, he’s surprised to find himself assigned to the Department of Creatures, Cryptids, and Associated Calamities. OR: the one where Draco goes goblin mode, and Harry has a thing for monsters.

who else could come up with something this perfect, strange, apt, hilarious and tender?

a licence to kill (M, 11K)

Draco Malfoy has a licence to kill. Unfortunately, it expired last Tuesday. OR: how Draco Malfoy learned to stop worrying and love form AK-86-G

once again, the world-building this author is capable of in a fic of 11K is beyond comprehension.

any day now (E, 16K)

Draco supposes he should be grateful.  The rehabilitation centres were the Minister’s idea, or that’s what the Prophet said anyway. Their stated objective is simple: to provide a safe space for low-tier Death Eaters and high-tier sympathisers to reconsider the entirety of their life choices. All guests–because no one is a prisoner here, the literature brags–are to be provided with shelter, food, clothing, and the guided support of a Mind Healer via a programme they call “ideological restructuring,” which is, of course, mandatory. 

funny and clever and biting and sharp and a kick to the heart. one of my favorite fics.

Historians (E, 29K)

It’s the Dumbledore’s Army Reunion Holiday, and Harry’s found himself in hot water with his friends once again, after telling them he has a boyfriend he definitely does not have. In an attempt to fix things, he’s made it his colleague on Level Nine, Draco Malfoy’s problem too. Featuring a ski chalet in Switzerland, a pair of bunk beds, and an agreement that should’ve been simple, were it not for all the bloody feelings getting in the way.

I've made it this far into the list without mentioning that elaine writes the. hottest. sex. ever. see: how i raved about this fic when it was still anon.

À Bon Chat (E, 35K)

Draco Malfoy didn’t intend to lead a life of crime after the war. It’s just that being good had turned out so incomprehensibly boring. Now he's thirty-five, a fully redeemed member of society, the darling of the wizarding social pages, and a newly minted consultant for Gawain Robards' Investigative Research division. In his spare time, he enjoys good whisky, casual sex, and moonlighting as an art thief. His biggest score yet is fast approaching and he's got everything planned down to the minute. Everything, that is, until the unexpected appearance of a newly-divorced Harry Potter. Now that Potter's in the picture, Draco's no longer certain if he's the pursuer or the prize.

Cat and mouse Drarry! Art thieves! Such a true delight of a fic.

The Waiting (E, 43K)

It’s been almost ten years since Draco Malfoy disappeared during a routine Curse Breaker training exercise. Harry, his partner in more ways than one, is determined to figure out why. As the past resurfaces and the present fades into confusion, Harry discovers the only thing more unreliable than memory is love.

I can't do justice to this fic with my words (even though I, at one point, tried to). i stayed up all night to read it, crying silently into my pillow. it's an all-time favorite, it is a fandom classic, if you haven't read it i am begging you to (and dm me so we can scream)

The July Tree (E, 51K)

Neither rain, nor snow, nor sleet, nor hail… nor well-meaning friends, nor questionable communication skills, nor seven years of hating each other’s guts can keep Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy from falling in love.

The rec post I wrote for this fic two years ago is as true as it ever was.

[andy-wm]

Does he lust?

A brief response to Jimin's Be Mine

<I had several asks about this song. This is my response for all of them.>

Does he lust?

Yes. Yes he does.

And you will too.

He's gonna set you alight with his pretty, pretty words.

Dont you rush this feeling

take it slow...

Dancin' in the moonlight all night long,

If you're questionin' my love,

then don't

I want you to be mine...

You can try to resist, but his voice is so enticing... why would you want to?

If any song is a siren's call, it's this one.

If you're still fighting the seduction after reading the lyrics, his breathless, almost ritual recitation of

moving, coming, loving,

yeah yeah yeah

will surely render you helpless.

The staccato delivery of those lines, repeated with increasing urgency, will brand his words into your soul.

But hes not done...

Baby come

Baby come

Show me what

Show me what

Love is

He presses the words into you like kisses.

And just in case you didnt get the sultry vibes he already laid down, he couples those sensual words with a Latin rhythm, flowing over an afrobeat baseline like a warm wind on a hot summer night.

You don't think he chose the rhythms by accident do you?

Jimin tells you in a way only a dancer can tell you, he knows what he's doing.

He doesn't have to think. His body knows how to move.

The sex is tangible.

Light and feathery, then fast and hard, he switches it up and down like he's playing cat and mouse...

But Jimin didn't come here to play.

moving, coming, loving, yeah yeah yeah

I want you to be mine

He knows that urgent thrum of the Spanish guitar will make your skin tingle and your body hum. He knows if you close your eyes you can feel him pressed up tight against you.

moving, coming, loving, yeah yeah yeah

He's taking the lead - taking you places you can only dream of. He moves you with his voice, sweet and fluttery, then suddenly hard. He's demanding.

I want you to be mine

Percussion hits you from all sides with a steady pounding beat that you can feel in your bones. He has you up against a wall of sound when it all comes together.

moving, coming, loving, yeah yeah yeah

His voice is everywhere, surrounding you, pressing in relentlessly. Layers and layers of him, rasping, calling, yearning, gasping in your ear. it's overwhelming.

And then...

You resurface to an almost gentle refrain of

moving, coming, loving, yeah yeah yeah...

as his voice slowly fades out.

A bang, a crash, and suddenly hes gone, leaving you a smouldering wreck.

Its over?

But you want more.

You want it again.

That's why this song is on repeat.

That's why

There's no denying it...

You're HIS

Now imagine being the person he wrote this song for.

Go ahead and get yourself a glass of water - or a whisky - while you think about his infamous words

"I can handle it..."

I feel obliged to include this gif to illustrate his words. I'm not sorry.

I feel justified...

If I was an island

You'd be the party...

<I'm still smirking over those lines>

[monst]

Day 9: I'll do anything

Piss | Slade Wilson

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDI) Female Reader, Piss, Oral M. Receiving, Vaginal and anal penetration, A to P cause he’s nasty, Heavy Dub con w Slade, Noncon, Unprotected sex, Public, Gangbang, Dp. Sadistic Slade Wilson. Ashtray. He’s a mercenary so mentions of his profession and death, His pov.

Wc: 1.9k

    He scoffed, Looking at you up and down “You don't have nearly enough money to employ me.”  He let his one-eyed gaze drift back to the game on the dingy television box. He didn’t spare your gaping form a second glance, only shooting back the rest of his blended scotch whisky. He grimaced when you spoke. 

     “You don't know what I've been through! What I've done to get here!” You protested. 

“I don't care.” he pulled a cigar out of his pocket, and the bartender handed him a cutter “Leave me alone.”  

     “Bu-” The barrel of a gun was pressed to your forehead before you could finish the word. The three-bar stragglers were watched silently, the bartender only sneered at him his lip curled at having to clean up Deathstroke’s mess. The low hum of the announcer reporting the game was the only sound in the rinky-dink establishment. And his team just scored the winning goal. Lucky you. The gun was out of sight as quickly as it was drawn. He huffed out a laugh when you finally breathed out, you had frozen in fright like a mouse, your muscles barely relaxing. 

    “You looked ready to die for it, huh?” He’d humor you, good mood and all. He sure as hell wasn’t taking your contract. He doesn’t work for pennies, and working for free wasn't in his vocabulary. 

    “If that’s your price and it means you’d k-” He glared at you, the others here were also mercenaries. He didn’t want your blabbering to cause him further scrutiny. As far as this riff-raff was concerned Slade Wilson was off the clock, not taking any deals and not looking for them just passing through for information. He could feel their gaze sharpen, his good mood squashed. Four of them. Easy enough to take down except there was one missing. Their previous employer had put a hit on all five of his charges, cleaning house. He needed to get them off his trail. It’d be annoying if the fifth guy ran, he didn’t have the time to waste in tracking him down. 

   “Turn around, girl.” 

   You did only sparing a hesitant glance at the other patrons who gawked at the impending show. Good, they were distracted. Drunk and easy. Easiest fifty mil. He was only planning on scaring you a bit but Slade was an opportunist through and through. If given an inch he’d take a mile and you had turned so easy. You were willing to die for it hm well no use in letting goods go to waste. 

      He wondered just how far you were willing to go and without a word tugged down your pants and panties showing the room your private bits. If you were uncomfortable the only thing that gave it away was your fingers digging into the wooden countertop. Oh... Maybe he could have a little fun too. This was a painfully boring assignment. His boot hit the inside of your calf and you spread your legs for him. He got up from his stool slowly, pulling a lighter to light his cigar.  

     Once he was behind you he took a slow drag, and his large hand pulled your asscheek taut. You were obviously dry, he’d change that.  He hacked up a wad and spat onto your clenching hole. You gasped once it hit the cleft of your ass, the warm saliva dipping into your asshole. When you did nothing but hide your face between your elbows on the counter he repeated the action. Good enough. He met the bartender's gaze letting you take the spot of a suspicious character with two words. “Take watch” 

     His fingers did the bare minimum of spreading you open before he sunk his heavy cock into your ass. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught two of his targets palming themselves to your pained muffled groans and grunts. You had a tight ass, muscles tugging his dick deeper but he wasn’t planning on finishing in your ass. After all, it looked like you would do anything, so he waited for your body to perform. It wasn’t long before your cunt was runny from the pressure of his cock hitting that sweet spot in your ass. 

      You turned to protest when he pulled out of your gaping ass, the mushroom tip of his cock pressing against the entrance of your wet pussy. His one eye narrowed down at you and he could tell he would be getting his way when you turned back to look at the top-shelf liquor. You didn't see the fiendish grin when he slid in your hot cunt. Now he was having fun.  

   You trembled beneath him but otherwise took all he'd had to give. You jolted when the hot ashes of his cigar hit the skin of your lower back but still not a word. And he let out a low whistle in praise. “What a trooper.” 

   He slammed into you roughly stretching you out thoroughly before coming inside. “Fuck, I really need to piss doll” He drawled. “You mind?”  His grin widened when you grit your teeth and he didn’t skip a step and relieved himself inside you. His hot piss sloshed against your walls before trickling down your thighs along with his milky cum. The bartender handed him a rag when he pulled out. He cleaned himself up and tucked himself in with another whistle at the mess dripping onto the hardwood floors. 

   “Would you look at that looks like you would do anything.” He caught the gaze of one of the guys at the back and looked down at you. There was a blazing fire in your eyes and he was adamant about putting it out. 

 “Anyone else gotta take a leak?” 

  “I do” He heard one of them cough, his dick was already in hand as he shuffled closer. Slade sat back down to finish his smoke. You're still glaring at him. Good, it’d be boring for him if you’d broken so easily after coming in so brazenly demanding him to take a job. The others follow as soon as he’s got his dick wet. It’s messy the way your filthy pussy squelched against his target’s cock, you were moaning and whining but he hadn’t heard you plead. That and the angry wrinkle between your brows had yet to ease. 

   Maybe he was beginning to get curious, were you crossed by a lover? Had someone killed your family? Kids? Those were questions to ask later, he was definitely going to get some use out of you. Might even consider that hit at a discount if you’d come back with him tomorrow to make getting all five of them easier. That last one was supposedly trained by Lady Shiva. Nothing he couldn’t handle but he needed to be in Kentucky in three days for his alibi. He’d rather not chance it if the guy was any good. 

       One of the hitmen was gripping your face roughly his whole side open exposed as his heavy balls slammed into your chin. You gag around him as the other guy keeps pounding into your plush walls, his strokes hard and fast. The bartender hopped over the bar and they set you on one of the sticky tables. They pull your clothes off your body, jeering and laughing when one of them cums prematurely on your tits. He crossed he’s leg seeing just how long this would take.     

   The older of the four has a bum knee, his strokes in your ass hiccuping every other thrust. Your legs are spread open, your pussy clenching around each new shape and angle. You're digging your nails into your palms and he notes how your hands never reach up to touch their pricks no matter how much they ask. They pull you this way and that, all three of them claiming a hole while one of them is left to jerk off on your back. When they get bored of that, one squeezes your tits, another with his fingers swimming in your loose cunt waiting to get hard again. They rut into you without care, staining your skin and hair with their cum. 

    Vaguely Slade thinks of how lucky he is for his healing factor, would kill anything he could’ve contracted, he could see why their boss was getting rid of them. They hadn’t even considered that, dismissing you as a non-threat as soon as his dick was inside you. As implausible as it seemed you could’ve been a biological weapon. Two of the guys had already pulled their pants up, heading back to their drinks and the after-sports commentary. Occasionally watching as others took their turn with you. 

       The bartender seemed to remember what Slade had said earlier and let his piss fill your cum stained ass. The liquid splattered on the ground when he pulled out and he lit up a cigarette to watch Carl? he thinks his name was finished down your throat, pulling his limp cock from your lips and splashing your face with a gnarly stream of yellow, even Slade’s lip curled at the stench, nothing smells quite as bad as an alcoholics' piss. Your hair stuck to your face where the hissing stream had hit and it dripped down your chin in steady drops. 

     He was vaguely impressed, not a single tear. You were sturdier than you looked, he could probably get a couple of uses out of you. Time to reel you in. He stubbed the nub of his cigar and dropped some cash on the counter. “This was fun and all but I'm going to head out.” 

   This finally pulled you into action. You pulled back from Carl when he was about to claim your ruined pussy again. The old bastard had stamina. Your hand grabbed the neck of a bottle and you smashed it before holding it up to his neck. Hm.

    “You don’t wanna be doing that girlie” The bartender spat. 

    “No” Your voice was hoarse. “I-” You met Slade’s eye, taking his cue as he looked at you and the door. “S-sorry I just wanna go home now.” 

    “Go on then.” He says. “While we’re still being nice.” 

   Once you’re dressed and out the door, Slade gets to his feet and says offhandedly  “Must’ve been on something” 

    “Definitely.” One of them chimes. A couple of agreements and comments are thrown out but Carls’ rings out the loudest. 

    “Reckon she’ll come back tomorrow?” 

    “She couldn’t have walked far.” Deathstroke grins when they all laugh. “I’ll go ask. See you gents tomorrow.” They wave him off with a leer and a promise of a free drink if he brings you back. And now to sell it. He really didn’t have to walk far, you were catching your breath in the parking lot. 

   “So you'll do it?” 

   “I never said we had a deal” he scoffed “Besides I never asked you to do all that.” His grin was mean when you sputtered, tears welling in your eyes for the first time that night apart from when you were gagging. 

   “Please wait!” You begged. Much better. “I'll do anything” 

   “I know, which is why you’re going to come back tomorrow and give those guys another round.” He looked down at you and snorted. “I’ll consider it a consultation fee. Don’t look at me like that, you can take it or leave it’s all the same to me. Could’ve killed them all right there”

   “I’ll take it.” You grit out. The burning inferno in your eyes intrigued him. He wasn’t confirming anything but it looks like you're willing to risk it. He once again wonders-

   “Who little mouse?” He wasn't expecting you to hiss out that name, especially not with that amount of venom but clear as day, there was only one 

“Bruce Wayne”

Well… he wasn’t expecting that. 

Kinktober2024|Masterlist

[mslanna]

Raphael reacting to his little mouse asking to meet with him privately; when he agrees, Tav makes a thorough check of the room (to ensure nothing and nobody is eavesdropping) before explaining. Tav informs the cambion that another fiend appeared before them and attempted to get the adventurer to agree to sellout Raphael by essentially acting as a mole, so now Tav is here to warn him while also trying to figure out some things, "Any idea why that other devil thought that I'd be a good choice for this? They claimed you were enamored with me, but I stopped paying attention when they persisted with flattery rather than give me their actual reasoning." Meanwhile, Raphael is sat there knowing all that "flattery" is true.

Well, that took an unexpected turn at the end. 🤭 nby Tav without body configuration unwise application of whisky Read it on AO3

Double-Dealing Devils

Everything had to be perfect. Raphael made another round through his suite in Sharess' Caress. His favourite future client, his little mouse had asked – asked – to meet him. This could only mean one thing, and he was ready.

The wine was ready. Refreshments were ready. The special occasion outfit in black and red was tailored to perfection and fitting impeccably. Scented soaps and lotions awaited in case the meeting turned a little more – satisfactory than Tav anticipated. The rose petals might clue them in.

On the other hand, they might not. Tav could be deliciously oblivious for all their street smarts and battle prowess. Raphael tugged at his sash and ran a hand through his perfect hair. Archdevil Raphael. Ruler of the nine hells.

Soon.

The door opened and his future swept in, disregarding him completely. Raphael frowned as Tav began a thorough search of his suite – not just with hands and eyes, he felt the distinctive tingle of magic.

"Pray what-"

"Sh!" Tav hissed. Their tone was so urgent, that Raphael obeyed.

Such power in such a small package. He watched Tav doing a full circuit, thinking of all the wonderful ways he could harness their energy. Free it. Shape it to his will. Leaning back against his desk, Raphael let his thoughts roam freely over the subject.

"Happy?" He crossed his arms and tilted his head when Tav finally deigned to approach him.

"You know you are rather unpopular already?" Tav mirrored his pose.

"I'm a devil, my dear. I am popular only with those who are worth the time and effort."

"Maybe you should reconsider who that is, because I got a really interesting offer."

"Is that so." Raphael refused to be fazed. "I am curious why you did not take it."

"Who says I didn't?"

"Would you be here if you did?" Raphael straightened. "If you have found another way to solve your little tadpole problem, I am all agog to hear about it."

"It's not about that," Tav conceded. "Or maybe a little."

"Come, sit." Raphael gestured to the comfortable couch at the pool. "Tell me everything. Have a drink. Refreshments?"

Tav blinked as if they had run into a brick wall. Raphael exploited their surprise by pressing a wine goblet into their hand and guiding them into the desired direction.

They flopped down with their wine sloshing dangerously high in the goblet. It didn't spill though. A pity, but something akin might be happening later. Raphael licked his lips.

Once sitting, Tav gulped down half of the wine in one go. A waste considering the quality of it but the mortal didn't even notice the taste. "I don't even know who that devil was. I don't deal with devils on a regular basis, you know?"

"And you didn't think to ask their name?"

"I don't believe a word they said. Why would I believe the name they gave? Also, they wore a glamour. Four meter devilshape is drawing attention. So they glamoured themselves to look like-" Tav hesitated.

Raphael moved closer and swirled his wine. "To look like who?"

"Um." Tav blushed. "The type of woman I prefer."

"A successful ploy judging by your reaction." A wrench in the works, maybe. Korrilla reported a certain interest in the druid elf travelling with the group.

"The only success." Tav snorted and slurped up the rest of their wine. "Anyway, they wanted me to spy for them. On you," Tav added seeing the incomprehension on Raphael's face. "They want me to sell you out. Your secrets and stuff. Whatever gave them the impression I am a good choice for that."

Tav shook their head and stared into the empty goblet. Oblivious. Raphael suppressed a sigh. Maybe it would be wise to keep it that way. They would certainly be a liability. He was far from admitting that it was part of their charm. So easily fooled and yet so firm in their beliefs.

"They must have given reasons," he prompted.

Another snort from Tav. "They said you have a soft spot for me. Said, you were, can you believe it, enamoured with me." Tav looked up to find Raphael's brown eyes reasting heavily on them. They swallowed. "Anyway, I stopped listening when they kept repeating that instead of giving their actual reasoning."

"Ah." Raphel picked the empty goblet from their unresisting hand. "I see."

It was unfortunate that his – lenience towards his little mouse should be known in infernal circles. That offer would not be the last of them. This time, Tav decided to come to him. But who knew how their decision would fall in the future? Once his deal was concluded and other devils found tempting prizes for Tav. He needed a solution.

"I know. It's ridiculous." Tav leant back and spread their arms over the backrest.

Raphael turned away to refill their cup. Tav sitting like an open invitation was a little too on the nose. Did they really not know? Or were they stringing him along, trying to weasel some kind of confession out of him? And if he did, would it be worth it? Raphael scrounged his nose in thought as he poured them more wine.

"I mean, it's all very professional, is it not? You give me a hammer with which I can free Orpheus who will solve all my problems. I give you a crown that will solve all of yours." Tav shook their head. "You're not even coming for my soul."

"As yet." Raphael smiled like a promise and a threat. "Who knows what will happen once you sign my deal and we conclude it successfully?"

"So you have further plans with me?" Tav frowned.

"Perhaps." He took a step towards them. "It depends entirely on whether you are willing."

Tav narrowed their eyes. Willing to do what? Was – was his top button undone? That sure hadn't been the case when they arrived. The words of the other devil echoed through heir head. Soft spot. Enamoured even. Balderdash. Wasn't it? Admittedly, Gale had said something about roses and serenades as well. But Gale was a hopeless romantic.

Tav stopped to look around. A suite, tiles covered in rose petals. Wine. Refreshments. A pool inviting with soaps, oils and lotions. A bed, not even hidden from view with plush pillows and ample space. Raphael, in the middle of the room a goblet of wine in one hand.

Tav reached out. When Raphael handed them the goblet, they emptied it in one go. Shaking their head, Tav grunted. "I need something stronger than that, I think."

"That can be arranged," Raphael purred, pleased that realisation finally set in.

Glancing to the door Tav wondered if they'd make it while the devil was distracted. But Raphael cheated, by simply appearing a bottle of whisky and a filled tumbler in his hands.

"Anything else?"

"How about some privacy?"

"As you wish." With a flick of his hand, the lock of the door clicked audibly.

Tav swallowed. Doomed. They picked the whisky from the devil's hand who made sure their fingers touched more than necessary. Maybe if they got drink fast enough – But who were they kidding? He was a devil and one that looked at them like a cat that found a cream-covered mouse to play with. Detected.

The unveil hunger emanating from Raphael burnt in Tav's stomach even without a single drop of whisky. Words from another place wormed their way back into Tav's wavering conscience. Swallowing once more, they pulled up their tunic slowly and poured some of their drink into their belly button. It ran over because they didn't look away from the devil's intense gaze.

Raphael smiled greedily. He opened another button on his doublet and knelt before them.

Caught. Tav closed their eyes as hot lips closed in on their skin.

[octarinecat]

A challenge

Author notes: 1845 words, NSFW, Raphael x female Tav, TW: a lot of alcohol, foul language, minor violence, choking, mention of noncon

“You know what I noticed? That I've never seen you drunk. How is that possible?” Tav wondered aloud and turned on her side, looking at him expectantly.

Raphael finished reading a paragraph in the book and looked at her with amusement.

“That's impossible, little mouse. I'm immune to the effects of alcohol.”

“You have too much mass. Maybe you just drink too little of it to find that it works on you?” She continued to pursue the subject.

Raphael rolled his eyes and went back to reading his book. One of his hands dived under the bedclothes and he began stroking the skin on her thigh. Tav mused for a moment, but returned to the topic that was weighing particularly heavily on her mind this evening.

“I wonder how you would behave under the influence of alcohol. Would you be more aggressive? Or more mellow? Hmm…” She sighed loudly, but jumped up on the bed, as at that moment the cambion pinched her.

“Curiosity killed the cat!” He laughed in a low voice and closed the book. He then corrected himself on the bed and looked at her. “I don't mean to demean my person, who do you think I am? I would prefer your grey cells to focus on other subjects. Perhaps on my anatomy, or my fluency in several languages? Choose wisely, my dear.”

“Leave my grey cells alone. Ah so yes, lets make it a challenge. Prove to me that alcohol doesn't work on you.” She said in a confident voice, emphasising the word “challenge”.

“Challenge?” He laughed. “And what reward awaits me for proving to you how wrong you are? I'm concerned that the mere satisfaction of winning won't be enough for me." Raphael replied, and his eyes travelled downwards, where they stopped at her breasts with a dreamy look.

Tav clouded over, doing business with him had never been easy. “What more do you want?” She asked and bit her teeth.

Cambion leaned in and batted his long eyelashes, at the same time glaring at her with his eyes. In his mind, he carefully considered what he had just had to say.

“I want you to stay for more than a single evening.” He said, and his eyebrows raised in anticipation of her answer.

“For a weekend, for example?”

“One week is the absolute minimum.” He shrugged.

“Why do you need me for that long?” She asked expectantly, scanning his face with determination for the deeper meaning of his words.

“For entertainment.” He answered briefly and showed her almost all his teeth in a smile.

. . . . . . . . . .

Few days later they met up again in the front door of Elfsong Tavern, in the late evening.

“Ah, that famous den that has hosted so many heroes of Faerun.” He sighed and opened the door for her, allowing her to enter first.

They were struck by the heat of the great hall filled with people. The smell of roast meats and various types of alcohol filled their nostrils. She noticed how he wrinkled his nose in distaste. Raphael grabbed her hand and led her through the main hall up to a room with a stage further away. There were several musicians on the stage, playing cheerful music. They sat down at some smaller table.

“What do you fancy tonight, my dear?” He asked, discreetly observing his surroundings.

“Me? After all, you were the one who was supposed to drink today, weren't you? I don't plan to drink.” She was surprised, as she had not foreseen this option in her plan. She nervously looked around the stage, searching for a point of interest. “I'll have water, maybe something else later. Listen, someone has to be sober to get you home.”

Raphael laughed with amusement. “I'll bring something right away, don't move from here.”

After a long moment he returned bringing alcohol. Analysing the size of the glasses, Tav concluded that it might be whisky.

“Whisky? Are you sure about that?”

“Yes, devil's blood whiskey. What else do you think you could drink? Beer is for the commoners, isn't it?"

Of course, he didn't bring her anything to drink except whiskey.

There was a little commotion on stage and the music became much livelier. A beautiful elf began to sing and tempt the people in the hall with their voice.

Tav looked at Raphael, who started sipping whiskey from his glass. His gaze moved lazily around the room. She knew that gaze, she had seen it more than once before. He was looking for the clients.

“Hey. You're not at work.” She returned her attention to him and reached for her glass.

“I'm not right now. But who knows, maybe I will be soon? Look at all these naive people, they're asking for a hell of a contract. I shiver at the thought of succeeding in tormenting an innocent soul today."

“Please, Raphael. You'd better focus on drinking. On relaxing. Charming me with conversation. Remember, that challenge of ours still?”

One glass of whisky was emptied. It wasn't much, yet Raphael was giving signs of a change in his mood. He unbuttoned the top button of his shirt and began to talk about an artefact that had recently caught his eye.

“...And do you know what happened next, my dear? At first I ignored this information, but when I met with another client I realised that…” Tav listened with interest to his story. His voice had a soothing effect on her. And perhaps it was the whisky. To be sure - she sipped it very slowly so that she could observe the changes in the cambion's behaviour.

A second glass. More buttons revealed his torso, drenched gently with sweat. It was terribly hot in the tavern, and people-as if there were more of them. She was also uncomfortably heated; she untied the straps of her shirt, which was not ignored by him.

“It's pretty hot in here, isn't it?” He stated with a sassy smile and scooted over to her, putting his arm around her shoulders and, as unobtrusively as possible, brushing the lobe of her ears with his lips.

“To you, that's for sure. Oh, is the alcohol going to your head?” She laughed and took the last sip from her glass.

More glasses of alcohol were served and Raphael became more and more inebriated.

“...And I made him eat those eyeballs. Fucking animals. He thought he'd fool me, me?!” He finished with a loud bass laugh and took a long sip from his glass. His eyes occasionally scanned the room, Tav was convinced he was preying on someone.

The night was still young, the cambion was seemingly starting to get drunk, yet not quite. Tav went off to the bathroom for a moment, which did not go without a little dizziness, and when she returned she saw that Raphael was speaking in a raised and angry voice to a man, waving his hands in front of his eyes. She quickly walked over to him and instinctively grabbed his arm.

“Come on, leave the man. Why make a quarrel over nothing." She said and pulled him towards the table. Meanwhile, more glasses filled to the brim with alcohol appeared on the table.

She hadn't had time to sit down on the bench when he grabbed her by the hips and planted her on his lap.

“And then came the CLAW!” He murmured quietly then unexpectedly raised his voice on the last word.

“Oh hells! Raphael!!!” She shouted in surprise and a couple of people in the room burst into laughter. Tav blushed and glared at him. He answered her with a wide and dreamy smile. “Are you all right, my dearest? Did the little mouse get scared?” He cooed.

“So that I don't scare you! Don't do that again.” She scolded him and tried to sit down next to him, but was unable to move his arms tightly clasped around her waist.

“I shall.” He whispered, then slipped one hand under her skirt.

She quickly took his hand away, and his tongue untangled.

“You are so beautiful, I want you here and now. Spread your legs. You are mine and mine alone!” He said to her and began to bite into her collarbone without a hint of shame, additionally gripping her buttocks tightly, which would surely be visible on her body the next day as well.

“That's enough of that. That's enough already! Raphael stop right now!” She reacted by almost shouting. It wasn't her words that stopped him, however, but a physiological need. He pushed her onto the bench from his lap and left towards the toilet without a word.

As soon as he was out of her sight she poured the alcohol from the remaining two glasses into the pot of a plant standing nearby.

Raphael returned after a long minute, shaky and with his shirt unbuttoned all over.

“We're going home now!” She declared as soon as he looked at her. His gaze was frantic, completely different from the stoic calm he exuded on a daily basis.

“Let us go then, my beloved.” He replied briefly after which, without further ado, he grabbed her in half and carried her out of the inn through the back door.

“Fuck, Raphael! I'll rip your legs out of your ass as soon as you sober up!!!” She screamed and kicked the air as he put her against the wall and pressed her against it with his body. There was no one around them, only the faint rays of the moon illuminated their bodies.

“I just don't believe it!!!” She squirmed against the wall, trying to push him away. “You're disgustingly drunk!” She lamented further.

“Don't reject my love...!” He said and leaned in, his lips inches from her mouth. His hand went around her neck squeezing tighter and tighter, taking away her precious air supply. But at the last second something changed. He stopped.

Tav held her breath.

“I win.” He whispered in a coarse, exaggerated whisper and a big smile crept onto his face. His eyes glittered with self-satisfaction. So too did the set of fangs he revealed in his smile. Tav, on the other hand, was close to passing out, and in her mind she was already putting together a plan of self-defence.

“Wh-what?” She answered on one exhale.

“I won. I'm not the least bit hazed by alcohol. And you've convinced yourself that you don't want to see me like this at all. A valuable lesson for you, I suppose?” The cambion replied and released her from his embrace, placing her gently on the ground.

Tav punched him in the stomach until he folded in half and grunted. Raphael grabbed her wrists tightly to prevent more violence on her part.

“Have you been pretending all this time?” She shouted in anger.

“Of course I was. I was surprised you didn't notice. Who would have expected the devil to be a deceitful and deceptive creature?” He said with a confident smile. “Be ready, I expect you to turn up tomorrow and hand over my reward.”

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias - Friends With Benefits Part 1/6

Reposting this cuz it seems to have disappeared from my page

Summary - Reader and Ruben have been in a friends with benefits situation for over three years now, with Reader eventually looking for something more serious. But what does Ruben want?

Enjoy!

The bar was full with people tonight, one of those after work specials, you thought. It was one of those places with that American Psycho feel, where people drank wine and whisky rather than Redbull-vodka and cheap pints of Guinness. And the interior design of the place resembled more of a fancy art gallery than a place to get drunk.

"From the gentlemen " Said a waitress, dressed in forbidden red, handing you a glass of dark liquor, gesturing over to the gentlemen sitting across from you, who's gaze watched you attentively. "He says once you've finished, come over."

By the looks of it he must have been flirting with the poor girl prior to her delivering your drink. Her hands were seen clenching the tray, knuckles white. Perhaps she was feeling guilty to be setting you up with a man she'd suspect to be unfaitful to you if you ever gave in.

You put a hand on your thigh, rubbing your exposed skin. Your other hand held your phone, typing a cryptic message to the unknown number that had previously sent you a message, telling you to chug the drink being delivered to you by the young waitress dressed in red.

"Thank you." You smiled, accepting your drink. You raised your glass, giving the gentlemen across from you a slight nod. The young waitress bowed her head, leaving you to it. Little did she know that two could play the game of seduction.

You took a swing of your drink, almost emptying all it's content in one go. The glass was left half empty now, leaving you with a burning sensation in your throat. The gentlemen across from you held his glass to his mouth, hiding his obvious grin.

The game was on.

You: What now?

Him: Take off your panties, tell me what they smell like?

You smiled at your screen. It was the seductive hand on your thigh, he had noticed, falling right into your trap.

You: As you wish.

You began moving your hand upwards your thigh, slow enough to tease him, but fast enough for anybody else not to take notice.

You kept your eyes on him, watching them widened with interest as your hand slipped under, tugging at the damped fabric that kept your throbbing pussy in check. You wiggled in your chair for the panties to detach from your ass, eventually sliding down the curve of your thighs and to your ankles, where you let them trap your high heels together in a tempting knot.

You smiled, watching him empty his glass, pouring the dark liquor down his throat. He was on his feet now, making his way over to you, faster than you could've imagined. That had been the deal though, whoever finished their drink first had to be the first one to approach. A silent game of cat and mouse, as the two of you had tried to get the other to finish their drink first, practically the entire night. Turns out a man weakness is and always will be a wet pussy.

You: A little help?

"Good evening." He said, taking the chair next to you, scooting it an extra inch closer.

"Evening." You said, cocking your head.

"A lady in distress I see."

You chuckled, but allowed the tip of your heel to put pressure against his outlined calf.

"Care to help?"

He leaned forward, his large frame covering the sight of you, preventing other people at the bar to see the tugging of hands.

"Carful now." You hissed. As his hand which now rested on your thigh, traveled upwards rather downwards towards your fallen panties.

He chuckled, flashing his white teeth. "Your cunt is mine, didn't you know that?"

You jumped, feeling him enter you, his warm hand beneath your dress, a slight panic because of your lack of movement caused by your trapped ankles.

"Carful now." He teased.

The feel of his thumb stroking your bead made you clenched around nothing.

"Ruben, not here." You gasped.

"Then where?" He grinned

You left the bar with a draft between your legs, your apartment only being a ten minute walk away.

You fumbled with the keys to the door as Ruben's groping hands and latching mouth made it difficult for you to concentrate.

As soon as you stumbled over the threshold clothes were coming off. You barley made it to the bedroom before his shaft was locked up inside of you, with you climbing on his cock, clinging on to his neck.

You woke up the next morning with a scolding headache and a naked man sleeping beside you to mend the pain.

Ruben had an alarm of his own. It went off the same time it had always done for these past three years.

"What are we?" You asked, as Ruben pressed your body against his, planting soft kisses down your shoulder.

"What do you mean?" He groaned, clearly distracted by more important things.

"What are we in terms of a relationship."

He paused the motion of rubbing your back, lifting his head to look at you. "We're friends, no?"

"The best of friends." He grinned, resuming the serenading of kisses, this time traveling down the slope of your neck and onto the trace of your collarbone.

Your eyebrows furrowed. "Don't you mean friends who fuck on a daily bases?"

"Ruben, I'm serious."

"I'm serious too." He said, a slight irritation in his voice as you forced all motion of kissing to stop once more.

"Okay, if we're the best of friends, how come every time you're in town you somehow always wake up in my bed?"

"Because your bed is the best." He pressed a swift kiss to your lips, sitting up in bed.

You rolled your eyes and fell back against the your pillow.

"Look, Y/N, I thought we went over this? I'm not looking for anything serious right now, neither are you, or at least that's what you told me."

"Friends?" He said in that trustful way he always did.

"Yeah, three years ago." You muttered.

Since then you and Ruben had shared numerous of moments like the one in the bar last night. Moments that would make any sane person qualify you two as more than just friends.

"With benefits." You agreed, grabbing a hold of the hand he offered to you, letting him pull you out of bed.

Maybe you should let things be with Ruben. He was a simple guy with simple needs and you knew exactly where you had him in terms of a relationship. It was just not happening. So what if you kept him around for a bit longer? From now on you would see him as a dick on the side whilst you finally put yourself out there in search for a real man.

[oknowkiss]

fic claim: à bon chat

written for @moonflower-rose & @hd-erised 2023!

Pairing(s): DRARRY, past Harry/Ginny, past Draco/OMC Rating: E Wordcount: 35K Read on AO3 here!

Tags: Art Thief Draco, Crime Scene Investigator Harry, Divorced Harry, Paris, Heists, Cat & Mouse, the Insatiable Pursuit of a Thrill, Enemies to Colleagues to Lovers, Moral Ambiguity (he's a thief, so...), Gawain Robards Loves Penguins, Just a Whole Lot of Impressionism Summary: Draco Malfoy didn’t intend to lead a life of crime after the war. It’s just that being good had turned out so incomprehensibly boring. Now he's thirty-five, a fully redeemed member of society, the darling of the wizarding social pages, and a newly minted consultant for Gawain Robards' Investigative Research division. In his spare time, he enjoys good whisky, casual sex, and moonlighting as an art thief. His biggest score yet is fast approaching and he's got everything planned down to the minute. Everything, that is, until the unexpected appearance of a newly-divorced Harry Potter. Now that Potter's in the picture, Draco's no longer certain if he's the pursuer or the prize.

rosie!!!! SURPRISE!!!! this was so much fun to write, and tbh it was even more fun pretending i didn't write it directly to your face. ;) but seriously, writing for you was an absolute delight. your prompts gave me so many amazing fun things to sneak in (thigh holsters?! please!!). here's to gifting you many more things in the future!! thank you so so much to @citrusses for the incredible beta, and to everyone who has read and commented and shared throughout the fest. it was truly such an honor to participate in erised's 10 year anniversary. finally: - draco's first steal is this painting - the paintings in the Big Heist are this series - the monet lilies room at l'orangerie is here - you can find my fic inspo playlist here: spotify - the banner above is from the 1915 silent film serial Les Vampires, and was the image that first inspired this entire story.

[raccoon-crown]

Snowpoint Doddles!

Like I said, just some doddles of the SnowPoint AU!

The first: For that time Shadow tough asking for Chilidogs in the Snow Whisker Cafe would be enough to bring back some memories to Sonic (The plan failed and ended up eating some Snowdogs)

Second: One of the many times Honey lost it at the beginning of a snowboarding race, in company of Ris of course (Yup, Honey still aims for Jack to be the first place even after the brainwashing Starline did).

Third: Just some friends Hanging out!

And that's all. I have loved this AU that @son1c made so much! (Just as all their other AUs and art!). And of course I was happy to do something to show it a little.

[fryingpan1234567]

guys the 141 is flying to Disneyland

(hear me out)

Price, for someone’s birthday (probably Gaz’s if we’re honest with ourselves), takes the squad to Disney for a few days. Now these grown ass battle-hardened absolute units of men… are fucking ecstatic. Even Ghost. Especially Gaz and Soap, who literally Did Not Shut The Fuck Up about it all the way from the announcement up until they were there, and then they were speechless.

Anyways, a compilation of things that happened:

Ghost was mistaken for the Winter Soldier because of the mask and all-black tact fit and eyeliner by a group of middle schoolers who then demanded a picture

Soap got glitterbombed during a parade and had sparkles in his mohawk for the rest of the day

Price lost his hat to the Matterhorn somewhere in the cave system, meaning it was virtually unretrievable 

Gaz got jumpscared by the fake sharks on the Finding Nemo submarine ride

Soap ate a total of twelve bags of cotton candy over the course of a three day trip

They all spent more on merch than the fucking plane tickets💀

Ghost and Gaz had a pretty epic lightsaber fight, red vs green, in the dark in Galaxy’s Edge so all the lights in the background were on it was DOPE‼️

Price was forced to wear Mickey ears OVER his replacement hat so it folded over the top of his head like a weird reverse Captain taco

Soap got WAY into the Indiana Jones ride and almost got thrown out of the jeep like six times

Same with Gaz and the Pirates of the Caribbean one

Ghost going speechless in awe of the immersion of the Star Wars rides

They all vow to never speak of what happened on the Guardians/ Tower of Terror ride, because no one was actually sure who screamed the loudest.

Soap tried to fight Donald Duck and had to be dragged away by Price before he traumatized the crowd of watching children

Even though he still had a half-face black mask on, Ghost let Soap and Gaz drag him into getting matching face paint

Gaz had a Princess and the Frog themed outfit one of the days and PHEW

Ghost went back home with two pairs of ears: a Jack Skellington one and the sparkly purple one that has a unicorn horn and rainbow train behind it

Also the others convinced him to wear a Mickey Mouse shirt over his hoodie one of the days

I can’t express how much they all fucking lived for the Cars ride (it’s because it’s simply the best one ANYWAYS)

Soap being thoroughly distracted by Ghost and his see-through shirt after they did Splash Mountain and got soaked

The fucking contrast between Price getting some kind of whisky situation that’s just brown but in a cool cup from a bar in Galaxy’s Edge and then Gaz finding some god-awful multicolored milkshake that’s a foot and a half tall and 30% whipped cream

Anyways the serotonin is REAL please ask me to do other characters or continue this I just think the cod boys deserve to go to Disney every once in a while

[daddycassie]

Lucy Gray Baird does not share. 🍺 🌙 🎶

Pairing: Possessive! Lucy Gray Baird x Female! Masc! Reader - 1,333 words

Warnings: Drinking/drunk shenanigans, mentions of prostitution(brief), biting, oral sex, fingering, switch Lucy Gray(only hints at her bottoming though), jealousy, possessiveness, public sex.

At around half past midnight, you’d been working a late shift at the Hob. Bartending and table cleaning weren’t easy jobs with all the drunkards around, but you did your best to manage. Especially in the presence of your lover, the dazzling star, Lucy Gray Baird.

She shined brighter than anything in the entirety of the Hob, the whole district even. She was like a splash of watercolor on everyone else’s colorless world. Nearing the end of your shift, a pretty blonde girl approached you. You hadn’t noticed her at first, entranced by Lucy Gray’s siren-like song.

Nothin’ you could take was ever worth keepin’.

The girl had to snap right in your face to get your attention. “Oh, I’m sorry, what can I get for you?” You speak, rolling up your white sleeves. Her eyes travel down, your arms were toned, but you never thought them something to gawk over. “Whiskey handsome, and maybe an hour or two of your time? I promise I can make it very pleasurable.”

The blonde’s voice is a low purr, you can’t help laughing heartily. You get her the whiskey and she pays significantly more than necessary. You sigh, and elect to play along, not noticing the fact that Maude Ivory was singing now. “I’m not a prostitute sweetheart.” You speak with a smile. 

For some reason you feel like more than one person is staring at you. You try to ignore it as the girl leans closer, taking a long sip of her whiskey. “I didn’t mean it like that… I just feel a little lonely tonight.” She croons. You’re about to respond when someone else speaks. “Maybe you should go feel lonely alone.”

“Lucy Gray?” You turn to her. Lucy Gray stares menacingly at the girl. If looks could kill…

The blonde frowns deeply. “Shouldn’t you be singing songbird?” Lucy Gray approaches you and tightly squeezes your arm. “I’m on break, to come see my girlfriend.” She spat. The blonde mutters something under her breath, but leaves the bar with her whisky. 

Lucy Gray grabs a small bottle of rum, you estimate it’s about the price of the extra money the girl paid. “We should probably give her her money back, or that bottle at lea—“

You’re cut off when Lucy Gray opens the top and nearly downs the whole bottle. “Didn’t that burn?” You frown in concern. “Nope.” She rasps.

“Baby that’s gonna hit you like a truck, maybe you shouldn’t drink it.” She frowns deeply. “I feel great actually, other than that little stunt you were pullin’.” You blink in surprise at her words “Stunt? What stunt?”

Lucy Gray glares, although she looks about as scary as a mouse you don’t like when she’s cross with you. “I heard you call her sweetheart. I mean, sweetheart, come on Y/n! I never knew you were out here butterin’ up all these girls!” The way she wobbles when she moves closer to you indicates the rum is starting to take effect.

“Lucy Gray, I was just trying to deal with her. She was wasted.” You try to reason, wrapping your arms around her waist. She bristles, and speaks, her voice slurring out the words. “How ‘m I posed to know you’re a-tellin’ me the truth!” The way she puts emphasis in the wrong places makes you chuckle despite the circumstances.

“Maybe we should get you home.” You take her hand, only for her to squeeze yours tighter and drag you into the backroom. The second you’re out of view from other people she slams you into the wall as hard as she can, her eyes narrow. “Lucy Gray—“ you’re cut off again when she presses herself close to you and begins drunkenly fumbling with your shirt buttons.

“Mine, n’nody else’s. I don’ wanna share…” She leans her face up into the crook of your neck and you’re shocked by how hard she bites you. You groan in both pain and pleasure. She presses you against the wall with more force. You can see the moment she gives up on the buttons and simply rips the shirt open, buttons clattering to the ground.

“Hey! My nice shirt!” You hiss, only half as mad as you would normally be, seeing how your girlfriend is trying to get into your pants. “That’s mine too.” Lucy Gray babbles, moving down to suck on and kiss any part of your chest that your bra doesn’t cover. “I want you…” she moans.

You bite your lower lip and nod, placing your hand on her head as she moves down to her knees in front of you. You glance at the entrance from the bar, and decide it’s not likely anyone will walk in. You look down just in time to see Lucy Gray slip off your belt and pull down your slacks, then your underwear as well.

“Already wet.” She comments as though you wouldn’t already know that. You fist her hair and she takes that as an urging to lean forward and take your clit into her mouth. It wasn’t often when you thought Lucy Gray’s mouth had better uses than singing, but god, you were thinking it now.

You moan, and press into her mouth, trying to keep quieter than the music. It’s difficult when she’s sucking with such fervor. Her big brown eyes look up at you and become half lidded with affection. Meanwhile, you get off on the idea that Lucy Gray stopped her set early just to show some random girl who you belonged to.

It was Lucy Gray, always Lucy Gray. You loved her and she loved you. The way her tongue flicks at your clit while she unceremoniously presses her fingers into you drives you mad, if you hadn’t muffled yourself you would have screamed. Times like these made you question if you were truly the dominant one in the relationship.

Lucy Gray thrusts hard and fast, passionate and determined as everything she ever does. You cum, grinding against her pretty face, while you both moan a little too loudly. Despite the racket you’re creating she doesn’t stop. Not even a break. She keeps up the pace.

When you cum a second time, you’re quivering against the wall, flushed and sweaty. You wanted to reclaim some dominance, anything to make you feel a little in control. You pull Lucy Gray’s hair — and she bites your clit. Your eyes roll back and tear up with overstimulation. You cum for the third time tonight. 

Lucy Gray toys with you for a moment or two longer before she pulls away, her face is wet, and she smiles drunkenly. “All mine.” She giggles to herself. You look down at her, panting. Finally you move from off the wall, and fix your clothes. “W-we need to clean your face. Come on.” You pull her up from the ground and she hugs you, kissing you all over, just like the usual drunk Lucy Gray. Like she didn’t just fuck you silly.

You sigh, and lift her up, using her to cover your broken open shirt. You’d have to collect your buttons tomorrow, but that was a problem for future Y/n and Lucy Gray. “If you weren’t so hammered right now, I would take you home and take you in every position I could think of.” You speak low enough for only the two of you to hear.

“Sounds like good plans for tomorrow.” She hiccups, laying her head on your shoulder. “Mhm, good plans for tomorrow. Maybe we could visit the lake.” Lucy Gray nods, not entirely sure what she was in for.

You curl up in bed with her that night, her body rest on top of yours while she snoozes. You could still smell alcohol on her breath, but you kiss her goodnight anyway. “I love you.” You say to her, knowing you won’t get a response. Tomorrow was never assured, not in a place like 12, but somehow, with Lucy Gray it still felt bright.

Note: I wish I’d made it a little bit longer — but I’m pretty happy with it! Hope you enjoyed <3

@lucygraysbabygirl ~ thank you for your request, I had a lot of fun making it :)

[thedemonknownasbilly]

Drunk Thoughts

Warnings: Underage drinking

AFAB Reader cause this is my coping mechanism and about an incident before I came out.

Ineffable dads (sort of), he/him for both of them.

“You gave me the world, I gave you my trust. You invested in me, I invested in us. Who would have known you’d hurt me so much?” She mumbled-sang, taking another swig of the Jack, wincing at the taste but remaining on her floor, back to the wall as she sang along, her house empty, parents at some fancy event. Younger brother out with friends. And here she was, at 14, as alone as she could be.

“I’m feeling worthless, I don’t deserve this.”

“You’re right, little mouse.” The red haired demon said, leaning against the wall, just two feet away from her. “You don’t deserve this.” He crouched down to her level and took the whisky from her hand, shushing any protests. “You’re fourteen, seven more years to go.”

“I don’t care, give it back.” She insisted, stumbling to her knees to take it from him. But he simply rose to his full height, towering over her 5’2” with ease.

“I’ll return it in seven years, for now, how about we visit the library, I know that makes you feel better.”

“When can I visit your friend?” She asked, meaning the bookshop owning angel.

“When you’re eighteen or wherever he comes with me, whichever happens first.”

“I’m here, Crowley, oh, this must be R—.” A man dressed in white said, appearing behind the lankier man and offering his hand to the girl. “I’m Aziraphale, I know our meeting is long overdue.” He felt like such a comforting presence, she couldn’t help as she hugged him, fighting tears against his waist coat as his warm hands rubbed her back.

“Never took you for a guardian demon, Crowley.” Aziraphale mused.

“She reminds me of myself. How could I not?” The demon replied simply, stroking her hair as she settled into the angel’s arms.

Okay, so I’m like, 5 fireballs, 2 glasses of whiskey, and 1/4 a bottle of MD2020 deep, excuse any grammatical whateverthefucks. I’m coping by writing and listening to sad songs.

[snickerdoodlles]

May I please get a headcanon about Korn's (hopefully soon) death

nonny u are speaking my love language. i think you will be delighted to know that tortoise and i are so consistent in killing off Korn in our fics that i even have a patricide bingo chart to keep track of everyone who gets a crack at patricide.

however, posting that would be spoilers, so instead have some gashlycrumb tinies: Korn edition, i spent much too long thinking about (ty @majestictortoise who gave me the idea and helped me finish the list 😂❤❤❤)

patricide bingo

A is for accident, he fell off a balcony B is for backfired, a plan not thought through C is for Chay, who just shot him one day D is for drowning in the Deutsche Bank pool E is for eels, which all villain lairs need F is for family, taking turns stabbing G is for garage, with the engine still running H is for heart attack, reported as natural I is for injection, delivered under the tongue J is for jungle, stranded for dead K is for killbox, a conspiracy’s end L is for lye, stripping skin from bone M is for middleborn, pushed past his limit N is for nepotism, his heir’s cleaning house O is for outsourced, the boys deserved a vacation P is for predator, snapped up like a mouse Q is for quick, the brothers fresh out of patience R is for revenge by a kidnapped victim S is for smothered under his down feather pillow T is for trampled, a true accident after all U is for united, his sons joined together V is for Valium, a bad mix with whisky W is for wrench, Vegas came out swinging X is for Xanax, it’s even worse with both Y is for youngest, breaking out of the loop Z is for zipper, he ripped off his dick

Send an ask, get a headcanon