#but some people are just special and are an exception to the rule | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aenramsden · 8 months ago

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The following is not my idea; it was the original brainchild of a friend of mine named Omicron, with help from various others including EarthScorpion, TenfoldShields, @havocfett and ShintheNinja:

So, you know what I want to do one day? Run (or play in) a D&D campaign in which the Big Bad Super Dragon that is fuckoff ancient and unfathomably powerful and whose actions have shaped history and bent the course of nations and had repercussions on the whole culture and society in the region where it's set; the Bonus Special Boss for some endgame optional quest after you defeat the direct BBEG and win the campaign...

... is a white dragon.

To explain this for people not deep into 5e monster lore; D&D dragons are sapient beings, and known for their instincts and tendencies, and whenever you meet an big evil dragon that's really old it's usually this ancient creature of terrible intellect Smaug-ing it up all over the place.

Except white dragons are fucking stupid. Like, they're still capable of speech and thought! They're just… feral, hungry morons. And you almost never see them portrayed as ancient wyrms for that reason; they lack majesty. Critical Role did it, yes, but even then, Vorugal is explicitly the most bestial member of the Chroma Conclave, and the others are the more intelligent planners and long-term threats. An ancient white as a nation-defining endboss, though; not a thug for a smarter master but as the strongest and biggest threat around is just not the sort of thing you tend to see.

Adventurers: "Oh wise Therunax the Munificent, gold dragon of Law and Good, what can you tell us adventurers of the evil dragons which rule this land?" Therunax the Munificent, 500-year old Gold Dragon: "Good adventurers, know this: this land is torn apart by the evil of Tiamat's spawn. The eastern marches are the dwelling of Furinar the Plague-Bringer, black dragoness whose hoard is a thousand sicknesses contained in the body of her tributes. The southern volcanic mountains are the roosting of Angrar the Wrathful, the fiery red dragon, who brings magmatic fury on all who do not worship him. And the northern peaks are home to Face-Biter Mike, the oldest and most powerful of all, of whom I dread to speak." Adventurers: "F-Face-Biter Mike???" Therunax: "Oh yes, verily indeed; two thousand years has Mike lived, and his eyes have seen the rise and fall of five empires, and a hundred and score champions have sought to slay him; and each and every one he bit their fucking face off."

Like... I want to see a campaign where Face-Biter Mike is genuinely the most powerful dragon in the region, if not the entire world. Where sometimes he descends on a city to grab himself some meatsicles and causes a localised ice age by the beat of his vast wings and the frigid wastes of his mighty breath and by the chill his mere presence brings to everything for miles around him, and everyone just has to deal with that for the next decade. An entire era of civilization comes to an end, an empire falls, tens of thousands starve in the winter, all because Mike wanted a snack. Where his hoard is an unfathomably vast mass of jewels and artefacts and precious stones frozen in an unmelting glacier, except he is a nouveau riche idiot with fuckall appraising skill, so half of his hoard is coloured glass or worthless knicknacks, and he doesn't give a shit.

"Your Draconic Majesty, this crown is… It's pyrite." "Yeah, well, it's brighter than this dusty old thing made out of real gold, it's my new best treasure. Throw the other one away." "…throw the Burnished Tiara of Bahamut, forged in the First Age of Man, your majesty???" "See? I can't even remember its fucking name." "But my lord-" "DO YOU WANT TO BE A MEATSICLE" "…I will fetch a trash bag, your majesty."

But at the same time, he's not stupid, he's just simple, and in some ways that makes him more dangerous than the usual kinds of scheming Big Bad you see in these things, while simultaneously justifying why Orcus remains on his throne (because he's lazy). Face-Biter Mike doesn't make convoluted plans or run labyrinthine schemes; he just has a talent for violence and a pragmatic, straightforward approach to turning any kind of problem he struggles with into a problem that can be resolved with violence. Face-Biter Mike has one talent and it's horrifying physical power, so his approach to any complicated problem is "how do I turn this into a situation where I can fly down and bite this dude's face off?" with absolutely no regard for the collateral damage or consequences of doing so, because those are also things he can turn into face-bitable problems.

"My lord, the dread necromancer Nikodemion is using his undead dragons to attempt a conquest of the eastern kingdom; his agents are everywhere, his plans are centuries in the making, what can we do against such a mastermind?" "I'm gonna fly over the capital and eat the eastern king." "M-my lord???" "The kingdom will collapse without leadership, Nikodemion will win his war, he'll take the capital and crown himself king." "And that helps us… how?" "Once he does I'll fly over to the capital and eat him." "…" "This is why you advisors all suck. You're all about convoluted plans when the only thing I need to win is know where my enemy is so I can fly down there and eat him. Stop overthinking things."

And, like, yeah, it's a simplistic plan, but when you're several hundred tons of nigh invincible magical death, you don't need brilliant strategy; the smartest way to win a war is, in this case, the simplest. He's not even all that clever at figuring out the consequences of face-biting, he's just memorised the common consequences of doing so.

(If you want to go all in on Mike being the major mover and shaker in the region; Nikodemion only even has a pet zombie dragon because Mike killed the last dragon to show up and contest his turf but wasn't going to eat a whole dragon by himself. Nikodemion got to stick around and amass that much power because Mike ate the Hero of the Realm while he was adventuring because he figured the Hero would come and try to slay him at some point. Nikodemion got started because Mike ate half the leadership of the Academy of High Magic who typically keep evil wizards and necromancers in check. And then eventually this product of Mike's casual, careless actions becomes a big enough problem to bother Mike personally, at which point Mike eats him too.)

He doesn't even really fail upwards, either! He is regularly reduced to nothing but the glacier he stores his hoard in, but he's Face-Biter Mike so nobody wants to commit to actually ending him forever lest they get their faces bitten the fuck off. And his hoard's in a huge-ass magical glacier so nobody can get to it without running into the Invading Russia problem; it's hard to wage war when everything is frozen over and you're both starving and freezing to death. Once he's been beaten back to his central lair and has lost all his holdings… I mean, he's still a problem, but he's a far away problem. So he loses his assets and spends a decade in a cave brooding it up while no one dares risk trying to actually kill him, and then a generation or two later he flies down to a kobold colony and gets himself some minions, or a dragon-worshipping mage comes to offer his service against a pittance from his hoard, or a particularly stupid cult starts thinking they can get in good with him and leech off his power, and then he's (hah) snowballing again.

He's also got a very… well, the kind of weird Charisma that Grineer bosses do. Like Sargas Ruk, who's a malformed idiot, but oddly charismatic. As he's a dragon, that makes him a natural sorcerer and thus Charisma is all he needs. He's pretty relaxed when he isn't in a face-biting mood, and he's kind of infectiously optimistic, because his life has taught him that he will succeed as long as he perseveres. So he just believes it.

And sometimes that's really refreshing to work for, as an evil minion of darkness! It's like, you're coming to your Evil Dragon Lord with terrible news; you've worked for evil overlords before, you know how it goes. You fall to your knees weeping and tell him that you've failed to seize the incredibly powerful magical artifact, you think your life is forfeit. And he's just like "Eh, it's okay, these things are all over the place. Better luck next time. You remember the guy who took it, right?" and you go "Y-yes, oh great lord!" and he's like "Sweet tell me his name later and I'll grab it" and then eats a frozen adventurer he kept around as a snack.

His followers tend to quickly realise that if they fail him, bringing some temple's silver or a sack of brightly coloured beads or a couple of dead cows means he's super forgiving because at least he's got something out of the day. "Oh boy, cows? It's been forever since I had those, ever since the Orc Steppe Nomads took over it's all about goats and onions. Today is a good day." He's a master of delegation by dragon standards, in that he just tells you "Just go get it done, I don't care how" rather than micromanaging you and constantly appearing as an image in smoke or taking over your campfire.

The key part of Face-Biter Mike as a threat to players (because he exists in the context of a D&D campaign) works well in that you can rely on several known quantities:

He will not pull sneaky shit that you don't see coming

He will not make convoluted plans that you must work to unravel

He will consistently attempt to come down and wreck you personally if he finds the opportunity and you are a threat to him

You cannot fight him head-on (at least not until the last leg of the campaign, and ideally as an optional boss rather than mandatory)

So as long as you are good at staying under the radar, thwarting his minions (whom he gives broad orders to with almost zero oversight) and not putting yourself in face-biting range, you can deal with him. If you succeed, it won't be the first time Mike has lost his assets and had to go brood in his glacier for a decade or two before rebuilding. It happens; he can deal with it. And that's a win for you within the context of a single campaign, so take the win.

And if you're not going to use him as an enemy, he works pretty well as a quest-giver, too! The costs for failure are obvious and straightforward, and "do whatever, just get me mine" means that players have a lot of freedom in accomplishing their goals. As far as evil overlords go he is actually one of the least dangerous to work for; his pride is relatively subdued by draconic standards, his goals are simple and typically achievable, and he is easily pleased.

(There's also a good chance he is the forefather of any draconic sorcerer in your party, because Face Biter Mike is a deadbeat dad.)

#d&d #face-biter mike #I want this #writing #gaming #advice #funny #criticism #fandom

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insert-content · 1 year ago

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a summar(ule)y of 196 culture

since the tumblr veterans have been kind enough to introduce us newbies to their site and culture, i think it is only fair that we explain the culture of our glorious former home to any tumblr users who might be interested in the #196 tag. keep in mind, all these things are based on my perspective of the situation.

first of all, some general information (that you might’ve already heard):

196 (r/196 on reddit) was a subreddit with only one (official) rule; "post before you leave." it was mainly a meme/shitposting sub, but it cultivated a large queer and left-leaning community. in protest of the recent api chances in reddit, 196 has shut down indefinitely until reddit reverts these changes.

now for some culture/references that you might come across

spronkus kronkus:

spronkus is this yellow, rabbit-like creature.

they were the mascot of our subreddit. their appearance can vary from images to image, but as far as i’m aware, their full outfit consists of a bandanna in the colours of the trans flag around their neck, a gun labelled as such (other wise you obviously wouldn’t know what you’re looking at), and an axe also coloured like the trans flag.

r/place:

this is a rare event on reddit where the entire website gets a huge white canvas and can start creating pixel art on it. 196 participated by collaboratively creating our mascot, spronkus with "196!" written next to them.

this version of the pixel art was recreated by me as i couldn't find a nice image of it. there were some changes between the first version and the end result, so this might not be exactly how it looked in the end

post titles/"rule":

reddit forces it's users to title every post they make. as most of the posts on 196 spoke for themselves, many user instead titled their posts "rule", to indicate that they followed the subreddit's only rule. some people also tried to make puns with the word or tried to include it in words that shared some letters (example: wor(ule)d).

anarcho-stripperism:

as the amount of cropped porn jokingly posted to the subreddit increased, the moderators decided that porn would be banned from the sub, with one exception: anarcho-stripperism. she made food fucking videos, in which she jokingly tested the fuckability of different food items (fruits, pasta, etc.)

bigotry showcase:

bigotry showcase was a post flair (basically the reddit equivalent of tags) on the subreddit and was later restricted to only be used on saturdays. under this flair people posted instances of different forms of bigotry to make fun it.

eating babies/hungryposting:

at some point, the subreddit started to pretend to like eating babies, which started a variety of memes regarding the subject. even a post flair called "hungrypost" was added because of this

goblinhog:

goblinhog is the most prominent and well-known member of the 196 moderation team. besides this, on 196 he was mostly known for changing people’s flair if you enjoyed him enough about it.

flairs:

flairs are little tags that are displayed under your name in posts or comments, they are also subreddit specific. most subreddits give their users a palette of preset flairs and the option to make your own custom flair. however, in 196 you only had the option to customize your flair during special events. if you wanted to customize your flair outside of those events (which was basically the entire time), you had to ask a mod to do it for you.

punching nazis:

from time to time, the same gif of a person with a nazi armband getting punched in the face, and promptly falling to the ground, was reposted to the subreddit. this became a sort of tradition.

discourse/drama

wasp discourse:

the wasp discourse was a one to two weeks long heated discussion that generally divided the subreddit into two factions. one side said that they were justified in killing wasps if they were attacked by them, while the other claimed that since wasps are just animals, they aren't aware of what they're doing in the same way humans are, and therefore should be spared.

drama about the british:

there was a time when jokes along the lines of "ew, british" became pretty frequent on the subreddit. as a response, some user claimed that this was akin to racism and tried to get others to stop with the jokes. a debate over whether or not it was important or necessary to stop followed afterwards.

pillar discourse:

this was a debate over which type of pillar should be considered the best (ionic; doric; corinthian). i have seen the question "which pillar is the best?" being used as a sort of greeting between 196 refugees on here.

related subreddits

195:

195 was the predecessor to 196, and also was a social experiment with the same premise as 196 (one rule, post before you leave). as the creators of 195 ended the experiment, the community wanted something with the same vibe to continue posting, and thus 196 was born.

197:

197 is another part of the 196 ecosystem and is commonly understood to be the more politically right-leaning and bigoted as 196, as some people who were banned from 196 continued posting there. besides that, the subreddits were essentially the same in terms of how they functioned.

19684:

this subreddit adds a second rule which banned all mentions of sex (that’s why it’s name is a pun on 1984). some people took this as banning all discussion of sexuality, which resulted in a community that was slightly less accepting of queer people. it is currently still up and running as the 196 moderation team wants a way to stay in contact with the community.

amendments to the posts:

u/femboy_expert:

another well-known 196 user. as the name suggests they're an expert on the subject of femboys, with their flair on 196 reading "phd in feminine boys". as the subreddit was somewhat obsessed with femboys, it's no wonder that they became popular.

u/shitcum_backup:

this was the main account of a pretty popular shitposter on the subreddit. although i didn't see them as much in the last few months, i remember them sometimes having a unique speaking pattern, in which they referred to themself in the third person.

u/monko74:

this user commented "Every day I thank god for not making me a r/196 celebrity," which led to many users of the subreddit treating them like a micro celebrity. there are even a few subreddits solely dedicated to u/monko74.

691:

a sister subreddit that inverts the rule of 196, here you would be (temporarily) banned for posting. some time ago the members of this sub initiated a rebellion/revolution against the bot who performed all the bans (roomba).

u/Smart_Calendar1874:

this wasn’t necessarily part of the subreddit, but it was a pretty popular meme. and since it’s getting posted on here again, and i know enough about it, i’ll add it to the post. this user made a post to r/AskReddit titled "How would you get a small cylinder (5.1in length, ~4.5in girth) unstuck from a mini M&Ms tube filled with butter and microwaved mashed banana? [sic]" it was pretty clear that they were referring to their penis, yet they continued to claim "it’s a cylinder," in the comment section. this lead to comments like "it is imperative that the cylinder […] remains unharmed," in response to people’s advice of cutting the m&m tube.

it's going to be very interesting to see which aspects of 196 culture are going to survive the tumblr migration, and which aspects won't be applicable on this site.

i'm obviously not the ultimate scholar on 196 lore. if i’ve missed or left out anything, or said something wrong, please comment it.

#196 #spronkus kronkus #r196 #r/196 #196archive #tumblr migration #rip 196 #196 campfire #196 migration

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paragonrobits · 6 months ago

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i was just thinking about how in later Discworld books, even as its an unspoken understanding among everyone in Ankh-Morpork that Carrot is the King of the city and he's probably the last descendant of the original ruling line, not only does Carrot avoid pushing the narrative to exploit it unless absolutely necessary, but it never de-emphasizes the fact that he's a dwarf by adoption

Even in later books Carrot is still regularly writing letters to his family in their mine; he thinks of himself as a dwarf, he is CONSIDERED to be a dwarf by all except the most hardliners of dwarf society (and even they can't outright deny him dwarf status, the best they can do is say he is an anomaly); he might USE his narrative status as the One True King, but in his heart, to himself, he is still the child of the Ironfounderssons.

His human heritage is functionally irrelevant to him unless he needs to make use of it, much like his ancestral sword. And it occured to me, what if he actively chose to distance himself from his human heritage because he learned about them in later books and found nothing worth acknowledging?

Carrot is in a weird place because he is the One True King, a narrative status that makes him the good and wise king who knows only truth and justice and comes bringing goodness to all, and this is quite a contrast to the ACTUAL kings of Ankh-Morpork, who were universally at BEST a bunch of horribly useless and inept absolute rulers that are living embodiments of 'the aristocracy are dumber than a sack of doorknobs' the series leans into, and at worst are implcitly some of the most horribly sadistic and cruel people in the setting.

One particular example is Lorenzo the Kind, the last king of Ankh-Morpork, whose name was deliberately ironic; he was so horrifically sadistic that he spelled the end of the kingship because he's the one who was killed by Suffer-Not-Injustice Vimes, who because no one was willing to judge him because kings were considered Special, just dragged him off his throne, cut off his head, and the surviving family members were exiled from the city.

Lorenzo is the last member of Carrot's biological ancestry we have definitive information on, off the top of my head, and he paints a dark, horrific image. He's painted as the absolute nadir of horror from the ruling classes, and is heavily implied to have been a sadistic pedophile with a penchant for torture (at the very least Carrot and Vimes both note that he was apparently fond of children and was painted with a lot of them nearby at all times, discussing it in a way that suggests a DEEPLY uncomfortable topic neither of them wants them to address, and later in Feet Of Clay Vimes points out that Lorenzo had unspecified but horrific machines in the basement).

Carrot is very strongly implied to, at least starting from Men At Arms (in which he discovers he is the king), have investigated his ancestry, and he's able to elaborate on their actions and history, and this also marks the point where he carefully but firmly emphasizes his dwarf heritage for the rest of the series.

He found out who his ancestors were, and discovered they were horrifically evil people, and that Mister Vimes was fully justified in being proud of his ancestor putting them down like rabid beasts, and it leads to him firmly emphasizing that his family are the Ironfoundersson dwarfs.

#discworld #carrot ironfoundersson #analysis #queued

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witchywithwhiskey · 5 months ago

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a gift for the bar owner

pairings: dark trucker!ari levinson x female reader, soft!dark bar owner!curtis everett x female reader

summary: for curtis's birthday, ari gives you to him for the night.

warnings: 18+ content (minors do not interact!!!), smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, drunk sex, intoxication, rough sex, oral object insertion (f receiving), masturbation (m), cumshot, exhibitionism, sadism/masochism, painplay, rough body play, biting, free use, heavy objectification, heavy degradation, humiliation kink, salirophilia (kink for ruining someone's appearance/dirtying them up), somnophilia, cock warming, dirty talk, praise kink, daddy kink (only with ari), pet names (bambi, baby, kiddo), possessive behavior, aftercare, a couple mean hot men—let me know if i missed anything!!!

word count: 7.9k

a/n: ok so i have no excuse for this except i saw a gif of a girl getting wine poured over her face/chest and i wondered who of my characters would do that. and apparently the answer is dive bar owner curtis. so here we are. also please note that this little fic takes place after the chapter of trucker king where curtis and lloyd will be properly introduced so no, you're not supposed to know what exactly reader's tattoo is and yes, i will be revealing that in due time.

trucker king masterlist ● trucker au masterlist

Since Curtis Everett was one of Ari Levinson’s oldest friends—and one of the few people he trusted—your trucker decided that the perfect gift to give his friend for his birthday was you. A whole night where you were nothing more than Curtis’s free use fuck toy.

The only condition was that Curtis had to follow the same rules Ari had set the last time he’d let his friend use you—no kissing, no permanent marks, and no coming inside you. Curtis had quickly agreed, and the plans were set.

Ari hadn’t asked you whether you wanted to be gifted to Curtis for his birthday, but you still thought it was a great idea.

After all, Curtis worked so hard running Everett’s Roadhouse, the dive bar just off the highway that was frequented by Ari and plenty of other truckers, and he deserved a night of having his own personal fuck toy to use however he wanted. It was his birthday, and he didn’t have a girl of his own, so you didn’t mind stepping in for the night.

In fact, after the evening you’d spent with Curtis and Ari’s other oldest friend, Lloyd Hansen—when your trucker had given them permission to use you however they wanted in exchange for some favors—you were excited to be Curtis’s birthday gift. You’d liked the big, grumbling bar owner, and you wanted to make his birthday special.

As part of his gift, Ari had let Curtis pick out what you’d wear. So you strolled into Everett’s Roadhouse on the night of Curtis’s birthday wearing the sweetest little sundress you owned—and nothing else besides the shoes on your feet.

The dress was a bright white cotton with little flowers dotted all over it, and short enough to swirl around your upper thighs. The sweet little garment was at odds with your surroundings in the dive bar, which were grimy and dirty, lit by dim lightbulbs and flickering neon beer signs. It made you stand out immediately.

As soon as you entered the bar, every man in the establishment turned to look at you, their gazes ranging from drunken interest to greedy hunger. Even with Ari at your side, his posessive hand on your lower back, they couldn’t seem to drag their covetous eyes away from you, like you were an oasis in the desert.

It took you a moment to understand the attention, but when you did, a delicious tremor of excitement raced down your spine—you were the only woman in the whole building. The bar was closed for Curtis’s private party, and the only people in attendance were his friends, who were all rough-looking men that you presumed were mostly truckers or old friends like Ari.

You wondered, not for the first time since Ari had told you his plans for his friend’s birthday, what exactly Curtis would do with you. You knew Ari’s rules would save you from anything too unpleasant, but there was so much they didn’t cover. The possibilities of how Curtis might use you made your pussy tingle with anticipation.

Ari’s hand was firm on your lower back as he guided you further into the bar, your wedge sandals sticking slightly to the filthy wooden floors of the roadhouse. The gazes of all the men you walked past slid over your bare skin like oil, the sensation settling heavily between your thighs, where a sensual warmth bloomed.

That warmth only grew the closer you got to Curtis, who stood half a head taller than any man in the bar. The imposing bear of a man was leaning against the bartop, talking with someone about something, his broad shoulders and thick biceps stretching the limits of his black t-shirt. Curtis’s blue eyes were bright in the dingy lights of the bar, contrasting against his pale skin, dark beard and shorn hair.

When you finally arrived at the circle of men gathered around Curtis, Ari gave you a shove through the crowd and you stumbled toward the bar owner. It was only when Curtis fumbled to catch you in his arms—the stench of beer thick on his breath—that you realized he was already so drunk, he could barely stand, and that was why he’d been leaning against the bar.

“Hey there, bambi,” he slurred, his arms loosely circling your waist. His hands slid down to grope your ass, but Curtis must’ve forgotten he was still holding a beer, because you felt it tip. A second later, cold liquid spilled over the plush curves of your ass.

Instinctively, you squealed his name, “Curtis!” The cold beer was running down the valley between your cheeks, making you squirm in his arms. You tried to get away from the spilling liquid, but you ended up pressing closer to Curtis’s massive, burly chest, practically climbing the tall man with your fingers fisting in his t-shirt and your body plastering to his.

Thankfully, Curtis didn’t mind in the least. He managed to right his beer and chuckled, looking down at you fondly, his mouth curled in a devastating smirk even as his eyes were hazy with drink. The alcohol seemed to have softened Curtis’s rough edges, and he appeared almost warm—nothing like the grumbling man you’d met previously.

“Damn, bambi, ya just got here,” he said, loud enough for the men closest to him to hear. “And yer already trying to jump on my dick like some kind of slut, huh?” He chuckled darkly and his friends joined in, making heat creep up your neck and fill your cheeks.

But you didn’t deny it.

Instead, you recovered yourself quickly, forgetting the beer still plastering your dress to your ass and pressed closer to Curtis. Wrapping your arms around his neck and pushing your tits against his broad chest, you enjoyed the way his eyes dipped lazily down to your low-cut neckline.

“I’m yours for the night, big man,” you purred, your body warming and responding to being pressed so tight against Curtis’s muscled chest. It wasn’t difficult to let a seductive smile curl your lips. “You can do anything you want with me.”

A grin spread slowly across Curtis’s face, the expression lecherous on his handsome features as he leered down at you.

Before he responded, though, his gaze shifted over your shoulder, and he gave a quick nod. You knew without looking the gesture was meant for Ari—an acknowledgement that Curtis remembered your trucker’s rules and understood he couldn’t do anything. But close enough.

Curtis’s free hand groped your ass hard as he turned to the crowd, taking a swig of his beer before calling out to his friends.

“Didja hear that fellas?” he crowed, his excited energy riling up the throng of men, all of whom seemed to be as drunk or drunker than Curtis. “Ari’s little cock slut said I get to do anything I want with her tonight!”

A cheer rose up from the crowd, men all around you raising their glasses in the air while they yelled so loud it felt like a physical cloud of excitement. The energy was infectious, an eager grin curving your lips as you looked around at all the truckers and degenerates who were celebrating your objectification as a free use fuck toy.

Out of curiosity, you turned to look for Ari among them. You found your trucker standing still and quiet, watching you, a glass of amber liquid in one hand. His arms were crossed over his broad chest and he wore a devious little smirk on his face that had your body warming with arousal. Even though he wasn’t joining in on the deafening cheer, you knew he was just as excited by the prospect of seeing you used by Curtis as everyone else.

Before Ari could direct you to look back at Curtis, the big man you were plastered against got your attention with his next words, shouted to the crowd.

Curtis had waited until the cheering died down a little to ask, “So what should I do with her first?”

Obscene suggestions were hurled at you and Curtis, men’s voices blending into a cacophony of depravity. The things the crowd wanted Curtis to do to you ranged so wildly from nearly tame to absolutely vile that it made your head spin. Ari’s rules would prevent the worst of the suggestions, but not everything that Curtis’s friends were calling out, and you wondered with a twisted shiver of excitement what your trucker’s friend would pick to do to you.

“POUR YOUR BEER ON HER!”

Curtis’s whole body turned to the voice that had called out that last suggestion, dragging you along with him since your arms were still looped around his neck, his hand still holding your ass. Curtis pointed at his friend with his beer, some of it sloshing onto the floor with the fervor of the gesture.

“Now that’s an idea,” he shouted to the man in the crowd you couldn’t see. Curtis tipped his beer in his friend’s direction then took a swig. He looked down at where you were still pressed against his chest, your body hanging from where your arms were holding onto him. “Get on your knees, bambi.” His voice was rolling thunder, so deep and dark, it sent tiny, pleasurable zaps of lightning through your nervous system.

The speed with which you detached yourself from Curtis and dropped to your knees had the men all around you whistling in appreciation. You heard more than a few of them mutter things like, “What a good, well-trained slut,” and “Gotta get me a girl like that.”

You preened and beamed with pride at the praise, finding Ari in the crowd again and hoping your behavior reflected well on him. He’d been the one to train you to follow orders so well, after all.

Your trucker gave you a small nod of recognition that made happiness burst in your chest, and you turned back to Curtis with a happy bounce of your hips. You couldn’t help but notice the low groans that came as a result of the little movement and you smiled wider.

The wooden floor was sticky beneath your bare knees, but you paid it no mind. You suspected—and you’d turn out to be right—that you’d be dirtier and filthier than even the floor of Everett’s Roadhouse before the night was through. The excitement you felt made you bounce again, making your sweet little sundress flutter around your thighs.

Curtis’s eyes watched the hem of your dress hungrily, seemingly distracted by the movement until he shook himself and remembered what he was doing. Raising his beer, Curtis let the crowd cheer for a moment while you waited with anticipation. From your spot on the floor, Curtis looked even bigger and more intimidating, which made something low in your belly quiver with excitement, heat gathering between your thighs as your thoughts skated away.

A growled question from your trucker’s friend brought you back to the moment.

“Ya ready, bambi?”

Your hands were laying lightly on your thighs, your knees spread on the floor. You were more than ready, and at Curtis’s question, you tossed your head back and pushed your tits out, giving him a challenging smirk as you purred, “Gimme what ya got, big man.”

A half feral grin spread across Curtis’s face, and then he was tipping his bottle toward you, cold beer splashing over your face mere seconds after you shut your eyes. The pungent liquid rolled down your cheeks and slid down your neck, soaking the front of your white dress.

You could feel the fabric clinging to your skin, the white cotton no doubt becoming see-through as it was soaked in beer. Your nipples puckered and hardened against the flimsy material, putting on a show for Curtis and the crowd of men around you.

The bar owner emptied the bottle over your face and the front of your body, the beer getting in your mouth and nose, rivulets streaming down over your tits and between your spread thighs. It dripped to the floor beneath you, creating a small puddle on the sticky wooden boards.

All around you, men cheered loudly and lewdly, urging Curtis to degrade you as the filthy slut you were. You grinned at the attention, loving every second of it and knowing that the men were only allowed to witness what Curtis was doing because Ari allowed it. Because Ari had given you to his friend for his birthday, and this was what Curtis had decided to do with you.

When the beer stopped flowing, you fluttered your eyes open, blinking the alcohol from your vision as you stared up into Curtis’s darkened blue eyes. You knew you must look a mess. You’d worn makeup that wouldn’t hold up to such an onslaught, and you had no doubt that your black mascara was streaming down your cheeks and adding to the wreckage of your face. But the way Curtis looked at you made you think he liked it—a lot.

“Edgar, gimme another beer!” Curtis called, keeping his gaze locked on you, his blue eyes dipping down to take in the sight of your beer-stained dress.

The slip of fabric was sticking to your skin and it had become see-through where it had gotten wet. But it wasn’t drenched yet, and you could tell from the glint in Curtis’s eye that he wouldn’t stop until it bared you entirely. Excitement fizzed through you, and you bounced your hips while you waited impatiently for Curtis’s command to be met.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw one of the bartenders open a new bottle of beer and pass it into Curtis’s big, waiting hand. Neither you nor the bar owner took your eyes off each other, and it made the moment all the more intense. For all that you had an audience to your degradation, in that moment, you were there for Curtis, and only Curtis. You were his, if only temporarily, and he seemed to relish that knowledge just as much as you did.

“Ya thirsty, bambi?” he asked, some of the drunken slurring leeching out of his tone as he grinned lecherously down at you. His gaze broke away from you and he looked around at the men gathered close but not touching you, his eyes sparkling with depravity when he met yours again. “Ya want some more?’

Your heart was racing with excitement, the awareness of having so many men watching you thrumming deliciously beneath your skin; you couldn’t help the way your hips bounced with eagerness as you nodded quickly. “Yes, please,” you said sweetly, biting your lip to stop from grinning too wide up at your trucker’s friend.

Curtis’s eyes darkened with sinful intent and you felt yourself growing wet. But the dampness between your thighs had nothing to do with the beer Curtis had poured on you, and everything to do with the fact that you were so turned on by the way he was treating you. And all the while, you could feel your trucker’s eyes on you, a reminder that you were Ari’s and he’d given you to Curtis as a gift.

“Stick your tongue out,” Curtis rumbled, a thread of steel in his voice that made you shiver. In that moment, he reminded you of the grumbling man you’d met when Ari first introduced you to his friends, and you realized you’d missed that side of him. “Show all my friends what a good little slut you are.”

If you could’ve followed the order and smiled at the same time, you would’ve. Instead, you had to settle for submitting to Curtis’s command, sticking your tongue out as far as possible and tipping your head back, letting him see down your throat.

It was an invitation for him to give you more, to give you all he had, and the entire bar knew it. The men surrounding you roared their approval while Curtis offered you a pleased little smirk. It was the nicest he’d ever looked and it nearly made you smile, but you held your position.

“That’s it, open wide, slut,” Curtis encouraged in a low, roughened voice, depraved delight sparking in his blue gaze as he degraded you on the floor of his bar.

The look in his eye and the tenor of his tone made you quiver. Your pussy throbbed more insistently with need the longer you stayed on your knees and submitted to the degradation the bar owner offered. But you channeled that desire into opening your mouth wider, sticking your tongue out a little bit further, catching the approving smirk that flickered at the corners of Curtis’s mouth.

The bar owner nodded at you, took a sip of his new beer, and then, with no other preamble, he tipped the brown bottle over your face, showering you in the bitter liquid.

With your lips open and tongue out, plenty of the beer splashed into your mouth and you swallowed it down as best you could. Despite your best efforts, you choked and gagged a little, tears slipping from your eyes to join the rest of the mess on your face as you endured Curtis’s treatment.

The men in the crowd jeered as you struggled beneath the degrading pour of Curtis’s beer, but he shifted his hand, the cold liquid moving to pour down the front of your body. The stream seemed endless and you could feel the beer soaking into your dress until the entire front of the garment was drenched.

By the time the bottle was empty, you felt half drowned, gulping down air as the beer you’d swallowed sloshed around in your belly. Your head was a little dizzy, and you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or the lack of air, but you swayed a little on your knees, glancing down to find that the entire front of your dress was see-through, your tits and puckered nipples on full display for everyone to see.

At the sight of yourself, your pussy throbbed, your inner walls clenching pathetically around nothing as desire blazed through your body. When you looked up at Curtis, you were certain he could see your arousal in every line of your expression, and he smirked, the expression sharp on his handsome face.

“Y’know, bambi, your dress is a little dirty,” Curtis rumbled, as if he hadn’t been the one to sully it in the first place. But you didn’t care about that, you only cared about the anticipation building in your body. You knew Curtis was leading somewhere and you couldn’t wait for him to get there. “I can’t let you walk around my bar like that, dripping beer everywhere.”

It escaped no one that Curtis’s dive bar was plenty dirty already and a few drops of beer wouldn’t make it much worse, but a cheer rose from the crowd as they caught on to the fact that Curtis was planning something. You bounced slightly on your knees, pouting up at the bar owner and trying to look abashed, biting your lip against a grin.

“What’re you gonna do about it, big man?” you asked sweetly.

Curtis gave you a half-feral grin, the expression more snarl than anything else, and it was your only warning.

Faster than you would’ve thought possible for the big, drunk man, Curtis stooped down and slipped his hands into the neck of your dress, his rough fingers grazing your soft flesh. You let out a quiet little moan that you were certain only Curtis could hear, making him pause for a brief second, his eyes fluttering closed. But then his hands were moving again, yanking on your dress.

In a split second, Curtis ripped your dress right down the center. You gasped loudly as your tits were bared to the crowd of men in the bar, the sound loud in the moment of stunned silence. Your breasts bounced free of their confines, your nipples hardening and revealing to the whole room how much you were enjoying Curtis’s rough treatment.

The cheer that broke out at your nakedness was so loud, it made your ears ring. It also drowned out the sound of rending fabric as Curtis tore the shredded garment from your body, flinging it into the crowd. His eyes were heavy as they trailed down your body, your skin prickling everywhere he looked—your nipples tightening into desperate peaks and your pussy weeping from where it was nestled between your parted thighs.

Curtis’s eyes flared at the sight of the tattoo just above your slit, a reminder of who you belonged to. But you hoped it also reminded Curtis of the first night you’d met him—the night Ari had given you to both Curtis and Lloyd to use how they wanted. Your pussy dripped at the memory, and it seemed Curtis was just as affected, the big man pausing for a moment before he shook himself.

“That’s better,” Curtis muttered, his gaze lingering on your weeping pussy like he wanted to bury his bearded face against your soft cunt. Instead, he dragged his eyes back up your body, the blue of his irises darkened to the color of the midnight sky as he murmured for your ears only, “Look so fucking pretty, bambi.”

You smiled and ducked your head at the compliment, which meant more to you than the obscene catcalls and lewd cries from the crowd around you. It was a reminder of the friendship that you and Curtis shared. You may have met because he was one of your trucker’s oldest friends, but you hoped Curtis knew you thought of him as your friend too.

“Thank you,” you whispered, looking up at the bar owner from under your lashes. “Are you enjoying your birthday?”

Something resembling a grin curved the edges of Curtis’s mouth, the expression nearly hidden in his beard. His eyes slid away and looked up, and you knew without having to check that he was looking at Ari again. Before you could discern what the glance meant, though, Curtis was chucking you under the chin and saying, “I am, thanks to you, bambi.”

Your heart gave a happy little flutter, but before you could respond, Curtis was standing up and waving his arms to get the crowd to quiet down. “What d’ya think fellas, is Ari’s little cock slut dirty enough yet?”

The beer that had already been poured on you was starting to dry into a sticky, tacky layer on your skin, but your pussy dripped at the thought of Curtis wanting to make you even filthier. And it seemed his friends liked the idea as well, because they cheered so loud, it felt like the floor was shaking beneath your knees.

Edgar the bartender already had a beer open and waiting for Curtis when the big man turned to grab one. That time, the bar owner didn’t even need to command you to open your mouth and stick out your tongue—you did that all on your own. Curtis’s smirk was pleased and his blue eyes glimmered with fondness as he tipped the beer over your face, pouring the liquid down your throat and over your body to the cheers of all his friends.

For the better part of the next hour, Curtis took his time defiling you while you sat, naked and on your knees, in the center of his bar, enduring it willingly as the free use toy he’d been given for his birthday. A good amount of the alcohol that didn’t run down over your tits and splash over your pussy went down your throat, and it wasn’t long before your head began to swim.

Still, your body felt heavy with desire, your nipples tight and desperate to be played with, your cunt pulsing and aching to be filled. It was only because Curtis seemed to be having so much fun, his friends urging him on to make you dirtier and filthier, that you didn’t break down and beg him to fuck you.

But you couldn’t help the way your body was responding, your mouth falling slack at the teasing slide of liquid over your puckered nipples. If you arched your body just right, and spread your thighs wide enough, you could feel the trickle of beer over you clit, and it made a low moan slip from your mouth as your eyes fluttered closed in pleasure.

Curtis’s dark chuckle from above was your only warning. At that moment, he shoved the neck of his beer bottle into your mouth, pushing your lips wide and making you gag as your eyes flew open in surprise.

“That needy little mouth is begging to be fucked, bambi,” the bar owner growled, quickly unzipping his fly and wedging the bottom of the beer between the zipper’s teeth so he could hold your head in both hands and fuck you with the glass bottle. “Take it, cock slut, fucking take it,” he grunted obscenely.

All you could do was choke and struggle, the remainder of the beer sloshing down your throat and joining the rest in your belly. Your fingers fisted in the denim jeans encasing Curtis’s thick thighs, but you didn’t push him away. It felt good to finally have one of your holes used, even if you were being fucked by Curtis’s beer bottle instead of his cock like you’d wanted.

Your jaw hurt by the time he pulled away, your lips swollen from being wrapped around the wide glass. Your body swayed unsteadily on your knees, arousal dripping down between your thighs and joining the mess of beer on the floor. The cheers of the crowd had faded into a constant rumble, and you smile dazedly when they urged Curtis on.

Suddenly, a big bear paw of a hand was wrapping around your upper arm and you were being hauled to your feet. Blood rushed to your legs, your head swimming and lolling to the side as you tried to find your footing. But standing seemed impossible—and unimportant as arousal burned through you, making you whimper and whine desperately. You hoped someone would fuck you soon.

Curtis chuckled at your pathetic noises, the husky sound sending shivers down your spine as his lips grazed your ear. “You’re not too drunk to fuck, are ya, bambi?” he asked in a low, growly voice as he pressed his hips against you, his hard bulge digging into your belly.

When you’d first walked into Everett’s Roadhouse that night and saw the state of the bar owner, you’d thought there was no way he’d be able to fuck you with how drunk he was. But the hour spent pouring so many bottles of beer over your body instead of drinking them had sobered Curtis up enough to get hard. He was stiff and twitching and pressing into you through his jeans and you wanted him to bury his cock in you.

Your dazed smile widened into a giddy grin and you tipped your head back, blinking your eyes a few times to get your vision to focus enough to see Curtis’s face. “It’s your birfday, big man,” you said, your voice more slurring than sultry, a hiccup interrupting you and making you pause. “I’m use to yours.” Your expression scrunched into a confused pout, knowing your words weren’t right, and tried again. “I’m yours to fuck.”

Curtis was laughing as he hauled you over to one of the pool tables off to the side of the bar, and tossed you down on the green felt. You lay limply on your back, staring up at your trucker’s tall friend while he glared at the guys who’d been playing a game on the table. Their grumbling quickly cut off and Curtis returned his attention to you.

The crowd shifted to gather around the pool table while Curtis pulled out his cock, which was just as massive as the rest of him. The thick length lay against your mound, the girth covering much of the tattoo there, the tip nearly reaching your belly button. Your inner walls clenched in anticipation of taking Curtis inside you—you couldn’t wait.

“Gimme, gimme,” you mumbled, spreading your thighs wide and pushing your pussy up against the stiff, velvet-wrapped steel of Curtis’s cock. It twitched against your mound, precum dripping onto your belly and joining the mess on your skin.

Curtis chuckled at your antics, rumbling, “Alright, bambi.” The bar owner grabbed your thighs, pushing you wide as he pulled his hips back, lining up the tip of his big cock with your entrance. Without any warning or preparation, Curtis barreled into your cunt, burying his big cock to the hilt with one thrust.

Instantly, stinging pain and scorching pleasure cut white-hot through the core of you, overwhelming your mind and leaving your body to react however it wanted. Your head was thrown back, and your lips parted to let out a piercing scream that shattered through the noise of the dive bar.

“Fuck yeah, bambi, scream for me,” Curtis groaned, his big hands kneading your thighs, fingers digging into your plush softness hard enough to hurt. He pulled your body into his, managing to grind his cock even deeper into your pussy, wrenching another, surprised shriek from your lips.

You felt like you were being split in half, pain and pleasure ricocheting through your body fast enough to make you dizzy, your drunken mind unable to tell the difference between the two. All you knew was that it was so much, so overwhelming, and your hands reached out above your head, searching for something to cling to as your mind splintered and your body trembled from the sensation of being split open on Curtis’s cock.

Two warm hands wrapped firmly around your wrists, pinning them to the rough felt of the pool table, leaving you powerless to Curtis’s massive cock. He was rocking his hips in tiny little thrusts, the tip of his length battering against your cervix and wringing helpless little whimpers from your lips as your hazy eyes searched above you for the man pinning you down—somehow knowing before your gaze collided with the familiar blue of your trucker’s eyes that it was Ari.

His face was hovering above you, upside down as he leaned over the table to catch your gaze. The edges of Ari’s features were blurred, but you would’ve recognized your trucker even if you were blackout drunk—even if you were so intoxicated you were more unconscious than not.

Ari’s face was like a star, familiar and steady, and you smiled happily up at him, your heart warming when you noticed the pride in his gaze.

“You’re doing well, baby,” Ari rumbled, his features sharp and his expression hard. But deep in the blue depths of his eyes, you could see the affection you knew he felt for you. “You’re being such a good fuck toy for daddy’s friend on his birthday.”

You giggled, squirming happily on the pool table, your face upturned to your trucker, your attention completely diverted from Curtis and his cock, even as he still fucked you. You were having fun with the bar owner, but nothing and no one would ever be able to come between you and Ari. You were his, always, and he knew it.

Ari leaned down, and you thought for a moment he was going to kiss you, but you should’ve known better. Ari’s teeth nipped the soft lobe of your ear, making you moan, before he spoke words meant only for you.

“When Curtis is done, I’m gonna fuck your filthy little cunt, kiddo, so don’t pass out,” he rumbled, the twisted promise making your cunt clench around his friend’s cock. “Or do, it doesn’t matter to me.” Ari sank his teeth into the bone at the corner of your jaw, biting you hard enough to make you cry out. “I’m gonna use your holes whether you’re awake or not.”

A helpless moan slipped from your lips, your legs spreading wider instinctively at the thought of your trucker using your cunt to get off while you lay unconscious in his bed. You smiled adoringly up at Ari, blinking your eyes slowly. It took you a moment before your swimming vision could focus on Ari’s face, and when he saw he had your attention, he jerked his chin sharply at his friend, commanding you wordlessly to look back at Curtis.

You did, following your trucker’s order immediately, finding the massive bar owner watching you and Ari with a look on his face you couldn’t quite identify. The only way you could describe it was…openly gluttonous. Curtis looked like he wasn’t merely jealous of what you and Ari had, he looked like he would’ve stolen you away from his friend if there was any chance in the universe you’d look at him the same way.

But there wasn’t, and Curtis’s expression shifted as he resigned himself for having the piece of you that Ari had given him for his birthday. It would have to be enough, because even though his cock was inside you, you were still Ari’s and Ari’s alone.

Curtis grabbed a beer off the edge of the pool table and chugged half of it. As he set it back down, he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and leaned over you, his big hands grabbing your thighs again, his fingers digging in hard enough to bruise.

The pain only made your arousal flare hotter and you smiled up at your trucker’s friend, murmuring, “Happy birthday, big man.”

“Thank you, bambi,” he muttered, low enough that you knew it was just for you. Then a smirk spread across Curtis’s face, his eyes lighting with filthy desire. “Now, scream if my dick’s too big for your tight little cunt, ya filthy slut.”

With that, Curtis pulled out until only the tip of his cock remained in your grasping channel, then he slammed inside you. Even with your body having adjusted to the sheer size of him, his hard, brutal thrust pulled a scream from your throat, your back arching up off the table and your wrists pulling against Ari’s hold.

Curtis laughed loudly as the crowd cheered, the big bar owner setting a ferocious pace as he fucked you hard enough that you knew you were going to be sore for days. But you loved it. You loved the pain and the pleasure and the roaring of the crowd as Curtis fucked you in front of all his friends.

You loved the way Ari’s hands held your arms pinned above your head, how it bared your tits to Curtis, who bent over your body to finally suck on your aching nipples. You loved the way Curtis’s beard rasped against your skin, making you shiver as your pussy clenched hard around his thick cock.

Your mind floated deliriously through the waves of pleasure and pain crashing over your body. You felt drunk on cock and alcohol, not knowing how much time passed as Curtis fucked you, but it seemed to go on forever. Your body was wound so tight for so long, you reached a point where you didn’t know if you were even going to come, or if you were simply going to hover on the edge for the rest of eternity.

“Look at me, bambi,” Curtis growled, dragging your attention back to his handsome face.

It was only then that you realized you’d been staring up unseeingly at the ceiling of the bar, the golden and neon lights swimming through your vision as you lay limply beneath your trucker’s friend.

Curtis’s blue eyes were dark and his mouth was twisted into a desirous snarl, his beard making him look like a feral beast as he pounded into you.

“You’re gonna come on my cock, d’you hear me?”

Words escaped you, your tongue simply lolling out over your bottom lip when you opened your mouth to respond. All you could manage was a frantic whine as you bobbed your head in a nod.

“Good slut,” Curtis grunted, one of his hands falling to your lower belly, his thumb finding your clit between your slippery folds. “Come on my cock, bambi, c’mon, come on my big dick like a good little cock slut.” The rough pad of his thumb rubbed your slick, puffy clit unrelentingly, and suddenly, you were tipping over the edge.

Your mouth fell open wider and your spine arched up off the pool table as you screamed, your release crashing over you, wave after wave of pleasure hurtling you closer and closer to a darkness that wanted to claim you. But you clung to consciousness, your scream turning into a high, keening whine that could’ve been a sign of pain or pleasure.

Your release seemed to spur on Curtis and he rutted into you, fucking your clenching pussy as he watched pleasure contort your face and body. Then, with a final grunt, Curtis pulled himself free from your body. He jerked his cock in a big fist until he spilled all over your belly, making sure none of his come fell anywhere near your pussy or the tattoo there.

Curtis’s chest heaved, his eyes distant and dazed with pleasure as he wrung every last drop of come from his cock, and you watched him with the satisfied smile of a job well done.

When the last rope of his come had splattered, warm and sticky, against your belly, Curtis finally sucked in a deep breath and grabbed the beer handed to him from the crowd. He took a deep swig while he tucked his cock away with the other hand.

“Thanks, Levinson,” Curtis rasped, tipping his bottle to your trucker, who just nodded. Ari’s hands were idly massaging your wrists and you melted onto the rough felt of the pool table, knowing your trucker would take care of you. Curtis turned his blue eyes on you, and he tipped his bottle to you as well. “Always a pleasure, bambi,” he said, a genuine look of appreciation on his face.

You were about to respond, but then Curtis turned his beer over and he used the alcohol to wash his come from your skin. You squealed loudly when the cold liquid rushed over your heated skin, instinctively bringing up your legs to curl into yourself, making the crowd laugh and jeer.

When the beer was empty and his spend was cleaned from your skin, Curtis stumbled away into the crowd, the big man being swallowed up by the well-wishers and revelers congratulating him on fucking you good. Since you knew Curtis was done with you, you looked up at Ari, twisting your hands to wrap your fingers around his arms.

“Can we go now, daddy?” you asked softly.

Ari nodded and gathered you up from the pool table, setting you down on the edge while he pulled off the flannel shirt he’d worn over a white t-shirt. He tugged it over your head and helped you get your trembling arms in the sleeves, then ducked down to brush a kiss to your lips. The events of the night were catching up to you, and you were drunk and exhausted, but you sighed into your trucker’s mouth.

“You did good tonight, baby,” Ari murmured against your lips, and your heart felt like it was suffused in the warmest sunlight. Ari’s praise made you feel lighter than air, even as he pulled away.

You smiled up at your trucker as he straightened, staring at Ari like he was your whole world, which he was. His eyes were the softest you’d ever seen them as he stared right back at you, the tiniest smile curling the corners of his mouth.

Just then, Lloyd materialized out of the crowd and Ari finally looked away from you to exchange a loaded glance with his other oldest friend. Lloyd seemed to be much more sober than Curtis, and he helped your trucker lead you to the bathroom, where Ari cleaned you up a little and let you relieve yourself after all that you’d had to drink that night.

Then, Lloyd cleared a path through the drunken crowd while you and Ari followed. Between the two men, no one dared to try to touch you, and you sank into Ari’s side, feeling safe with your trucker as you looped your arms loosely around his waist. He smelled familiar and wonderful and you didn’t even try to hold yourself back from burying your face in his chest even as you kept on walking.

Lloyd pushed open the door of Everett’s Roadhouse and you sighed happily when the cool night air brushed against your heated, still slightly sticky cheeks. Gravel crunched beneath the soles of your sandals, and you blinked your eyes in the darkness until they focused enough to see Ari’s big, black truck looming in packed parking lot surrounded by other long-haul rigs.

“Drysdale’s gonna have a lot of business tonight after that show your girl put on,” Lloyd commented, casting his gaze across the expanse between Everett’s Roadhouse and Diesel Dolls, the strip club on the other side of the parking lot. Lloyd snorted and adjusted the front of his pants, and it was only then that you noticed the sizable bulge there. “Including me,” he muttered.

Your hazy thoughts strayed to the strip club, and you couldn’t help but imagine Lloyd getting a lap dance from a beautiful stripper. The tattoo artist sitting back on a plush couch while a gorgeous woman gyrated on his lap, his fingers twitching to grab her and touch her and defile her the way you knew Lloyd liked.

You didn’t even think to picture yourself as the stripper. Instead, in this little fantasy, you were sitting on Ari’s lap, your trucker’s cock buried in your cunt. Maybe he’d even let you get your own lap dance from Lloyd’s stripper, your body pressed between Ari’s and the other woman…

Your body lurched forward and if it wasn’t for Ari’s firm grip on your waist, you would’ve gone sprawling across the parking lot. For the rest of the walk to Ari’s rig, you tried to focus on putting one foot in front of the other and not let your mind wander so you wouldn’t end up feeling more sore than you already were.

When the three of you came to a stop beside the driver’s side door of Ari’s truck, Lloyd let his eyes slide to you before moving quickly to your trucker.

“I hope you had a similar gift in mind for my birthday, Levinson,” Lloyd said with his usual oily charm, his mouth curling into a smirk beneath his well-groomed mustache.

“We’ll see,” Ari rumbled, but his tone was good-natured. You couldn’t help the way your body clenched at the salacious, and somewhat victorious smile Lloyd shot your way.

But the events of the night were weighing heavily on your shoulders, exhaustion creeping into your bones, and you didn’t have the brainpower to wonder what Lloyd might do with you if you were gifted to him on his birthday. Even if you knew you’d have just as much fun with Ari’s other friend as you’d had with Curtis.

“Daddy,” you whined softly, burying your face against Ari’s beefy chest. His hand squeezed your hip possessively and he said his goodbyes to Lloyd, then helped you into the truck, making sure he was the only one who could see the way your pussy flashed as you climbed into the cab.

Ari followed you up and locked the door behind him while you crawled into the cot in the back, laying down on top of his soft blankets despite the sticky residue still clinging to most of your body. Ari pulled off his t-shirt and kicked off his pants, then joined you in the narrow bed.

Your body melted at the familiar comfort of his weight behind you, and you began to relax as sleep tugged at the edges of your awareness. But when Ari’s cock pressed hot and hard against your bare ass, you remembered his promise from inside the bar, how he said he was going to fuck you whether you were awake or not. You moaned softly while he bunched up the flannel shirt you still wore around your waist.

Your face was already pressing into the soft pillow on Ari’s bed, your eyes closed, but you arched your back and pushed your ass against Ari’s hard length, inviting him to slide inside your slick cunt. You were sore from Curtis’s fucking, but wet again for your trucker. You were always wet for him, your body craving the feeling of his cock filling you up in the perfect way that only he could.

“Ya gonna stay awake for me while I use your messy cunt, cock whore?” Ari rumbled into the back of your neck. The flat of his tongue swiped up the column of your throat, wringing a soft whine from you as he licked the beer from your skin. It felt so good, sending shivers down your spine and raising goosebumps all over your body. “Or did my friend wear you out?”

All you could manage was an unintelligible mumble, the sound muffled by the pillow crushed beneath your face, as sleep pushed more insistently into the border of your wakefulness. Ari’s deep chuckle rumbled against your spine, making you even wetter for your filthy, perfect trucker.

“Go to sleep, kiddo,” Ari murmured in your ear, his hand sliding over your hip to press against your lower belly, his fingertips grazing the tattoo that was branded into the skin of your mound, just above your pussy. His touch moved your body slightly, arching you enough for the head of his cock to find the slit of your cunt. “Let daddy use your tight little hole while you get some rest.”

Ari slid inside your pussy slowly, pressing the air from your lungs as he took his time impaling you on his cock. Your aching inner walls clenched around him desperately, pain and pleasure flaring to life and zinging through your exhausted limbs. A rough, greedy grunt rumbled in Ari’s chest, the sound softening into a warm, satisfied groan once he was fully seated inside you.

It hurt a little to be stretched out around Ari’s cock so soon after taking Curtis’s pounding, but when your trucker wrapped his arms around you, holding you cocooned in the cage of his broad chest while he rocked his hips almost gently against your ass, you felt yourself melting into him. Ari’s lips and tongue worked against your neck, licking sticky beer from your skin, his beard deliciously familiar while he set an almost soothing pace as he fucked you.

Despite the soreness between your thighs, and the tiny zings of pleasure thrumming through your body from Ari’s cock rocking into you, your exhaustion was too great and it wasn’t long before you were slipping into the warm comfort of sleep. That night in Ari’s truck, you fell asleep with a blissed out, cock drunk smile on your face, happy as could be to be in your trucker’s arms.

You may have spent much of the night as a gift for the bar owner your trucker called a friend, and you were glad you could be part of making Curtis’s birthday special, but you would always belong to Ari. And you would always end your nights in his arms, because that was where you wanted to be and where you belonged—with your trucker, Ari Levinson.

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fraugwinska · 6 months ago

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I tried my hands on an Human!Alastor fic ;> It's still very different to write for Human Al, but I hope y'all like it ;> Special thanks to @hurthermore for beta-reading and encouraging me <3 This one's for you, love! !! NSFW - Heavy Smut Ahead, Minors DNI - 6k words !!

„You need technical assistance, sir?“

Alastor looked up from the papers on his desk, adjusting his glasses that slipped down the bridge of his nose. He didn't expect her to come in this late, or at all, not while he was still at the station. The curious little sound engineer that had started half a year ago was standing at his office entrance, hands in the pockets of her outrageous trousers. She was tiny, her small figure barely filled the door frame, even with her bulky tool bag that hung from her shoulders. Alastor leaned back in his seat, folding his hands, focusing his tired gaze on her defensive expression.

She was a novelty, that one. Not the first woman working at the station of course, but the first to assert herself in the male-dominated field of technical engineering. Her male colleagues saw the spunky, brass girl as a joke, either ignoring her or trying (very amateurishly) to bed her – both which didn't faze her at all meeting both scenarios with the same contemptuous indifference. The women – secretaries, errand girls and concierges – were much more organized and refined in their bullying. Shortly after her arrival rumors had already spread, one more abstruse than the other, and they had collectively decided to pretend the engineer didn't exist in their periphery. More than once he witnessed her talking to his own secretary Ruth, just to be left standing while Ruth got up and walked out with the other girls to lunch in the middle of her sentence.

The little engineer took it all in stride, though. Never complained, never became outright disrespect- or revengeful. Gradually, her expressions steeled, her answers shortened and her work hours shifted to evenings or nights, with less people to run into.

Alastor had been fascinated by her the moment they first met. He had just started his usual 'Saturday Golden Hour', his favorite and most popular segment to host, broadcasting the newest releases of jazz and swing in the evening, just before sundown. Not even ten minutes in, right after he started playing Bing Crosby's new song 'Dancing in the Dark', listeners started calling the station by the handful, complaining about horrific feedback's and sudden blackouts. While Alastor watched Rufus Ellis, the head of the tech team, frantically run around, yelling at his workers, the little engineer had wordlessly grabbed a few tools and vanished. Five minutes later, his broadcast went back to working perfectly, sound crisp and quality flawless once again. She had returned, put back the tools from where she had taken them, and when Ellis – flabbergasted – asked her what she had done, she had calmly explained that she went up on the roof to check the transmitters connected to the radio tower and fixed a broken generator that had malfunctioned due to some doves nesting in it.

No one thanked or even acknowledged her, they just shrugged and went back to business as usual. But Alastor didn't forget, and from this day he was determined to find out more about this extraordinary girl. She reminded him of his own struggle as the exception to the rule – it was a well-kept secret throughout the station exactly what Alastor looked like and who he was. That was the only reason he was able to do what he felt was born to, a cruel, unfair compromise. So, he felt an unusual sympathy for her, in addition to just his natural curiosity for oddities. However, he didn't expect her to be so elusive.

Whenever he tried to engage her in a conversation, she gave short, finite responses, avoided his eyes and hurried to get away from him, sometimes even bordering on rudeness in her haste to flee from him. Alastor was, to be frank, perplexed - his charm usually drew in the ladies unwantedly. That it had failed him now, with the little engineer, when he welcomed it for a change? Peculiar. To a degree, it angered him, but it also awakened his hunting instinct, just not the one he was used to.

“I'm afraid so, dear.”, Alastor smiled, standing up. He rounded his desk, hands behind his back, and went to her side, looking down a t her. Granted, he was a tall man, but next to her, he felt almost gigantic, which satisfied him in a strange way. “I noticed my microphone was acting up today, and would like you to take a look at it, if you don't mind. Before it decides to give up on me mid-broadcast.”

“That's my job, sir.”, she just answered, eyes intensely staring at the carpet. Alastor's eyebrow twitched in slight aggravation. But he lead her to his booth, unlocking it to let her in. She went straight to his seat, dropping her tool bag next to it and started to pull his microphone to her to inspect it. He quietly closed the door, locking it discreetly – just as a precaution so she couldn't flee him again so easily, now that he finally had her in his vicinity.

Alastor walked over to her, leaning over her shoulder to watch her carefully taking the device apart. She startled when she saw him out of the corner of her eyes. “It may take a while, sir.”, she mumbled, an obvious attempt to make him leave. Alastor laughed. “I've got nowhere to be, dear, take your time.”, he said with a hint of mischievous delight. He heard her scoff, turning back to her work. There was a prolonged silence, her fiercely ignoring Alastor's quiet, content humming while her fingers picked apart and put together parts and cables. He used the time to analyze her appearance – her hair was smooth but more unkempt than for a girl her age – how old must she be? Twenty, maybe Twenty-one? Vanity surely wasn't a flaw of hers, she didn't wear much make-up and Alastor saw various faint, light scars on her arms and hands, little bookmarks of mishaps and failures of her chosen career – the sight of them sent a sick shiver down his spine. Given his... hobbies, he found twisted appeal in scarred skin, finding beauty in those white, shimmering lines where blood once dripped from. He roamed her supple, curved body – unlike the recent fad of skinny, androgynous frames she was built womanly, round and fleshy... how beautiful could he paint her with white streaks on this vast canvas, add some masterpieces of his own to the collection?

“Alright.”, she pulled him out of his thoughts, mounting the microphone back on it's flexible stand. “A few cables were starting to corrode, I've replaced them, it should work fine now.” Alastor grinned down at her, putting one of his hands on her shoulder. The first real contact. “What an efficient engineer you are, dear. Always coming to my rescue, I have yet to show my gratitude.” She didn't look up, didn't even acknowledge that he said something to her, just packing up the various things she had spread out for the repair. Now that was just rude.

“Hello? Is this thing on?”, Alastor strained himself to sound lighthearted as he knocked two times on her head, feeling the shivers of impatience rising. The engineer closed her eyes and took a deep breath in, shifting in his chair with furrowed brows. “I'm getting paid to do my job. I don't need anything else.” She attempted to stand up, but his hand, still resting on her shoulder, holds her in place. “If that's all, sir?”

“Now now, not to hasty. I'd think it's unlike you to leave work halfway done. Normally you are quite thorough, aren't you?” Alastor cooed, tilting his head at her. “My work is done.” she said, her voice now intense and a faint tint of red on her cheek and neck. My, there's the little ferocity he thought she'd lost at the job. “Why we haven't tested the thing, dear – How can I be sure it works properly?”

“Because I know what I'm doing.” She looked outright offended at the implied possibility that she failed the task he asked of her. He had to chuckle, such a childish reaction to something so innocent. Maybe it was because implications like these grated her thick skin, but Alastor had no problem with being the straw that breaks that camel's back. He was skilled in putting people back in their place, and with her, it would be much more entertaining and much less fatal than with his other... acquaintances. He decided to tickle this sleeping dragon just a bit more, with a funny little idea in mind.

“No one is infallible – especially when they are so young. No fault in that, dear, but I'd like to be sure.” Alastor swiftly grabbed her wrist, pulling her up to stand. Putting up no resistance, most likely because of sheer perplexity, he twirled her almost like in a dance, side-stepping to his chair, and sat down, pulling her onto his lap, locking her there by an arm wrapped around her waist. The look on her face was worth it's weight in gold – eyes wide, mouth agape in stunned shock, and tips of the ears reddened. Her hands grappled the armrests so forcefully her knuckles were as white as the scars on her arms, and within seconds of regaining her active conscience she squirmed against his body. “What... that's so... sir, please let me g...” “There you go, dear.”, Alastor ignored her babbling, using his free hand to put the headphones on her. Her pulse under her thin, clear skin drummed faster against him, it's heat felt like it could boil his own blood.

He grabbed his own microphone, swinging it up between their faces and leaned forward, chin resting on her shoulder and the grille brushing his lower lip. She stared, dumbstruck, a bead of sweat forming on her forehead. He chuckled against her cheek, leaning his mouth to the mic as he pushed the switch on the control panel up, and his rich, sultry baritone echoed in her headphones.

"How about it, darling, do you hear me?"

She breathed deeply, gulping, and her heart sped up even more. Alastor smiled devilishly against her soft skin, delighted and in awe by how far he got her worked up as she just nodded sharply.

"No soundrops, feedback or small interferences?", he hummed, his voice dripping sweet honey. She took a moment to answer. "N-no... everything seems alright."

"Lovely." He almost whispered, but she heard it crystal clear through the headphones. He let a low sigh and took off his glasses with one hand, slowly, teasingly, his nose tracing over her neck, as if it was coincidental, as if he'd never ever do such a thing intentionally, putting the accessory on the table next to him, eyes locking on the hazel ones of hers mirrored in them. "Although I wonder..." He pushed the mic nearer to her mouth, seeing a tremble running over her body. "... if the higher pitches might be a problem... You wouldn't mind help with that, would you?"

She stiffened up, barely daring to breathe, her skin erupting into goose flesh underneath his lips, he felt the impulse to press them against her, lick the salt and nervousness from it.

"Sir, I-I can't.."

He chuckled at her strained, whispering voice. How beautiful was her distress, so rich, so fragrant, almost strong enough for him to savor its essence without even needing to touch her.

"Then, may I assist you?", Alastor felt himself giddy with impish delight, his hands slowly trailing upwards from her waist to her bust, cupping her gently through the thin fabric. This made her wriggle again, a small, high pitched squeak leaving her lips that his microphone just amplified in glorious reverberations. Alastor chuckled darkly as she froze, neck burning red in deep embarrassment from the sound she heard from the headphones.

"Now we're talking. A wonderful first try. But let's see what else we can get out of you, darling. After all, we want to be thorough."

His hands palmed and kneaded the supple flesh through the cotton, feeling her squirm and tremble and the warmth of her bosom, imagining the blood rushing through her heart. How exquisite was she?

He could hear a small whimper as her head slightly lowered. Was she closing her eyes? He imagined it so. Imagined she'd shut her pretty eyes closed, furrow her brows in conflict as her legs pressed against each other in fruitless desperation. Her hands tightened on the armrest.

"You are so very quiet, dear. Why don't you relax and turn the volume up for me?"

With one of his hands he quickly loosened the two buttons that kept her blouse close and tugged at the collar to widen the neck hole, then slid under her brassier and gripped one breast with a tight squeeze. Alastor caught his breath as he realized just how sensitive and sweet the freckled skin under his fingertips was. Soft. Warm. So fragile... He would never have imagined this was hiding under her daily uniform, her sagging shoulders and loose jacket hiding those lovely features. Alastor felt a delightful spark crackle in his head and shoot up the nerves of his spine. His hunting instinct pulsed under the mask. But... with a slight delay, Alastor recognized it as a different type of hunger... one of the carnal and more depraved kind. Another novelty for him.

Alastor suddenly wondered what her lips tasted like, how soft and warm would they feel on his, her teeth biting, her tongue teasing him. How many ways could he break her - and could he do it quickly, with his bare hands, with his words alone maybe, or with his undisciplined arousal pushing against her rear-end through the fabric of his trousers? How often did she think of him? How did she think of him? Did she fear him, or dislike him even? He could hear her breathing hasten as he was trying to compose himself.

There was the devil's urge to just let himself go. To shove the equipment aside and tear those outrageously inadequate clothes away from her flesh, run his hands over the skin he didn't get to see yet, trace and map those scars of hers until they fade underneath his fingers. Mark her more thoroughly than any machine mishap ever could. Make her cry, moan, beg and whine under him until there was nothing left in her and this novel hunger was satisfied.

A wonderfully loud moan escaped her, a sweet, silky, vibrato sound of passion, that went right from Alastor's chest into his pelvis. She opened her eyes wide, pressing her hand firmly over her mouth, mortified at her own pleasure.

Oh, Alastor thought to himself, smiling mischievously as the shock of lustful rapture coursed through him, how easy it was for him to undo her. So unexplored, so fresh... "Do you wish to stop, darling?", he asked with a teasing pinch of her hardened nipple, which made her cry out and her other hand fly up and cover her mouth, too. She shook her head, her cheeks flushed and hot, eyes hazed with confused pleasure. He rubbed and teased the nipple gently in his palm, holding her close, making her struggle in defiant silence. The only sound was his gentle, patient humming.

But oh, she was breaking, crumbling like a stale beignet, and the noises his hand bullied out of her turned from hushed whimpers to barely muffled groans and cries for him, long and wanting 'Sir's and 'Oh's. She was melting under his palm. He grinned wickedly, his lower body hard and wanting against her as he put the microphone to his own lips again and spoke into it.

"Say it with your words, dear, should I stop? Or is it that you can't hear me?"

"Y-yes! I mean... No sir... d-don't... stop." There was a suppressed crack in her voice, and Alastor sighed with lust at her gasping affirmation, grinding against her plushy backside. He has found it amusing to push her limits, break through her thick skin and riddle her, like an ice pick cracking open a glacier. And now it would shatter her so gorgeously. "It's Alastor, darling." He whispered into the microphone with a dragging, sultry voice, his hand retreating from her breast, only to snake it's way to the hem of her pants. Her legs twitched, pushing together to futilely protect her modesty, but her body eagerly arched in a way that gave such easy way for his fingers to slip under the garments, feel and stroke the short, coarse hair, following it's trail, only to meet soft, silken and slippery wetness. A startled gasp escaped her and the only reason she didn't leap up was because Alastor kept his firm grip on her waist, pulling her tight against his throbbing erection. Her head fell back onto his shoulder, exposing her delicate throat as she whimpered, hands flying from her mouth to the armrests again, gripping so hard her fingernails dug into the hard wooden surface.

He tried to restrain himself but couldn't, he testily bit into the thin, soft flesh of her neck as his fingers found their way into her entrance and dipped deep in, coating his palm in generous wetness and crooking, exploring carefully, but with a patience even he was surprised at, eyes fixated on the taut fabric as he thrust into her in tandem with the waves her body undulated at the new sensation, her sweet taste on his tongue.

"S-Sir, please...", she groaned against his hand that still remained pressed over her lips, as if it could suppress the bliss Alastor wrought her into. He withdrew his hand for a moment, fingers wet, glistening and slick, as she was breathless, but she couldn't hide how her hips were chasing his retreating touch. He leaned into the microphone, barely lifting his mouth from her neck.

"Say my name, and I shall listen, little engineer."

She hesitated for just a heartbeat, before opening her eyes, hazily staring at the ceiling as Alastor patiently waited, his fingers drawing idle circles around the sweet pearl on her outer folds. She pressed her lips together for a second, seemingly mentally preparing herself, and then opened her mouth, to give in, to submit to him.

"...A-Alastor, please..."

"I like the sound of my name from your lips, darling." He almost purred in return and resumed his movements with added vigor and focus. He put down his head on her shoulder, nuzzling into the juncture of her throat, watching her reaction and every detail of how his hand worked her over with the rhythmic hump of his hips, forcing him to breathe harshly as he was starting to be deprived of blood. He had barely noticed it, how incredibly erotic and sinful this whole thing felt not just for her, but for him, too. Partly of course, because of the chase, the coaxing, the hunt to have her call and writhe for only him, not for any of these imbeciles that tried to get their pick with her, his ears pricked and eager to savor her wanton sounds... A surprising need to be connected, closer to her than anyone ever could be in her whole life, and it made him even giddy to know no man had touched her like he was doing now, taking her purity with ease and glee.

But there was another part, something he thought slumbered too deep within him to be ever awoken, a roaring fire in his guts as the alluring, delicious scent of her arousal assaulted him like a siren's song, lulling, cajoling him with sensual desires to drown in them, to abandon all else and indulge, to completely give in and surrender. It wasn't tactical, calculating or strategic, but wild and primal and primitive, and not at all as painful or awkward to him as he had always thought it'd be.

What a revelation a woman's body could be.

He almost missed her coming into his eagerly working hand - a sudden, full-body twitch that went through her spine, a whine in her voice that ended in a choked sound as her orgasm claimed her and washed her away in the torrent of rapture - eyes going wide as the air escaped her in a desperate cry, hands gripping his thigh and the chair's armrest so hard the nails left little scratches in the wood. He barely had time to notice it before her climax hit him like a truck - the convulsing of her inner walls, gripping and spasming tightly around his fingers as he slowed and stroke out her high.

This moment was pure madness in his veins - his head foggy and airy, like a drug, like a vicious new addiction he would do almost anything for. Her body went slack against him, and the only thing that held her upright was Alastor's arm still securely around her, still keeping her pressed onto his hard length, still pulsing for some release of his own. Alastor wanted more, already was plotting what his hands could be doing to her body next as she came down from her high and back to earth, the heat leaving her body slowly as the soundproofed air trapped within the booth hung heavy with her hot breath and the smell of her passion.

The first movement of hers, after having come undone so beautifully for and on him, was to lift up the headphones.

"Well then, little engineer.", he huffed into her ear, laughing with barely hidden delight. "What is your final assessment?"

"Your microphone works perfectly. J-just like I said it would." She was determined, if nothing else. And unbearably cute when she was defiant. Alastor simply adored a fiery spirit, even as he was already thirsting for more. He looked up, her sharp tone prickling his pride. He shot her a glare from the corner of his eyes, his usually calm smile tugging upward in a half smirk as she avoided his eyes. Oh, was she starting to have second thoughts about her tone towards him?

"I always admired your work ethics and knowledge, my dear, even though you eluded my attempts to give you your well-deserved recognition." The hand not occupied in playing with her still moist, delicate flesh lifted the arm that she had still buried in his thigh, brushing his fingers lightly over her knuckles as he brought it to his lips. She went still as a stone under his fingertips. "I asked myself, what would be the reason you ignored and evaded me for so long? Do you dislike me that much, little engineering girl?"

"No." It took her a moment, a little quiver in her voice, but it seemed like this was the first time in a long while that her answer was as blunt and truthful. He sighed contentedly, planting a soft kiss on her hand. "Quite the contrary, in fact."

His eyes snapped to her, narrowed. She still refused to look at him, still tense and obviously embarrassed, her free hand trembling on her lap. So it hadn't been animosity that made her behave so coldly towards him, not aversion that made her flee his presence and not prejudice that made her avoid their encounters but...

"Ah." Alastor chuckled softly at her awkward behavior, grinning delightedly at the revelation. "Of course."

Shyness was a curious thing, he thought, often misinterpreted as either prude modesty or cold antipathy. And it seemed Alastor had fallen for the latter interpretation - he would've been miffed at the thought if it hadn't brought her here, into his lap, and into his hands - alas, better late than never, he guessed. And there was still something to take care of.

"Well, since you're not running from me now..." His hand left hers and joined his other one in pulling the belt of her pants open, gently tugging on the metal buckle until the strap slipped free. "Let me finally show my gratitude in kind, for the lovely engineer and her marvelous work."

He loosened his tight grip on her, enough so that he could turn her to face him - for once, she glanced at him from under her lashes, not only out of bashfulness now - but he thought he saw something like cautious anticipation there, too. His grin became even wider as she kept his gaze, even if barely. A last stubborn act of shy rebellion - in another situation it would have enraged Alastor, but now, he was delightfully fascinated and challenged by her stubborn nature, by the unpredictability of her reactions even now, as she herself hooked her fingers under the hem of her pants and pushed them down over her shapely hips.

The last barrier of decency fell between them, revealing the full picture before him - there was her reddened face framed by cascading locks, eyes lowered in embarrassed defeat; Her stiffened nipples prominent on her perky, tight breasts; The damp patch of dark pubic hair that barely hid her glistening privates and the plush roundness of her thighs. And the whole body covered in tiny, white streaks, healed cuts and burns scattered in between her freckles. Oh, she would be delightful to ruin over and over again.

He took a step towards her, his hands immediately moving to her hip, exploring, caressing the soft flesh. This time, she did not move away from his touch and watched him with big, wide-blown eyes, full of expectation and a new type of uncertainty as he lifted her up onto the main control panel. He discarded of his jacket, the cloth too heavy and hot for him now, and threw it aside carelessly, leaving his bow tie hanging loosely around his neck as he went back to the woman, his little prey. Her knees parted slightly when his body wedged between them, an inviting gesture from her, though Alastor suspected she herself didn't notice. He grinned darkly, lifting her chin up by a finger, before bending over and planting a firm but restrained kiss on her lips, feeling his own skin crawl in electric stimulation, eager to finally taste her. His hands made quick work of his slacks, freeing his almost painfully erect member with a pleased sigh. From the way she gasped and her eyes widened, he could easily deduct that she had less to no experience whatsoever.

Oh, what a fortune. Alastor relished the thought of claiming precious, well kept treasures, his breath quickened as he broke from the kiss, hands running over her heated skin in swift, soothing motions, goosebumps trailing in their wake as he felt her shudder with hesitant desire beneath him. Oh, this would be fun.

"Let's be sure you'll hear my message loud and clear, this time, hm?"

He took her mouth again before she could protest, discreetly angling the microphone down with one hand just near enough where she would soon enough be connected to him. With a sly grin, he lined himself up to her waiting entrance and slowly pushed in. She stiffened at the unfamiliar invasion, a mewl muffled against his lips and hands in his shirt, and he stilled, enjoying the way her body reflexively tightened and squeezed around him as she tried to cope with the sensation of him stretching her.

She gasped as her chest heaved from the feeling, her walls convulsing around him like a vice. He allowed a low groan to escape him, she felt so gloriously tight and hot he had trouble keeping his composure, hands twitching to rut into her and just plow through.

"Ready for the final test, darling?"

"T-test...?"

He didn't bother to give her an answer as he started to move. In and out, with slow and drawn out movements, keeping his thrusts shallow at first, deep and precise enough to press against her innermost point and making her moan helplessly. The wet sounds of their coupling reached his ears, coupled with her wanton cries, an obscene and enchanting noise he was waiting for. With a mischievous smile, he picked up the headphones from where she had put them down, lifting it to one of her ears. Her face flushed in such lovely shades of red when the squelching echoes of what the mic picked up reached her ears, amplified and oh-so-clear thanks to her own handiwork.

He let out a guttural chuckle as he leaned into her, still thrusting slowly, her head falling on his shoulder and hanging onto his shirt for dear life, knuckles white as she could hear all the sweet sounds their bodies made and how they connected, each inch of her body singing praises for only him, for his size and rhythm. He could tell the moment her walls began to relax around him, squeezing the blood into his member as she took him in again and again, accepting it's size wholeheartedly with greedy eagerness.

"Such a talented woman.", he praised into her free ear, sighing at the delicious way her slick, swollen lips slid over his length, her thighs twitching against his with every single thrust and every word that fell from his lips. "Just listen to the fruits of your impeccable labor, dearest. Almost wasted in a place like this."

A moan, shaky and delirious, a shuddering sob for him, so high and flustered she sounded almost pained escaped her throat. She pressed against him and with a jolt that reverberated through her spine, convulsing so sweetly against him he almost came from the tremor that rushed through his cock. But it wasn't her peak. Alastor hadn't gotten his fill yet and he wouldn't stop now until it was both of their turns, but damn if he wasn't tempted.

He reached to the other ear to put the second headphone on her. Now her world had no escape, she could only listen, only hear every filthy wet noise of his slick slide, his ragged breathing and the beat of her own heart- a heavy, cacophonous staccato.

Her eyes were heavy-lidded, head clouded and flushed, looking up at him with rapt fascination. His own gaze met hers as his pace increased, suddenly snapping his hips with harsh precision, and his voice was low, carnal.

"But their loss is my gain, darling. Don't you ever forget that, now."

And his thoughts went to of those incompetent, thickheaded dunderheads who took their jobs, but were no where as skilled or invested as her, knowing full well they were inadequate and undeserving to get close to her, trying to touch what clearly should have been for him alone to do, and it sent a nasty spark of possessiveness through Alastor, igniting a furious hunger, a beast waking up within him and snarling with unbridled desire, to claim, to mark her as his. And nobody else's.

He grinned devilishly, a low rumble in his throat as a needy whine escaped his little engineer and he grabbed her waist tightly, digging his fingers into the fat there as he picked up speed and drilled into her with more intensity, savage, merciless and utterly ruthless, finally throwing all composure and rationality overboard to replace it with feral instinct and possessive desire. Her hands clutched him desperately, thighs tensing and pressing against his moving hips, her choked cries of his name were nothing else but heavenly and he was filled with lecherous obsession and greed - yes, he could get addicted to the sound of his name being screamed and moaned from her lips, her sweet, wet flesh fluttering around his throbbing length, the violent stuttering of her breath that just enticed and pleaded him to continue.

"Mine. My own, little, eager engineer." he hissed against the shell of her ear, headphones slipping from her, hips still pounding away at her heat with feverish pace and an undeniable pleasure coiling low and tightly within his pelvis. With every harsh thrust, every desperate, salacious cry, he pulled her deeper and deeper into sinful depravity, her head thrown back in bliss, the headphones slipping from her head as her nails scraped desperately over his clothed chest. The sharp bites of pain mixed with a sweet ache and tightening within Alastor, telltale signs of his climax nearing rapidly. "No more avoiding me, no more elusion or flight for you, understood? You are mine and mine alone."

Her toes curled as his words spurred her over the edge with him, her core spasming and quivering around him as her moans became ragged and desperate, jaw agape in rapture but no words found as she toppled into her orgasm, dragging and taking Alastor with her. The immense wave crashed into him and swept him along, and he growled in the sensational and exhilarating feeling and his head fell against her shoulder, with a growl ripping from his throat, low and guttural. His seed emptied in her with long, forceful spurts, her body tensing and relaxing as each twitch and jerk pushed his release deeper and deeper, the pleasure so acute, so sharp it was almost painful, until both their highs subsided and Alastor had to rest against her for a moment, their labored breaths the only noise that reached his ears.

Alastor sighed contentedly, his hand loosened it's grip and his fingertips gently traced over the angry, red lines they had left behind on her tanned skin of her waist, feeling her shivering underneath him. His lips pressed into the soft crook of her neck, placing a tender kiss on the flushed skin. He would have to do something about the bruising and marks... His eyes wandered up and he noticed that she was staring now, hazily and exhausted, her pupils still wide, lips bitten swollen and reddened, her cheeks and chest still painted pink with lingering arousal. The sight was so deliciously debauched and lewd, a smirk crept on his face.

"It seems that the equipment is indeed in perfect working order again, thanks to you, darling."

"...Yes, sir." she replied warily, her voice still breathless. Her usual demeanor returned, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes she tilted her head away from him. He chuckled, lifting her chin and capturing her lips once again, not much for hers but more for his own gain, and then moved off and out of her. He took a moment to savor the view - the red, swollen flesh, leaking his essence that pooled on the metal surface of his control panel he would work on in a few hours, and her thighs glistening in the faint orange light of the booth.

"Please, darling, from now on..." Alastor took a handkerchief from his breast pocket, wiping the mess of his hands and cleaning her with careful gentleness, her legs twitching weakly at the contact.

"...call me Alastor."

He hummed quietly and lifted her from the console, closing the buttons on her blouse again with fastidious efficiency after she slipped back into her pants. Then, with a few quick motions, Alastor picked up his jacket and fixed his own appearance, before helping her stand properly on her trembling feet.

"I trust we won't have any misunderstandings anymore?" He smiled at her, tilting his head slightly, a soft and yet challenging smile, his hand cupping her face and the thumb brushing her lower lip. Her cheeks grew warmer and redder again, her eyes flickering downwards, then back up, before she nodded silently. "Excellent."

Alastor put the headphones back on their rack, before taking his glasses, slipping them back on and reaching for the door handle, his other hand extended towards his little engineer in an inviting motion.

"Come along, my dear. Let me treat you to a nice cup of coffee, I find there's nothing better after a job well done."

She paused, her face going a shade darker and her lips pressing together. Then, after a heartbeat, she stepped next to him and through the door he opened for her. He could see the small smile that crept onto her lips as she hurriedly passed him, a shy glance shot towards him, but this time it didn't feel like she wasn't fleeing, but almost daring for him to chase her.

Another kind of hunt, he mused, and the thought made him smile as he closed the door and followed her out.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fraugwinskawrites #Human!Alastor x Reader #Alastor smut #Human!Alastor smut

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thekeeperof-thefandoms · 7 months ago

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Hi! I would love to request some cuddling scenarios with Lucifer, Alastor, and Vox!

SOFT MOMENT OF NON SEXUAL INTIMACY?! IN THIS HOUSE?! Yes, please!

It's implied romantic but could be queer platonic or a queer/nontraditional couple.

Lucifer

This man wants snuggles. Any way he can get them any time, he isn't required to not be physically attached to you. He really struggles with derealization/depersonalization. His depression gets bad, he isolates, and time has pretty much lost meaning to him after being around so long, so he just kinda, wastes away into sadness. It's how he and Charlie fell apart the first time, and he really doesn't want it to happen again.

Having you around to just talk to, hold hands with, sit on your lap, or you in his, it helps. It's like a reminder that he's still alive and someone wants to be around him. Someone wants to spend time with him. That you care. It also motivates him to stay in contact with Charlie instead of convincing himself she's better without him.

He still loves Lillith, regrets they aren't together, but he doesn't blame her for leaving. He's more upset with how it affects Charlie. So he makes extra effort to spend time with you, to acknowledge how important you are to him. He's so paranoid about ruining this relationship. This man has centuries of being told everything is his fault, everything wrong with the world, and is forced to face that supposed truth every day he rules Hell.

His favorite thing is just pulling you on top of him like a weighted blanket, wrapping his wings around the both of you, and laying in a dark, warm, cocoon. He'll take deep breaths, pet your hair, and just let himself finally relax. The first few times you'd stayed quiet, assuming that's what he wanted, but it just makes it easier for him to disassociate.

Now you talk to him, softly, about your day, ask about his. You slowly get him to open up about his favorite things, good memories he has of Lillith, baby Charlie, the sins, times before the Fall. It's a long process to get him to talk about it. Please be patient and gentle with him. He likes when you play with his fingers while he talks, just holding his hand and twisting and turning it, moving his rings around, just don't touch his wedding ring please, maybe you even manage to do his nails in this position.

His second favorite is when you help preen his feathers, gently massaging his wing joints, polishing each feather with the oil from his glands, using your thumbs to work out knots in the muscles around the base. It always turns into a full back massage that leaves him purring, making happy sighing sounds and little moans. He usually falls asleep like this. Don't worry though, once he wakes up, he's definitely returning the favor. He does head massages too! He prepares a little personal spa day for you.

He isn't really looking for anything more intimate when he's in one of sadder moods and is cuddling with you to feel better, he wouldn’t turn it down, he's too afraid you'd be upset, but he really just wants to be held or to hold someone. It's the little things that really make you special to him, and he cherishes every second you guys are together.

Alastor

We all know Alastor isn't a fan of being touched unless he initiates it. There are very few exceptions to this, so you have to be pretty close to him to even get the option to cuddle him.

You'll have to start slow, like holding his hand. A lot of people think he's the type to not want to do too much PDA, but like, look at how he is with Rosie and Mimzy in front of everyone. He doesn't care. Not for small things like hand holding. This eventually leads to him putting his arm around your waist as you're walking together, or around your shoulders if you're sitting next to each other so you can lean on his shoulder.

Now more intimate gestures, like cheek kisses, forehead kisses, petting his ears, those are private. He will resist at first, preferring to lavish you with attention, but be stubborn, match his energy, especially the witty banter, and eventually you'll wear him down.

It's canon that Alastor's hardly ever sleeps, so I imagine if you're a motherly type, (regardless of gender), or someone he genuinely trusts (because its not about if he's safe. He's the Radio Demon, very few sinners are a threat to him, so being a little vulnerable with you is safe no matter the level of trust) he's going to pass out.

You're in his room (or yours, but he prefers his) and he agreed to let you pet his ears. You settle on the bed, his head on your chest or lap, and he closes his eyes, soft jazz music playing from some unseen source, and maybe you're watching something on your phone, (he allows it only if it's something he can enjoy as well, but he usually winds up listening more than watching because screens hurt his eyes after awhile) more likely you're listening to a podcast, Alastor likes listening to true crime with you.

Your fingers gently run through his hair at first. You tease him about the bob sometimes, but understand that he's prone to pulling his hair out otherwise. Eventually you notice the music has stopped and Alastor's fast asleep, the smile on his face is so small it nearly doesn't exist, and his breathing is slow and even. His ears twitch when you stop petting them, and he stirs a bit, so you quickly resume playing with them and he falls back asleep.

(His tail is sensitive too, if you ever wanna fluster him, just run a finger down his spine to that cute little tail and give it a gentle tug.)

Alastor is also prone to play biting, so if you're an excited nibbler who gives noms, expect your cuddles to end up with a few bite marks.

Vox

It's really hard for him to sit still long, so if he's working late and you want to spend time with him, just crawl yourself into his lap and get comfy. He'll grumble and complain about the distraction, but it's all for show. He'll put his arm around your waist and trace your hipbones with his thumb, or play with your hair, run his fingers up and down your back, just small fidgety things.

He understands his head is inconvenient for snuggles, and he may not be the most comfortable. (I headcanon his body is built like the Detroit Become Human bots, with like silicone padding to appear/feel like skin, but it's hard plastic and metal and wires underneath with biomechanical parts inside.)

He is warm, though, and has the constant hum of his internal fans and electricity, so he's great for sensory snuggles. He's great for when you're sore or have migraines (surprisingly, but he can turn his brightness down at will). He likes to do more traditional forms of PDA.

He walks with his hand on your lower back. (He and Alastor both absolutely do the subconscious walk with their partners on the inside and them closest to the streets or alleyways. Lucifer would, but he probably isn't even aware it's a thing.)

You're cooking/baking/doing anything with your back to him, he puts his hands on your waist and leans against you. He's 7ft tall so he probably won't lean his entire body on you, but enough to feel close to you.

His favorite snuggles are disgustingly domestic. Like, his all time favorite, is when you're both sitting together on a couch, enjoying a movie or show, or maybe you're reading or on your phone or gaming, and he's working, just anytime you're occupying the couch together and existing, he'll pull your feet into his lap and massage them.

It's not like, a fetish thing, he just thinks it's sweet. A nice gesture to show how much he appreciates what you do, how hard you work. He'll massage your ankles and calfs too. He's also prone to trying to play with your hair and massage your scalp when you're laying on his chest at night, but his claws get tangled easily. Settles for rubbing your shoulders/back.

He likes when you rub his back and neck too. The man spends way too much time hunched over his desk at work. His back aches from doing the gremlin hunch over his desk to standing ramrod straight in front of cameras, sitting properly and confidently, stiff as a fucking board. You once teased him about how he could just use one of his cardboard cutouts as a stand-in, and no one would know.

Other times, he likes to lay on you. The first few times he sprawled across your lap seeking affection and reassurance for his fragile ego, you'd been so nervous to crack his screen. But now you're more used to it and will even playfully try and poke it/tap it. Between you and Valentino, Vox has had to rule out ever getting a touch screen for a head, because neither of you will stop fucking with it. It does make him laugh, though, adorable little giggles he'd rather die than let the general public hear. It usually turns into a playful wrestling match and aggressive cuddles with a side of petty static electricity from Vox.

#hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel lucifer #vox x reader #alastor x reader #lucifer x reader

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f1fantasys · 6 months ago

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Miami GP

Part 1 - Wish you could stay.

Part 2 link

Lando and Y/N are fwb, so a lot of smut, slight angst, and of course part 2 will be THE WIN, which I'm still not over!! Someone pinch me! If you have any requests for what I should include please leave a comment!

Warmings - smut, unprotected sex, p in v, female/male head, swearing.

Miami GP. One of the most exciting races of the season. Being an F1 influencer and social media persona, this was once of the races in the year that had so much hype built around it. From the celebrities, to the many events unfolding before the actual race, it wasn't one to miss. This time you'd been invited by Charlotte Tilbury to campaign for the F1 Academy Race, and you couldn't have had a prouder moment - rooting for the girls!

You'd arrived yesterday and went straight into an event with the girls of the F1 Acedemy as well as some of the girlfriends of the drivers.

This morning you were woken up by a message by none other than Lando Norris. You were friendly with a lot of the drivers and their partners, but Lando was special to you. You instantly shared a bond and six months ago, things changed. You became friends with benefits. Of course you were always aware of your lingering crush on Lando, and you often got inclines from him that he felt the same way, but you both were too scared to risk your friendship. So you chose the next best thing - getting close to each other without feelings - or so you thought.

Being in a situation-ship like this with Lando was exhilarating. He was one of the most handsome people you'd known, and he was ever the gentleman, Except for when he fucked you ;) He was fun, and cocky, and boy did he know how to make you feel good. And vise-visa - you made him feel equally as good and there were days when you couldn't go a day without being joined by the hip. You simply couldn't get enough of each other.

One rule though - just sex. No sleeping over. No spending the night. It was down to business and then leave.

That was the part that was becoming harder and harder with each passing day. Watching him get up and leave after giving you the most intoxicating orgasms, and then meeting the next day around friends pretending nothing was going on.

You'd last seen Lando two weeks ago in Monaco - the only thing getting you spending two weeks apart were your regular face-time hookups. Him telling you how down and dirty he would get on you if you were together, and you telling him how you'd get him off.

So - back to today. You read his text :

Lan <3

''Touchdown in Miami baby. When am I seeing you?''

You couldn't help but smile at his message. Your body has been aching for his touch since you last saw him, but at the same time you just missed being around him.

You replied :

''Staying at the same hotel babe. Room 402. Waiting for you''

And you attached a picture of you in bed, clearly naked.

''Fuck me'' was the reply you got.

''Trust me, I plan to'' you smiled to yourself and to replied back.

Not more than 30 minutes later and there was a knock at your door.

You'd just come out of the shower so were still wrapped in just your towel when you went to open the door.

''Fuck Y/N, trying to kill me?'' he smirked, pushing you back inside and then suddenly lifting you up and crashing the pair of you onto your bed.

You clung onto his curls, giggling, and pulled him down to your lips. You honestly could make out with him forever.

It was quickly getting heated. You opened your mouth to let him slide his tongue in when you sucked on it. Teeth were clashing. Bruises surely being left at how rough you both were being.

To Lando - he was distracting you and took this as an opportunity to rid your body of your towel.

The cool air instantly hardened your nipples as Lando took them between his fingers and pinched them, earning a moan from you.

''Missed that pretty sound baby'' he cooed as he now took one of your nipples in his mouth and sucked on it.

Your hands found his curls and pulled at them, silently begging him for more.

''Lan, please'' you breathed. ''Need more. Need you in me. Fuck please'' you whined.

He hadn't even touched your cunt yet and you were already begging for more.

''Y/N, we have the whole morning. Let me show you how much I've missed you and you pussy.

''Fuck'' was all you could mutter. Lando's dirty talk always did a number on you and got you dripping with want.

He lowered his body some more, spreading your legs wide open and kissing and licking a trail up your inner thighs.

''Fuck, Lando. Please!'' you all but screamed. You needed to feel him, now!

''Fucking hell'' he muttered. And he dove straight in. His tongue finding your clit, sucking and biting at it, giving you no time to comprehend the fact that he was finally giving you some relief.

''Shit, Y/N, so wet for me already. Can't get enough of tasting your delicious juices.'' he muttered, his tongue not giving you a chance to even think of a reply.

He soon added one, then two finger straight into your cunt. He for sure knew just how to curl them to hit the right spot. The one that had you putty in his arms. Trembling and letting out moans you were sure people over the wall could hear.

You could feel your stomach start to tighten and your walls start to clench around his fingers as he continued his slaughter with his mouth.

''Can tell you're getting close baby, go on'' he barely audibly said as you felt yourself come crashing down. Your orgasm rippling through your body as your warm juices released straight into Lando's mouth.

Your body felt limb, but Lando didn't slow his movements. This time he added a third finger into play, and as much as you loved his fingers, you still were aching to feel his cock fill you up.

''Please Lando, need to feel you in me. Please'' you begging him again.

''Fuck, angel, come here'' he said as he removed his fingered from your cunt, quickly took off his clothes, and sat against the headboard.

''Want you to ride me, please'' he begged you in return.

Lando took his painfully hard dick in his hands and pumped himself a few times, using his hand that was still slick with your juices.

You crawled up to him and sat on your knees, bending over his body. Not that you needed more lube, because you were soaking wet, but you dripped some of your spit directly on his dick. This time he was the one to moan as if his life depended on it.

You climbed onto him and pulled him in for a needy kiss. You could taste yourself as you started grinding yourself on his thigh.

''Y/N, you're incredible. The things you do to me'' he hissed so he lifted you up slightly so you could sink down on him.

As he filled you up with his whole dick, you both stayed still, giving you time to adjust to his length. He was bigger than average, and as much as you loved his cock, the first push always stung.

But soon the pleasure took over the pain, and you stared to move. Up and down. Pulling at his curls as his mouth found your boobs again and began sucking on your nipples.

''Oh my god, Lan, yes, fucking missed riding you like this. Making me feel so good. Shit'' you managed to say between breaths.

''You're so hot on face-time, but fuck me being with you like this is the best feeling ever.'' he groaned while still licking and sucking your nipples.

He started lifting himself up, meeting you half way. Slamming into you so hard you actually were seeing stars. He was reaching all the right places in your cunt and by now both of your moans were so vulgar that if people were walking past your room it must have sounded like a live porno was happening.

''Fuck Lando I'm going to cum'' and before you could even finish your sentence your orgasm came on so violently your whole body was shaking in Lando's arms.

He held you and continued searching for his own release.

''Where do you want me?'' he asked, breathlessly.

''In me, please'' you managed to whisper. Too dazed to put effort into anything you were saying.

Not a second later and Lando emptied his warm liquids in your pussy, filling you up to the brink.

As he slowed his movements he pulled you impossibly closed and hugged you tight, his dick slowly softening in you.

''Please can we just stay like his forever?'' you cooed.

He gave you a giggle and said ''you don't have to ask me twice, fucking hell. I have no words'' he said as he gently kissed you, tongue exploring your mouth as if searching for diamonds.

You don't know how long the pair of you stayed in that position. Could have been 3 minutes, could have been 30. But you needed to clean up.

You really wished that this could be forever. That he wouldn't get up and leave in a few minutes. But reality came crashing down.

As Lando pulled himself out of you you couldn't help but whimper that the loss of contact.

He quickly went to get a warm cloth to wipe you down and started putting his clothes on. While you sat there, shamelessly staring at his toned body which you just wanted to pull back into bed.

There was a sudden shift of energy in the room. Awkward almost.

''See you tonight? Planning a dinner with the guys and whoever is here'' he asked.

''Yeah, sounds good. Send me the details'' you smiled.

He got up after putting his shoes back on and reached over to give you one more quick kiss on your lips before he was out the door.

''Fuck'' you thought to yourself. ''I really am in too deep now.''

The day again was filled with multiple events and lots of food and drinks. Despite the post-sex awkwardness from this morning, Lando still regularly texted you throughout the day. At one point - he was sexting with you too. You couldn't help but flush your cheeks at his forwardness. he was getting you horny all over again.

Lan <3

''Can't wait to fill you up again tonight.'' ''Fuck, can't wait to taste you again.'' ''Can't wait to feel you clench around me again.''

You were done for. You couldn't concentrate on anything now. All you wanted to do was drag Lando back to bed.

''Fuck me Lando, stop teasing. Can't function now. All I can think about is your cock.'' you replied quickly.

''Oh yeah? Want me to fuck you senseless tonight?'' he cheekily replied.

''Yes please, desperate to feel to you fill me up again.''

This was going to be a long afternoon.

Finally as the days' events finished, you had about an hour until meeting Lando and the others for dinner.

You decided on a cotton tight white dress that showed off your ass and boobs perfectly. You knew where the night was going so you didn't wear any underwear - it wouldn't have looked nice anyways.

Just as you were finishing your makeup you phone rang. Of course it was him.

''Lan'' you answered.

''Hey babe, I''m running late, just got back to the hotel so come to my room to chill if you're ready. Leaving the door unlocked.''

Before you could even reply he put the phone down.

''Okay'' you thought to yourself. ''That wasn't weird.''

Anyways, you quickly finished you makeup and 15 minutes later you entered Lando's room.

You immediately knew he was in the shower as you heard the water running. It took everything in you to try to NOT picture him right now. Naked. Beautiful and sexy body on display. Cock spring free and throbbing, hopefully for your cunt.

''Fuck'' you though to yourself.

You tried to keep yourself busy on your phone but it wasn't helping.

Eventually you heard the water turn off and you weren't surprised when he walked out of the bathroom butt-naked.

''Hello'' he smiled innocently at you, walking towards you and pecking your cheek.

It was a few seconds before you greeted him back, too engulfed in his body no, his hard dick dancing around.

You cleared your throat. ''Hey Lan'' you tried to act causal.

''How was your day'' you eventually managed, trying to distract yourself from the dirty thoughts filling your mind.

''Ummmm, started off pretty well'' he winked at you. ''Then was boring as shit, meetings and all.'' he said as he began putting his shirt on. Cock still on display.

You were going to break - you couldn't hold it in anymore.

''Fuck Lando! What are you trying to do to me? Walking around like that. You're driving me fucking crazy and we haven't even been to dinner yet!'' you exclaimed.

''Haha, knew it wouldn't take you long to brake. Come here'' he said pulling you up.

He hugged you as tight as he could before he started leaving open-mouthed kisses along your neck.

''You'll have to suffice my lips right now, and if you behave, you can get my dick after dinner.''

You scoffed at that. ''If I behave? Remind me what you couldn't wait for earlier?'' you smirked at him.

''Whatever'' he said as his cheeks flushed pink.

He distracted you again by kissing you. Deep and hard, as if his life depended on it.

''Let's get this dinner over with so we can get back to business.''

You went down to the lobby of the hotel separately. None of your friends knew about the fact that the two of you wear having sex. The only person who did was Carmen, George's girlfriend. But you both practically threatened her with silly things if she told anyone, even George. There was no way things would be easy if everyone found out. Plus you liked having your own little bubble.

Dinner was not eventful to say the least. It was fun catching up with the girls but you really couldn't wait to be in the taxi going back to the hotel.

At some point during the dinner, Lando found himself next to you, pretending to talk about something important, but really just whispering filth in your ear.

''Please, let's go'' you practically begged him.

After a while he made up the excuse that you weren't feeling well and that he was going to take you back to the hotel.

It was a miracle no one batted an eyelid as you said your goodbyes.

His lips were on yours as soon as you were in the taxi.

No talking the whole ride - just wandering hands and tongue on tongue. Eventually, the taxi driver cleared his throat to alert you that you were back at the hotel.

''Cheers'' Lando told him before practically dragging you to your room.

As soon as the door was closed, Lando took your dress in his hands and ripped it apart.

''LANDO!'' you all but screamed.

''Sorry babe, but I needed it off. I'll buy you a new one. Fuck no underwear?'' he asked with wide eyes, gaping at your boobs and cunt.

''No underwear'' you repeated as you sunk down on your knees before him.

''Fuck, wait let me sit down.''

He guided you to the sofa and undid his belt before you pulled his jeans and boxers down in one go.

His cock sprang out and hit his stomach, pre-cum already dripping from it.

You got on your knees again and took him into your hands.

Pumping him a few times, spreading his pre-cum around.

''Please Y/N'' he begged. ''Been wanting to feel your lip around me all day along.'' he begged again.

Although you wanted to tease him, the ache between your legs was growing impatient.

So you took the tip of him between your lips, and sucked, so hard that his legs started to shake.

'Oh my god, gonna be the end of me, you are'' you said in between moans.

You then took as much of him as you could, as your hands started pumping what you couldn't fit in. You weren't holding back now. Bobbing your head, while Lando's hands found your hair and held it out of your way.

''That's it. Keep going Y/N. Taking my girth so well. Not gonna last long.'' he muttered between breathes.

You were starting to gag now. Tears stinging the corners of your eyes. But you were determined to taste him, so you kept going until he was all but screaming you name full of praises and you felt his warm cum spill to the back of your throat.

''Shit, that mouth of yours. I've said it before and I'll say it again. Best mouth I've ever had.'' he said pulling up to sit on his lap to kiss you again.

You started grinding your ass on his thighs, just as you did this morning, until he scooped you up and carried you to the bed.

Before you could comprehend what was happening, Lando had you on all fours, lining his dick up at your entrance.

He pushed in slowly, allowing you to adjust again.

''Faster, please, go all out'' you begged him.

Finally, he picked up his pace, slamming into you from behind, grunting and praising how good you felt. How your walls clenched around his cock.

''Yeah baby, just like that. Being my whore. Wish you would be my whore forever.''

You both were too blissed out and breathless to even think of what Lando said. All you could think about was how good he was fucking you right now.

''Yes Lan, fuck me harder, please, harder.''

Then suddenly he pulled out and turned you around. He was on top of you this time. Pounding into you, not getting enough.

His lips found homage on your boobs as his hands found yours and intertwined them together.

You could feel the warmth start to build up in your stomach, legs beginning to shake. ''Gonna cum babe?'' he asked as he felt your walls start to clench almost painfully around his dick.

With no warning you came around him. Gushes if warm liquid even spilling out of you.

By now you couldn't form any words so you simply just nodded, and your moans reached new heights.

''Too much Lando, can't take it.'' you groaned.

''Yes you can. Look at me. You can cum again for me, can't you?''

And how could you say no to him when he was looking at you like that?

''Fuck, go on'' you hissed as you felt him quicken his pace again, clearly chasing his own orgasm as well.

Once again both of your moans were so obscene it was brilliant. In seconds he had you cumming all over again.

You could feel his movements getting sloppier by the second. ‘Want to taste you again, please’ you begged him.

Straight away he pulled out of you and shoved his dick in your mouth. Immediately had you gagging and tearing up but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

‘Fuck fuck fuck Y/N yes, oh yes’ he moaned as he emptied his spill to the back of your throat.

His body went limb and so he let his weight fall on you. Curls stuck to his forehead because of the sweat. You held onto him for dear life. Eyes prickling because of the stimulations but also because of your want of more from him.

You pressed your lips to his in a soft and sloppy manner. How you wished you really could stay like this the whole night.

Suddenly it was awkward again. None of you knowing what to say to each other. This was very weird. There was never a moment even in your friendship when things were as awkward as this.

As always, Lando cleaned you up and was walking out of your door within minutes. You wished you could run after him and pull him back in, never let him go. But you couldn’t. That was just a fantasy you longed for.

The next few days passed in a blur. Both of you busy with events and meetings and so on. When you were together with friends, things still felt weird. You couldn’t make out what was wrong. But you still hooked up every night - nothing would stop your two bodies coming together for nights on undeniably passionate sex.

Finally though, it was race day 😈

Authors note - hope you guys enjoyed this. I am still reeling from the win-can’t stop smiling! Who else still feels like this? Also, enjoy these pics, because I couldn’t not bless your tl with them 🧡

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 #f1 fic #f1 smut #lando norris #lando x reader #lando norris smut #lando smut

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yzashaven · 1 year ago

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FEATURING ! shouki no kami/archon!scara x fem!reader

CONTENTS ! there's a short fighting scene, robot fucking, grinding, implied worshipping, mating press, masturbating in front of him, degradation and praise <3, choking, breeding, scara fingers appreciation!! (think that's all :3)

NOTE ! a gift for my bestie @yukiitaooo ‼️ just pretend that the joururi workshop is in inazuma btw for the sake of making this plot work 😭 and do read the synopsis since it's a bit messy. special thanks to yukii for proofreading this for me btw <3

SYNOPSIS— reader is a shrine maiden and scara's lover. she wanted to see his god form aka the vessel/robot and test her skills along with her newly obtained powers by sparring with him. she uses a sword/katana and has an electro vision given by scaramouche.

—♡

"are you sure about this?"

scaramouche asked with a sigh as he was carrying you in his arms, walking towards the joururi workshop, where the shouki no kami was situated within. you nod and lean into his chest, feeling the wind blow gently against the both of you. after some time, you reached what seemed like a small entrance cave which led to the gigantic destination in which in the distance you could see the small elevator-like platform that led up high. he held your hand as you walked along the long and wide corridors, guards and people around kneeling in their stead upon seeing their god, their archon, scaramouche—as per his set rules upon the nation. but you? he gave you permission to be the only exception in this rule of his, walking close beside him as you could sense the jealous wandering eyes of those around. how could a "mere" shrine maiden be worthy enough to walk alongside the god himself? people ask themselves in silence before the two of you finally reached the elevator that led to the main area.

he had already made the much needed arrangements to make sure everyone was unable to enter the area where the enormous robot was in. this was your first time seeing it with your own eyes, in all honesty. and of course, as soon as the main doors opened, your eyes widen for a split second. seeing that it was way larger than you had anticipated, looks like this was gonna be a rough fight. "don't be so nervous now..." he says in a low whisper, walking along the path leading to the machine. "...i'll be gentle with you." the subtle suggestive comment made heat rush to your cheeks into a faint blush to which he darkly chuckles to upon taking a glance behind his back at your direction. "i suggest that you prepare yourself for what's to come, my dearest." as scaramouche said those words with you following behind him, the doors suddenly shut hard from behind you, causing your body to jump in shock. he chuckles, back turned to you, before extending his hand out in front of him to channel some sort of elemental energy from his palm. you watch from a short distance as the shouki no kami slowly moves a few movements, scaramouche shuts his eyes before finally teleporting within the central control area of the robot. the atmosphere changes to one filled with tension as he maneuvers with the various mechanisms of the machine with ease as he lets out a seemingly psychotic laugh.

"bow before me, worm!" his voice had changed, echoing through the room loudly. with widened eyes, you summon out your weapon as you see him urging you to get closer.

"come forth! i won't hurt you... much." he whispers, voice in an alluring tone. you click your tongue as you witness how his cockiness is creeping up him again like always. you laugh shortly before sprinting towards him and skillfully dealing a few hits here and there with your katana, to which he just lets out a sigh, "you're doing practically nothing, mortal!" to your side you could see the arm of the vessel making its way to hit you, fortunately, you dodge it with ease. it's coming back but thankfully you have good reaction time and dodge that attack as well before landing multiple hits against him, using your electro vision as an extra source of power.

"oh? not bad~" he coos sarcastically as his right hand hits on the side of the platform hard, causing it to shake along with causing you to lose your balance almost instantly. you look over to where the sudden shaking of the ground from and see the large mechanical hand. your eyes for some reason glue themselves to the fingers of the vessel, thinking about how he could be moving then from inside. maybe the robot follows his own movements? 'but why does it look so attractive...?' you thought for a few seconds, 'his fingers really are just so... perfect though—' you then regain your composure and stop daydreaming upon getting hit by the reality that you were still sparring with him. looking up above you to see his other hand making its' way to crush you, you immediately raise your blade in an attempt to block the attack. the vessel's fingers were right on top of you, a faint blush spreads across your cheeks as your imagination went wild with sudden desires about him once again. success seemed to be on your side for now as you see scaramouche retreat his hand away but instead hits the platform again. you feel the ground below you slowly shatter until you felt nothingness underneath your feet along with your blade being lost from your grip.

a yelp was ripped from your throat as you braced yourself for the fall that looked as if it would be the last thing you'd experience in teyvat. with eyes shut, feeling the wind against your body as you fell from who knows how many feet high, you really thought this was your last day.

not until you feel your clothes getting caught in something. with a sigh of relief, you open your eyes and see that the shouki no kami was holding you between his thumb and index finger at the back of your clothes, "i've got you." he starts dangling you in front of his eyes as if you were some sort of set of keys that he was inspecting up close. "you look so vulnerable like this, so tiny." you whimper at his words as he toyed with you, "think that's enough for today." he declared, claiming his victory. suddenly, he placed his other hand below you before letting go of your body. when you dropped it didn't hurt but it seems that you had hit your clit somewhere on his palm, the unexpected contact made you moan out of nowhere. it wasn't that loud, it wasn't quiet either; but for sure he heard it. unbeknownst to you, he was already smirking from inside the control area, cock already hard within his pants just from watching your vulnerable body in front of him not too long ago.

as you try to pick yourself up and sit upright, you hear scaramouche laugh from behind. "was that a moan i heard? you fucking slut." the blush on your cheeks reddened even more as you felt a part of your dignity being stripped away, did you really-actually-legitimately just moan from that? "no, i-it wasn't...!" you defensively say while mustering up the courage to face him despite what you both know just happened. you can feel his sharp gaze and smirk at you through the metal, as if he was looking at an ever so helpless prey. well you kind of were the said prey in this situation. although you couldn't help but to feel aroused being on his hand knowing how bad you fantasized about it not too long ago. he brings his hand closer to his face to get a better look at you before speaking, "i'll have you know that i can feel your wetness on this hand. how perverted, lusting over me in the midst of a sparring session?" he teasingly coos at you. "now then, i'm sure you know what i'd like of you? go on..."

"touch yourself in front of me, in front of your god. i'm giving you permission to give in to your desires, take your chances."

hesitating to follow his orders, you look up at him with wide eyes of disbelief. but a part of you was convinced that you should just give in already. you want him, don't you? slowly spreading your legs in front of him as your fingers begin to trail down to a rather sensitive area, you feel yourself through the thin fabric of your panties, fingers delicately rubbing slow circles on your clit. "undress." he sternly says, to which you comply immediately. breathing heavily as you discard your clothes piece after piece, throwing them somewhere near. meanwhile, scaramouche was already palming his hard-on as his gaze was focused only on your form, taking in the sweet sight of you revealing your arousal once again to him as you continue to touch yourself as per his command.

he looks down at you from up inside the vessel, watching with interest as you pleasure yourself right then and there in front of him on the palm of the robot, your fingers rubbing at your clit at a faster pace. "do you really have no shame?" he asks before chuckling darkly, you close your eyes as to focus on getting yourself to cum quicker, but then you feel something large and cold against your entrance forcing your thighs to part. your eyes hurry to open and you see a finger from his other hand in between your thighs, "don't get shy now~" scaramouche says in a manner that seemed humiliating, as if he was mocking you, "grind on my finger, whore. you know you want to."

you couldn't help but whine at his words and the sudden temperature change between your legs. he noticed how you weren't doing what he had just ordered and decided to take control instead. he lets out a long sigh before slowly moving his finger back and forth, having his fingertip rub against your soaked folds, careful not to accidentally apply any sort of pressure that could possibly hurt you in any way—giving attention to the obvious power and size difference of your body and the shouki no kami. the sensation has you moaning out loud, voice echoing as if it were bouncing off the walls repeatedly. soon enough, you find yourself doing the work now, grinding against the metal until it was practically coated in your essence as one of your hands cup your breasts to knead it gently whilst the other rubs at your clit at a steady pace.

not long after, you feel your orgasm approaching already, breaths uneven as you continuously let out moans of his name all the while your body shakes slightly. but as you bucked your hips for friction—you notice how you felt nothing instead, your movements come to a stop as you look at him with pleading eyes. scaramouche lets out a small laugh as he saw your immediate reaction, he had moved his hand away from you completely. "oh, you fucking whore." he says with an intoxicating tone, "if you're gonna ruin this vessel, then..." you try to ignore his words as you focused on getting yourself to climax instead. your eyes closed shut as you start to desperately touch yourself a bit more aggressively than before. unfortunately for you, it didn't really seem to work. well, not until you felt something suddenly fill you up completely, your eyes opening at the intrusion. you gasp as you finally feel his cock buried inside your warmth, along with his thumb replacing the spot occupied by your own fingers that were on your clit as he pinched the bud gently, causing you to let out a moan.

"...i'm gonna ruin you as well."

scaramouche's voice was laced with intoxication as he spoke to you in a whisper. he then began to pound into you roughly, with long, deep, strong thrusts that hit all the right areas with ease as you screamed for him with each snap of his hips against yours. picking up the pace soon after, he began fucking you fast and rough, just the way you like. grunts and groans occasionally left his agape lips as he held your thighs apart. "you love it, right? you love how helpless and submissive you become underneath me~" he says before pulling you closer to him and repositioning you into a mating press, having you folded in half and entirely at his mercy before he started to pound into you once again—reaching even deeper parts of your cunt as he rubs circles on your swollen clit. "fuck, i'm gonna breed you sooo good. you want me to fill you up, don't you?~"

you nod frantically in response, being unable to construct proper words as the overwhelming pleasure takes over you completely. "so close... ah~ scara~!" you cry out as he continues to thrust into you relentlessly, hitting your g-spot over and over again until you were a sobbing, moaning, shaking mess below him. "that's it~" he coos, "come on, cum for me. you are a good girl after all, aren't you? cum for your god." his words bring you to the edge as you cum hard, a pornographic moan escaping from your lips as drool began to drip from the corners of it. "s-scara—" "my lord." he cuts you off, correcting your words before he started thrusting into you again, knowing damn well how sensitive you felt, having practically no time to recover from your previous orgasm. "my lord-aah~! right there...!" you mewl out as he hit another perfect angle that drove you crazy, "tell me..." his hand suddenly went to your neck, fingers wrapping around the soft flesh tightly—not tight enough to the point that you couldn't breathe, but tight enough to make your head spin as his eyes pierced through yours with desire filled in them.

"how does it feel getting fucked by a god like me? having this much power and control over both your body and your mind."

"s-so good... hngh~ ah~!" your vision slowly get blurry as you feel yourself getting weaker by the minute. you feel his cock twitch against your walls, signalling how close he is as well. "you feel so good around me, fuck~" the grip he had on your neck tightens slightly as he groans deeply, "beg me to cum inside you." scaramouche sternly says, "beg your god for his seed~" he grins mischievously as he watches the tears that had formed in your eyes slowly drip down your flushed cheeks. "c-cum inside me, my lord—ahh~! master... m-my god~" you choke out as you feel another amazing climax about to erupt from you, "please~!" your voice cracks a bit as you said those words. not long after, he snaps his hips against yours one final time, making sure to be balls deep as he shoots ropes of his thick and warm cum deep inside your pussy, which had definitely reached your womb as well. "oh, fuck~" he moans lowly as he gently pulled out of you, gaze falling towards your cunt as he keenly observed how your mixed fluids drip out to pool below you, all over the shouki no kami's hand.

you try and relax your body, closing your eyes and just letting yourself lay there tiredly, while scaramouche watches your chest rise and fall as you pant heavily after the intense session. normally, he'd let you rest but that doesn't seem to be what he wants right now. you whimper and look at him with teary, half lidded eyes as he suddenly pulls you towards him once again, pushing his cock back inside, along with pushing the cum back and reaching further down your pussy.

"one load won't be enough to breed you, darling~"

#☾★ written »#☾★ kuni »#scaramouche smut #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x y/n #genshin smut #genshin x reader #shouki no kami smut #shouki no kami x reader #fem!reader

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freakingholland · 1 month ago

Text

freakingholland's batboys headcanons part 1

A/N: Hi cuties! After posting some dc comics related imagines over the last couple of years I've decided to finally post a list of my own headcanons for batboys! Just a disclaimer - these are based on multiple dc related media (comics, shows, fan-made content) as well as just my imagination. I do not mean any harm with these! Also if you agree/disagree with these let me know in the comments/asks/rbs because I'm super intrested in what you guys think and your own fanons! Stay whelmed xx questions/ideas here! - rules here my wattpad archive is here my AO3 archive is here If you enjoyed my work: Ko-fi.com/freakingholland masterlist

Dick Grayson (25-29ish yo)

Wears contacts all the time when he’s out. His sight used to be perfect up until puberty. Only wears prescription glasses when he knows he’ll spend the entire day wearing sunglasses – has prescription on them (he does have an emergency pair of regular glasses though).

Has a deep set of dimples. More visible when he’s a dehydrated raisin of a human being. He has a special bottle for just water to force himself to drink more.

Is left handed. His siblings bother him for that matter when he accidentally elbows somebody while eating.

Is “silently” addicted to energy drinks. Has tried to switch to other beverages but ultimately always goes back to energy drinks.

Sings in the shower, has a genuinely good singing voice. Pretends to be shy when people suggest doing karaoke.

Has chronic wrist pain due to a bad fracture.

Is a minimalist. Hates clutter and frequently gets rid of things like clothes, unnecessary gadgets, kitchen utensils etc.

Loves rock climbing and bouldering.

Has pockmarks on his cheeks. Had tried different products to make them fade away, but gave up and accepted his fate.

Uses a lot of post-it notes around his apartment.

Jason Todd (22-24ish yo)

Jason is the only one with brown eyes. You cannot convince me otherwise. Don’t try to.

He’s the best cook out of all the guys. Finds it very therapeutic. Genuinely enjoys making meals especially if others can stop by for dinner or pick up his food. (always makes me think of those pics of him and Dick in the kitchen in Gotham Knights!)

Has type 1 diabetes, uses a pump. (As mentioned here!)

Has a private library stamp for his book collection because any time someone visits him, somebody borrows (steals) books from him.

Plays the violin, self-taught as an adult. It’s his “safe” hobby that convinces his neighbours that he’s just a regular guy.

Has a full arm tattoo sleeve, it’s his way of dealing with body dysmorphia and body image issues. His tattoos include book references, fav movie characters and different symbols for all of the siblings (not their super hero stuff though, for safety reasons).

Has reading glasses. (As mentioned here!)

Hates arugula, loves Italian cuisine. He is not afraid of carbs (his glucose monitor states otherwise) and makes noodles often.

Has wavy hair but doesn’t use proper products for his texture.

Has veryyy straight teeth naturally. Others are jealous.

Tim Drake (20-21ish yo)

Journals. Even when he’s severely sleep deprived. It’s his way of dealing with heavy stuff, but also his archive in case he goes missing.

Has a nintendo switch. Doesn’t really use it but he knows that Damian steals it that’s why he keeps it instead of selling it.

Has a proper skin care routine. It includes dying his hair dark every 4 weeks cause he has gray hairs due to stress.

Uses ktape regularly. Struggles with chronic back pain and uses a foam roller.

Is vegan. Doesn’t try to convince other peeps to switch to veganism knowing that they are barely capable of making food for themselves. Will make an exception and eat meat if it’s a meal prepared by somebody close to him.

Is a huge music fan, listens to music often. Mostly metal, but also pop, rap. Doesn’t really discriminate music genres.

Loves playing board games. Is the type to bring board games to social meetings of sorts in case people want to play.

Has a very pleasant, contagious laugh. Rarely laughs out loud, but those who know his laugh try hard to make him laugh for that matter.

Has really sparse facial hair. Would like to grow out a stache or beard but cannot.

Blushes very easily. Doesn’t like it. Despises cold temperatures for that matter.

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healmyhrt · 8 months ago

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I have an idea. So there is a cowboy hat rule. And it basically works like this : when the cowboy gives a girl his hat he like "chooses her" and when she gives him his hat back (she have to return the hat to his HOME) they usually fuck or smth. So my idea is that the y/n gives Chris the hat on tik tok, live or yt vid and chris is confused and doesn't know what that means but fans freaks out and he finally learn what that means and return the hat. Or something like this idk

⌗ like the cowgirl you are, c. sturniolo

chris x fem!reader

summary: chris had given you his hat back in the summertime, now it was finally time for you to return it at your university’s halloween party. except for the fact that you and chris had broken up since the school year started. but cowboy hats do have rules, don’t they?

disclaimers!: smut, kissing, angst, oral sex (fem!receiving), good girl/boy kink, cursing, use of y/n

a/n: i changed up the request a little bit bc it kinda confused me idk 😭 hope the submitter enjoys this though! | also i had to make up her friends name but “eden” is not a special character to the story guys

it was october 31st, and it was my university’s annual halloween costume party. and also the day that the cowboy hat rule comes to an end.

there’s this tradition to get the freshman at my college to fuck their first year. the boy gives a girl their cowboy hat anytime after summer starts, and they have until the halloween party to have sex. after the halloween party, you’ve lost your free fuck.

chris and i had been dating since sophomore year, and we attended the same school this year too. he had given me his cowboy hat during summertime, but we broke up right after school started.

and i guess today is the last day that the cowboy hat rule is valid. i didn’t want chris to be the person id have to do it with but… we’ll see how tonight goes.

“y/n, lets go!” a voice calls through my door.

“one second! i can’t find my bandana!” the costume was last minute, and i was matching with one of my new friends, eden, who was a sophomore. she wanted to do a matching costume, but the only sexyish ones left at the costume store were cowgirls. ironic, isn’t it?

i see a bright red piece of fabric hanging on the corner of my bed frame. “coming!” i smile, tying the bandana around my neck.

i grab chris’s hat, holding it in my hands, and staring at it. i slowly put it on in the mirror, and sigh. “here we go.”

“i need a drink.” eden sighs. we enter the sorority house that was throwing the party, and she tightly grips my hand, guiding me to the drinks table.

she hands me a red solo cup, and i push her hand back to her. “designated driver? hello?” i raise an eyebrow. she rolls her eyes. “it’s halloween, lets just get an uber or sleep here or something. live a little.” i sigh.

“pleaseeeeeeee.” she dramatically frowns. i cross my arms, and she gives me a look. “fine.” i chuckle.

“im the best fucking drink mixer there is, you wait and see.” she smirks. i shimmy in place next to her. “gotta pee. where’s the bathroom?” i question. eden points to the line of girls waiting next to a wooden door.

“fuck.”

“use the master bathroom. that’s the one for the people in sorority only, but im friends with half the group. tell ‘em i said you could go.” she smiles, licking spilled alcohol off of her finger.

“you sure?” i give a scared look to her. “go, y/n.”

“which door is it?” i bite my bottom lip. “last door on the left. be aware for socks on door handles.” she chuckles. i roll my eyes.

i nod. “i’ll be here when you get back!” i give her a thumbs up before disappearing upstairs. there weren’t really a lot of people upstairs. some people talking in the hallway, some couples sneaking off into bedrooms, or hogging bathrooms.

i arrive at the last door on the left, and i look around to make sure i was at the correct one before entering.

it was so much quieter in here. despite the now muffled music from outside, i’d stay in here for the rest of the party if i could.

drying my hands, i hear muffled sound from the other side of the bathroom door. i slowly open it, hoping i don’t walk out on a couple.

i see a fitted cap sitting on the carpet, and i walk over to it. picking up the hat, i realize exactly whose it is.

“long time no see.” a familiar voice says from behind me.

fuck.

i slowly turn around, preparing to see him. “y/n.” chris smiles that familiar smile.

“christopher.” i stare at him. he smirks, walking closer to me. “y’know, i always loved when you called me that.”

i scoff. “yeah?” he clears his throat. “yeah.”

chris leans against the sofa in the middle of the room, not taking his eyes off of me. i sit on the ottoman a few feet away.

“you look good.” he smiles, bringing his cup to his lips.

“you look… like you.” i fidget with his hat in my hands. chris places his cup on the floor next to his feet, and leans forward. “is that my hat?” he questions.

“yeah, here.” i stand up, and immediately walk over to him. i hold out his cap, and his eyes stay on mine.

“thanks… but not this one.”

i freeze in place. chris stands, towering over me, and takes his cowboy hat off of my head. “you still have this?” he says through a chuckle. “yep.” i sigh.

“we broke up.” chris says, still looking at the hat. i nod, and scoff. “yep.” i say again. he looks at me, and stares.

i sigh. “well, you returned it.” he smirks. i scoff, moving past him, and sitting on the couch. i can feel his eyes burning into the back of my head. “im gonna go.”

i hear his steps get further and further, and then stop at the door. before he gets his hand on the handle, i stand.

“why?”

chris turns around, a confused expression across his face. he shrugs. “why what?” i swallow before speaking.

“why did you kiss her back?” i ask, my voice breaking slowly. chris’s face drops, and he looks at the ground.

“i don’t know.”

i scoff. “you don’t know?” chris slowly steps toward me. i stand, arms crossed, as he arrives in front of me.

“i was wasted. i wasn’t thinking straight. i don’t know why i did it, and ive never forgiven myself, y/n.” he says.

chris slumps down on the sofa next to us, holding his head in his palms. i bite my bottom lip, debating whether or not i should sit.

chris sounded genuine. i truly do believe he didn’t mean to kiss her back. but knowing it happened still hurts.

i sit next to him, my outer thigh rubbing against his the denim that covered his legs. chris rubs his eyes, and drags his fingers down his face. “i really am so sorry.”

i shift in my position, and he looks at me. i try not to hold eye contact because he never looks away. ever.

“please believe me when i say this, i never would do what i did ever again. im so sorry.” he keeps staring.

i sigh, and lean my head against his shoulder. he leans his head on top of mine, and exhales heavily. i smile.

“i still love you.”

my eyes widen, and i slowly lift my head up, his as well. i look chris in the eyes, and he nods. “i mean it.”

i pull on my bottom lip with my teeth, and stand. i take the cowboy hat from his hands, and begin walking to the door. “i love you too.” i say, my hand on the door handle.

chris doesn’t turn around, he continues to face the wall before him, sinking into the couch. and i hesitate. i do still love chris, i never stopped.

but could we really just go back to normal after that? i’m not sure. but right about now, some sex with him would definitely clear the air. although, i’m not sure i’m entirely drunk enough to do that. eden and i pregamed before we left, but that’s about it… fuck it.

“wanna show me how much you still love me?”

chris’s head snaps toward me. he raises an eyebrow. i smile, and raise the cowboy hat above my head.

“i mean cowboy hats do have rules, don’t they?” chris stands, slowly walking toward me with a smirk across his face. “they sure do.”

he lifts me off the ground like i weigh nothing, and i wrap my legs around his waist. chris holds both hands under my ass, and i stare into his eyes. “you sure about this?”

i smile, and place the hat over his long hair.

“yes ma’am.” he replies, instantly laying me down on the master bed beside us, kissing me uncontrollably.

“i missed you,”

kiss.

“so,”

kiss.

“so,”

kiss.

“much,”

and he places one more kiss on my lips, and pulls away, staring down at me. i exhale, breaking the eye contact.

“well, if you missed me so much, prove it.” i smile.

chris’s expression turns into a smug smirk, and he leans forward, kissing me again, and gripping my waist with his pale hands.

he kisses down my neck, leaving notably visibly hickeys as he moves. i breathe heavily, trying to contain myself as he kisses and bites at my skin. “chris, please…”

“so needy. have you been waiting for me to fuck you?”

there was no point in denying. i nod, as he begins to unbuckle his belt. “use your words.” i exhale heavily.

“yeah.”

“yeah?” he pulls his belt out of the loops on his jeans, and tosses it onto the marble floor that surrounded us.

he leans back down, and begins removing pieces of my costume. chris slowly unties the red bandana from around my neck. he looks at it, then at me. “useful.”

chris takes his time removing his t-shirt. he holds eye contact with me, moving as slow as possible. “chris..”

he brings his finger to my lips. “shhh… patience.”

i throw my head back in irritation, and before i know it, two hands grip my thighs and pull me to the edge of the bed. chris spreads my legs, kissing and biting my inner thigh. “don’t need these.” he says, stroking a finger across my underwear before removing them.

he grips my hips, and moves his face closer to me. softly planting a kiss on my clit, i feel him smirk against me.

he moves his head up and down, licking from my entrance and back up to my clit. "fuck—" I moan out as he starts to lap at my clit, sending pleasure everywhere throughout my body.

cheis places his hands on the top of my thighs, making me grind against his mouth, guiding him.

his grip gets tighter, and my breathing heavier.

he continues to lick up my arousal, and i place my hands in his hair, moving it out of his face.

chris stands up, and catches his breath. i do the same, and we finally look at eachother again and he smiles.

“what if i kissed you right now?” “gross.”

he laughs, and begins to unbuckle his belt. chris holds eye contact with me the whole time. “you ready, baby?”

i nod, and chris pulls a wrapped condom out of his sock.“what the hell?” i say, through a chuckle. chris returns a laugh, and rips the top of the wrapper off with his teeth.

“gotta stay prepared.”

he pulls down his boxers, revealing his cock, which oozed with precum. i stare, my eyes getting dry, and chris smirks, placing the condom over himself.

he aligns himself with my entrance, and gives me another look for consent. “ready?” i nod. “positive.”

we both gasp as chris begins to slide in, and an immediate moan leaves my mouth. “shhhhhhhh.”

“we can’t have the whole party hearing you.”

chris glances at my red bandana, and grabs it quickly. he folds it over and over until it’s long, and looks at me.

“head.” he says, i lift my head up as best i can with him thrusting into me, and he ties it around my mouth to the back of my head.

“good girl.”

chris places both hands on my waist again, gripping it tightly. he plunges into me, making a murmured moan leave my lips every time.

chris bites his bottom lip to hold back the moans that threatened to escape him. he throws his head back, and squeezes his eyes shut.

the bed creaks consistently, and it’s pretty loud too, so it’s very obvious to everyone outside what we’re doing.

chris’s thrusts start to slow, and he begins to catch his breath. “so close… gonna—” i feel him turn warm inside me as the condom fills up.

chris leans down, untying the bandana, and placing his head next to mine. i finally breathe, and shut my eyes.

“you’re so good, baby. always so good.”

he lays down next to me, breathing heavily. i just stare at him. and he stares back.

i couldn’t help but think that this was maybe a mistake?

but whether i liked it or not, we had sex, and that’s a pretty difficult thing for two ex’s to get away from.

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #chris x reader #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo

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