#but this particular one puts a bad taste in my mouth and i felt like saying something about it hdugduvd

[marshmellowtea]

not to actually dip my toes into avatar discourse tm tm but it does actually bother me when people argue that azula couldn’t have abused zuko because she’s younger than him, like……sure, age is a common factor in how much power someone has over someone so it’s probably more likely for older siblings to abuse their younger ones, but it’s still not impossible for a younger sibling to abuse their older sibling. i just feel like you can make your arguments without invalidating a dynamic that real people have actually experienced irl.

[joelscurls]

stalemate

pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

words: 7.2k

summary: Frankie Morales is your best friend — until a drunken hookup tears you apart.

warnings: 18+ minors dni; friends -> enemies -> lovers, TF characters without the TF plot, no Tom (in this house we hate Tom), alcohol consumption, smoking, angst, jealousy, pining, Frankie & reader being idiots in love, explicit smut, size kink, brief mentions of drunk sex, bad / regretful sex (between reader & OC), oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, multiple orgasms, use of pet names (bebita, querida, baby, etc.), grilled cheese as a love language, happy ending, I think that's it but let me know if I missed anything!

a/n:  thank you so much to @javisashtray & @pedgito for beta-reading this for me <3 this is for all my frankie lovers out there (aka bitches with good taste). dividers are by cafekitsune. follow @joelscurlsupdates for fic notifications! enjoy :)

Frankie Morales makes the best grilled cheese you’ve ever had. Perfectly golden bread; gooey, melty cheese — just the thought of it makes you drool. He says he has a secret ingredient. Won’t let you in the kitchen while he cooks for you, lest you find out. 

Sometimes, upon entering his apartment, you can already smell melted butter. He’ll have started on one without even asking if you want it. He knows you always do. 

Sit, he’ll shout from the other room. I’ll be right there. Feel free to put something on — but please, not 13 Going on 30. You’ll thank him and question his distaste for Mark Ruffalo in the same breath: you’re the best, but it’s not my fault Matty is the dream man.

He’ll bring you the wafting plate along with a Corona, and insist that you eat before it goes cold while he makes one for himself. Ever the gentleman, ever the friend — at least he was.

Because the two of you haven’t spoken in a month; not since the drunken hookup that you’re both pretending didn’t happen.

You’d laughed the entire cab ride home from the bar. That last round of tequila shots had left you feeling good, all warm and giggly, and Frankie mirrored you in the backseat with his drunken grin. Eyes glassy, lips pulled wide, he’d smacked you lightly on the shoulder as you recalled Santiago’s pitiful loss in that third game of pool. “When he pocketed the eight-ball…” he trailed off into another fit of laughter. 

“And then—“ you attempted, voice caught in your throat as another giggle barreled out. “—the cue hitting his drink!” Your entire body folded over, hands braced on Frankie’s thighs as the two of you struggled to regain composure. Through labored breaths, you squealed. “He’s never going to live that down!”

After a few particularly stressful months at work, you lived for these nights out with your friends. You’d met Frankie through your best friend Mal, who was dating his friend Benny, and your circles had eventually meshed into one. Sometimes it felt like it had always been that way, like you’d known the guys your entire life.

Especially Frankie.

Your friendship was a special one — punctuated by frequent trips to the movies to watch the latest horrible slasher film; by nights spent yapping on the phone about nothing in particular. He’d become a constant in your life. Never, in your right mind, would you even dream of doing anything to jeopardize that— 

“You look really hot tonight, by the way.”

He shouldn’t have said that. He shouldn’t have. But then it was you who leaned in closer, you who rested your hand on his hip and plucked the Standard Heating Oil cap off his head, placing it atop your own.

It was you who kissed him first.

He deepened it though — that was all him — large, restless hands grasping at your sides, your back, your face; tongue pushing past the seam of your lips to press against yours. He’d groaned into your mouth when the cab stopped at the curb in front of your building. Cursed under his breath when you pulled away.

And then, your voice ragged and breathless, you’d asked, “do you want to come in for a bit?”

It was a mistake. A horrible, blissful mistake. Waking up with sticky thighs and Frankie’s thumbprint bruised into your hip, you’d found his side of the bed cold; your inbox empty. He hadn’t called, hadn’t texted. Still hasn’t.

The aftermath is cursory glances. Half-assed greetings and pleasantries murmured across the bar. Which you don’t mind, really. You don’t want to speak to him. He’d probably just feed you some lie about losing track of time, not remembering what happened that night.

You wish you could forget it.

The visual is fuzzy; fleeting. But his voice — god, his voice — it still rings in your ears, drips at the nape of your neck like a leaking tap: fuck, baby, knew you’d take my cock; feel so good wrapped around me.

Your friends don’t know. They can’t; they wouldn’t let you live it down. Benny has made plenty of offhand comments already about you and Frankie being perfect for each other, having the same stubborn disposition. Mal does nothing to shut him up. Instead, she encourages him. Tells him he’s so right. 

You’re pretty sure your eyeballs are going to fall out someday from glaring too hard.

Because you’re not perfect for each other — far from it, actually. Fuck, you can’t even communicate effectively. How could you ever be in a real relationship? 

Not that you want that. Frankie is…well, Frankie. Sure, he’d felt undeniably incredible on top of you, inside of you — but he isn’t the type to settle down. In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever heard Frankie talk about dating. 

Besides, he’s clearly not interested in being anyone’s anything right now. Not even your friend. 

It hurts; cuts deeper than you care to admit. Just weeks ago, you’d spent an entire weekend at his place, marathoning the X Files and gorging on cold pizza. Now, he won’t even look your way for more than a few seconds. 

Won’t make you a fucking grilled cheese.

It’s a Friday night, which means you’re meeting your friends at Sid’s. The glow of neon seeping through the windows of the old dive bar is warm and inviting as you step out of your rideshare and make your way toward the doors.

Frankie is sitting at the bar with Santiago when you enter. Hunched shoulders, narrowed eyes trained on his bottle of Corona, he appears detached from whatever Santi is saying to him. He doesn’t acknowledge you when you stroll up to them — not until his friend’s hand lands hard on his back, pulling his attention away from the beer. He offers a half-assed hello and an even more half-assed half-hug, and then he’s sliding back onto his barstool. 

Ever-oblivious, Santiago doesn’t seem to notice the way Frankie curls in on himself; the way your back is up like an agitated cat’s.

Mal and Benny turn up minutes later, immediately ordering a round of shots for the group. You down the liquor eagerly, not bothering to lean on salt and lime to numb the sting. You want to feel it. You order another before joining Mal and the guys at a pool table in the back, letting the acid slide down your throat with no more than a wince as Santi racks the balls.

“Alright Fish, you’re up,” he says. “Me and you. Whoever loses buys the next round.”

You watch as Frankie quirks a brow at him. Takes a swig of his beer. “You sure you want to make that bet, Pope?”

Santi grins; nods confidently. “Hell yeah, I do.” The rest of you don’t bother to suppress your laughter. You catch a glimpse of Frankie, head thrown back, his broad, glistening neck exposed, and you have to fight to ignore the sudden panging in your chest.

When Santi inevitably loses, you order a vodka soda. You’re already feeling a bit tipsy after two shots in less than twenty minutes, so the drink goes down smooth; quick. There’s a rush to your head as you settle back at the bar and fiddle with the wrapper to your straw, letting the slightly soggy paper roll between two fingers.

You barely notice when Frankie slots in a few seats down, your attention drawn only when you hear his voice. It’s deep — sounds just like it did when he had his chest pressed to your back in the dim light of your bedroom — and his intonation nearly gives you whiplash. 

When you snap your head up to look at him, you find he’s speaking to a woman. Her back is turned to you, long, dark hair tossed over her shoulder and her elbow resting casually on the bartop, but you imagine she must be beautiful by the way Frankie is visibly fawning over her. You’re staring, you hear her tease. Can’t help it, comes his reply.

Something like discomfort builds in your throat. Rises up up up. You take a long sip of your drink, letting vodka and sugar push it down. 

You’ve never seen Frankie flirt with anyone, apart from you. It’s strangely unsettling, listening to him smooth-talk her. I’m a pilot, you know, he brags; could take you up in the sky someday if you wanted. Her giddy squeal comes seconds later; really? You’d do that for me?

You feel bad for her. She doesn’t know yet that all he’ll do is disappoint her.

He feeds her lines as you sip on your drink, citrus and grain burning only when he tells her: yeah, I came with friends; they’re all over there. Gestures toward Benny, Mal and Santi standing around the pool table in the back.

Scoffing, you stand from your seat at the bar and retreat to the patio. You don’t bother to check if Frankie is looking. 

It’s cooler here, a sobering breeze carrying salt air with it as it wafts by. A few patrons have spilled outside, most smoking on faintly glowing cigarettes as they talk and laugh boisterously among themselves. You’d planned to sit alone, to plant yourself on a bench and enjoy your drink in solitude. But then a stranger is approaching you — a man, cigarette grasped between two of his fingers — and he’s asking you for a light.

He’s in his mid thirties, if you had to guess. Curly, dark hair sprouts every which way from his scalp; rounded, green eyes studying you as he awaits a response. He’s tall, though not as tall as Frankie.  His shoulders aren’t nearly as broad and his chest isn’t quite as wide. His t-shirt hangs loose around his torso, swallowing his narrow frame — dissimilar to the way Frankie’s button-down clings to him. 

Then again — why are you even comparing? Maybe the opposite of Frankie is exactly what you need. 

You’ll have to seduce this stranger first, though. Not that it seems like it’ll be very difficult. His eyes are already raking over you, lips turned up at the corner as you take a casual sip of your drink.

“I don’t smoke,” you admit apologetically. 

“Ah — that’s alright.” 

He has an accent; midwestern, maybe? You don’t bother to ask. You don’t care, really. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is—

“You here all by yourself?”

“Yeah,” he laughs at your lack of subtlety. “Are you?”

“No,” you say. “My friends are inside.” Lowering your voice, you add, “but I was thinking about leaving soon.”

“Why’s that? Early morning tomorrow?”

You shake your head. Rub at your neck as if working out a knot, a contented hum pushing past your lips at the press of fingers into skin. Your stranger’s eyes trail rather conspicuously downward.

“Just over it,” you sigh exasperatedly. “I’d much rather be home…in bed…out of these clothes.”

You pull gently at the strap of your dress, as if you can’t bear the sensation of it against your shoulder any longer.

Your stranger’s gaze darkens, and the grip on his box of cigarettes grows tighter.

“You uh — want some company — once I find a light?”

Too fucking easy.

“Sure,” you giggle.

He slips away only for a minute or two, giving you just enough time to second-guess yourself. You know nothing about this man, not even his name; only that he smokes American Spirits and smells like tobacco. Should you really go home with him? 

But then you think of Frankie inside  — talking up a woman at the bar, pretending that you don’t exist — and that just about makes up your mind for you.

Your stranger reappears, now-lit cigarette dangling from his lips. The tip of it rages red and angry, and you think you know how that feels.

He smirks at you as he stuffs the pack into the front pocket of his jeans. An unceremonious silence hangs in the air as he sucks on the filter and puffs out a string of smoke. You wait patiently for him, quietly. 

He snuffs the butt of his cigarette out in a nearby ashtray. Takes your empty cup and discards that too. 

Can’t wait to get you home, he whispers in your ear then. You feign arousal, peering up at him and batting your eyelashes. Me neither, you mewl. Let’s go.

You lead him back through the bar, finding Mal and letting her know that you’ll be going. She seems a little perplexed, quirking a brow at you as you grip tightly onto your stranger’s arm, but she tells you to have fun anyway. Text me, she mouths as you make your way to the exit.

You only get a few feet, though, before you’re intercepted.

Frankie is blocking the door, arms crossed, a panic-stricken look on his face that you can’t quite comprehend. “Hey,” he says, “can I talk to you real quick?”

Your stranger backs off. Lets go of your arm and starts out the door. “I’ll wait outside,” he says, slipping away with a wink before you can protest.

The bar is bustling with noise, people in every corner drinking and laughing and dancing. Strangely, though, you’ve never felt so alone. So vulnerable. And you hate that Frankie has this power over you, the innate ability to make you feel so fucking small. It’s infuriating, it’s—

“Are you sure you want to leave with him?”

“Excuse me?” you scoff. 

Frankie stares you down, face red, eyes inky-black. “You don’t know this guy, do you? What if he’s a murderer or something? Or like — a pervert?” 

He’s grasping at straws, you know it. It’s why you laugh; roll your eyes. 

“What are you, my keeper?”

“No, it’s just — I’m just concerned for your safety, okay?”

You’re briefly stunned. After weeks of ignoring you, he cares about your wellbeing? How can he be so hypocritical?

“I’m fine,” you bite back. “Why don’t you go back to your girl at the bar? Worry about getting yourself some instead?”

He’s wounded, if only slightly. His lips part like he might retaliate, but he’s silent. Dejected. Satisfied, you brush past him. March out the door without so much as a parting glance.

Finding your stranger leaning against the bar’s brick exterior, you force a smile. He outstretches a hand and you take it, reluctantly. “Ready to go?” he asks. 

You’re not so sure anymore, but you nod anyway. Squeeze your stranger’s bicep and preen under his lustful gaze when he tenses in your grip. “Yeah,” you purr. “I’m ready.”

Cold air bites at your toes the following morning. It wakes you from a deep slumber; bitterly pulls you into consciousness. Confused, you yank at the covers. But a mysterious weight holds them in place, and only then do you remember then that you’re not alone. 

Eyes sliding open reluctantly, you scan the room. Your dress from the night before is draped over the chair in the corner, your stranger’s clothes piled up on the floor nearby. He snores next to you, an arm raising to hang above his head, and you shift. Slip out of bed and pull a t-shirt on before padding into the bathroom.

Early morning light spills across tile, bounces off the mirror above the sink. You squint, shuffling over to the window and yanking the blinds closed. Then you check for damage in your reflection. Your makeup from the night before has stained your cheeks and your eyes look as tired as you feel, but otherwise there appears to be no physical evidence of your rock bottom.

The sex wasn’t great — not even good, really. Your stranger had lasted all of three minutes, had fanned his hot breath across the shell of your ear as he came, and then collapsed on top of you. Rolled over and drifted to sleep. He’d started snoring before you could even process what had just happened.

Cold water splashed across your cheeks does nothing to cool the burn of regret that scorches your skin. You feel uncomfortable, almost as if your body is tainted, now, remnants of your stranger leaking from between your thighs as you steady yourself at the edge of the sink. 

He must’ve heard the tap, or maybe the pounding in your chest, because he emerges seconds later. He yawns and stretches, feline-like, in the doorway. “Hey,” he mutters. “How’d you sleep?”

“Pretty good,” you say, eyes twitching slightly as you will them to stay put above his waistline. 

“You always up this early?”

You nod. It’s a lie, but he doesn’t need to know that you’d nearly jumped out of bed at the sight of him still there. He doesn’t need to know that for a split second, you’d almost hoped it was Frankie.

He asks if you want to get breakfast. You shake your head in faux-sympathy. “Sorry, can’t. I was hoping to get some cleaning done.”

“I could stick around and help,” he offers. 

Jesus Christ. Just take the fucking hint.

“That’s so nice of you; I’m just more efficient by myself,” you lie again. 

If Frankie were here, he’d grab the cleaning rags out of the closet just off the kitchen. He knows where they’re kept: second shelf, on the left. He’d wipe down the counters and the coffee table while you’d work on clearing dishes, disposing of pizza scraps. And he’d probably put on his dad-rock playlist — against your wishes — though you’d inevitably find yourself dancing to Foo Fighters and giggling when he’d sing along and mess up the words.

It begins to sink in then, as you shoo your stranger, now dressed, out the door, that your attempt to use sex as a way to get Frankie out of your head was useless. He’s still there, refusing quite adamantly to budge, all mussed curls and big eyes and deep voice. There’s no evidence that he’ll be leaving any time soon.

The revelation renders you nauseous. You spend the rest of the day with a hangover that you’re sure has not been induced by alcohol. And by the time night falls, darkness descending over your bedroom like a fog, you still feel sick.

A week later, you drag yourself to Benny and Mal’s for their monthly game night. You’d tried to get out of it, told Mal you haven’t been feeling great — which isn't a total lie — but she’d begged you until you broke. 

Will is coming, and it’ll be the first time we’ve all gotten together in over a year, she’d whined through the receiver. 

And then-

I know things were weird between you and Frankie last time at the bar, but you can’t let that stop us from seeing each other.

How do you know that, you’d asked, chewing on your bottom lip, the phone tucked between your ear and your shoulder.

He basically moped around the rest of the night after you left. Kept bitching about you leaving with that guy. He seemed really…agitated. You don’t have to tell me what happened, just please don’t bail.

So you’re here, steeling yourself as you climb the steps to the front door, hoping that if nothing else, you can make it through the night without strangling Frankie for his lack of discretion. 

You enter the house with baited breath.

Your eyes immediately catch Frankie, tucked into the corner of the sectional, fingers wrapped tightly around his beer. He meets your gaze briefly before letting it slip to the floor by his feet, as if he’s trying to pretend he hasn’t seen you at all. 

“Hi,” you try.

He looks back up at you, or rather past you. Taps his fingers along the bottle for a long moment. “Hey,” he says finally, to the wall behind your head.

“How have you been?” the words come out forced, almost foreign. You shift your weight awkwardly and he sighs. 

“Fine. I’m fine.” 

“Right,” you mutter. More silence. “Me too, in case you were wondering.”

“Good,” he says, voice cold. “That’s good.”

You’re not sure whether you want to slap him or kiss him. Because as infuriating as he’s being right now, he looks gorgeous, denim shirt hugging his biceps, his shoulders; stray curls peaking out from under that stupid Standard Heating Oil hat. You yearn to rip it off his head, run your fingers through his hair, nip along the sharp line of his jaw; the broad expanse of his neck.

You long to feel something other than the prominent ache that’s permeated your body for weeks, now. And you fear that he’s the only one who’d be able to alleviate it.

Your mouth opens again just as Benny emerges from the kitchen. Whatever words you were about to utter are lost in the ether as he pulls you into a suffocating hug and thanks you for coming. 

“Mal’s in the kitchen,” he says. Grabs a handful of Lays from a bowl on the coffee table and shovels them into his mouth. Still chewing, he adds, “we got those wine coolers you like; they’re in the fridge.”

With a hurried thanks, you slip away unscathed.

You find Mal crouched in front of the open fridge, rustling through a produce drawer stocked with beer cans. 

“Hey,” you announce. 

She seems almost surprised to see you when she cranes her neck toward your voice, despite your promise to show. Eyebrows raised, mouth slightly agape, it’s as if she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. She pulls another drawer open. Fishes out a wine cooler and passes it to you with an outstretched arm. 

You take it in one hand. Help her up with the other. 

“You’re here,” she says, and it sounds like more of a question than a statement. 

“Yeah. I said I would be.”

“I know, I know. It’s just — I wasn’t sure. The whole Frankie thing…” 

“It’s nothing; I promise,” you lie. “Water under the bridge. We’re fine.”

She quirks a brow at you, disbelief coloring her features, but she lets it go. Closes the fridge with a thunk and adjusts her sweater at the hem. “Good,” she says. “I don’t want you two ruining game night.”

It’s half a joke, but you know deep down she means it. She takes this all very seriously. Back in college, she’d forced you and your suitemates to play Cards Against Humanity with her every weekend. None of you had the heart to tell her when it started to grow monotonous, and so the tradition carried on well past graduation, eventually evolving into a new tradition with new friends.

Games bring people together, she’d said once over a round of Monopoly that had stretched well into the night, resulting in delirious laughter and a warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest.

You’d believed her at the time. Now, you’re not so sure that it’s foolproof.

The two of you rejoin the guys in the living room, Santiago and Will having shown up in your absence. You greet them as Benny pulls out a stack of game boxes. Settle on the couch, as far away from Frankie as you can manage.

It starts during the second round of Charades. 

The first round had gone fine — good, even. Teamed up with Santi and Will, you’d avoided eye contact with Frankie for the whole of it. Focused only on guessing Santi’s horribly-mimed clues in between handfuls of trail mix and sips of watermelon-flavored bubbles.

It’d felt a bit like old times, all of you in one room again. Mal snuggling into Benny on the loveseat; Will catching his brother up on time spent touring the country, giving motivational speeches to recently discharged veterans. He’d asked you how you’ve been as Santi studied his next word, and you’d remembered then that everything was very much not how it once was.

And you hadn’t missed Frankie’s discomfort at the question; the way he set his beer bottle down on the table with a bit too much force, glass clanging against wood. Though if Will noticed too, he hadn’t said anything. Just moved into a story about some woman he met on the road that reminded him of you.

Santi’s turn had ended with a whopping zero points for your team, and now Frankie is standing at the front of the room, unfolding the scrap of paper in his hand and reading it to himself. In the lull, you find yourself staring at him, eyes near glazing over at the sight of the tiny paper pinched between long, thick fingers. Fingers you remember the reach of, the weight of. 

He crumples the paper and stuffs it into his pocket, signaling that he’s ready to go. Mal flips over the sand timer on the table. And you almost don’t notice at first when he starts, mind occupied by equal parts lust and annoyance, that he’s fucking mouthing the phrase.

You watch, enraged, as Benny squints to read his lips. He raises his hand excitedly and jumps to his feet; yells out the answer with a sureness that Frankie affirms with a nod. 

“That’s right. It’s the Empire State Building.”

“That’s fucking cheating!” you shout, a bit angrier than the situation calls for, and the room grows quiet. Fury coursing through you, you add, “are you fucking serious, Frankie?”

You feel the eyes on you; the awkward sheen you’ve cast over the room. Mal shifts across from you, glaring when you turn to face her, and you laugh defensively. 

“What, nobody else thinks that’s unfair?”

“Please,” Frankie sneers. 

“No, she’s right,” Santi tries — ever the peacemaker. “We’ll just add a rule going forward; no mouthing the words.”

“Fuck that,” you hiss. “I want their point taken away.”

Frankie scoffs from the other side of the room. “Bullshit! We earned that before the rule was added.”

You’re fuming now, standing to get a bit closer to his height; though he still towers over you. Mal is right on your heels, placing a hand on your shoulder in an attempt to placate you. You brush her off. Take another stride toward Frankie.

“There shouldn’t need to be an official rule against it, Frankie. It’s common fucking sense — which clearly, you have none of.”

Visibly offended, he says nothing. Just tenses his jaw.

“Why did you come tonight?” you continue, voice more level now; direct. 

You hear your name uttered behind you, tone pleading, warning. You ignore it. 

“Seriously, why?”

He’s quiet for a long, drawn-out moment, eyes pointed at the floor again.  

“What are you talking about?” he spits, finally. 

You laugh, amused and irritated, and these things somehow feel one in the same. “I mean, clearly you don’t want to be in my presence or even acknowledge my existence — unless it’s to cockblock me — so why are you here?”

His brows furrow; lips twist. For a second, you think he might actually leave. He adjusts his cap, jangles the car key in his pocket — but Benny stops him before he can take a step.

“Just — cut it out, okay? Both of you.”

“He’s the one-“

“I don’t care,” Benny interjects. Scanning the room, you catch sight of Santi and Will and Mal, all visibly agitated, and you sigh.

Guilt washes over you, then. The twisting of Santi’s face, Mal’s doleful stare, the wordless look exchanged between Benny and Will. All confirm your fear that you’ve effectively ruined their night. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble. 

Frankie echoes your apology. Still, the others aren’t impressed. 

“I don’t know what’s been going on lately with you two, but you need to figure this shit out,” Benny says. He sounds like a parent: stern and slightly disappointed. “Can you please just — go in the other room and talk through it?”

Though you haven’t much cared for Frankie’s opinion as of late, you still turn to him to gauge his reaction. He appears just as hesitant as you are, just as guilt-stricken. But something more lurks behind his eyes — something like fear, anxiety. Why, you aren’t sure.

You raise a brow at him, a wordless question. He answers with a sigh. 

“Fine,” you both say at once.

“Thank goodness,” Mal chimes. Herding you two like cattle with a hand on each of your backs, she leads you out of the living room and into the adjoining hallway. 

Her voice drones behind you as you make your way toward the third door on the right. Shall we continue the game?

The guest room is primly kept. It appears almost untouched at first glance, though you know that to be untrue. You’ve stayed here before, after blurry nights spent drinking shitty gin and singing karaoke. That must’ve been years ago now, though, after Mal and Benny first bought this house, and you begin to wonder if your tumultuous friendship with Frankie only made you neglect your friendship with her. And that only adds to the anger stirring inside of you — because what was it all worth, if it’s ended up like this?

Frankie closes the door behind him with a click, and the air in the room feels exponentially thicker. 

“What the fuck was that?” you hiss. 

He scoffs. “Me? You’re the one who freaked out and started an argument over nothing!”

“It wasn’t nothing. You were cheating.”

“Please.” He rolls his eyes. Takes two steps toward you. “That’s not what this is about and you know it.”

“Oh,” you laugh, “so you are aware that you’ve been an asshole?”

He says your name, voice suddenly lower, softer. Your entire body tenses as you struggle to keep strong, to not think about how it sounded in your ear in the midst of pleasure.

“I wasn’t trying to be-”

You throw a hand up; silence him. “Well you have been,” you groan. “You’ve been a huge fucking asshole. You hurt me, Frankie. You were my best friend, and then you just… stopped returning my texts. You won’t even look at me when we’re in the same room together. Did you regret it that much?”

The room goes still. You watch as Frankie’s chest rises and falls arduously, his eyes settling on you. They’re dark, pupils blown wide, squeezing shut as he exhales long and hard.

“No.”

You quirk a brow at him, confused.

“No?”

“No,” he repeats, averting his gaze. “And that’s the problem — I didn’t regret it at all.” His eyes lift slowly, finding you again, voice more sure when he adds, “I’ve wanted it for a long time”

You can barely comprehend what he’s saying, your heart climbing its way out of your ribcage and up your throat. You gulp, feeling the shape of it there as saliva slowly slides past. 

He takes another two steps forward, mere inches from you now, and your breath hitches.

“Do you know how difficult it’s been to look at you without getting fucking hard?” he whispers. “How many times I’ve fucked my fist in the past month imagining it was you?”

Your mouth falls open, stunned. “That girl at the bar-”

He shakes his head. “I thought maybe if I fucked someone else, it would help.”

“And did it?”

“I didn’t — I didn’t go home with her,” he admits, a little bashfully. “I couldn’t do it.” 

His hand lifts, then, cautious and shaky. It finds its way to your face, grazes your jaw so softly you’d think you imagined it if you couldn’t see.

“Why not?” you squeak.

He nods, as if he’s finally accepting something he’s known to be true, admitting it to himself before he does so out loud.

“Because she wasn’t you.”

It feels as if your entire world has spun on its axis. 

Without thinking, you wrap your hand around Frankie’s neck and pull him toward you, crashing your lips into his with a groan. He’s quick to respond, desperately tangling his fingers in your hair and winding his tongue around yours, a broken moan slipping from his throat. 

For a long moment, that’s all it is. It’s clashing teeth and restless hands; the draw of blood and the taste of it, earthy and metallic on your tongue. It’s the two of you, reconciling for lost time and unshared feelings and the overlooked need for each other through tangled bodies. 

And when you finally pull apart, his lips are swollen and his eyes are glazed over, and you’re sure you don’t look much different.

“Frankie,” you whine as his mouth latches to your neck, warm and wet. He doesn’t retreat; just hums against you. 

“Need you,” you say breathlessly. “Need you to touch me.”

His large hand skates down your front, under the waistband of your leggings. He presses two fingers against your clothed clit, and your knees buckle. You lean into him, bracing yourself with a hand on his chest as he begins rubbing small, deliberate circles into cotton. 

Lips trailing up to your ear, he nibbles at the lobe. Presses his tongue just behind the shell of it and sighs. “Been wanting this since that night. Want to make you feel good. Want to do it right.”

You mewl in response, high-pitched and too loud, and you have to bite into his shoulder to keep from crying out again. He’s still working you toward the brink, pace relentless, beseeching you every time you buck into his hand. 

There you go baby, that’s it; I got you. 

You know he does, can feel the support of his unoccupied hand at the small of your back, holding you to his strong body. And god, how you’ve missed the feeling of it pressed to yours. You think that that alone could make you come.

You feel yourself slipping as your orgasm approaches, legs slumping underneath you more and more with every pass of his fingers. “Frankie,” you warn, teeth still anchored in his skin. “I’m going to-“

The words are muffled, but he gets it. Presses down harder and works his fingers faster. “Come on baby,” he growls in your ear, “come on.”

Your orgasm hits you so hard that you collapse, your body dead weight in Frankie’s grip as you writhe. He grasps onto you tightly, working you through it with his unyielding touch, swiping back and forth, back and forth as the final waves crest. 

You’re panting when it ends, and still when Frankie helps you to the edge of the bed. Perched there, staring up at him with glassy eyes, you realize you’ve never felt so sated and so needy at the same time.

“Frankie?”

“Yeah, baby?” 

“Please fuck me.”

He should probably say no. After all, you’re in your friends’ guest room, people just a few hundred feet on the other side of the door. But then again, he’s already made you come.

You watch him consider it, eyes flickering to the door and back to you, dark and deep and pooling with want. 

In the end, he can’t help himself.

“Can you be quiet, querida?” 

You nod, though you’re sure that even if you said no, he wouldn’t care. He’d do just as he’s doing now: pressing your shoulder, encouraging you to lay down on the bed; helping you pull your sneakers off, then your leggings, then your shirt; stepping back to marvel at your half-naked form before him. 

“Fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, and your entire body heats from the inside out. You feel like you’re on fire, his stare keeping you alight as he undresses down to his boxers.

He climbs over you with a hand on either side of your head, pressed into the mattress. The lip of his hat bumps you, and you immediately rip it off of him, tossing it aside and tangling your fingers in dark curls. 

You tug at them, dragging him down until his face is hovering just above yours, and he responds with a strangled moan. His body pressed to yours now, you can feel the weight of his hard cock against your clothed pussy. Your mouth finds his again in a languid kiss — slow and deep. You feed each other sighs and moans, taste each other’s longing. His hips roll into yours with every exhale, teasing you — reminding you, and you feel like you’re steadily going insane.

He pulls back, panting. Rests his forehead on yours.

“Can I take this off?” he asks, plucking at the strap of your bra. You nod furiously. Lift the upper half of your body so that he can undo the clasps.

Breasts suddenly exposed, you feel your nipples begin to harden. Frankie groans at the sight of them, so pert and needing. Wordlessly, he dips his head, buries his face in your chest. His tongue wraps around one of your nipples and you cry out, hand flying to your mouth in an instant. 

“Oh fuck,” you moan into your palm.

“Feel good?” he asks, knowing smirk playing on his lips as he shifts his focus to the other nipple. You feel so sensitive everywhere, the heft of his tongue going straight to your clit, and you can barely answer him. A shaky yes tumbles from your mouth — the best you can do. He hums, so low the vibrations burrow under your skin and barrel through you, and you keen at the sensation.

“God, you sound so pretty,” he sighs as he rolls one of your stiff peaks between two fingers. His other hand drifts down your body, dips between the two of you and pulls your panties aside. 

“Fuck,” he curses, fingertip brushing over your seam just barely. “You’re soaked, bebita. That all for me?”

“Mhm,” you whine. “All for you Frankie; fuck-“

He’s shifts down your body, hooks both arms under your legs and drags you toward him in one swift motion, leaving you no time to process before his tongue is on your pussy. “Have to taste you,” he babbles drunkenly, plunging into your leaking cunt and lapping at you.

“Oh, oh shit,” you moan as he drags his tongue up to your clit. “Please baby, please.”

“I know; I got you,” he soothes. Then he begins to lave your clit with the soft flat of his tongue, warm muscle encircling the throbbing nub. Wide eyes staring up at you, he observes intently. Responds to every sound, every tell with a switch in direction or an increase in pressure. He’s so attentive, so desperate to make you come on his mouth, and it sends you into a sort of delirium. 

Your second orgasm hits you out of nowhere, slams through your body with so much intensity, you don’t even have the strength to warn Frankie before your release is gushing all over his face and, undoubtedly, the bed below. 

He growls against your cunt. Comes up for air and kisses you hard, letting you taste yourself on his tongue as he tugs his boxers down and frees his aching cock. Notches at your entrance without detaching his lips from yours.

It’s a stretch — you recall it being so last time too — though the alcohol had done wonders to loosen your body. Now, you feel every devastating inch of him as he pushes in. He’s gentle. Tells you how good you’re doing as he feeds you more and more of his cock. There you go, that’s my girl, taking it so well for me. And for some reason, him calling you his nearly makes you come again. 

He notices the way you preen in response. Thumbs across the slope of your jaw as he settles inside you. “You like that, baby? Like me calling you mine?”

“Yes, Frankie — fuck. Want it.”

You don’t specify whether you mean him or his cock. You’re not entirely sure. Not that it matters. You know he’ll give you both, give you anything. Can feel it in the way he gazes at you through heart-shaped eyes as he lets you adjust to him.

 “So fucking beautiful, you know that?”

Your eyes roll back and saliva pools in your mouth. “God,” you breathe.

“I’m serious,” he says, finally beginning to move. The slow drag of his cock brushes your g-spot and you gasp. “Was so stupid before, fucking you drunk. Wanna remember every second, every noise you make, every inch of your perfect fucking body.”

“Jesus, Frankie.”

He pushes back in with one deep thrust. Sets a pace that, while not rough, definitely isn’t gentle. You begin to babble and writhe under him. Hook your legs around him so he can get even deeper.

He groans. “Tell me how it feels, baby.”

“It’s so fucking good,” you cry. “Feels like fucking heaven, Frankie.”

“Nah, that’s you.” He lets his head fall on your shoulder, drives into you faster. Pants into the crook of your neck. “Perfect fucking pussy.” 

It ends all too quickly — with your fingernails dug into his back and his sweaty curls sticking to your forehead. Your cunt clenching around his cock, pulling his orgasm out of him just as yours begins to roll through you. You free fall from the cliff’s edge together, breathless moans spilling between your slotted mouths, his warmth flooding you and leaking from the place you’re still connected.

As the room around you slowly comes back into focus, you hear the sound of distant laughter. Benny’s boisterous chuckle and Mal’s much softer one. Clearly distracted, they’re likely blissfully unaware of what’s just happened. You giggle, covering your face as Frankie pulls out.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, prying your hands away. 

“We’re gonna have to get them a new bedspread. We just defiled this one.”

He stands, then, pulling you upright with him. You squeal as blood rushes to your head and your vision goes staticky. 

“Worth it,” he smirks. Gives you a chaste kiss. “Got my girl back.”

You dress and rejoin the group as inconspicuously as possible. Pray they don’t notice the way you’re wobbling on your feet, or the sheen of sweat that’s coated your skin. 

“You sort everything out?” Santi smirks knowingly as you reassume your place on the couch, Frankie settling back into the corner.

“Yeah,” he mutters, refusing to make eye contact. 

“It’s about time,” Benny shouts from the kitchen. Frankie’s head shoots up, pivots toward his voice.

“What do you mean?”

He emerges in the doorway with a shit-eating grin. Mal stifles a laugh from the loveseat.

“Just saying it’s about time,” he shrugs. “That’s all.” 

Shit; apparently you hadn’t been as quiet as you thought.

The others chuckle as you and Frankie exchange a mortified look. The embarrassment is short lived though, Will clapping his hands together, asking what game you all want to play next.

An hour later, after a couple rounds of Codenames and another wine cooler, you head out the door with Frankie right beside you. It feels odd, not hiding anymore. But more so, it feels right. 

He leans you against your SUV under silver moonlight. Kisses you with plush, soft lips against yours; restless hands roving up your sides. Pulls back with a suspiciously large grin.

You cock an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” he says. “Just glad I stopped being an idiot.”

“I don’t know about that,” you tease, and he smacks you gently on the arm.

“Come over?” he asks, his hand draped over your waist. 

You think on it for only a second. Nod. “Yeah. As long as you make me a grilled cheese.”

“That can be arranged.” 

end notes: thank you so much for reading! if you enjoyed, please consider commenting and/or reblogging :)

[muffinpink02]

Cravings

Okay, this is my first little family/baby story. Its my first attempt at fluff and cute stuff, I hope it makes sense. Let me know what you think. I've already started another one so hopefully you like this.

Summary - You’re pregnant, married to Alexia. Your cravings get you a little emotional. Just little bits and pieces of your pregnancy and Alexia helping you every step.

Warnings - swearing

You stood on your tiptoes as you rummaged in your snack box, trying to look for your latest obsession.

“Babe! Where are those salted caramel chocolates we got? The gold packet ones?” You shouted for your wife as you scanned the cupboards. 

Being pregnant wasn't as bad as you thought it would be. Yeah, your body had completely changed, and your mind had gotten foggy, and your emotions were hard to keep up with and you struggled to do simple things like put your shoes on. But, having Alexia as your wife made the whole experience worth it, the girl was a saint. 

When you were around 6 weeks pregnant you had suffered with some morning sickness, though thankfully it didn't last too long. When you were rushing to the bathroom at 4am, flopping to your knees, trying to get your vomit in the bowl on time, Alexia wouldn't be far behind you. She would always be by your side, rubbing your back as soon as she heard you jump out of the bed. 

“It's okay, amor. Here’s some water, clear your mouth.” 

You rinsed your mouth, washing the taste of acid from your tongue. She helped you back to bed, stroking your cheek until you fell asleep against her chest. She would always feel so bad for you, she hated watching you in any kind of pain.

Then came the cravings. At first it was anything sweet and juicy. You became obsessed with fruit, the berry family in particular. Blackberries, blueberries, raspberries if it had a ‘berry’ at the end of it you had to have it. And your most favourite berry was strawberries. You found yourself going through a pack of the sweet fruits every 2 days. 

Anything with the flavour of strawberry you had to have. Strawberry ice cream, strawberry jam, strawberry drinks, strawberry sweets, you even changed your lips gloss to strawberry. If it had a trace of strawberry then you had it in your mouth. Alexia joked that the baby was going to come out with red skin and green leaf’s for hair.

The fixation then progressed to strawberry milkshakes. You discovered the obsession when you and Alexia were out in town, you had both stopped to look at a display in the shop window. But your attention was caught by a whole other shop. Alexia hadn't even realised you had gone until she noticed she didn't get a response to her question.

“What do you think? ….Bebé?” 

The blonde looked to her side where you had just been standing, she only had to look a few shops down, when she caught you watching the milkshakes being made in the other window. She smiled as she walked over to you, eyeing your ever growing belly as it poked out under your t-shirt. 

“Want a milkshake, amor?” Alexia wrapped her arms around you, her warm body pressing into your own.

“Yeah, a strawberry one.” You smiled as you felt her kiss your cheek.

So, Alexia brought you a milkshake, asking for extra strawberries without you even having to ask.

The milkshake obsession then became something you wanted, no, needed everyday. 

So, in the mornings before training Alexia would make your strawberry milkshake alongside her protein shake. You didn't know how, but the girl would always make the fruity drink so much better than you ever could, no matter how hard you tried, hers always tasted sweeter.

As soon as you found out you were pregnant you stopped playing for Barca and went on maternity leave. And of course Alexia became super protective over you, though it wasn't a shock to you when she did, she was protective with you before you even became pregnant. 

Slowly you had to reduce your personal training as you got further along. Alexia watched you like a hawk when you wanted to do any kind of weight training, making sure you never did anything over 5kg. She would take regular walks with you and even joined your swimming classes, as they were deemed ‘safe’ enough for her. 

She insisted on carrying all the bags when you went grocery shopping, not letting you carry anything that could potentially ‘hurt’ you or the baby. Though you secretly loved the extra attention. Until Alexia wanted to build the baby cot alone, because she was scared you would hurt yourself with the hammer, and you had to put your foot down. 

Alexia was also amazing with her hands, and not just for other things. If you ever complained about a painful back or sore feet she would be on you in seconds, massaging your muscles until you couldn’t even remember the ache you had. She would run you baths, make your favourite dinners and always make sure you and the baby were getting your vitamins. 

She was simply the best, you saw a whole new side to her, you didn't think it was possible but it made you fall in love with her more everyday.

Anything you wanted to buy for the baby the Spaniard would look into the product, and study the reviews for hours, making sure it was good enough for the baby. If there was even one bad review from 3 years ago she would ask you to look for another one. “Just in case, amor.”

She of course brought every book you could read on pregnancy and child care, reading them at night before bed. Telling you all the tips and tricks it had for expecting mothers. You listened while you stared at your wife, her serious tone was on but you could only watch her beautiful features as she spoke, making you wonder what parts the baby would get from her. 

You hoped they got everything from her.

One afternoon you came back from a shopping outing with Ingrid. You both walked through your hallway, but was stopped in your tracks when you saw a new gate between the rooms, it was a baby gate. You looked at Ingrid who was already smiling, she knew what Alexia was like. 

“Ale, baby? What's this?” You called out.

The blonde skipped down the hall, a proud smile on her face. 

“It's for the baby, so it doesn't get into trouble.” She tapped the gate proudly, looking at the object like it was a brand new Bentley. 

“But the baby won't be walking for a long time. I don’t know if we need this yet.” You chuckled as she eyed the bars.

“No, no. It's better to be ready. We can get used to it before the baby comes.”

“She has a point.” Ingrid chimed in.

“Sí. Ingrid gets it.” The blonde nodded at the raven haired girl. 

“If it makes you happy, then I’m happy. Now, open it up so we can get through.” 

Alexia moved to open the gate, but it wouldn't open for her.

“Wait, I think it's this way.” The blonde frowned as she tried to pull the handle. But still, she couldn't open it. “Cosa estúpida.” 

“Let me try.” You dropped your bags and attempted to open the gates yourself, but you couldn't do it either. 

“Why won't it open?” You sighed in annoyance.

“No, pull it. Pull that bit up. Towards you.” Alexia tried to direct you.

“I am doing that!” 

And just before you were about to have a domestic, Ingrid silently leaned forward and with no fuss opened the gate like it was the most simplest thing to do. You both gapped at the Norwegian, wondering what kind of trick she used to open it.

“Do it again.” Alexia stared at the gate, wondering how on earth Ingrid was able to open it.

Luckily by the 50th try you both had learnt to finally open it. 

Alexia hated leaving you in the morning when she went to training. She would wake up 20 minutes early just to have extra cuddles with you, or talk to your belly. Your heart would melt when she spoke to the ever growing bump. She had felt silly when she first started doing it, talking to a belly with a small human inside felt weird, but she slowly got used to it.

It actually became something she looked forward to, you would read or scroll on your phone as the blonde shared the events of her day with the bump, she even did it when you were fast asleep, having her own private conversation with the little human. And of course she spoke it in her mother tongue, there was no chance that baby wasn’t going to learn Catalan. 

One afternoon when you were five months pregnant she was talking to the bump, her face resting gently against the side of your stomach, stroking your skin. She promised the ‘Berry’ (as she liked to call it), that she was going to take them to all the Barcelona games and how she was going to train the baby to be a midfielder or striker, and definitely not a defender. 

You chuckled at her words. Earlier that day you had visited Alexia at training. All the girls excitedly greeted you, everyone wanted to feel your stomach, and you gladly let them, you had missed them all so much. 

“Sí, that's a defender in there, I can tell.” Mapi said confidently, smiling at you. 

“No, it's going to be a goalie.” Cata insisted.

You laughed as you watched Alexia’s face drop, the group then all started arguing about what position the baby would play, Alexia had sulked on the way home, but you only laughed at her pout. You were suddenly pulled from your memories. 

You both felt it. Alexia jumped away from you in an instant.

“Oh, Déu meu. Did you feel that?” She looked at you with wide eyes.

“Yes! It kicked!” You gasped as you touched the spot.

“Like a footballer! Berry has a strong kick!” She touched your belly in awe, staring at the bump. Then came another kick. The blonde gasped as you both felt the little life  wiggling inside you.

“That's definitely a striker in there.” She smiled playfully.

You rolled your eyes at the big child in front of you. 

“I love you, amor.” Her large hands cradled your bump, she looked at you with so much love it almost overwhelmed you. 

“I love you too, baby.” You whispered. 

You watched as she kissed your bump, you stroked her hair out of her face as her smile grew. You felt your own eyes water at the beautiful women in front of you. You couldn't believe that this was your life, you felt so lucky that she was the mother of your child.

By 6 months your cravings changed to everything salty. Peanuts, chips, crisps, pretzels, salty popcorn, you name it you had it. You added salt to nearly every one of your meals. Alexia had to conversacate the condiment out of fear of your obsession. 

Now you are 8 and a half months pregnant. You only had 2 weeks to go before the baby was set to arrive. So, now it was just a waiting game.  A long, uncomfortable waiting game.

“What ones?” Alexia walked into the kitchen. 

You looked through your snack cupboard, trying to find the chocolate you had become obsessed with. Your two cravings of sweet and salty had combined and got you into your new favourite obsession of salted caramel chocolate. 

“The ones we got the other day, I’m sure I bought 3 packets.” 

“You finished them, don't you remember? I even warned you that you didn't have any left after that.” She chuckled as she stroked your neck.

You felt your eyes prickle with heat, your tears making your eyes glassy. Of course you knew this wasn't a normal way to react just because you didn't have the chocolates you craved, but you were hormonal, and tired and everything hurt and your back was killing you and your feet were sore and the TV in the background was too loud.

“Oh.” Your voice cracked.

Alexia's eyes widened in panic. “What's wrong, bebita? Are you okay?”

You sniffed, you tried to hide your face as you felt the tears prick your eyes. God, you felt stupid. Crying over a chocolate bar. You felt Alexia’s hand travel to your back, stroking you with the softest touch. 

“Y-yeah, yeah. Sorry, I just really wanted th-” You couldn't finish your sentence as the hormonal dam broke. 

Alexia really panicked then. “Bebé. Shhh it's okay, don't cry. I can get you more.” She pulled you into her chest. “I’ll go get you a crate of them, please don't cry.”

You sobbed into her chest, you couldn't believe you were crying over this, you knew it was just your hormones, but you couldn't control it.

“I’m sorry Ale, I’m just… it's just everything hurts. I can’t get comfortable in any position. I’m hot then I'm cold. My bodies changed so much. I can’t even see my feet anymore! My boobs are killing me. I hate the smell of my favourite perfume and now I’m crying over fucking chocolate.” 

“Hey, shh it's okay. You don’t have to explain yourself. I’m sorry, bebé. Let me get your chocolate, and whatever else you want, we can get a take out tonight or I can cook your favourite meal. Does that sound good?” The blonde kissed your forehead. 

You nodded in her chest, you felt like a sulky child. At least you knew Alexia would be prepared when your child would have their tantrums, or she would just give in and give them chocolate.

“Good. Come sit down. I’ll run you a bath.” 

The blonde ran you a bath with your favourite bath soaks. The bubbles were nearly flowing out over the sides once she was happy with it. She helped you into the warm tub, stroking your hair back as you settled.

“Okay. I won't be long. Be careful when you get out okay.” 

You rolled your eyes and smiled. “I will Ale, thank you for this.” 

“Got to look after my babies.” She kissed your head and winked at you.

She closed the door and made her way to the shops for your chocolate.

You sunk into the hot bath, breathing in the sweet coconut bath milk that Alexia used. You already felt better, Alexia always knew what to do to make you feel at ease. She was always calm around you even when she wanted to panic. 

You laid for another 20 minutes soaking your muscles. You carefully made your way out of the bath, wrapping your fluffy towel around you. 

You began to get your joggers on when you felt a shooting pain, you grabbed your belly on the sharp twinge. Then another one came, but it was a lot less painful then the first. You took in a deep breath as you put on your t-shirt. 

Your doctor told you that you might potentially get pains closer to the due date. So you tried not to overthink it. You looked at your phone, Alexia should have been home by now. That's when you saw her texts.

Alexia - They don’t have the chocolates in the store, going to another one xx 

Alexia - They don’t have it in that one either, I’ll go to Summers.

Summers was over a half hour's drive, you didn't want Alexia to drive so far for a chocolate bar. You called her phone, she answered by the first ring.

“Hola baby, you okay?”

“Ale, you don't have to drive to Summers, it's too far.”

“I’m 5 minutes away now, it’s fine, amor. I know you want this. I know you would do it for me.”

You smiled. “Yeah, okay, well thank you, you’re the best.”

“I know.” You could hear the smile in her tone.

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Let's hope the baby gets your humble characteristics.”

The blonde laughed down the phone. “I hope Berry is every piece of you.”

You felt your heart melt at her words. The girl really knew how to make you melt.

“I’ll see you in a bit.” 

“Sí, i'll see you soon.” 

You hung up the phone and made your way to the sofa, trying to find something you could watch without ruining anything you and Alexia watched together. But as you clicked through the options you jumped with a flash of pain.

“Fuck!” 

The pain came again, quicker and longer. You panted as you felt the twinge trickle into your back, causing you to drop you to your knees, you gritted your teeth as the throbbing ache swept down to the bottom of your stomach.

“Owwwww! Shit!” You cried out.

You still had 2 weeks till your due date, surely this wasn't labour? It was just the pain the doctor told you about. Braxton hicks, that's what it was. You grabbed your phone, you tried to call Alexia but she didn't answer, because she was out getting your stupid chocolates! 

Then you called Ingrid. Your best friend. Her and Mapi only lived a 2 minute walk from you. Maybe they could drive you to the hospital. The line rang, Ingrid picked up after the third ring.

“Hello, sweet pea.” She sang down the phone.

“Hey, do you think- fuck!” 

Another sharp pain stabbed through your body.

“Are you okay?” Ingrid asked, panic in her voice. 

“Yeah, well, no. I’m in pain, I don’t really know what to do. Alexias half way across town and-”

“I’m coming over.” 

“Thank you, Ingrid. Sorry I don’t want to be a nuisance- oh my g-” You groaned as another sharp pain hit you.

“Mapi, get your shoes on. Stay on the phone, we’re coming now.”

“Okay.” You breathed out.

You put the phone on speaker as you cradled your belly. You could hear Mapi’s confused voice in the background. You pushed the whispers of hair out of your face as you felt your body start to heat up from the pain. Why did this have to happen now? 

The girls must have sprinted to yours as they were at your door just over a minute later. Ingrid let herself in with her spare key. You heard their feet as they rushed through your hallway.

“I’m in here gu- uys! Owww!” You groaned.

You felt Ingrid kneel beside you. Her hand instantly rubbing your back.

“How long have you had the pain?”

“Maybe 10 minutes.” You sighed.

“Do you think you're in labour?”

“No, the doctor said this would happen. I’m not due for another-”

Your sentence was cut short as you felt a stream of water coming from between your legs. You waters broke.

“No, no, no, no, please! Fuck. Not now!” 

“Ay dios mío!” Map shouted from the door. “We need to get her to a hospital!”

“Mapi, calm down.” Ingrid's tone was low.

The raven haired girl turned back to you, her face was calm but firm.

“Can you walk?” 

“Y-yeah, I think so.” 

“Okay, I’ll help you. Come.” 

Your best friend slid her arm under your own, helping you to your feet. 

“Okay good. Breath. Mapi, call Alexia.” 

Mapi stared at you with wide eyes, she looked more scared than you, to be honest she probably was. She hadn't even heard Ingrid’s instructions, her whole body stood still, frozen with fear. 

“Maria! Come on. Call Alexia.” Ingrid repeated.

Her brown eyes finally snapped to Ingrid. “Sorry, yeah. Call Alexia, I can do that.” 

The girl mumbled, panic setting over her shaky voice. You watched as she aimlessly patted her body, looking everywhere as if she had no clue what she was looking for. She finally found the device in her back pocket, she took a deep breath, looking for her best friend's name in her phone..

Ingrid looked at you. “Okay let's go.” 

You nodded your head, but as you took a step to walk the worst of the pain finally came crashing down. Your knees gave in once more as your muscles spasmed from the ache. 

“Fuck, Ingrid I can’t!” You groaned as you knelt to the floor.

Alexia smiled to herself as she slotted the big box of caramelised chocolates in the boot of the car. She was able to sweet talk the shop owner into selling her the large supply with a photo and signature. She felt so proud of herself, she couldn't wait to show you her little accomplishment. She got in the car ready to drive back home to you, that's when she looked at her phone to see Mapi calling. 

She pressed the green button as she lifted it to her ear.

“Hola-” The blonde flinched as the sound of your screams penetrated down the phone.

“Mapi? Wh-whats going on?”

“Ale, y/n’s in labour, you need to get back.”

“What? She’s not due yet.” Alexia felt herself panicking hearing your painful moans in the background.

“Her waters broke. She’s ready. We’re going to take her to the hospi-”

A deafening scream came from the depths of your stomach. There was no way you were about to move, not with the pain you were in. This baby was ready to come out. 

Mapi looked shell shocked as she held the phone to her face, her mouth gaping at you. “I don’t know if we’re going to make it to the hospital.” The defender whispered. 

Ingrid held your head, helping you move to whatever position you needed, she grabbed the big pillows of the sofa and tucked them behind your back, her calming presence was everything you needed right now but the one you wanted most wasn't here.

“Where is she? I nee-  ahhh! Oh my god it hurts so bad! MAPI! Tell Alexia to get home now!” You started to sob.

Alexia started her engine and her phone speaker on loud. “Mapi, tell her I'm on my way, I’m coming, I promise.”

Poor Mapi didn't know what to do, she looked at her girlfriend for help. Ingrid stroked your hair, your sweaty forehead making your hair stick to your skin.

“She's coming, sweet pea, isn't she Mapi?” Ingrid looked at her girlfriend urging her to say the right thing. 

“Y-yeah, Alexias on her way. She's already half way.” The defender stuttered. 

You threw your head back as another contraction rippled through your body. 

“Breath, try to breathe.” Your best friend stroked your back. 

“Mapi, let me talk to her.” Alexia said as she pressed her foot on the gas. 

“Sí, sí.” Mapi put the phone on speaker, allowing you to hear Alexia. 

“Bebé?” Alexia's voice rang over the speaker.

“Ale! Please, I need you. Come home, please!” You begged, hearing your lover's voice.

“It's okay, amor. I’m on my way. I’ll be there as soon as I can, I promise.”

“Okay.” Your lips quivered. 

“Mapi, keep me on the phone.” Alexia called out as she overtook some vehicles in front of her.

“Sí, I will. You're next to her now.” Mapi gingerly placed the phone on the table next to you. 

“I’m here okay, cariño?” 

“Yeah.” You whispered.

Ingrid stood up. “Mapi, comfort her, I’m going to call for an ambulance.”

“W-what? Me? B-but you’re so good at it.” 

Ingrid stroked her girlfriend's face. “You'll be fine baby, you can do it.”

Ingrid gave no room for argument as she started to call the ambulance service, walking out of the room.

Mapi slowly turned around, she had never been so scared before. Walking out to a stadium of 30,000 people was less scary than this. She took a deep breath before walking over to you. She slowly crouched next to your side, trying not to make any sudden movements as if she was in a cage with a wild animal. But in all honesty, you kind of sounded like one.

You felt her hand gently rub your back. “Can I get you anything? Water?” 

“Your hand.” You whimpered. 

Mapi smiled as she gave you her hand, but the smile quickly disappeared as you squeezed it with a force not known to man. 

“Dios mio! What have you been eating!” The girl cried out in pain.

Alexia couldn't help but laugh as she heard Mapi cry out. 

“I can hear you, puta!” Mapi groaned.

“Sorry Mapi, I just need you.” You sobbed as you looked at the defender.

That made Mapi smile even if she was wincing through the pain. But it made Alexia feel so guilty for not being there, even if it was out of her control.

“It's okay, breathe with me.” Mapi breathed out.

You breathed with her, but it didn't subside the pain.

Ingrid walked back in. “They’re on their way, but it won't be for another 30 to 40 minutes.

“What?!” You and Mapi shouted in unison. 

“I can't wait that long!” You cried out.

Alexia was driving as fast as she could without being too dangerous, she definitely went through a few red lights, only because the roads were clear enough, but she was more than willing to get a speeding ticket if it meant she could be with you.

“The operator said to remove your bottoms and get towels ready incase you have the baby.”

“I’m so scared, the baby’s not due for another 2 weeks.” Your voice was shaky.

“I know, sweet pea. Everything’s going to be okay, I promise.” The raven haired girl mustard up a brave smile but you could see through it, you could tell she was worried too.

Then you felt it. An agonising pain pushed right at your core. It was happening, the baby was coming. 

“AHHHHHH! It's coming!” You screamed. 

Alexia felt dread take over her body as she heard your pain.

Ingrid jumped into action, kneeling at your feet. “I'm going to pull your trousers and knickers off okay?”

You nodded. 

Ingrid quickly removed the clothing off of you. “Mapi, go get some towels.” 

Mapi went to move but you had a python grip on her hand. The defender eyed her girlfriend for help, too scared to ask you to let go herself. the Norwegian smiled sympathetically at her. 

“You may have to let Mapi go, honey.” 

You didn't even realise you were still holding on to her, you hesitantly let her hand go. You didn't miss the way Mapi winced as she stroked her own hand from the pain. 

“Okay keep breathing, nice deep breaths.” Ingrid said.

You followed her instructions, you tried to take deep breaths, but was cut short when another crippling contraction swept over your body. The pain was nothing you had ever felt before. 

“Erghh! Oh my god! It burns. It's coming, Ingrid!” 

Ingrid was between your legs, her green eyes popped open as she saw the start of your labour.

“Okay, I’m going to call again. I might need help.” She pulled her phone.

Mapi walked in just in time to see what Ingrid was talking about, you would have laughed if you weren't in so much pain. Her eyes bulged out of her head, like a cartoon character, her face turned to a shade of grey as she also saw the start of the birth. 

“Ay dios mío.” She whispered. 

Alexia heard Ingrid, she was only 10 minutes away, she was determined to get home to you. 

You screamed as you felt a deep pressure at the bottom of your back, it made you feel sick. 

“Where’s Alexia, I need her!” You cried out.

“I’m here, cariño. I’ll be there I swear!” Alexia said over the speaker.

Mapi then came back rushing over to you, the pain in your voice made her want to comfort you.

“Hey, need my hand?” The brunette smiled as she grabbed your hand.

You nodded at your friend, tears rolling down your cheeks. “Thank you.”

You took her hand as you felt Ingrid stroke your leg.

“Hello? My friends in labour. I can see the start of the baby.” Ingrid was on the phone to the operator. “Okay, thank you.”

Another jolt of pain hit you, making you squeeze Mapi’s already crushed hand. You watched her wince in pain, easing off her as much as you could.

“I’m sorry, Mapi.” You sniffled.

“No, no it's okay. I’m okay.” The Spaniard gritted her teeth as she tried to hold back her own tears.

The Norwegian put the operator on speaker. 

“Hello, I’m Julia. I’m going to talk you through the steps, okay? You’re doing great. Keep taking big deep breaths for me. How much of the baby's head can you see?” 

“I can see the baby's hair.” 

“Okay great. Can you tell me roughly a measurement?”

“Like 5cm?” Ingrid squinted.

“Okay. She’s going to be ready to push any minute now.”

Alexia was nearly home, 5 more minutes and she'd be there. Until she saw the police lights in her rear view mirror.

“Fuck!” She mumbled.

Alexia reluctantly pulled her car over to the side of the road. She quickly muted herself on her end of the call, not wanting you to hear the commotion. She tapped her finger anxiously against the steering wheel as she watched the police officer slowly approach her car. She rolled her window down ready to apologise and hopefully be on her way.

“You know you’re going over the speed limit- oh my god, Alexia Putellas! I watched your game just the other day, you played so well. How's y/n getting on? She must be close to having the baby now?” 

Before Alexia could answer you let out a high pitched scream over the speaker phone. The police officer looked at Alexia with a confused look.

“Yeah, that's actually her. That's why I’m rushing, she's in labour.” Alexia hoped that would be enough for the police to let her go.

“Oh! Oh right, why aren't you with her?”

Alexia stared at the police officer, was he really asking this?

“Erm, it's a long story, but it's why I was rushing.”

“Ah, I remember when my own were just born. There’s nothing like it.” The police man stared off into the distance, clearly reminiscing. 

Alexia smiled politely. She really didn't need this interruption.

“Ahhh! Fuck! It hurts!”  You shrieked over the phone speaker.

Alexia looked at the phone, your cries made her so anxious, she just wanted to be with you.

“Oh sorry, I’m holding you up. You get on your way. Try not to rush too quickly. Good luck with being a mama!” The police officer nodded as he went on his way, leaving Alexia to finally get home to you.

You couldn't believe this was happening. 

You were so scared that Alexia was going to miss the birth of your baby. Alexia had been with you every step of the way with the pregnancy. Every appointment, every scan, all the birthing class, she was there, holding your hand throughout it all. Now the mother of your child was out driving around town, trying to make you happy, all because you wanted a stupid fucking chocolate bar.

“Okay, give me a push.” Ingrid said.

You took a deep breath as you tried to push as hard as you could.

“Amazing, you're doing really well.” Ingrid smiled at you. 

“Well done.” Mapi gritted her teeth next to you, trying her absolute best not to sound in pain.

“Mapi, what’s going on?” Alexia shouted over the phone speaker.

Mapi jumped at the voice. She grabbed your phone with her free hand, her other hand was sweating in your own. 

“T-The babies coming.” Mapi stuttered from the pain.

“Merda.” Alexia muttered under her breath, pushing her foot on the pedal. 

“Okay, you’re doing it. I can see the top of the head! There's so much hair!” Ingrid smiled brightly. 

“There is hair Ale! The baby has hair!” Mapi repeated Ingrid’s excitement. 

Two more minutes and Alexia would be home. Just two more minutes. 

“Okay, another big push.” The nurse called out over the phone.

“Ready?” Ingrid stroked your knee, her eyes were on you, giving you a reassuring smile. 

You nodded, taking another deep breath. Your body was tired, everything hurt, and your bottom half was burning. It felt like something was ripping you apart. Like that scene from Alien. You just wanted Alexia to be here to tell you everything was going to be okay.

“Eerghhhh!” You pushed again. The pain was unreal. “No, no, no! I can't do it!”

“You can! You're doing so well! The heads out, I can see a face!” Ingrid shouted enthusiastically.

Alexia wheels screeched as she messily parked up outside, nearly forgetting to pull the handbrake up in her rush. She ran as quickly as she could to your front door, keys in hand. 

“Okay, if you can see a face you've done the hardest part. You're done really well. Another big push.” Julia’s happy voice chimed in.

Alexia rushed down the hallway, she easily jumped over the baby gates she had installed, cursing them as she leaped. She turned the corner just in time.

You looked up to see your wife standing at the door. Her face was similar to Mapi’s reaction.

“Ale.” You whispered, not having enough energy.

The blonde rushed over to you, she knelt by your side, pushing your hair off your sweaty cheeks.

“I’m here, baby. I’m right here. You’re doing so well.” She kissed your sweaty head. 

You nearly started to cry, your emotions bubbled to the surface, finally having your wife with you in the scariest and happiest moment of your life. 

She brought your hand up to her lips, kissing you as she looked into your eyes, you could see she was scared but you couldn’t miss the love she had for you.

“You ready? Another push.” Ingrid asked from your bottom half. 

Alexia squeezed your hand, reassuring you. “You've got this, baby. You can do it!”

You took another deep breath, readying your body to do what seemed impossible.

“That's it! Push, push, push, push! It's coming!” Ingrid spurred you on.

Your whole body shook as the little life entered the world.

And she was loud.

“Oh my, god. You did it!” Ingrid laughed in disbelief.

You looked down to see a tiny little baby, crying in Ingrid’s hands. 

You felt Alexia grip your hand, you looked up at the blonde, she was gazing at the baby and you swore you saw her fall in love. She was smiling from ear to ear, her hazel eyes starting to tear up.

“I can hear crying, that's amazing. Wrap the baby up, cover the head, and place the baby on mum's chest.” Julia instructed. 

Ingrid did just that, she gently and neatly wrapped your daughter up placing her on your chest. 

“A little girl.” You whispered, tears rolling down your cheeks. 

You looked up at your wife, she had tears rolling down her cheeks, as she looked at the baby on your chest. 

“She’s so beautiful.” She whispered as she kissed the top of your head. “You did so well. Are you feeling okay?” 

“I’m fine, just tired and sore.” 

She brought her lips to yours, kissing you gently. “I love you, amor. I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

“Don’t be sorry, it wasn’t your fault. Besides, I had two very good midwives. You smiled as you looked at the couple who were now sitting next to each, smiling at your little family. 

Alexia chuckled. “Thank you so much chicas. How’s your hand Mapi?” 

“It’s seen better days, but I’m glad I could help.” The defender smiled as she pulled Ingrid closer to her.

“Do you have a name?” Ingrid asked. 

You and Alexia looked down at the already settled baby, then back at each other.

‘Rudy.” You both said in sync. 

“Rudy Maria Putellas. I like it.” Mapi smiled before Ingrid started rolling her eyes.

“No, just Rudy Putellas.” Alexia smiled, not taking her eyes off the baby.

“But, we do want to ask you guys something.” You looked at the couple in front of you. Ingrid was already smiling and Mapi looked scared all over again.

“Would you like to be Rudy's Godparents?” Alexia asked.

“100 percent, yes.” Ingrid smiled so hard her cheeks resembled a chipmunk.

You looked over at Mapi, her eyes had glazed over, she looked like she was about to cry.

“Mapi, are you okay? Are you crying?” Alexia asked in a teasing tone, smiling at her friend.

“Huh? What? Allergies. Do you have a cat? I’m allergic.”

“Mapi, we have a cat.” Ingrid smiled sympathetically at her girlfriend, knowing the girl was clearly just emotional to be asked to be a godparent.

“Hello? The door was open. Did someone call an ambulance for a mother and baby?” The ambulance crew arrived. 

“And a broken hand!” Mapi called out, rushing to the front door.

Ingrid rolled her eyes. “She’s a big softy, she would love to be a godparent to Rudy.”

You and Alexia chuckled, but your attention quickly went back to the baby on your chest as she started to squirm.

The paramedics checked you and baby Rudy over, everything was looking great, but they still took you in to get checked by the doctors and a couple hours later you were allowed to leave. 

You and Alexia gave Rudy her first bath together, laughing as she sneezed in the baby tub. Alexia dried her off and took her to her room, she got her nappy on her and creamed her little body.

“Okay, baby grow.” You mumbled as you looked through her draws.

“I actually have one mind.” Alexia looked guilty suddenly, smiling at you playfully.

She reached into another draw and pulled out a Barcelona home kit baby onesie. She turned it around to show your number on the back. Her dopey smile looked at the kit then back at you. You felt yourself go completely giddy. You looked at the woman in front of you, her proud smile made your heart melt. In that moment you felt so complete, you had your little family in front of you, with the woman that you loved with all your heart. 

“Do you like it?” She asked as she moved back to Rudy.

“I love it. I love you, Ale.” You kissed her cheek as she began to dress Rudy.

“I love you. I love both my girls.” She bopped Rudy's nose.

Finally, you got the baby down in her cot, thankfully she was already fast asleep. You smiled as you looked at her face, you could already see Alexia’s features in her. You both stood over the cot, staring at the little bundle in front of you.

Then you remembered something.

“Ale?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Did you ever get the chocolates?” 

[hoejosatoru]

Our Pet

A follow up to my Karaku pussy eating Drabble. Part one can be found here.

Warnings: I call the clones brothers in the fic bc it just sounds better in conversation, 5some with demons lmfao, reader is a lil scared but into it, oral (m receiving), dacryphillia, pussy job, p in v, p in b, double penetration (one in front one in back), degradation, praise, cream pie, light choking, squirting,  just pure filth I fear, not proof read. MDNI

You were thrown over Karaku’s shoulder in a flash. He carried you like you were nothing, running through the trees. But running wasn’t the right word. He was moving so impossibly fast everything blurred around you. You had to close your eyes so you wouldn’t get dizzy.

“Good, all my brothers are home,” Karaku said as he finally slowed to a walk. “Better be good for them. Won’t be happy if you make me look bad.” 

You finally opened your eyes, in disbelief at how far you came in such a short period of time. You were up in the mountains near your village, farther up than you had ever been. Karaku gripped you tightly as he led you into into a hidden little cottage.

The second you walked through, 3 heads whipped to your direction. “Why the hell did you bring a human here?” a red-eye demon asked. He was identical to Karaku, save for the red eyes and angry expression etched on his face.

“Relax, Sekido,” Karaku replied, his fingers trailing up and down your side. “I brought us a little snack.” Your breath caught in your throat.

Another demon, this one yellow-eye approached. “You’ve got good taste, Karaku, I’ll give you that. This one will look pretty on my cock.”

“Urogi! You’re going to scare her,” reprimanded the final demon. His eyes were blue and had a certain softness in them you didn’t think was capable for demon.

“You’re such a baby, Aizetsu,” Urogi rolled his eyes.

Karaku snorted. “She wasn’t scared when fucking my face. Said she didn’t want demon tongue in her pussy, yet creamed on me like a slut. isn’t that right, y/n?” Your face went red at his words. “She thinks it wrong for sweet little humans to fuck demons.”

Sekido scoffed. “You fucking humans are the disgusting ones.” He approached you, gripping your jaw tightly, making you look into his eyes. “You don’t deserve  my cock in you. But I’ll allow you to suck it.”

Karaku ripped your kimono off, leaving you completely naked before the 4 demon. Your face heated as you tried to cover yourself; it was no use, Karaku gripped your wrists and held them up.

“Fuck,” Urogi groaned, “if you don’t wanna put your cock in her, Sekido, I will.” Karaku gave you a little push forward, making you fall on your hands and knees in front of the red-eyed demon. He looked at you with contempt, but you could see his erection pressed against the fabric of his clothes.

“Get on with it.” You did as he asked, not wanting to upset this one in particular. You slipped him out of his clothes, his dick thick and heavy in your hands. The tip red and angry, much like him. You gave a tentative lick of his tip. He tsked. “I haven’t got all night.” 

You licked a stripe up the bottom of his dick, tracing a little vein. You took him in your mouth, as deep as you could go, getting him nice and wet. You used a hand to squeeze the base, as you swirled your tongue over the tip.

As you did this, Aizetsu slid behind you, admiring how your pussy fluttered as you sucked off Sekido. His cock was aching in his clothes and he could wait. You startled as his hands gripped your hips, angling them up to him. “Can’t wait, wanna play with your pussy.” 

Suddenly you felt something thick and hard between your pussy lips. Aizestu let out a sigh as he slid his cock through your wetness. He was so sensitive and too nervous to go in all the way. Instead, he gave himself a pussy job, rutting his cock against your heat. You moaned on Sekido’s cock as Aizetsu’s head brushed against your clit. Each bump made your pussy wetter, aching to be filled.

“Fuck, feels so good,” Aizetsu whined.

Sekido grumbled. “You’re distracting her.” His hands gripped your hair, nails scraping your scalp. “Take me fucking deeper.” He thrust his cock into your mouth, making you choke on him. He let out a loan groan as your mouth tightened on him. He continued to snap his hips against you, turned on by how you struggled to take him. “I didn’t see it when Karaku brought you in, but now that you’re crying on my cock I have to admit you’re pretty. For a human.” A thumb brushed a tear off your cheek.

Meanwhile, Aizetsu was desperately rutting himself against your pussy. He was moaning and whimpering, feeling your arousal drip down his dick. His cock head hit your clit particularly hard, suddenly tipping you over the edge. You moaned on to Sekido, vibrating his cock. The sensation finally sent the demon over the edge, spilling his hot cum in your mouth. 

“Fucking take it, swallow it all,” he grunted, with a few finally thrusts in your mouth.

No soon did he finish did you feel warmth squirting over your pussy and dripping down your thighs as Aizetsu came. “Oh fuck, y/n,” he whined, “Fuck your pussy your looks so pretty covered in my cum.”

Urogi pulled the blue-eyed one away. “You can admire her after I’ve ruined her.” 

Karaku appeared in front of you, smirking. “Wadda ya think Urogi? Think she can take both of us?” Urogi had you sat on his lap, squeezing your boobs. Karaku watched, licking his lips. 

“I think we should find out.” He squeezed your nipples, making you yelp. Both demons laughed. You could feel Urogi’s stiff cock pressing against you. “I want her ass.” 

Before you could say anything, Karaku’s lips were on yours. He kissed you while he undressed himself, taking a pause to squeeze your tits on occasion. Urogi licked and nibbled at your neck hit hands trailing down your back. 

Once he was naked, Karaku pulled you on to his lap. He wasted no time lining his long, hard cock up to your pussy. He pushed into you with as hiss. “So fucking tight.” He gave a few experimental thrusts, loving how you gasped and gripped his shoulders. “I don’t know if we are both gonna fit.”

Urogi snickered. “Oh, I’ll make it fit.” You heard him spit into his hand. He brought his hand to your ass, massaging the tight ring. “She’s so fucking wet and sloppy I didn’t even need spit.” He pressed a finger into you, the sweet, stretching sensation making you gasp.

“Fuc-nngh!” You cried out as the golden-eyed demon pressed the g-spot in your ass.

“Mmm, what pretty sounds you make,” Urogi purred. “Keep em coming.” He pressed another finger into, making you gasp. Karaku kept thrusting into you, making your whole body shake.

“Shit, she really likes that Urogi,” Karaku groaned. “Clenching on me like crazy.” 

“Fuck I can't wait any longer,” Urogi grumbled, “Hope you’re ready. Gonna fuck you dumb.” Your pussy flutter with anticipation. You felt Urogi’s cock at your hole, slowly pressing until he was able to slip inside you.

“Shit, oh Urogi,” you gasped. He pressed into further, hissing as your body just barely gave way to him.

“God she really is fucking tight,” Urogi said through gritted teeth. He bottomed out in you at the same time as Karaku. You felt so full you could barely breathe. Both demons began to rock their hips into you. Your head fell back on Urogi’s shoulder as you tried not fall apart. You’d never had two men inside you, and these were no ordinary men. They were demon. Everything in your rational mind told you this was wrong, that you should enjoy it. They were cold blooded killers. Evil.

Yet the ecstasy you felt as the moved inside you was undeniable. The sensations of two cocks rubbing your more sensitive spots drove any rational thought out of your brain. You moaned and gasped as the pleasure built impossibly more intense.

“Looks like she loves demon cock, doesn't it, Urogi?” Karaku mused. He wasn't even out of breath as he fucked into you.

Urogi grinned wildly. “Creaming on me like slut. She fucking loves it. Don’t you, y/n? You love demon cock?”

You were breathless as you chanted, “Yes, yes- fuck, yes.”

Urogi, gripped your throat, giving it a little squeeze. “Wanna hear you say it. Say you love demon cock.”

“I- I- nngh- I love demon cock.” All four demons laughed at how fucked out you were. You almost forgot the other 2 were there. When you looked over at them, you could see they were hard again, looking at you like they wanted to eat you.

The demons inside you were spurred on by your words, thrusting even harder into you. You were sandwiched so tight between them that your clit brushed against Karaku’s lower stomach with each thrust. The coil in your stomach snapped and pleasure like you’d never felt flooded your body.

Unintelligible moans left your mouth as you came around two cocks. “Fuck yeah, that it,” Urogi groaned. Urogi’s hips stuttered as he fucked into you fully. He let out a near growl as he filled you with his seed. The sensation of his cock throbbing in your ass pushed your orgasm further. 

Your pussy tensed then released, squirting on the two demons. “Such a good fucking slut,” Karaku moaned. His own orgasm finally reaching him. He spilled inside you, rutting his hips until you’ve milked his cock dry. 

The two demons slipped out of you and you collapsed back onto Urogi. Your whole body was shaking and you could barely catch your breath. All four demons drank in your fucked out and ruined appearance. 

As your body started to come down, fear settled over you. They'd used you for what you wanted, would they kill you now. “A-are you going to hurt me?” you squeaked out.

Karaku laughed at your fear. He took you jaw in his hands. “Don’t worry, you’re going to be a our pet now. And we treat our pets very well.” 

[arc-misadventures]

The VTuber: The Ninja

VTubers are an eclectic assortment of fellows. Ranging form, humans, to catgirls, dwarfs to elfs, from dragons to loli’s. They were an odd sort.

There were various characters among this assortment of individuals as well. From dragons to knights, barkeepers to schoolgirls. Often times they were all of these at once. So it came as no surprise that one VTuber was a combination of two of these particular eclectic tastes.

Like a catgirl, and a ninja combined into one.

For that’s how one would describe the VTuber SushiandShibari. Aka, NyanNinja.

Least that’s how people described her appearance, when it came to her personality, that was a whole different can of worms to deal with.

~~~

Instead of doing, SushiandShibari’s usual stream videos; Playing romance game, to horror games, and the like. She was stuck in an unexpectedly awkward conversation with friend: DraGunShow.

SushiandShibari: So… Care to explain why you just jumped into my stream, call me a bitch?

DraGunShow: Ughhhhh…

DraGunShow: I lost the bet we made…

SushiandShibari: What bet?

DraGunShow: The one where you bet I couldn’t get, Errant to blush.

SushiandShibari: Oh that one, so you called me a bitch because you couldn’t get him to blush? That’s rude.

DraGunShow: No… My chat let it slip what was going on because they were making bets on whether, or not I could do it. So, he changed the game on me; Who ever blushes first loses, and wins their chats betting pool money. And, I lost… Oh god did I lose!

SushiandShibari: It wasn’t that bad was it?

DraGunShow: He asked me if I ride a motorbike, to which I do. So he asked if you have to grab the handlebar to drive it.

SushiandShibari: Is he thinking about getting a motor bike? Oh I bet he would look food on a bike!

DraGunShow: He would look damn hot on a bike~! Ahem! But, no that’s not what he asked about.

SushiandShibari: It wasn’t? Then what did he ask?

DraGunShow: He asked if he had to grab me by my horns to ride me.

SushiandShibari’s eyes inwidened as her mouth fell open, look at her chat in wild shock as she processed the words her friend had just said. Leaving her with, but one course of action to hearing that.

SushiandShibari: DAMNNNN! That is so hot!

DraGunShow: I turned tail, and ran like hell! I could not stay around him anymore! I have never been so thoroughly flirted with before in all my life!

SushiandShibari: Really? I thought you got flirted with a lot.

DraGunShow: No I don’t, I tend to teasingly flirt with other people.

SushiandShibari: Like me.

DraGunShow: Like you, but I don’t tend to be flirted with. Least most of the times I’ve been flirted with people tend to ‘flirt’ with my boobs.

SushiandShibari: With your boobs?

DraGunShow: ‘Hey babe, nice buns you got there, how about I put my sausage between them?”

DraGun’s voice dropped into what could only be described as her best ‘dude bro’ voice. Or that, Muscleman character, whatever you felt was more adept.

NyanNinja however looked on in horror for several reasons, least of all was the voice she impersonated.

SushiandShibari: A guy once used that exact same line on me?!

DraGunShow: Oh shit, really?

SushiandShibari: Yes, but he wasn’t talking about my breasts, bastard was talking about my ass!

DraGunShow: Ppfff-HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

DraGun burst into a fit of laughter as, NyanNinja’s ears flattened against her head as she glared at her friend.

SushiandShibari: Its not funny, quit laughing!

DraGunShow: Like hell it is! “Hey babe, can I hotdog your ass?” Pfft! Hahahahaha!

SushiandShibari: Grrrrrrr! Listen here you…?

NyanNinja was about to start berating her friend when an automated voice from a donation started playing.

: Hello Sushi, I noticed you lack of notifications sounds, and I decided to make one, adding it to your streams prompt pack. Enjoy.

SushiandShibari: Uh oh…

DraGunShow: Oi! Aren’t you supposed to review those before people are allowed to put stuff on there? In case someone put on something inappropriate that could get you cancelled?

SushiandShibari: I do! But, there is a filter, so if people say anything with certain words they’ll…?!

: Good girrrl~!

SushiandShibari: …?!

DraGunShow: …?!

The duo’s blood frozen in their veins as a shiver of excitement coursed down their spines. The pair looked to one another before addressing chat.

DraGunShow: W-W-Was that what I think it is…?

SushiandShibari: Please tell me it was!

: Good girrrl~!

DS: Ahhhh~!

The pair, for the lack of a better word fainted in shear excitement, and the coursing thrill as they heard those words, or more importantly who said those words. For it was a simple sound bite from everyone’s favourite paladin, Errant.

DraGunShow: He called me a good girl!

SushiandShibari: Like hell he did! This is my stream, I’m the good girl!

DraGunShow: Fine, but only the first one is yours, I get the second one!

SushiandShibari: Like hell! They’re both mine! Every time he says that it’s fucking mine!

DraGunShow: Then chat! Give me that sound bite too! I want to be called a good girl too! In fact! Give me every sound bite like that I want them! I want them all!

SushiandShibari: I want them too! Give me all the sound bits of him being sexy! I NEED THEM!

DS: NOW!!!

~~~

Meanwhile while, ErrantryPaladin was watching a video recommended to him by chat, he hit pause as he stopped, and looked around. A worrying expression etched across his face as he looked about expecting some sort of monster to suddenly pop out, and attack him.

ErrantryPaladin: C-Chat… anyone else just get this foreboding sense of unease… Like something bad is about to happen…

Errant continued to look about before he stopped as he saw a message appear on his screen, offering him a deal he couldn’t help, but view suspiciously.

ErrantryPaladin: Okay… why the hell are you bribing me with thirty subs if I say, ‘ara ara’ in a seductive voice?

[xavviquz]

♥︎ thirsty for you. - vamp!choso x fem!reader ♥︎ HCS

warnings // !!MDNI!! period sex, p ⇾ v, unprotected, somnophilia, blood mention, pussy eating, fingering, not proofread (though i dont think any of my fics r but that doesnt make it bad 😘)

notes // getting back into my usual with hcs! i absolutely love vampire choso btw i swear im bent over for him but anyhow, i hope you enjoy this as much as i do! this is also a few years late like heian era late wc: 825

synopsis: you havent been the same since you got with him.. and neither has the aching in your body stopped either.

☆ vamp!choso┊ who has you on your knees at the break of dawn just because he desperately wanted your warmth.

your pussy was so wet and warm, he could fall asleep and never pull out for days no matter what. its not like he hasnt done that before anyways.

you were minding your own business, falling asleep after a long day of talking to customers from the village in order to pay off the rent that was due in the next month. you were tired. exhausted to the bone if you will. as you were drifting to sleep, you felt the mattress get slightly heavy in a particular spot that your boyfriend would sleep on. thinking nothing of it, you drifted off to sleep as you felt a pair of hands feeling your body up and down, your waist all the way to your boobs, pinching at the nubs as you batted your eyes.

you rubbed your eyes before you felt something inside of you. too familiar.. damn it. why now and especially when you were sleeping??

☆ vamp!choso┊who doesnt know how to ask to have sex or put you into the mood, so he reacts on impulse.

you glanced behind you with a sleepy look to see your boyfriend with a dumb smirk, digging his face into the crook of your neck. it felt so wrong and so right.. you’ve talked about this before with him but he never seemed to get why he should ask when you’re ‘his property’ he’d say, but in a sense, you were.

his dick was slowly being pushed in and out of your sensitive walls as he nibbled on your shoulder to hide his whines. you felt so warm and so peaceful.. it was hard to resist someone like you.

☆ vamp!choso┊who has a habbit of using his abilities for his lustful desires.

choso can turn invisible, be a bat, and even have unnatural speed. it made you slightly jealous that you didnt have any but its not like you minded or anything except when he would.. tease you.

the other night when making dinner for the both of you, you felt his slender hands reach up into your shirt, cupping your boobs as he licked your neck. once you turned around though, no one was there. “cho’ stop playing around and help me out..”

“i am helping you out.” he appeared behind you once again, one hand leaving your boobs to venture down to your clit, slowly playing with it. he knew damn well what he was doing and he knew he would get his way by doing so. your moans were like music to his ears and he wouldn’t have you any other way.

☆ vamp!choso┊who loves it when you’re on your period.

your boyfriend was there inbetween your legs as your hands lazily covered your mouth to keep the moans slipping inbetween your lips hidden but.. how could you?

choso’s tongue flicked up against the clit of your pussy, going down to your hole and practically sucking you dry.

damn it. you should’ve never said anything about your period. but even then, he would’ve sniffed you out anyways and have you eaten out in the nearest bathroom he could find just for a taste of you.

☆ vamp!choso┊who always bites and nips at your neck no matter how tired you are. his stamina is endless being a vampire.

you’re nearly fucked out of your mind, everything you saw was a complete blur. your back was arched and it was so late in the night.. you had to open up shop early today so why this day specifically did he decide that he wanted to fuck you brainless?

you scratched at the sheets, his length turning your insides into complete mush. you felt choso’s fangs slightly bite into your skin, digging his teeth into your pump skin. warm red blood from your neck pooled into his mouth, licking spots that dripped.

your mind was lightheaded from all the fucking and bloodsucking. your head drooped down and swung low. you could barely even hold yourself up so how were you going to open up shop now?

choso smirked, kissing the back of your ear before whispering in a low tone. “now you dont need to go to that small stand..” he hugged your waist, pushing on your stomach while he did another deep thrust.

you were so exhausted.. too exhausted to think. your eyes kept fluttering, each blink longer than the last, slowly drifting to sleep in the middle of sex with him.

by the time you had woken up, he was asleep right next to you, sleeping while his fangs were in your neck, and his dick deep within you.

a/n: please consider liking, reblogging, or commenting recommendations!

Ⓒ 2024 xavviquz - dont copy, repost, or modify

[alwaysanundertone]

Day 19: dirty talk | Sirius Black

smut

TW: dirty talking, mention of oral, mention of piv

You walked into the party, knowing that your boyfriend would be waiting for you there. A corset was hugging your breasts tightly, a skimpy black dress underneath it, that was something you usually wouldn’t be wearing, but you figured it would have been nice to change your style up a bit.

Your heels ticked on the floor, you immediately spotted Sirius. He was talking animatedly at the bar with a few friends, not noticing you at first. You stood right behind him, covering his eyes with your manicured hands. You put your mouth right next to his ear, whispering in it. “Guess who?”

He smiled, turning rapidly, his eyes widening. “Woah, baby” He did a double take, a slow grin taking place on his face. You knew that smile, he was definitely planning something. He tapped a hand on his lap. “Take a seat, gorgeous”.

You obeyed. Now that he had you like he wanted, your ass pressing down on his bulge, he continued talking with his friends like nothing happened. His thigh, though, moved ever so subtly, creating a little knot of need into your stomach.

You sighed, melting into his chest, feeling every vibration, each time he laughed you could feel his chest rumble. He was so warm, and he was wearing your favourite cologne, you swore you could be stay like this forever.

After a while, his friends started talking with each other, suddenly his lips were nipping at your ear lobe, his breath in your ear, making you shiver. “Now, darling, you’re squirming like a fish out of water. Is there anything bothering you?”

You sighed. “No, Siri”

“Mh, I see” He kissed the skin right below your ear. “You look good enough to eat tonight, honey. I really, really enjoy this change of style, you know? Makes me feral, makes me want to do unhinged things” Suddenly, his hand was dangerously close to your core, making you gasp. “You always sound so pretty, love” His other hand gripped one of your breasts.

“Sirius, we are in public” You hissed.

“Oh, baby, don’t you worry I’m not going to do anything like that. In fact, I’m not going to touch you” You didn’t know if this was better or worse. “I’m just going to talk to you, see how much you can resist.”

You sighed softly. “Sirius, I don’t think-“

“I wanna taste you so bad, sweetheart. Wanna spend hours between these creamy thighs, until you’re a shaking and whimpering mess, until the only thing left in this pretty brain of yours is my name” You refrained from making any sound, but it was really fucking difficult. You felt your panties clung uncomfortably to your core, making you press your thighs together.

“Would you let me, honey? Would you let me fuck you stupid afterwards? Your knees up on my shoulders, my hand on your clit? Or maybe I could hang some pretty clamps on your nipples, to ground you, you know? I bet you’d like it.” He sucked on a particular spot on your neck. “I bet you’re so fucking wet right now, am I wrong? Should we go check in the bathroom?”

As you were about to say yes, fuck this party, you just wanted to find some relief, Barty materialized behind you. “Hey, love birds, wanna go do some shots and then dance?” You figured Sirius was going to decline, to tell him that you were just going to leave, but the bastard had other plans.

“Yes, let’s go” As you shot him a dirty look, he hugged you from behind, one of his hands snaking on your neck. “If I were you, I would behave. If you do so, and you don’t make me mad, I will consider leaving early. Otherwise, I already have a punishment forming in my mind”

He kissed your neck, and you let him drag you on the dance floor.

[hitomisuzuya]

Wanderer x fem!reader. Smutty. White Day Special. Foreplay. Degradation. Mention of chocolate just because. Wanderer's ego. A dash of shy Wanderer.

a/n: Don't mind me. This is just something little I wrote, a way for my brain to go brrrr and relax a little. I had a bad dream that's all. So it shook me up, that's all. Normal schedule tomorrow. Please enjoy.

Tagging @xxventiswindblumexx and @kichikichiko

"Here," Wanderer said, holding a box out to you. He was sitting on his bed, his elbow propped on one of his thighs, cupping his cheek in his hand. He couldn't look at you, a heavy blush heating his cheeks, and he was sort of glaring.

He felt shy and he hated it.

"Huh? What's this?" You asked, looking at the box curiously.

It's not like you hadn't received any gifts from Wanderer before. In fact, this boy was so weak for you that he spoiled you any chance he got, and always with that same shy, flustered glare on his face.

But this gift in particular, it wasn't one you hadn't received from him before. It was chocolate. Something Wanderer hated.

"I didn't think you were that dumb," he said, rolling his eyes. "It's White Day today, remember? So just take that sugary crap you like before I change my mind."

Wanderer still refused to look at you, he was even fidgeting nervously.

You grinned and took the box. "Aww, you got me candy," you couldn't help but tease him a little bit.

"Yeah, whatever. It's dark chocolate with sea salt. At least it isn't completely sweet." Wanderer scoffed.

It was your favorite chocolate. This boy, he really was genuine with his love, even if it ruffled his feathers being so vulnerable.

Opening the bag, you put one in your mouth, enjoying the salty, bittersweet taste of the chocolate on your tongue. Honestly, the flavor reminded you of Wanderer. He likes bitter tea and dark chocolate was bitter but sweet. Sweet like him.

Now he was looking at you. He wagged his finger at you in a come hither motion. His blush remained. "Come here."

You walked over to him, sucking on the chocolate on a way that made his eyes fixate on your mouth. "What's up?" You asked, blinking with curiosity. The air around him had just changed. And drastically.

Wanderer curled a few strands of your hair around his finger, before he grabbed a handful and pulled you down, pressing his lips against yours.

You shivered when his tongue licked your mouth, mixing the chocolate on your tongue with his. Your fingers barely got to stroke his cheek before he pulled away, wiping his mouth and glaring like he was only mildly disgusted. "I..tolerate this taste. It's more salty and bitter than sweet."

"Wanderer, I.." you were flabbergasted and flustered, the intimacy of his kiss left you breathless. Honestly, you were about apologize.

He smirked at you, putting his hands on your hips. "You think I didn't notice at all, did you?" His fingers kneaded into your skin a little harder.

"Notice what?" You asked, starting to play his game.

"Don't make me laugh. You have been flaunting around in that tiny blue and white skirt with the ruffles I like on it. And you eating that sugary crap in front of me with your slut mouth, tempting me," Wanderer replied, making your heart flutter, aroused.

Bunching your skirt up around your hips, Wanderer yanked you down to straddle on of his thighs. You moaned when he pressed his fingers against your clothed clit, making a damp spot in your panties. "You really are perfect, do you know that?"

His hand tightened on your hip, increasing the pressure of his fingers, just enough to make you squirm, grinding down against his thigh for more friction. Your hands landed on his shoulders for leverage, moving into his fingers.

Wanderer groaned when he felt this thigh rapidly getting wetter each time you slid your cunt along his thigh. "The perfect slut, made all for me."

Wanderer was using his favorite weapon against you.

His voice.

He knew he would make you crumble in a second just by saying a few words of praise mixed with degradation.

And he was going to enjoy it tonight.

"You should see how pathetic you look," Wanderer laughed, pushing your panties aside and sliding two fingers to tease against your clit. You quivered with pleasure, melting into him. "Giving and receiving is a two way street. You got your treat and now I get to have mine."

He kissed you, possessive and agressive, biting your lower lip before pulling away, leaving you breathless even more. You couldn't speak and he loved it. "I am going to take my time and enjoy you making a mess of yourself before I fuck you. Judging from how wet you are, it won't take long for you to crack like the slut you are. Now moan and beg me to make you cum. I love you best like that."

Wanderer did love you. The chocolate had been a genuine gesture of love.

"Do your worst," you panted, burying your face in his neck, nuzzling your cheek against his jaw.

Wanderer stroked your hair lovingly. He continued to wind you up with his voice. "I'll bet it blew your mind when I licked chocolate from your pretty mouth. I may give you the privilege of licking it off your cunt."

[kawaiixchaotic]

billie eilish has been dropping hints about her sapphic attraction for years but felt pressured out of the closet on the red carpet today, bc it's all the interviewers kept fixating on. yes she said she is physically attracted to women in an interview recently but ppl keep pushing for details that we are not entitled to. and everyone's so happy about it too, which is funny to me. y'all switch up quick. remember when y'all accused her of "queerbaiting" over a music video and an instagram caption? bc i do. the only reasoning you all had was that she had only ever (publicly) been with boys. as if one cannot like both boys and girls. as if one has to use dating history to earn queer credit if they are attracted to multiple genders. that, and her saying she was "straight as a ruler" one time when she was 15 or smthn, which, let's get real. we've all said that. i said that. and now I'm a lesbian.

a similar situation happened with kit connor from heartstopper. he held hands with a girl and you all went fucking ballistic. to me his case was worse bc he got practically kicked and shoved out of the closet. he didn't get to come out on his own terms. i hope you guys aren't still expecting anything from that poor kid, bc he doesn't owe any of you bullies anything, and i wouldn't blame him if thoughts about the heartstopper fandom leave a bad taste in his mouth to this day.

so why am i bringing all this up? bc there's something particular about the online LGBTQ+ community that has been bothering me for years now: Check your biphobia. Because clearly it is affecting your worldview a whole lot more than you think, no matter how young you are, or how progressive you think you are.

Any public figure who even alludes to liking multiple genders, you put under a microscope. you wait for them to "prove it" to you. any action they take that doesn't feel queer enough to you, you pounce. they are (i feel, deliberately) misinterpreted and ostracized, and what hurts most is, we are supposed to be there for anyone who is questioning their sexuality as a safe space, to help them figure themselves out, answer their questions. and yet somehow we've become their biggest opps. what hurts more is the fact that it's mostly very young people doing this! I don't know if you're all just looking for things to be mad at or what. But I could honestly rant about this for all of eternity so let me end it with this:

TLDR; by taking the stance that public figures have to show and prove their queerness, you are furthering biphobic stererotypes, and by drawing the ridiculous conclusion that an individual is "queerbaiting," (which is a corporate marketing tactic, ffs) you are freezing them in time and being unreasonable about the amount of growth and self-discovery we do as human beings. grace should not only be afforded to those who are "out," and only validating queerness if someone announces it is unfair and ignores the many circumstances that could prevent someone from coming out, like risking danger at home, legal persecution, or simply a want for privacy. STOP BEING SUCH INSUFFERABLE LITTLE ASSHOLES.

Thank you for coming to my TEDTalk.

[sil-writes-fiction-too]

A Moment of Distraction

Gale x OC!Tav

Genre: hurt/comfort with just a dash of angst

CW: bodily harm, injury, blood, gore

A/N Here's June of Doom, Day 5! This time with the "It's not as bad as it looks." prompt paired with the "Bite" and "Swelling" prompts. Just some delicious battle aftermath for Gale and Summer this time around (there's plenty of time for more heart-wrenching angst). @juneofdoom . Also don't call out my absolutely wrong use of the Infernal language, I kinda have my own tweaked version of it so if it doesn't check out that's why.

The stench of blood and guts hangs heavy in the air. Summer once heard someone say that one never really grows accustomed to this scent but she is starting to doubt the truth of that statement. By now this smell accompanies their little ragtag group's everyday endeavors. The sticky, slimy sensation on their skins, the taste of copper in their mouths, the red staining their vision...

Luckily, they seem to be competent enough to ensure that most of it doesn't belong to them. In the beginning, Arwen had expressed with Summer her worries over taking in so many strangers. She was fully convinced the two of them would have to pull all of the weight and babysit a bunch of stumbling, incompetent fools, before being stabbed in the back by at least one of them (to be completely fair Astarion didn't make such a good first impression)... but she was wrong.

Sure, some of them aren't really physically strong, but not one of their new companions is a damsel in distress, that's for sure. It's been a while since Summer's last felt like this. Confident in her allies' ability, not having to constantly keep an eye on them for fear of having to rescue them while she tries to fend off the enemies. The fight is getting to her head, she is entering that particular mind space where everything blends together in one seamless dance. The crushing of bones, the slicing of skin, the stabbing of bodies and the clashing of metal all together in one blurry cacophony. Summer would like to think of herself as a good person, but it's at times like this when she has doubts. No matter how many people call her a hero, a friend, a good fucking person... she likes all this. Likes the fighting, the warm splash of blood on her face, her claws ripping through flesh and the smell of burning skin... her enemies falling at her feet as she triumphs. She wonders if this is Doskan's doing, or if she is just a fucked up person deep underneath. The heat of the fire and the raging inferno inside of her soul makes her hope the former explanation is more accurate than the latter.

Maybe it's this freedom to slash and bash without fear, or her ever-present internal crisis that dulls her perception, but the core of the matter is that all of a sudden something heavy smashes into her, throwing her to the ground with a fierce, deranged growl. A sharp pain explodes in her left shoulder, spreading through her arm and chest, and more warm and sticky blood pours onto her red skin. Her blood. Goddamn gnolls.

She finds herself wrestling with the beast, gripping at its muzzle to try and pry its maws from her poor shoulder. She manages, and the rest of her efforts are spent trying to push the snarling creature off of her, but the pain shooting through her shoulder makes it impossible for her to put her whole strength into it. She sees herself getting a faceful of sharp teeth, but before her grotesque imagination can become a reality, a bright, blue and purple light flashes from somewhere at her right, followed by a loud boom, and the ferocious gnoll is blasted away with a yelp. It crashes into a nearby rock wall and then limply falls to the ground. Dead.

"Summer!!" Gale's frightened voice reaches her ears even through the ringing in her head. Fuck, that was loud. She sits up with a groan, grimacing at the painful sensation now spreading through the entire left side of her body. "Ffitch", she curses when she sees the gaping wound in her flesh that's dripping blood and soaking her clothes. Great.

"By Mystra's mantle, what happened back there??" he exclaims as he wraps an arm around Summer's back in order to keep her propped up. "Ah, I guess I slipped up" she says sheepishly, grinning at him through the pain. "It's not funny!" he bites back with a surprising amount of anger, catching her off guard.

"Woah, Gale, I'm fine. See? Still breathing, still here among mortals-". He shakes his head in disapproval at her words, urging Wyll over so he may help him lift her up to her feet. The last gnoll has just been slayed, and now everyone is gathering around with varying degrees of worry plastered on their faces.

"Oh come on guys, don't look at me like that..." she looks around with a dash of confusion and perhaps even a little bit of annoyance. She's not annoyed at them, in truth, but at herself for being such a klutz in the middle of a battle.

"Okay, don't just stand there like a bunch of idiots. Let's find a place to camp and get Summer the help she needs." Arwen's harsh voice is the first to cut through the awkward silence and the uncertain shuffling of hands and feet. After that they all act swiftly, camp is set up rather quick and Summer finds herself laying down in her tent with Gale and Shadowheart sitting at her side. The cleric is in dire need of rest and that becomes apparent when her attempt at healing Summer's wound fails miserably. Unfortunately all the group has left is a small potion of healing so... traditional medicine it is!

"Go and take a rest Shadowheart, I can perfectly manage to tend to Summer's wound on my own this time around." Says the wizard as he grabs the healing kit from Shadowheart's hands. She'd insist on helping, but right now she feels like she'd best leave these two alone or Gale will have a nervous meltdown. "Very well, but Arwen will punch you in the face if you mess it up. No pressure." She says with her snarky smile before getting up to leave the tent. Her little quip would usually pull at least an amused smile from him, but not this time.

Silence falls between Summer and Gale, and it's definitely not the usual, comfortable quiet that comes between them whenever words are no longer necessary.

"I need you to take your shirt off" he say with a sigh, his hands tightening into fists in his lap. She'd normally crack a flirty joke at him for saying something like that, but for some reason she feels like that might not be the best idea right now, so she does as she is told, unfastening her corset and pulling her blood-stained shirt off of herself. At least it didn't get stuck in her horns, she thinks. That would be embarrassing.

It's subtle, but she hears Gale's breath hitching in his throat as soon as her wound is uncovered. She notices the tension in his body and how his agitated expression turns into one of pure worry. Summer is quick to look down at her shoulder and then back up at him again.

"It's not as bad as it looks" she says softly, propping herself up on her elbows. Gale's eyes snap to her face at her words and he opens his mouth in what she can only assume to be bewilderment.

"Not as bad as it looks?? Look at it!" he gestures to her shoulder with wide eyes, flabbergasted by her behaviour. A full bite mark is embedded in the flesh of her shoulder. Even though the blood has stopped flowing, the wound is of a dark crimson color that somehow looks even more sickening on her naturally red skin. Had the gnoll gotten a better grip on her, a good chunk of her flesh would be missing right now. As if that wasn't enough, the skin around the wound is swelling and getting irritated. It ain't pretty.

She huffs a little in exasperation, but doesn't find it in herself to actually be annoyed at him. Actually she is quite endeared, but she'd better not say it out loud right now.

"I mean to say that I am okay. I mean, it hurts like a bitch, but I've definitely had worse before. This is nothing compared to other things that happened to me." She tries to smile reassuringly at him, but he definitely misses it as he's already fully focused on treating her wound.

"You're not okay. You're hurt. And I, for one, fail to see why you would be so reckless in front of a pack of gnolls! I expected better from you Summer! It was right there, you couldn't have possibly missed it! Honestly! What if you- you...! What if you didn't-" he stumbles over his words, suddenly failing to find what he wants to say to her, and Summer feels his hands tremble while he patches her up. Before Gale knows it, she is grabbing one of his hands and bringing it up to her lips, then down to press against her chest. Right there, her heart beats strongly in her ribcage. "I am okay." She repeats with more sincerity in her voice, staring right into his eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize what it must have looked like to you when it happened. I didn't mean to scare you".

A trembly sigh falls from his lips and he slowly relaxes, suddenly feeling incredibly tired. "Just... please be more careful next time. I saw you, you were... absent." This time it's her turn to sigh, perhaps to gather the courage to acknowledge his correct observation. "I was. I'm sorry. I promise I'm not trying to be so reckless while we fight." She smiles at him, and this time he returns the smile, even if wearily.

"Gods, don't do that to me..." He leans his forehead against hers. "My heart can't take losing you. Hells, even seeing you hurt proves to be too much sometimes." She answers with a small, breathy laugh, her eyes shut in contentment at the contact with him. "I know. But I hope you know that the only thing stronger than my will to live is my will to come back to you at the end of the day, no matter how gruesome the battles become. You won't get rid of me so easily, Gale of Waterdeep." She grins at him with that sparkle in her eyes that simply makes him melt like butter in the sun.

"I couldn't ask for anything better." His smile turns warmer as he cups her cheek in his large hand. She leans her face against the warmth of his palm, sighing softly. Then, her eyes crinkle again and another grin curls her black lips. "That was an impressive rescue by the way... got me all hot and bothered." She jokingly wiggles her eyebrows at him and he huffs in amusement, leaning back as his eyes roll in exasperation. "Of course."

Her contagious laughter can be heard even from outside the tent, much to the group's relief.

[delyth88]

X-Men rewatch 6

X-Men: Dark Phoenix. I hadn't seen this one either. That might have been a good thing.

Okay. I think filmmakers should be banned from telling this particular story ever again.

I mean I guess this wasn't awful from a general movie point of view, but from a fan and character point of it really went in to destroy, didn't it? Like, I now have an unpleasant taste in my mouth. It took what I had come to love and just broke it.

Sigh.

I can't say I wasn't warned.

But this is unlikely to get a rewatch for a looong time if ever.

Both films that have tried this storyline have sucked. Not being a comics reader I wasn't sure which parts were fundamental to the story, so going into this one was a bit like Russian roulette - which characters are going to die this time? Given I'm now a certified Charles Xavier fan I am selfishly glad it wasn't him this time, but Raven? That was totally unnecessary. (As a Loki fan I am completely allergic to killing off beloved characters for shock value and to make your new big bad look more powerful. Just stop it. Okay?)

But beyond that, what I hated the most about this was how they twisted everyone just a little too far in to the evil mirror universe. *rolls eyes*

It was rather excruciating to watch Charles talk of superheroes and later be cut off by the president. Which I can only assume was there to make sure the audience knew that the other's were right about how he was being overconfident and putting people in harms way, and... I'm not exactly sure what else. The moments where this thread worked best for me were when it was more personal conversations. (Although the kitchen scene with Hank just seemed out of almost nowhere.) Jean's conversations with Charles I thought worked better - we could see how it looked from both sides and how Charles genuinely thought he was doing the best thing for Jean. I truly thought she was going to kill him again, so it gave me hope that he go through to her in that moment.

It's a shame Raven wasn't around to have a heart to heart with Charles. I think that would have been enlightening. And Hank seemed to change so abruptly that it didn't feel convincing.

Perhaps if it had been a couple of years for me between Apocalypse and Dark Phoenix it might have seemed more natural. But coming directly after three movies that had a really strong bond between the characters to this, I really felt I was missing some backstory here.

Thinking about this I've also realised there weren't any moments in this that felt like there was as much of a connection between the characters as the first few. Each one of those had at least one knock out moment for me between Charles and Erik, and sometimes the others.

Although, I did feel the weight of the world building and the previous films when Charles tells Erik that if they fight here on the streets of New York they will have lost what they've been working for. It has been so much work to get to a world where they are not feared and hunted, and the exchange with the guard and Nightcrawler in the transport about how the guard's kid had looked up to him hit home. :( And then we watch them tear it apart. But somehow it didn't ring as true to me as the other key decision points in the previous films. I had been thinking to myself that they had had remarkably believable motivations for each of the characters for their actions, and the scale of them, up until this film. :/ I dunno. There was just something missing.

Maybe it was that the key relationship this time was between Charles and Jean, but it just was as strong as the one between him and Erik that has been the foundation for the last three films.

And now, help me out here. What actually happened at the end? Did Charles just decide to retire and leave the school? Did he just feel too guilty? Did he feel he needed to leave because he had gotten too above himself? Was he pushed out? Is he homeless now? Or did they just rename the school in Jean's honour and he's stepped away from the day to workings of it, but is still welcome there? Did Erik just offer to help him move the his island? I'm not clear. Whatever it was he clearly was unhappy about things, but I WANT TO KNOW MORE! lol

I thought it was interesting that Erik really did seem to have settled down to live a peaceful life. I appreciated how he was prepared to defend his people, and then help the authorities escape. And here again, I think it really needed to have hit home harder that Raven was dead, because it just didn't seem to work for me that he was so dead set on killing Jean.

Still, I did enjoy seeing them all working together on the train.

I did appreciate Charles eventually acknowledged he'd done the wrong thing by Jean to Hank and the others on the train, and there did seem to be some sort of redemption for him through Jean's forgiveness. But not fully, maybe only not from himself. I don't know.

I missed the light and energy of the Charles from the previous films.

I do wonder if that's part of the formula for the X-Men - the contrast between Charles and Erik. The continual hope for something better from Charles, and Erik's quest for vengeance. And when you disrupt that balance the line goes slack. Here Charles took on too much of the darkness, and there was no-one left pulling in that direction anymore.

Y'know, if Raven had been injured such that Jean thought she'd been killed but had survived and then been able to have that conflict with Charles I think that would have been more satisfying. She could have been fighting for the family she loved and the ideals they had originally set up the school on. I think to have seen her, the person who has always been sceptical of hope and seeing the good in people, going up against Charles and being the example of what he used to be before he got too carried away would have been more powerful. And then her and events bringing him back to the place he needed to be.

Maybe this was meant to be a lesson on becoming too entitled and arrogant. But the resolution sucked.

Hmmm... what else can I say.

Oh yeah. The weird aliens. I don't really want to say this, but I think they needed more screen time. lol They felt like such a side plot. Who were they? Why did they want to take over earth if they could just use the power of the pink space lights to terraform Mars or any other planet? Did the blond one have enough of the power from Jean to do that? She certainly seemed to have significant power of some sort after Jean transferred some of it. All in all they didn't spend enough time on them for me to care about them or feel any sort of sympathy towards their cause. They may as well have been a random natural phenomenon.

Oh yeah. Her Dad sure seemed to be a jerk. And again that shouldn't have felt that way to me.

So yeah. A very unsatisfying film.

[arvandus]

Hey, I wanted to ask what do you think of how hori concluded the todo fam arc and dabi’s vague ending? Do you think he’s alive or dead? Hori could’ve showed us at least a grave or a shrine. I just wanted closure :(

So, I'm going to preface this by saying that I have not actually READ the ending to BNHA, and gathered info just from the tumblr community. I checked out of the manga a while ago because it felt like Hori's heart wasn't really in it.

To be honest, compared to the ending the others got, I'm glad that his was left vague enough to be open to interpretation. After all, how many times has he been assumed dead/would die soon, only for him to give the middle finger and keep going?

I feel like Hori's feelings around the Todoroki family and Touya in particular run a little bit deeper than the others, just with looking at how much attention he put into the backstory. I really feel like it's been a combination of mixed messages, swinging back and forth between empathizing with Touya and being an Enji fanboy.

Hori's portrayal of Touya's childhood was VERY sympathetic, and Enji was shown as very monstrous in some of those panels (and in fact, the parallel was done with Shigaraki and Toga's pasts as well). Even his titling of the chapters (e.g., Wrong Way to Put Out A Fire) showed that the responsibility for Touya's downfall fell onto the parents rather than him as a child. I also liked how pathetic he showed Enji was after Touya's reveal, and when his family came to visit him in the hospital. Rei's commentary towards his sniffling was so refreshing, I was cackling and fist-bumping the air. Finally, I really loved that Natsuo never forgives Enji and straight up tells him he doesn't want him in his life.

But at the same time, Enji gets to continue on with life more or less without any repercussions, or at least that's the impression I've gotten from the snippets I've gathered on other peoples' posts and the manga screenshots I've come across. Yes he's handicapped and will never be a hero again, but at the same time, it felt like there's a lack of social/societal consquences. Hawks never stops being his fanboy, and Rei stays with him (God knows why)... I dunno. It just left a bad taste in my mouth. I think it's because he never really figured out how to step away from his hero persona long enough to really prioritize his family until it was too late. Enji should have immediately been out there looking for Touya after his big reveal. As a parent, I can tell you for a FACT that if I found out my child wasn't actually dead but was in fact alive and running around out there hurting others, you bet your ASS I'm dropping everything and going after them. Also, Enji should have been the one to face off with Touya in the final conflict, not Shouto. He should have faced him, lost, and then Shouto could have stepped him to have his emotional brotherly conflict with Touya just as it happened in the manga. Enji's behavior was cowardice until the very end, and his apology to Touya at the very end fell very very flat for me.

Maybe Hori is just going for the more realistic portrayal of how complex family dynamics can be, and how forgiveness really depends on the person. I also think that Hori's idea of what counts as a good redemption arc for Enji differs from what I think a good redemption arc for him would be. So in that sense, I just have to accept that Hori has his own take on the entire Todoroki family story and that it differs from my own.

But, I digress... back to Touya. I've always had the feeling that Horikoshi has had a soft spot for Touya especially, and I think this implied ending of Touya not surviving rather than showing it explicitly like he did with the others demonstrates that. So I'd like to think that Touya somehow survives and heals.

Overall, I think the ending of BNHA has fallen a bit flat because there has been so much emphasis on the grey areas between villains and heroes, and I always felt that the students were intended to save them. And that was especially Shouto's goal with his brother. The thought of him failing in that goal and not being able to ever have soba with him feels like such a waste of his character arc as well as Touya's.

So, I'm going to take it as-is. Touya's ending is intentionally ambiguous to allow the fans on both sides of the fence to pick the ending that they want (Hori, you coward). My ending for him is that he heals (although never completely of course) and eventually gets to have soba with his brother. It's not only what Touya deserves, but it's what Shouto deserves too.

[danses-with-dogmeat]

Day 12 -- Caesar

The (nsfw) details for Kinktober 2023, Day 12 are just below the cut!

Minors, please don’t interact.

Somnophilia with Caesar x F!Six

Caesar is... super creepy and bad overall. Just had to put that out there. He's a bad guy, a very shitty person, and this is him still being shitty and bad.

That being said... he is pretty interesting to write for? Just the way that a person's mind, when they are practically deified, can become so egotistical as to think that the universe literally revolves around them and their experiences was just... wild to explore.

Anywho, I hope y'all like it?

This is another one though, DEFINITELY read the included for a whole SLEW of TWs.

Here is the link to my  Kinktober 2023 Event List so you can stay up-to-date, or re-visit these works as you please.

Included: (nonconsensual) Somnophilia, medical play, noncon/rape, aphrodisiacs, slavery, legion bullshit, entitlement & ego, restraints, (really) possessive sex, unhealthy relationships, obsession, allusions to erectile dysfunction, painful sex, breeding kink, purity kink, delusional and misogynistic Caesar, creampie, (author approves of absolutely none of this at all).

Words: 4k

--

“She looks so innocent this way, so… vulnerable. But I suppose that’s what sleep is, isn’t it? Vulnerability… You know,” Caesar ran his fingers over the sleeping courier’s arm, keeping his gaze locked to her peaceful expression, even as his head turned to better address Siri, where she stood across from him in the extended room of his tent. “Most social species understand this very idea. They post sentries for the pack while the others sleep, while they are exposed, unable to resist any fate which may befall them whilst they’re unconscious… A shame the courier didn’t have the option, nor the social resources, to take such measures. Hmm... When will she wake?” 

He spoke still without looking at the slave. Siri need not be paid any mind, as she was merely the administrator, the examiner, and now her job was finished. Now, he and Six could be alone. 

Finally. 

“Soon.” She answered him quickly. “The herbal mixture should pass through her system in the next half hour, or so. Shouldn’t be longer than that, surely. Though, it’s not always easy to tell when–”

“Enough. That answer was adequate, I don’t need to hear your rambling. Is mine ready yet?”

She opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted before she could utter so much as a word. 

“A simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ will suffice. I don’t need every ingredient involved, or your life’s story.” 

“Yes.” Siri’s voice was monotone. Unemotive, but unbothered. 

It wasn’t like this sort of interaction was uncommon. 

And Caesar… while he appreciated her function in his society, he’d never taken a particular liking to her. One thing was certain now, though. She didn't envy Courier Six. 

“Good. You’re permitted to leave.” 

She nodded to him, almost more akin to a bow, and moved to take her leave, before his cold voice stopped her once more. 

“Oh, and Siri? Tell the others I’m not to be disturbed.” 

One more affirming nod, and the tent flaps opened to allow her through. As they fluttered to a close, Caesar tore himself from Six’s table and went to take the herbal mixture Siri had left him into his hand. He swirled it around curiously in the mortar she’d prepared, before downing the bitter potion with a grimace. 

The taste may have been rather grotesque, but the effect of the mixture was near immediate. Or perhaps it was merely placebo, but it mattered not. If it worked, who was he to care?

Caesar sighed aloud as he felt his body physically warm, his spine tingling as an anticipatory feeling settled deep in his gut. It was almost as though he could feel the way his pupils dilated, the way his blood ran hotter and faster through his veins. 

The absence of pain was a boon as well, particularly in his head. He’d often considered utilizing this mixture’s effects on his worst headache days for that reason, but there were… adverse symptoms to consider. 

Symptoms which he now planned on taking full advantage of. 

“You have managed to do the near impossible, my pet.” He spoke now to the unconscious Six, strapped down on the medical cot she’d been examined upon. His voice was low, strained with a growing intensity of feeling, of the sensations roiling within him. Caesar was relieved no one was here to witness the way he was, so quickly, becoming undone. 

“You…” Caesar paused to pant out a few heavy breaths, trying to keep from becoming completely overwhelmed at the licentious feelings spiraling through him, the promiscuous thoughts that barricaded his usually composed and aplomb mind. “You have surprised me. Quite the feat, I know.” 

He approached her now, prowling like a possessed animal until he could brace his stiff hands on the side of the cot, and then run his fingers over her bare side. 

Naked women in the Legion were about as common as clothed ones in any other society, but even still, to look upon the courier so wholly… The delicacy of it had his mouth watering, had his tongue wanting for a taste of what was now his. 

Scars small and large littered her otherwise delicate skin, her muscles were toned from surviving in this harsh land, like many of the slaves they kept on such a rigorous schedule of serving. But even still… there was something alluring about her… unremarkable visage. Perhaps it was that she was a dead woman walking, as surreal to gaze upon as a ghost, but no less beautiful than a dancing spirit, however haunting one might be. She was the one, the point zero one percentile, that could evidently survive anything the wasteland threw her way. It was admirable; her tenacity, her cunning, the way she’d tried to betray him… her innocence too, was something he found tasteful. 

Of course he’d been tracking her every move, having Vulpes or another Frumentarius listen in on her conversations. If he was ever going to trust her, he needed to know where her loyalties lay. 

Caesar would never trust her though. Trust is a fickle thing that would just as soon stab you in the back as promise to be in your life forevermore. 

No, but if he could control her… Then he could explore this curiosity of his, he could understand her, inside and out. She could be his. 

All he needed was this. Siri to put her under, to do an examination, ensure she had no wasteland diseases she could give him, no seed of a previous partner already festering inside her, where only he belonged. 

But the girl had come up clean. So clean, in fact, the minx had him wondering if she was pure… Oh, to be this creature’s first… To take something from this extraordinary person that can never be returned to her, and make it– make her– his own. 

You’d have to be a fool not to see that Six was created for him, brought to him like fate delivers years upon the living; inevitably, forcefully, demanding your attention. Their meeting was as certain as the sunrise, as notable as the stars, and he’d known, from that moment, when he saw the twin scars upon her forehead, when he felt his pain pulse cripplingly in that very same spot within himself that he saw marked upon her… Caesar knew that their futures were tied with one another with so many bounds of rope. 

“Now…” He continued speaking to her in hushed tones, his voice rough from the climbing arousal spreading through his body. “Now I will make you mine.” 

His hands had been exploring her all the while Caesar was in his thoughts, dragging his shaking fingers over her smooth torso, her lower stomach, up to her shapely throat, her full breasts. Those, he paid particular attention to, noting the way he felt his cock begin to swell, with more than just what the herbs provided him. 

A rare talent indeed.

He’d thought maybe it would be worth seeing if she could keep him hard all on her own, if she could get him all the way through his climax… But the herbs became more attractive when he remembered how long they lasted. 

If only her own medication lasted longer. I like her this way. Pliant, yielding. Unable to interrupt me or refuse me at every turn. 

There was a certain appeal to her resistance of him, the fire in her, and she chose to showcase it with her words and wit more so than with physicality, which was refreshing, but he wanted to at least be able to get her ready for him without such a fuss. 

Six was tied down, so he didn’t fear too much unwillingness from her in that sense, but she was strong-willed, and would fight the arousal Caesar was bound to bring her, and if she truly was innocent, well…

He’d rather not have her in pain. As much as that sort of discipline worked wonders on their slaves, Six was his, not the Legion’s. He would not have her completely broken before she’s able to properly serve. 

In time, who knows? She may come to have affection for him. Caesar knows that the possibility is there from the feelings he often finds festering within himself on those sleepless nights he thinks of her; the conversations they’ve had buzzing about his aching head, her expressions, the annoyed ones and the inquisitive ones, her anger and her mirth. 

Caesar looked forward to the myriad of looks he would be privy to tonight. 

Without further preamble, the Legion leader set his sights between her slightly spread legs. The bonds were holding her knees wide enough apart for him to slot his hips between them, but there would be time enough for that soon…

First, he set a finger upon her, starting at her entrance and smoothing the pad of it between her lower lips until he felt the point of her clit. She was still slick from the jelly Siri had used to examine her, but he could do better. 

Raising that same hand to his nose, Caesar took a deep inhale and felt his limbs shake with anticipation as her musky, sweet scent curled around him until he could all but taste it. He was almost tempted to drink from the source, as it were, but that was for a night when she’d earned it, for when he was feeling more patient, and his erection wasn’t practically ripping a hole in his tunic. 

No, he decided. Just his hands, for now. 

Before he carried on, Caesar adjusted the bed that way he’d seen Siri do it, dropping it to be perfectly level with his hips. 

It was orgasmic already, the way his head didn’t ache, the way the most discomfort he could feel was emanating from his swollen cock, and that too, would soon be rectified. 

Caesar’s hand returned to her then, two fingers stroking around her folds, spreading the moisture that was already there down to her entrance and back up to brush over her sensitive little nub. Sparingly, he rubbed there with his thumb as well, until he felt it begin to swell under his touch and saw the way her hips twitched unconsciously upwards in her sleep. Usually, Caesar would never opt to give a woman pleasure this way. She was meant to derive it from ‘the bliss of servitude,’ but he knew it was bullshit. It was meant to demean them, and give his men an excuse not to be too distracted by the slaves here. They were meant to be used, not fallen in love with, not doted over, not pleased. 

Six was his, though, and while he would discipline her the way he might a slave at first, he also planned on rewarding her when she was deserving of it. 

Six’s breathing picked up in her sleep, and Caesar looked on with intensity at the way her brows furrowed over her closed eyes, the way her breasts jostled with every breath, the way her muscles tensed beneath his attentions. He licked his lips at the sight of it, at the feeling of her own unique wetness beginning to gather over his prodding fingers. 

No more waiting. Caesar told himself, and pulled his hand away, scowling at the way her movements ceased, her breath slowed again. 

She’ll be awake any minute. 

Caesar stepped back to pull apart his tunic, moving the folds so he could reveal his erection to his unconscious companion. He hissed as the moist tip met the cool air of the Mojave night, and felt goosebumps erupt over his arms and the back of his neck at the sensitizing feeling. Trembling slightly, the leader stepped forward, his hand shaking as it guided the broad head of his cock to her little entrance. Six’s lower lips were dark with arousal that he dreamed mirrored his own, as he noted the dark color encasing his member, the way his own pre-arousal leaked from the weeping slit. 

“Tu eris bonum mihi, meus deliciae, won’t you? My Six…” 

It wasn’t often he became sentimental, least of all with women, but this… Caesar wished he could document it somehow. It felt pivotal, significantes, Homeric… fateful. 

There were no proper words to describe the overwhelming feeling of one’s fate being fulfilled, of two destinies intertwining for the first time, when it was bound to have been planned out from the very dawn of the ages of man, and of the earth itself. 

Perhaps he could request a painting from one of his more talented artists to commemorate an event such as this…

She was warm against him as he rubbed the tip of his length along her folds, not wishing to stall, but not wanting to rush through this process either. It would only happen once, after all. Especially if this was the moment in which he was stripping her purity away, in favor of endowing her with the honor of his occupancy en perpetuum.

With that thought fresh and desirable in his mind, Caesar slotted the head of his cock against her opening, pushing forward an inconsequential smidge, to the feeling of only a little resistance on her part. 

A good sign. 

A sigh escaped him as he gripped his cock more firmly with his hand, the other resting on her hip, his fingers sinking and dimpling the skin there. 

She will accept me. 

His eyes stayed trained between her legs as he began to unreservedly press inside. The movement only grows in its unyielding nature, as he feels her entrance stretch around him, as her walls expand to take his very shape. Like the artists of old, Caesar took her body like a slab of marble, etching his name into her, shaping and molding her to the image he perceived, to the one he desired. Her face was a work of art in and of itself, as Six’s eyes finally fluttered open, the color of them startlingly vivid as her gaze met with his. It was hazy with her fatigue, but her brows were drawn together in what he could only determine as discomfort. 

It was all he could hope for. 

Six waking up just as he settled completely within her. She was utterly full of him, and her breath hitched as the image she was met with made sense in her fatigued mind, as it melded with the sensations of her body. 

She was likely to be sore already, what with Siri’s thorough examination, but after his anticipated attentions, Six would be lucky if she could stand in the morning. 

With that smug thought, Caesar wrapped both hands around the swell of her hips, and hauled himself out until only the tip of his cock remained. Six’s eyes widened and glistened at her waterline as she felt the drag of him leaving her, and then, he slammed back in. It was with distinct effort that Caesar kept himself from repeating that euphoric action immediately and with even greater vigor. 

Just once is enough. For now.

No breaking her. His cross mind reminded him. We have time. 

“W-wha.. The hell?”

Six’s voice was weak, slurred a bit from her groggy awakening, but Caesar paid her no mind, only kept his eyes trailing hungrily over her form as he pulled back and delivered another dizzying thrust into her. Though this time, he did force himself to hold back, to move more slowly, despite the herb-enhanced sensations urging him on, on, on.

“F-fuck, what the hell? What are you doing?”

The pain of his last invasion seemed to spike her into reality faster than was usual with the medication she’d been given. Caesar couldn’t complain though. Not now that he was firmly within her, not now that his plans were in full motion.

“Taking what is mine by right. Lex nostra est. You are a woman in the Legion, what did you expect?” He spoke to her almost passively as he continued focusing on the physical, the bliss sparking through his doped up body as his pace steadily increased. 

Truly, Caesar was being quite polite in terms of the Legion. He’d warmed her up, he was taking his time, he didn’t punish her for the way she spoke to him, so out of turn.

Others in her position likely would have been on their way to a cross by now.

Due to the circumstances though, Caesar would allow his Six a few select liberties. For now.

“Yours by– goddamn it, I never should’ve– Ah, fuck, get off of me!”

A panic seemed to set in, and she shouted rather dramatically as she strained against the ties that held her firmly to the cot. 

“I’m serious, you asshole, get off of me now!”

Caesar paused in his thrusting, feeling the distinct pulse of his cock within her spasming walls as he panted heavily from above her struggling form.

“You command me?” He scoffed, “I don’t think so. Not here. Are you so blind as to not see it?” 

Six's confused expression and distracted squirming were enough of an answer for him. 

“The way that you belong with me?” He punctuated it with a violent surge of his hips against her, and Six's gaze locked to him with a gasp, as she fully ceased her struggles. Pure horror shone through her expression, disbelief and fear and disgust rampant in those vivid eyes, and Caesar had to keep from slapping her. 

Am I really alone in my belief? It cannot be so…

Instead, he hiked his hips out of her until only his tip remained, and drove forward painfully until his hips smacked audibly against the skin of her ass. A yelp of pain left her throat unwillingly as he repeated the action, testing the strength of the cot’s bonds with every fervent, furious movement. 

“You. Are. Mine.” Each word left him with a forceful buck of his hips, his teeth gritting together painfully as he felt his anger boil up inside him.

So be it. If breaking the ungrateful whore will get her attention, if it will force sense into her unreasoned mind and inject understanding into her stubbornness, then that is the sacrifice I will make.  

The herbs he’d been given were known to do this as well, to increase all sensations, in addition to libido, to make one have less reservations, to feel emotions more vividly than usual. 

Perhaps he should have saved a sip of the mixture for her. Maybe then her potential affections for him could've been forced to the surface.

“I’m not yours.” Six spat, crudely interrupting his thoughts as his gaze honed in on her: the way her fists clenched in pain against the metal sides of the cot, her gritted teeth, the tears running down over her temples, the veins bulging in her neck. 

What a sight… If only she could understand.

“Are you a fool, Six?” Another painful thrust had the woman wincing away from him with tears in her eyes. “You truly believed you would be treated differently here? After you saw the other slaves, after Siri warned you what you might become if you stayed?” 

“I d-don’t know… You talked to me, I thought…” She was starting to look confused now, some sort of female hysteria setting in and causing her to go numb, he was certain. It happened with many slaves during their breaking. 

So soon though… maybe she’s not the spitfire I thought she was.

“I trusted you.” Six said with a snarl and a realization, and Caesar half-grinned at the savagery that rose within her in just that short moment. 

Ahh, I thought too soon. Good.

“Get fucking off me! Can you just– I want to talk, we can discuss–”

“No, Six. I’m not leaving until you understand. Meus es.” He pushed forward then with finality, sinking into her more slowly as he let his body lay upon hers, his hands sliding up from her hips, grazing over her belly, up to both breasts, then to cage in her face from either side. 

“You are mine.” 

His grip tightened until he could feel her jaw tensing, feel the bones beneath the swell of her cheeks. 

“Nothing you say or do from here onwards can change that. You have been mine, since I first heard your story.” He was still panting from his exertion, but his voice was less feverish now. The certainty of his resolve was plain within it. “A life as indestructible as yours, a mind so impenetrable, to mix with my brilliance, my power… We’ll be insurmountable.” 

Six’s mouth hung open, maybe in shock, maybe in awe, and maybe those were just too similar to bother distinguishing between. Nonetheless, Caesar took advantage, and plunged his lips against hers, capturing her opened mouth with his tongue, conquering and swiftly pulling away before she had a chance to bite. 

She would yield to him, in time. Already, his muse was doing beautifully. A fine mix of resistance and submission that had his cock swelling and his thoughts running wild with the possibilities. 

He was growing close, and so, Caesar pulled away again, until he was fully out of her. The action– his absence– he hoped would make Six realize how she craved the feeling of him filling her. She would associate this gaping nothingness, the want that came with it, with her desire for him to remedy it, to make her feel whole once more. 

Six needed him. 

She had to see it that way, had to see that they would be unstoppable as a force, that the Legion was meant to thrive, with them leading the way. The future of this great faction lies within the realm of both of their responsibilities. She needed him to lead her and the faction both, needed him in order to become a mother, as he knew all women craved, and… He needed her as well. For the future of his faction, Caesar needed her to bear his heir before the pain in his mind took him for good. 

She needed his intellect, he needed her wit. He craved the way she amused him, and she surely needed an audience. 

They completed each other in every way possible, and that fact was evident, as Caesar reinserted himself and surged forward until he felt the very last resistance within her. Six cried out and her body tensed deliciously around him. 

Instead of pulling away for another thrust, Caesar merely ground his hips against her, keeping himself buried as far as he could go and laying waste to the last barricade within her. She bucked her hips in discomfort beneath him, lost for words as she whined out incomprehensible expletives and writhed against the feeling of him within her. 

Sweat beaded on Caesar’s forehead, lightning shot in bursts down his spine, and his hands gripped her hips until they were sure to leave marks there, but finally, he felt his bliss reach a peak, he felt himself tense up, felt his length swell further within her, and then he was bursting against that final, defensive rampart deep inside. Vise-like walls gripped him until he felt wrung of all his blistering, white seed as her body reacted favorably to his final claiming of her. 

It took Caesar a moment before he could see or hear anything but bright, splotchy colors surrounding him with his explosive release, but when the fog began to clear from his head, when the last rope of spend leaked out from his eager slit, he heard the way Six moaned out his name. 

Perhaps it was to curse him, to ask him one last time to get off of her, or maybe he had her. Maybe she’d come to realize all he said was true. Maybe now she knew she was his. 

It didn’t matter too much to Caesar, regardless. If Six was cursing him or declaring her dedication to him, he would know her true colors in the coming months. For now, though, for tonight, it didn’t matter what she said or felt. She would grow used to this, in time. 

Perhaps even by the end of the night. Caesar thought, and felt his blood begin to boil up again.

[missmagooglie]

Seven Sentence Sunday

So now that How Long Do You Wanna Be Loved is officially FULLY WRITTEN and will have the final chapter posted to AO3 next weekend to keep to the posting schedule, I'm gonna start posting more of my other wips. In particular, I've been very excited about my babysitter AU in which Buck is still in high school and babysits for Christopher. If you're a sucker for Age Difference or Eddie having an emotional crisis, you're gonna love this one.

As a taste, have a quick peek at Eddie fighting his feelings and talking it out with Hen (and a bottle of wine).

“I’m a terrible person,” Eddie says the moment Hen opens the door. He pushes one of the bottles of wine he brought into her hands as he brushes past her, making a beeline for the kitchen and the drawer where Hen and Karen keep their corkscrew with the other bottle clenched tightly in his hands. “Um. Hi, Eddie,” Hen says, closing the door behind him and following him through her house. “How are you?” “Bad,” Eddie says, pouring himself a glass of wine and throwing back nearly half of it in one long gulp. “I’m doing bad, Hen. Because things were finally getting back to normal, right? All that stuff about the babysitter having a crush on me? He’s moved on, we’ve put it behind us. So what do I go and do? I start fantasizing about the babysitter when I’m supposed to be making love to my girlfriend.” Hen wrinkles her nose at him and says, “Ew, who even says ‘making love’?”  “Ana, apparently,” Eddie says with a frown. Honestly, it had felt weird to say. His mouth feels weird after saying it. “She said it, like, a bunch of times last night. And that’s not the point. The point is–” “No, I heard you,” Hen assures him. “Are we still talking about the seventeen year old babysitter?” “Like I said,” Eddie tells her, finishing his first glass and pouring himself another. He sets the bottle down and points to himself, “Terrible person.”

See more posts, teasers, and tidbits about this fic here.

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[whiskey-tango-matcha]

Go Home

I’m back with more snide restaurant coworker bullshit. No plot, just vibes - I used 3 different prompt posts in this, this one, this one, and this one, which are all just *chefs kiss*. Unbetad, unedited, just a big pile of garbage I threw together and shamelessly present unto you all. Hope you guys enjoy :)

In case you didn’t read my first story posted here, Elijah is a restaurant owner/General Manager and Greyson is a chef. That’s all you really need to follow along lmao. 

Go Home

“Greyson. Go home.”

Greyson’s head snapped up and his eyes locked with his boss’s as Elijah breezed out of the office and into the kitchen. “Why would I go home?”

“You’re sick. You have a cold.”

Greyson let his jaw fall open in mock aghast, put down his knife and placed a hand on his chest as if he needs to center himself after such an indoctrination. “I do not. How dare you. Why would you say that?”

Elijah rolled his eyes at the chef’s theatrics and placed his phone and laptop on the prep table where Greyson was working. “I say it because I’ve been here not even three minutes and the only things I’ve heard out of your mouth are sneezes and coughs.” He picked his things back up and poked the chef in the chest. “Go home.”

“That’s not even true, we just had a full conversa- HFTSHH-uhh!” Greyson caught the sneeze in an elbow, hastily brought to his face at the last moment. Elijah bleated out a laugh as he pushed through the kitchen doors and into the server’s station. “Bad timing!” Greyson called behind him.

“Go home!”

***

Greyson wasn’t about to just go home.

It was January, which meant it was painfully slow in the restaurant, but that didn’t mean he had nothing to do. They had a few big events coming up, and his team was only just recovering from some nasty bug that had taken them down one by one through the busy holidays. The guys needed the support of their chef, and Greyson certainly wasn’t one to take a sick day when his team needed him – especially when he wasn’t even sick.

“Huhh...huhETSHH-ue! Fuck me,” Greyson said, turning away from his prep station to sneeze into his shoulder for what felt like the millionth time that day. He walked to the sink nearest to him, pulled out a paper towel, and wiped his nose before washing his hands. He definitely wasn’t sick, but whatever was making him sneeze like it was his job was really starting to piss him off.

There were still several hours til service began, so Greyson decided to work on some new menu recon while he had a few moments of down time. The mushroom risotto dish he’d spent some time on still wasn’t quite there yet, but he’d tasted it so many times it had turned to mush in his mouth. Greyson scooped the less-than-perfect dish into a deli container and went out in search of his boss.

He knocked on the open office door at the front of the kitchen, where Elijah was seated and working on a schedule. Greyson scooped a bit of risotto onto a spoon and held it out. “Hey, boss, can you give this a taste?”

“I most certainly cannot,” Elijah said, not looking away from his work. Greyson couldn’t help but laugh.

“Uh...any particular reason why?”

Elijah raised his eyebrows and lolled his head to the side to look at the chef. “Two reasons, actually. One, you aren’t supposed to be here, so I’m ignoring you. And two -”

“Onesec – HGSTHH-ue! HRSHH-uh! Shit, sorry, ’scuse me, go on,” Greyson rubbed his nose on his shoulder and Elijah gave him a look of revulsion.

“Two,” he continued, pointedly placing a box of tissues at the end of the desk, facing Greyson, “I’m not eating off of your spoon because, as I have said, you are sick.”

Greyson rolled his eyes and held the spoon closer to Elijah’s face. “C’mon, man, I need some feedback.” He sniffled, trying not to sound pathetic. “Please?”

“If I try it, will you go home?”

“Probably not.”

Huffing exasperatedly, Elijah grabbed a fork off of the plate that had held his lunch earlier and stuck it pointedly into the deli container Greyson was holding. He took a bite while looking into Greyson’s red-rimmed eyes. “More parmesan,” he said, putting the fork back on the used plate beside him. “And too much truffle oil. Now go home.”

Greyson smiled and grabbed a tissue from the box Elijah had placed before him. “Thanks, boss,” he said, shoving the tissue in his pants pocket. “Can always count on y-yuhh...HGTSHH-uhh! Snf. Coundt ond you,” he finished, stuffily. Elijah glanced at the chef, eyebrows raised as if to say, you ready to admit defeat yet? Greyson just shrugged.

“I’ll take sombe claritin,” Greyson said lamely, pulling the tissue back out of his pocket and wiping his nose. “I’mb ndot sick.”

Elijah looked back at his computer. “Whatever you say, Grey.”

***

Whoever the fuck had given him this shit was about to feel his wrath.

...not that he was sick or anything.

It was four pm and the cooks were all sitting at the back of the kitchen eating staff meal before the restaurant opened. Alternatively, Greyson was crouched on hands and knees in his office, cursing under his breath while he searched for the ibuprofen he and Elijah kept in one of these drawers.

He figured it was most likely his sous chef, Matt who was the culprit. Kid couldn’t cover his mouth if you forced him with a gun to his head, and he’d been so sick on New Year’s that Greyson forced him to go to urgent care at the end of the night. Fucking Matt. Didn’t he know better than to come to work si -

“HuhETSHHue! GTSHH-uh! HRRSTCHH-oo! Fuck.”

Greyson abandoned his search for ibuprofen in lieu of the rapidly depleting tissue box on the desk. He pulled himself back into his desk chair and reached for the box -

Only to see Elijah holding it hostage at the entrance to their office.

“You’re not going to eat?” Elijah asked. Greyson, whose nose had begun running in earnest post-sneezing, gave a lame eye roll from behind his hand.

“Ndot hungry. Give mbe the tissues, please.”

“Oh, these?” Elijah asked, holding up the box theatrically. “Why ever would you need these? I mean, you’re so clearly well and spry. Healthy as a horse as they say.”

“Dude, just give them to mbe. Shouldn’t you be in pre-shift?”

“I was coming to get you for pre-shift, you bozo,” Elijah said, tossing the tissues at Greyson. “But now I’m beginning to question if the servers would even be able to understand what you’re saying.”

Greyson gratefully blew his nose facing away from Elijah and tossed the tissues in the trash. “Fuck directly off, Lij,” he said, the words punctuated with a hoarse cough. “I’m coming. Give me two minutes.”

“I’ll give you two days, how about that?” Elijah said, turning to leave the kitchen. “Go. Home.”

Greyson stood, reinvigorated by fury. “Fuck. Off,” he said in the same cadence as his boss. “I’m fine.”

Elijah threw his arms up in defeat and held the swinging door open for the chef. “C’mon, then,” he said, gesturing Greyson towards the dining room. “Let’s go infect my entire staff.”

***

An hour into service, Greyson felt his phone buzz. Twice.

It wasn’t a busy service – people were out of money post-holiday it seemed – so Greyson was working on menu ideas and scheduling in the office while Matt held down the line and his cooks did some deep cleaning. Or, he was attempting to do scheduling between bouts of -

“Huhhh...HGTSSHH-ue! HRRSHH! HPTSSH-oo!”

“Bless, Chef,” Matt called to him from the line. Greyson flipped him the bird and pulled his once-again-vibrating phone from his pocket. Who the fuck was blowing him up? Everyone he knew was here.

Greyson wiped under his nose with a tissue and unlocked his phone. Eight new messages – all from Elijah. Jesus Christ. Was his boss really that lazy that he couldn’t walk the twenty steps from the dining room to the kitchen?

Greyson opened their text thread and immediately rolled his eyes.

5:21PM

Bless you.

Bless you.

5:46PM

Bless you.

You know everyone out here can hear you.

5:59PM

Bless you.

Bless you.

6:12PM

Bless.

Ok, seriously you sound like fuckin shit.

Greyson felt his face go hot as he typed out and sent his response.

6:15PM

Fuck off, Lij.

“HTSHHH-uhhh. Godammit.”

Greyson pulled the last tissue out of the box and blew his nose. So maybe he was kind of sick. A little bit. Nothing he couldn’t handle. He was a grown man for God’s sake, he couldn’t deal with a little cold at work?

The chef rubbed a hand down his face and used all his willpower not to groan. A little cold. A few hours left of work. A slow evening. If anyone could handle it, it was him.

***

Greyson was fairly sure he’d never been more miserable in his entire life.

It was ten pm, and the last table had finally cleared the building; not that Greyson would’ve known it. The chef was holed up in the employee bathroom, finally taking a minute to himself to blow his nose and wash his hands. What was supposed to have been a quiet night had suddenly picked up around seven – and with it, so did his cold.

He wasn’t sure how it worked out this way, but the moment five tickets printed at the same time on the line, Greyson felt the first whisper of a fever slither up his neck and make itself home behind both of his eyes. The tickets had continued to print, much to his chagrin, and after a few moments Matt had turned to his boss with panic in his eyes and frantically called, “Chef?!”

Greyson did what he was trained to; he pulled it together and hopped on the line to help his guys. He cooked and shouted orders and garnished and sent food out. He remade steaks when they came back overcooked, and he apologized when he yelled at his grill cook, who was new and clearly petrified. He ignored the massive headache blooming in his temples, and his cooks ignored the near-constant volley of sneezes he smothered into the inside collar of his chef coat. It was a rough one. Ticket times weren’t what they should’ve been, and he definitely screamed at his cooks more times than they deserved.

But it was over. And now, hours later, he stumbled out of the employee bathroom and into the office and slammed his ass into the chair, fully and completely spent. To his left, he felt Elijah’s hand firmly place itself on his shoulder.

“You killed it tonight. Truly,” Elijah said, his voice low. “We’re lucky to have you.”

Greyson looked at his boss, defeated. “I was an ass,” he said, his voice congested and hoarse. “I’m a dick. I yelled at Juan, and it wasn’t even his fault. Ticket times were trash. I wasn’t on top of it the way I should’ve been and I – huh…HUGTSSH-uhh! HUHESHHHOO!” Greyson swiped angrily under his nose and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “And I have a fuckigg cold.”

Elijah sat silently for a moment, and Greyson figured he was getting ready to gloat or make some sort of snide comment about how he knew Greyson was sick, and Greyson was an idiot for being there at all, but instead he heard his boss get up and leave the office. Greyson looked up from his hands after a few minutes of silence to see Elijah standing over him with a new box of tissues and a bottle of whiskey.

“I know,” he said, sitting down and pushing both of his peace offerings towards Greyson. “But you did it anyway. And that’s badass.”

Greyson had to swallow the lump in his throat before he could look his boss in the eye again. “You’re a kndow-it-all prick,” he said, taking a tissue and unscrewing the whiskey cap. He took a swig, and blew his nose, unsure what else to say.

“I’m aware,” Elijah replied. “But I’m right.”

Greyson looked at his boss and managed a smile. “I thindk…I mbay have to call out tomorrow.”

Elijah couldn’t help but laugh. “Grey,” he said, “if I see your ass in this building anytime before the weekend, I’ll send you home in a bodybag.”

This time, it was Greyson’s turn to laugh. “Honestly...body bag doesn’t sound too bad at this poindt.”

Elijah smiled and pushed the whiskey towards the chef once more. “Get yourself nice and drunk, chef. I’ll drive you home.”

[pe0ple3ater]

OK I've had a full hour and a half driving to think about this so I have a whole etoiles/bad/cellbit au to present to you now 🖤 but before I begin: RAHHHHH Cellbit angst my absolute beloved thank you PeopleEater you're so right and based and roier would 100% beg cell to eat him omnomnom

Now without further ado:

This is gonna come in 2 parts and I'm gonna start with Etoiles because goddamn that man is WOOF. Etoiles in clerical clothing BARK he is so fine he would look so good in that sexy little priest outfit.

They probably didn't have anything properly his size because how many priests are absolutely jacked? (mmm thinking abt fit too) So it's a little small. So his shoulders and chest stretch the fabric and his thighs and ass in the slacks are enough to distract many parishioners from the word of the lord. Maybe a few of them even come to confession to talk about it. Whether he knows that they're talking about him who knows

He'd be really good at it too, I mean, that man is so sweet and honorable and bright, he's like the golden boy of the church, everyone's favorite priest for his sermons alone. Of course he gets up to some nasty debauchery behind the scenes. (Im still thinking about that one fooletoiles size kink ask and imagining Foolish meeting him in a back room between services to fuck between his thighs still in his pants and turn the confident, holy man into a begging mess to have Foolish inside him. Etoiles gets upset with him afterward because now he has to change)

Cellbit is the newer, priest. Etoiles knows he has some issues, he just doesn't know what and he doesn't make it his business. What matters is that Cellbit is doing well and working to become a good man. Etoiles thinks he already is, Cellbit just has a hard time believing him. Etoiles is teaching him exorcism

Then one day Cellbit comes to him shaking and on the verge of tears and asks him to come to the confessional. He looks really good like that, but Etoiles is good at ignoring such unholy thoughts...Until Cellbit tells him what happened and he gets to prescribe some...particular acts of penance

Etoiles stays in the confessional for a while after Cellbit leaves. It's late, there weren't even services today, but he's expecting someone. And sure enough, though he can barely see it through the small holes in the booth wall, the door to the next chamber opens. He can't see who or what entered, but the scent of blood and ash follows after it, something Etoiles didn't expect to find so alluring. "Greetings Father."

The voice is sweet, high and thick with amusement. Etoiles isn't in the mood for a demon's play, he's fucking upset. He skips the pleasantries. 

"You turned that poor man into a monster," he hissed. 

"He already was a monster." A pause. "You don't seem to be all that offended, are you father?"

The demon plays tricks, they get in your mind. "You dragged him from the faith!"

"I didn't make him do anything. He did it all on his own."  He could practically hear the smile on the creature's face and it made him sick.

"You know," the demon offered. "I could help you too."

"What are you talking about?"

"I can see the truth in you. You liked hearing what Cellbit did. You've tasted blood before and you want more."

Etoiles froze. The confession felt like it had been ripped from his very mouth, yet he hadn't said a word. 

No. "Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes." Etoiles took a deep breath in, letting the demon's temptation roll off his shoulders (even if the idea of watching cellbit tear into someone, covered in viscera was enough to start making him hard).

"You ought to burn for what you've done."

The demon tsked. "You're no fun. What are you gonna do? Exorcise me?" Then in a flash, before Etoiles could respond, the world warped. Suddenly he was no longer alone in his side of the booth, but with a pitch skinned, grinning demon perched on his lap. A very pretty demon, wearing nothing but a wine red dress, archstar criscrossed over its bare chest and skirt slit high up over its hips. "Or are you gonna make me repent like you did with your student?"

The demon's tail swishes behind it, and he looked for all the world like the cat who got the cream. Without thinking, Etoiles grabbed the tail and yanked. 

The demon lets out a high gasp that goes directly to his dick. It hadn't seemed to notice, but one clawed hand had shot out to grip his shoulder. Etoiles barely flinched. Instead, he pries it off with his other hand and dropping the tail, picks the demon up to slam it against the wall. Etoiles rolls his hips into the demon's making him whine. "You don't deserve to repent," he mutters, still grinding, nails digging into the demon's exposed flesh. "But I'll fuck you so hard you'll never go near my student again."

"Wh- Language!" For a moment he has to stop. You've got to be kidding.

He doesn't say anything. Instead, he rolls his eyes and drops Bad to a heap on the floor, grabbing one of his horns and shoving his cock in its mouth before they complain. 

Anyway--this definitely wont be the last time they see each other. Etoiles fucks bad's throat against the wall then makes Bad grind on his thigh until he cums, clawing at his back making the priest hiss with delight. Bad begs Etoiles to choke him and he takes his crucifix to burn into the hollow of Bad's throat like a brand as he does. Etoiles also definitely gets Bad a collar with a chain for him to hold short and tight when he fucks Bad ruthlessly over the altar

Bad definitely has a pussy and a dick in this and Etoiles makes good use of everything. I have a lot of demon Bad fucking thoughts. He/it/they Bad is my everything, also.

I have limited time so the cellbit part will come tomorrow but I might make this properly longer and into a fic we'll see

--Sin Anon

OKAY SO I'M INSANE ABOUT THIS BY THE WAY. SIN YOU'RE INSANE!!

"Etoiles in clerical clothing BARK he is so fine he would look so good in that sexy little priest outfit." I have a Thing for priests so I was SO EXCITED to read this. You did not disappoint AT ALL

"So his shoulders and chest stretch the fabric and his thighs and ass in the slacks are enough to distract many parishioners from the word of the lord. Maybe a few of them even come to confession to talk about it. Whether he knows that they're talking about him who knows" First of all, Etoiles in tight black slacks made me dizzy to think about. Poor guy is constantly dealing with leering, hungry eyes and he doesn't even know.

"..imagining Foolish meeting him in a back room between services to fuck between his thighs still in his pants" HEY HEYUM YEAH. Yes Foolish fucking his thighs, yes please. Making a pretty mess of his clothes and laughing at Etoiles frustrated little whines when he realizes he has to change. hah yeah.

"He looks really good like that" YEAH HE DOES, yes Cellbit with big wet eyes all sniffly and needy ngh..yeah I feel normal about it. I'm normal.

"(even if the idea of watching cellbit tear into someone, covered in viscera was enough to start making him hard)." yeah we're the same btw, Etoiles being a good man of faith and yet no one can deny how pretty Cellbit would look covered in blood!

"..grabbing one of his horns and shoving his cock in its mouth before they complain." YEAH GRAB HIM BY THE HORNS. PLEASE. Bbh having horns that people grab to fuck his mouth is everything to me. It's what he deserves!

"Bad begs Etoiles to choke him and he takes his crucifix to burn into the hollow of Bad's throat like a brand as he does." HOT, a brand from a man of the lord. Etoiles is doing gods work, purifying this demon from the inside out! He can't be blamed for it, it's the only way to get to the demon.

Sin anon..please make this into a full fic and drop it in my inbox I love it very very much. Hell, I'll even edit for you