#cute aftercare

[hellcheerficdatabase]

down, boy

Author: @chrissy-n-eddie

Rating/Warning: Explicit

Chapter Count: 1/1 (Part 1 of  porny oneshots series)

Description: The problem is that Chrissy Cunningham has a hard time telling people no. The problem is that Eddie loves being denied things by a pretty girl in a short skirt. 

Tags: alternate universe, established relationship, plot? we don't know her, the smut is the plot, smut, fluff, sorta, cute aftercare, alternating POV, one-shot, part of series, status: completed

[xochimillilili]

Yeah yeah fucking is so so cool but THE AFTER??? Gods I'm fucking melting and my heart is so soft

There's few things better than having my boy in my arms, completely fucked out and letting out the cutest little puppy whines n babbles, giving me kisses while I cuddle him close

Awww seems you finished real hard didn't you baby? Such a big orgasm for such an adorable little pup, that's my boy, you can rest now honey

Holding his sweet face in my hands, rubbing my thumbs on his cheeks, seeing his dazed out adorable expression, seeing him smiling at me so warmly, clinging onto to me, all sleepy and feeling good

My sweet boy~ I've got you, we can rest in each other's arms and hug for as long as we need. If you need a lil nap just say so honey, me n your plushies will keep you warm.You did so good, I'm so proud of you, I love you with every part of me

[city-tickles]

“Get your arms up!”

[prettygirlsstanskz]

somno with hyunjin tho!!!!!!!!

you'd be sleeping in a tank top and shorts and you'd be wiggling around in your sleep, trying to get comfortable and hyunjin just thinks you look so cute and so fuckable like that.

he'd probably wait for you to settle on your back before brushing stray hairs from your face in a feeble attempt to wake you, but when you don't respond, he'd trail his fingers from your head down to your chin and then your collarbones where he'd mess around with the top of your tank top.

"i'm gonna take this off, okay, love?" he'd whisper, circling your nipple with his finger. after you whine a little bit, turning your head to the side, he would take it as a sign of you being at least a little bit awake and he would start to slide it up to your chin.

"lift your arms for me," hyunjin would whisper, and in your half awake state, you would obey, lifting your arms and then your head just enough for him to slide the thin top up and over and onto the floor next to the bed.

hyunjin would just look at you, all the parts of you he had just uncovered, before leaning down to lick a stripe from your neck to your nipple, swirling his tongue around for a second before taking it into his mouth and sucking on it, enjoying the way you reacted, arching slightly into him, small whines leaving your lips as you turned your head to the other side.

hyunjin would give just as much attention to your other nipple, making sure he left both sticky and wet before kissing his way down to your bellybutton and then leaving kisses along the top of the waistband of your shorts.

he would kiss you over your shorts, over your mound, leaving wet spots where his tongue stayed in the same spot for just a little too long.

"so pretty, love," he'd whisper as he slid your shorts and panties down your legs and past your feet at the same time. "so so pretty,"

he would discard the garments down on the floor with your top before laying on his stomach, face just inches from your core. he would admire you for a while, complimenting your body under his breath.

but he would slowly start to feel the admiration turn into something more, something like lust. he would reach up to rub your clit with his finger, then a stripe down to your hole, feeling your wet folds on the way.

"so wet," he would murmur, finally scooting forward enough to taste you. "so wet for me,"

hyunjin would lick up and down your folds once more before taking your clit in his mouth and sucking on it, bringing his fingers up to enter your hole below.

you would whine, the sounds quickly turning into moans as hyunjin fucks his fingers into you, swirling his tongue around your clit before sucking it again.

"hyune..." you'd mumble, eyes starting to flutter open. a broken whine would escape you, tears prickling the corners of your eyes as you begin to feel what's going on.

"jinnie.." your hands would fumble around for his, settling on his hair instead. "jinnie, please.. please please please," you wouldn't know what you were pleading for, you would just know you wanted it.

"i know, love, i know," hyunjin would whisper into your pussy. "i know i know,"

hyunjin would speed up the pace as soon as he hears your voice raise an octave. oh, he would be hitting all the spots he knows you're sensitive to, eager to drive you to your high, eager to hear the pretty little sounds you make.

"'s too much, jinnie," you would cry, back arching off the bed, your fingers leaving hyunjin's head to grip the sheets beneath you. "hyun, 's too mu–" your sentence would be cut short by the sudden moan hyunjin causes as he hits your g-spot.

"fu– fuck, hyun, fuck, please,"

his fingers would hit the same spot over and over again, only slowing down when he knows you're cumming. he would fuck you gently with his fingers, releasing your clit to lean up and kiss your warm face, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

when he feels you finally start to come down from your high, he'll pull away and remove his fingers, bringing them to your lips. you would immediately take them in your mouth, sucking softly on the skin as you grow tired once more.

hyunjin would kiss the tears from your closed eyes. "was it too much, love? was i too much?"

you'd hold his wrist, rubbing soft circle into the palm of it while still licking and sucking the fingers in your mouth.

"no," you'd murmur around his fingers, taking back your earlier words. "you're never too much. never,"

hyunjin would settle down next to you, slowly removing his fingers from your mouth. he would laugh a little at your whine, shushing you with a chaste kiss to your lips. "i'm gonna clean you up, okay? i'll be right back,"

you would feel his hands on your body, damp towel covering the tracks he had left.

"d'you want me to do you, too?" you would ask once he's laid down next to you again, opening your eyes to see him.

but, he would just shake his head, pressing a kiss to your nose.

he had taken care of himself in the bathroom after he looked down and realised he came in his pants, probably at the same time you did. it didn't bother him much. he had woken you up to satisfy the desires in his chest, but it very quickly turned into satisfying you. cumming on his own was just an added extra, something he hadn't planned on.

"go to sleep, little love. you're tired,"

you wouldn't fight it, eyes fluttering shut as you leaned your head into his chest. "g'night, jinnie. love you," you would whisper.

and hyunjin would whisper back, "love you too,"

[jimmyspades]

PRETTY IN PINK (1986)

[ichikopotato]

aftercare with tom plzplzplz

SORRY FOR REPLYING SO LATE, SO BUSY😞👌

𝘈𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 2008 𝘛𝘰𝘮₊˚⊹ ᰔ (��𝙧 2007, 𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙡)

After so many hours of continuous love making, Tom finally had agreed to have a break. Panting, he muttered a “are you okay, schatz?” “Did I go too rough?” “Does anything hurt?” “Do you need anything baby?” “Are you sure you’re okay, my sweet girl?”

You were completely fine, just very tired. “Im okay baby, stop worrying so much!” You giggled. Tom chuckled, as he got up and went to the bathroom to grab a damp towel. He wiped off your shared fluids, smiling up at you, peppering your face with small kisses.

“I’ll be back, baby. Just a second!” He muttered as he left the bedroom. You sat there for a minute, waiting for him patiently. He came back with two glasses of water, and some chocolate, and other snacks.

“Ich hatte gehofft, du würdest gerne einen Film sehen, meine Liebe.” He chuckled, setting the water, and snacks aside. He plopped onto the bed beside you, opening his arms at you. “C’mere, baby.” As you got into his arms, your back laying on his chest, as he wraps his arms around you.

He grabbed the remote, scrolling for a good movie to watch. “Anything you like, schatz?” He whispered, kissing your temple. “Yeah, baby. That one, it looks nice, right?” You stared at the TV, not noticing Tom looking at you with his gorgeous eyes, filled with love. As you look up at him, you giggle, kissing his cheek.

“Baby, am I really that pretty?” You cooed, teasingly. He chuckled, smiling at you as he played with his lip piercing. “Did you just realise now?” He rolled his eyes playfully, as he played the film.

After a few minutes of silence, shared kisses from time to time, he grabbed the snacks. “Liebling, which one do you want?” As you grabbed the chip bag and the chocolate, he pulled it away from you. “Ah-ah, you need a payment first.” He smirked, puckering his lips slightly. You roll your eyes, pecking his lips. He pulled you into another kiss, this time more passionate. “Mmph— you’re so pretty.. scheiße” he breathed out.

After a few seconds, you start to feel something hard between your legs. You pull away from the kiss, chest heaving. “Baby! You’re seriously hard again?” You mutter.

“You’re jus’ s’pretty, Schatz. Wanna show you how pretty you are.” As he layed you back onto the mattress. Well, I guess you’ll be pulling an all nighter.

YALL THIS IS SO RUSHED IM SO SORRY😞 ILL BE RESPONDING TO MORE REQUESTS MAYBE LATER OR TOMORROW, LOVE YOU ALL!

[carnivorousyandeere]

Hmmm imagine darling helping yan push out eggs but before theyre all out gets aroused again and fucks more into them

You hadn’t exactly jumped at the chance to stuff someone full of your eggs the first time.

It was a strenuous process, and moreover, an extremely intimate and vulnerable process for you and your species. But, of course, your yan and your hormones conspired against you, their body welcoming you in so deliciously, their eyes rolling back into their head with the press of each egg as they deliriously begged you to knock them up.

Knock them up you had.

For days after, they took every chance they got to mention how full and round they were, with your eggs. How they felt so warm and happy, knowing they would get to raise your children. Pulling your hand to feel the bump in their stomach, smiling at you with dewy eyes, pleading for you to cuddle with them and bring them food at all hours of the day and night…

Eventually, of course, they had to lay the eggs too— and they begged for your help, your touch, to get them through it. After all, these were your eggs, so wasn’t it kind of your fault and responsibility now?

( MDNI, No Age In Bio DNI )

CW: oviposition, eggpreg, laying eggs, some sadism/masochism, breeding

You grit your teeth as your yan squirms in your hold, fighting down your own lust. You know it’s not right, they have to lay the eggs, they can’t hold them inside forever— but something in you wishes they could, insists that they can. The exhausted slump of your yan’s body and the sweat slicking their feverish skin, don’t help. the wet sounds each egg makes as they push it out, accompanied by their own piteous, pained whines, help even less.

You can’t help it when your ovipositor peeks out in interest the more they writhe and cling to you. You can’t help wanting to change positions, watching their puffy hole stretch and strain around your egg, muscles fighting to force it out— and you certainly can’t help it when your curiosity leads you to push it back in, just to see what happens— and your yan’s eyes roll back into their head, body spasming as they cum all over themselves.

You shove your fingers deeper and let them still, waiting for your yan to come back to. They gasp in the aftershocks of the unexpected orgasm, hole fluttering madly around your fingers even as the rest of their body lays limp. Their eyes are hazy when they meet yours, desire and apprehension mixed together. It breaks something inside you.

“P-please,” they whine, “‘s too much, it hurts… need to, to lay them, please… you— you said you would h-help.”

“And you said you wanted these inside you, begged me for them… and now you just want to get rid of them, like they’re nothing?” You mock, scissoring your fingers, working to push the egg back even deeper inside. Your yan lets out a warbling breath, unable to breathe deeply enough to moan.

Your ovipositor aches between your legs. You can feel more eggs deep inside you, needing to be laid soon anyway. Why waste a perfectly warm, wet hole just because it’s already half-full of your eggs? Your yan’s breath hitches even further when your fingers slide out of them, only to feel the head of your ovipositor against them.

They choke on another half-moan, squirming weakly. You can’t tell if they’re trying to get away or beg for more, the only things they seem to remember how to say being your name and the word “please.”

You flip them over and pull their hips up, sliding into them and hissing from the warmth. They’re feverish, hotter than you’ve ever felt before. You slide in and out experimentally, but they don’t need to be opened up nearly as much as the first time. Your eggs had stretched them out— the thought of their hole stretched around your eggs makes you twitch inside them, and your yan whines even more pathetically.

They cry out more and more with every thrust, with every new egg you press into them. They cum over and over again without you even touching them in the front, tears streaming down their face at the burn and stretch of their hole and stomach. You curl around them, rubbing their stomach as you feel it stretch with each new egg, this clutch bigger than the last even without your older eggs already inside them. Your yan goes fully limp under you as they cry from the pleasure-pain.

“You wanted this— wanted me, my eggs— stop crying and— and fucking take it,” you growl in their ear.

All they can do is whine, weakly rolling their hips back against yours.

[takami-takami]

Cut To The Chase.

kinktober day 2: knife play

includes— hawks x reader. minors dni. smut.

warnings— afab!reader. heavy knife play. discussions of piercing, but no actual cuts. still, this is a knife play fic. be warned. gags. bullying/kinkshaming. praise kink. aftercare.

"You're shaking, dove," Keigo whispers above you. "Relax a little for me, yeah?" 

The rhythmic beat of your heart pounds in your ears. The heady bass of it hammers behind your ribs. A single drop of perspiration crawls its way down your neck like a snake might slither down a tree, hissing sharp against the searing heat of your skin. It bobs with the swallow in your throat. It glistens with your tremors as you writhe so subtly against the silken sheets.

And there’s something about the way your life rests in your partner’s steady hand that surges the adrenaline screaming within your veins. It sings a chorus through your chilling blood.

The quirk of his lips is practically audible when he speaks— infuriating, even; but his appraisal of the situation is undeniably on point.

Of course you’re staring. Twisting and gliding along the edge of your skin, just the lightest squirm away from piercing through your flesh, is the tip of something sharp, icy, and unfathomably lethal— had Keigo been in a more dangerous mood and blindfolded you, the object would feel indiscernible from the steel of a curved dagger, the crescent point pressing the slightest divot into the skin of your navel. 

Even the light reflects with a glint off his feather as if it were metal when it’s sharpened like this.

“You actually like this sort of thing?” Keigo interrogates you, raising his brows. A scoff of disbelief follows quickly behind the inquiry, the heat of his breath fogging against your neck when he noses your jaw. Achingly slow, the scarlet weapon drags up your core, crawling its way toward your utterly exposed chest. 

He could pierce you at any moment. One flick and the skin could burst, one breath and your body would become a canvas to his liking. It's a dance of trust, of control, when he plucks that velvet red feather between his thumb and forefinger as if it were merely a pen to be dipped into ink.

“Your heart rate's pickin' up. It's gonna give you away, dove,” he observes, skimming the skin at the exact spot where he can sense the beat. He drags the feather in circles, a melody in his voice when he sings, low, taunting, and dangerous: "You like this."

“Don’t even care that I could just slip it a little deeper, do you," he realizes, increasing the pressure of the feather against your hammering chest. He can barely hold the click of disappointment from his tongue when you whimper in response. 

"Nah. That’d just get you wet, wouldn’t it?”

You see the flash of reflected light under your chin before you can feel the feather against your neck— the metallic sound of the blade cutting through the air rings in your ears, louder than the hitch of your breath from the whirlwind speed of his actions.

“Oh, you like that?” 

Keigo doesn't bother to suppress the laughter that builds and erupts. Why would he? He'd place a hefty bet that someone like you would hear a condescending sound like that and feel it like electricity instead, jolting down to crackle between your poor, trembling legs.

You're so fucking predictable. You like a bit of danger, and Keigo is more than willing to indulge your little fantasies in the only way he knows how: famished, unreserved, and entirely committed to every intricacy of his role.

Besides, he'd be lying if he said this little image of you wasn't absolutely gorgeous; you, the picture of prey spread beneath him under the shadow cast by his wings, blubbering and unsure if you want to beg to be pierced by his feather or his cock.

When he slips two slicked fingers inside to scissor them, it's entirely unsurprising that your body opens easily to accept them; so unsurprising, in fact, that his eyes roll almost as immediately as yours do, though he wears a smirk rather than a slack jaw. 

The heel of his palm graciously grinds against you each time he bottoms out, the motion made with each rocking thrust expertly positioning his curled fingers upwards. Ever intentional, the heel presses firm against your throbbing core.

When he speaks, you get the impression he's moreso musing to himself than addressing you. 

"And what if I fucked you like this, huh? A cock in your pussy and a knife at your throat… Sounds like your own personal heaven, doesn't it, angel?" Keigo punctuates the last word with a mocking lilt, pouting in bastardized sympathy to match your wobbling bottom lip.

"Aww, not gonna bother answering that?" He smiles and pulls at the fabric stuffing your drooling mouth. "C'mon, speak. Wanna hear you when you break for me, 'kay?"

You swallow dry before you attempt to catch your voice, gasping in a bit of air as you arch your chest and whine some garbled words Keigo can only assume are supposed to resemble a beg. 

"Oh you're close to close," he posits through a smile, just loud enough to be heard over the noise of his drenched fingers that pump knuckle deep and curl up. "It's okay, baby. Let it out. I've got you. Cum on my fingers, c'mon baby, cum f'me, you're such a good—"

Your back bows when your world shatters. His sweet words never cease, pouring praises over your body like the heat that envelops you, over and over in trembling waves.

The first thing you feel when you float down from your high, catching you like a feather landing slowly in his palm, is a methodical barrage of kisses against your cheeks. Feather discarded, Keigo holds your face in place with cradling palms, crooning at the far-gone smile that remains etched in your expression.

"Hi, baby," he whispers, lopsided smile wide as he pulls back and thumbs the apples of your cheeks, smooshing them in little clockwise circles. "Still with me?"

"Hi, Kei'," you simply mumble, words as sluggish and limp as you are; and just like that, your partner is solid and stable once more above you. 

When words elude you, your body begins to speak instead. Your fingers crawl down his biceps and up his neck, nestling in the thickets of his hair and clutching at the scalp as if to settle your own roots there for stability; and on the inside, Keigo's heart trips over itself. Your very center is open to him, pawing at his body and swallowing everything he gives you— and he'll give it all.

Clear eyes attempt to catch your bleary ones, searching for signs of discomfort as you continue to cling to the haziness that envelops your mind. Once he's thoroughly checked for any nicks or scratches, your body is laid back against the sheets.

"C'mon, pretty bird," Keigo whispers, rubbing the highest points of your cheekbones. "Gimme a smile, yeah?" 

When you do, it's with a glaze in your eyes, gazing up at him like he's a newfound city of gold.

"That good, huh," he teases, and you yawn. There's a rich, golden butter in his voice when he speaks. It's warm like the sheets he rolls you both up in, hot like his bare chest against your back when he lays you down to cuddle. 

"I wasn't too mean, was I?" 

"You were perfect for me," you sigh.

The plush of his feathers shudders once in the corner of your vision. He rests his chin along your bare shoulder, clutching your body as close to his chest as it can go.

"You're perfect for me, too."

[kedyly]

Pretty face, naked skin

Dripped in lace, you're favorite sin

You love the chase, but will you stay when it ends?

[capitalisticveins]

Quinn can take Angel, Baaabe, even SWEETHEART if he can, just LET SAM AND TANK BE HAPPY

[lillhappycloud]

Some cute aftercare.

[darcydarlingdabbles]

Fit to be Tied ~ Part 1

⊹ Hazbin Hotel ⊹ RadioDust ⊹ Explicit ⊹ 3.2k

After a rough night on set, Angel Dust falls at the feet of the one resident of the hotel he knows will take care—and control of him. CW: Rough treatment of Angel prior to story, and the implied consent issues of working with Valentino. //This is a thanks for 100 Followers~//

✧✦✧✦⚜️✧✦✧✦

Alastor savored the bitter notes of coffee as the old grandfather clock chimed midnight. 

He was comfortably reclined in one of the plush armchairs near his crackling green fireplace as he lazily skimmed over the pages of his book. Enjoying a quiet night at Hazbin Hotel, for once. 

Until a prickle at the back of his neck made Alastor’s ears twitch. 

Barely a moment later, the door to the Radio Demon’s room burst open and knocked a few tomes off his shelf. 

Alastor’s head snapped up in time to see a blur of pink and white, before a pile of silk and flailing limbs tumbled towards him. 

The red-clad demon vanished from his seat, reappearing behind the intruder as he face-planted into the recently vacated chair. 

“My, my, Angel Dust.” Alastor drawled, his ever-present smile constricting. He flicked his staff and the door of his room shut. “It appears our resident libertine has been through quite the wringer this evening.” 

His words dripped with facade, but a gleam of genuine concern ghosted across his features as he took in the state of the spider demon.

Angel’s pink robe hung precariously off of one shoulder and his makeup had run and long since dried. He was panting furiously, Alastor could tell even as he leaned over Angel’s back, his own hands clasped neatly behind his back as he examined Angel’s crumpled form. 

“Care to enlighten me as to the nature of your…predicament?”

“Val…Valentino.” Angel managed to choke out, his voice gone horse and raw.

Alastor’s curiosity deepened at the utter lack of bravado and flirtation in the spider demon’s words. 

Angel lay sprawled across the red chair, one set of limbs hanging over the arms of it, the second set barely keeping him off of the floor. His chest heaved for every breath, and his mismatched eyes were unfocused. 

“He had me trussed up and gagged all damn night.” He whined breathlessly. 

A shudder ran down his arched spine, and Alastor could see the residual arousal and overt desperation in every quivering muscle. 

“Oh?” Alastor’s eyebrows lifted above his perpetual grin. “Correct me if I am mistaken, but isn’t that sort of treatment typically right up your ally?” Though he had never seen the effeminate fellow looking so horridly undone.

With a whimper, Angel pulled himself to turn over, sprawling across the chair in a way that might have been enticing—if not for the anguish radiating from him.

“Listen Al, ya ain’t gettin’ it.” he grumbled as he shifted restlessly and his silk robe bunched around his middle. “The bastard slapped a chastity belt on me—I’m wound so fuckin’ tight, it’s killin’ me!” 

Something dark passed over Alastor’s features. 

“I see,” he murmured, with the edge of sizzling static. “The vermin Valentino decided to be particularly cruel.” Alastor shifted closer to Angel. “And sending you home in this state is a slight that I take rather personally.” 

Angel lifted his head, his mouth opening like he was going to ask, when the air shimmered around the Radio Demon. Inky black tentacles rose from the back of his perfecftly pressed suit, swaying menacingly towards the spider, before they tenderly parted the thin robe around his slender frame. 

The chastity belt was an atrocious looking thing. Heavy and with an ugly heart-shaped lock. 

“Stay still.” Alastor ordered the distressed demon. 

Without a further word, his shadow powers slipped under the device and then surged—deftly breaking it apart without harming Angel. 

“There now.” Alastor said, standing and brushing off his hands though he hadn’t touched the other. “Is that bett—”

Before he could finish the question, Angel launched himself at Alastor with a distraught sob. They both tumbled back into the other armchair, Angel clinging to Alastor like he’d just offered him his soul back. Tears streamed down the spider demon’s face as his entire body shook. 

And Alastor didn’t push Angel away. 

He lifted a clawed hand, flexing his fingers, before dropping his hand to the other’s hair. Stroking over it in a comforting gesture. 

It wasn’t his forte, certainly, but Angel leaned into his palm like he craved every meager scrap given. 

⊹♡⋆♡⋆💖⋆♡⋆♡⊹ 

“Al…please…” Angel still felt like he couldn’t take a full breath. His voice was ragged, and he was trying to cling to Alastor with every limb. “I need…I can’t.” 

A hand slipped under Angel’s head, grasping his chin firmly and tilting his face upward. He tried to focus on Alastor’s face—wondering if he’d have pity, or if the spider demon was about to get tossed out on his ass. 

“Now, now, my dear,” Alastor steady crimson gaze met Angel’s mismatched eyes with a smoldering intensity as his voice was perfectly controlled. “Tell me what you need. And do try to articulate it clearly.”

Angel gripped at the arms of the chairs to lift himself and clutch at Alastor’s jacket. 

“Need ya Al…please.” He pleaded, and he didn’t need to act to hitch his voice. 

 “You need me?” Alastor's smile softened, almost imperceptibly, before he gave a jut of his chin. His clawed fingers caressed the fuzz of Angel’s cheek. “Do elaborate, won’t you?”

 “Come the fuck on, Smiles! Ya want me to paint ya a picture?” The spider demon let out a rattling growl, burrowing his head into Alastor’s lap in frustration. 

“Angel…” Alastor purred, his voice lowered, and he felt it. The way the Overlord’s demeanor shifted into a dominance that was almost gentle. 

 Angel felt the tension in his neck ease under the weight of a hand.

 “You know I will take care you…but first, you must ask me nicely.” 

The spider whimpered in response, blinking against the unshed tears in his eyes. “Y-yes, Alastor.” He panted against the Radio Demon’s palm. “Please…I need you to—” 

It was taking every last dreg of his willpower to pull himself out of his fuzzy headspace. He’d been begging all night…but he had to play Alastor’s game. 

“You need me to what, Angel? Tell me.” 

Angel’s voice was barely above a whisper when he finally managed to speak, “I-I need you to... to make me come, Alastor.”

“Well, well. Coming to me in your hour of need.” His lips curved into a devilish grin. “Since you asked so very sweetly…I might just consider it.”

“Please, Alastor.” Angel was weeping with need now, on the very edge of his sanity. “I-I cain’t take it anymore!” 

“You would do well to remember how our game is played,” Alastor’s hand wrapped around Angel’s throat. “When you come here, In your moment of weakness.” He forced Angel back onto his knees, while the spider’s many fingers grasped at his sleeve. “You belong to me.” 

Angel’s whimper in response was a tone of broken relief. 

His body responded eagerly to Alastor’s domination, eager to throw himself down at the Radio Demon’s mercy. He needed it. Needed Alastor to take control and make him forget, for as long as he could. 

Angel trembled on his knees before Alastor. His legs parted at a nudge of the red-toed boots, his four arms dropping to his side as more shadowy tentacles sprung from the demon’s back and up from the floor. 

They slid over the spider’s body, soothing despite their raw power, slithering into the pink silk clinging to Angel’s frame. Delicate touches coiled over him—until the tendrils turned and shred Valentino’s robe.

It fell in tatters around them. 

Angel’s eyes squeezed shut as he tried to calm his breathing and focus on the feeling of the thrilling and terrifying power coiling around him. 

He was already overwhelmed, his nerves fried from the constant barrage of sensations all night, never reaching the peak, never giving him relief. One of the tentacles brushed up against his throbbing cock, and Angel gave a pained cry as he tried to recoil. 

“There, there, relax, ” Alastor’s soft recognition was almost pacifying, and he withdrew the touch from Angel’s oversensitive prick at once. Claws were back in the spider demon’s hair, forcing his head down, his cheek pressed to Alastor’s slacks even as the man whispered. “You don’t have to come like that. Let me take care of you.” 

Angel let out a shaky breath, the tension slipping away under the vice-tight hold. 

He felt another tentacle, small, slick, and pleasant, sliding inside him. The spider let out a sigh as the tendril adjusted to him before it slowly and deliberately began to move. 

“That’s it, Angel.” Alastor purred, his voice a low rumble in his chest as Angel gave a subdued moan. 

He didn’t have it in him to put on a show—no teasing words or dirty talk came to his mind as he surrendered to what he was given. It was easy to slip into the sensation. 

Until his body shuddered as he came dry with a weak cry against Alastor’s slacks. Angel felt boneless, his limbs heavy as lead as he slumped onto the other demon’s lap. 

“You did so well.” Alastor said, his voice gentle as he stroked through Angel’s mussed hair. “Good boy.” 

There was no afterglow, not with how tightly coiled he’d been.

But in that moment, Angel couldn’t bring himself to care. All that mattered was the warmth of this little bubble, this space that existed only between the two of them. 

Where Angel was safe from any other touch. 

⊹♡⋆♡⋆💖⋆♡⋆♡⊹ 

The spider demon knew it wasn’t long—but he wanted more. He needed more. 

“Al,” he started his plea, turning his head to try to catch the demon’s scarlet eyes. “Do it again?”

Alastor’s claws tightened in his hair, holding the spider in place with a vice-like grip. “Begging so soon, my dear?”

Angel bit into his lip, his golden fang glinting in the low light.  

“I thought you might need a moment, to recover.” 

The words were firm but gentle, a suggestion, not an order. Not yet. Angel shook his head vehemently. 

“I cain’t…I’m gonna…pretty please.” He wriggled under the Radio Demon’s hold, prying his fingers loose from chair and clothes, just to fold all four hands behind his back. Crossing his wrists in submission to Alastor. 

The demon’s smirk widened. 

“Very well,” he purred, his voice dropping low, out of his usual register as he leaned forward. The very sound raising the white hairs along Angel’s body. “But this time, I want you to beg for it properly.” 

“Yes, Al. I’ll do anything ya want.” Angel nodded eagerly. 

With a flick of his fingers, Alastor’s tentacles wrapped around Angel’s wrists and ankles, lifting him effortlessly from the ground. 

Angel gasped as he was held suspended in mid-air, bearing all of him for the Radio Demon. And leaving him completely at Alastor’s mercy. 

“Good boy,” Alastor said, his voice dripping with approval. “Now, let’s see how well you can beg.”

 Angel’s heart raced as he felt Alastor’s tentacles begin to explore his body, teasing and caressing every exposed inch. 

He wanted to sob, to cry out, but he knew Alastor wanted to hear his pleas. “Please, Al,” he gasped, his voice trembling with need. “I need you...I need you inside me.” 

“Is that so?” A tendril of shadow wrapped around his neck, pulling Angel’s head forward. Alastor chuckled, his breath hot against Angel’s ear. “And, what will you give me in return, darling?”

Angel’s mind raced as he tried to think of something; anything that would satisfy Alastor’s desires. What did he have that he could give the Radio Demon? Not power or wealth. He didn’t even own his own soul. 

“Anything,” Angel mewled, desperate to be owned completely. “I’ll do anything ya want.” 

Alastor’s tentacles tightened around him, holding him in place as he leaned in closer, so Angel was barely a breath from those razor-sharp teeth. “I want you to surrender yourself to me completely,” he intoned, like it was a threat, somehow. “I want your body, your mind, and your soul.”

A pained gasp of shock escaped the spider demon, ducking his head from the burning gaze in front of him. Hating the…shame he felt as the tentacles stopped their possessive slither over his chest and between his legs. 

He wanted to give Alastor everything—but he couldn’t. 

Valentino had already taken it. The deal for his soul, the studio where he used Angel’s body however he pleased…the drugs and that damn pink smoke he breathed and stole Angel’s mind from him. 

“Al, I—” his breath hitched with a sob and the red and cursed green of the room swam before his eyes. “I can’t.” 

Angel Dust prided himself on telling people exactly what they wanted to hear, couldn’t make himself say the words to Alastor—not knowing that it was a lie. 

The other demon just gave a simple, knowing smile. “Yes, you can, Angel.” He assured the frantic spider demon, each word resonating with certainty. “When you are free of that insect’s clutches, you shall willingly surrender to me.” The undeniable command was smooth as silk. 

Angel’s eyes went wide. 

This was their little dance, what some might call a twisted game of power and submission. 

Still, a shiver made the fur along the back of his spine raise at the thought. The shame didn’t vanish entirely, but it shriveled to nothing when Alastor dropped the tentacle around Angel’s throat, and replaced it with his clawed hand. 

“Yes,” Angel was still crying, but his voice was stronger now. His eyes were able to meet Alastor’s again. “I’d give ya, all’a me, Al. Everything I got.” 

“That’s it, darling.” 

Alastor’s tentacles moved again, stretching Angel and thrilling him with their raw force. Probing and teasing every inch. Working his hole until his heart was beating in his ears. 

“Let go, of anything else. There’s just you and I.” Alastor’s voice was nothing more than a low rumble in his chest, but Angel fell limp in the grasp of his darkness. 

Surrendering himself to the Radio Demon until there was nothing left, but the pleasure that threatened to consume him. Letting there be nothing else, for just one blissful moment. 

The tentacles moved within Angel, curling into his sweet spot, filling him until the pleasure bordered on pain. The spider writhed in the web of dark tendrils, but never asked to be released from it. He didn’t want to. 

Even as his head dropped and his eyes squeezed shut with a shuddering breath. 

But Alastor wouldn’t let him hide. 

The point of the Radio Demon’s thumb pushed Angel’s chin up, eyes wide as he saw the way the crimson eyes had dilated to dial-like slits. 

“Look at me,” Alastor growled the order. “You look at me…while I take you apart, piece by piece.” 

Angel whined as the claw kept him in place and the tentacles writhed, wringing every last bit of pleasure from his quivering body.  He could feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge, and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer.

“Until you can’t remember anything else.” 

Alastor wasn’t finished with him .

“Then, I’ll put you back together.” Alastor’s voice was a harsh, unfiltered whisper, rough with the same need coursing through Angel. “Because you belong to me.” 

Angel panted against Alastor’s lips as he sealed that promise with a breath-stealing kiss. 

With a final thrust of the tentacles buried inside him, Alastor sent Angel over the edge. The spider demon cried out his name, his body shaking, before falling limp in the shadows’ hold, every ounce of tension wrung from him. 

At last. 

⊹♡⋆♡⋆💖⋆♡⋆♡⊹ 

When Angel surfaced from the pleasant pink fog that had filled his head, he was lying on his back in Alastor’s bed. 

With the Radio Demon himself sprawled out above him. 

Reclining with one knee bent, Alastor casually flipped through a book with a flick of his thumb. His other hand splayed over the fluff of Angel’s chest. 

The damn guy hardly looked disheveled—other than his missing red coat. Angel was vaguely aware of making a mess of it with his come, and a rush of heat came to the spider demon’s face. 

He tried not to jostle Alastor as he looked around for clothing, already going to offer to clean it. 

The claws tightened reflexively on Angel’s chest. 

He knew he was busted when Alastor set his book aside.

Angel was already flinching—his instincts telling him to expect the sting of a slap or harsh words now that they were done with him. 

But, Alastor was never like anyone who’d had him. The Radio Demon smiled down at him with a tenderness he’d never seen on the man’s face before. That felt like it was reserved just for Angel. 

The spider turned in his hold, his many limbs feeling like jelly as he fumbled to get himself up into Alastor’s lap and wrap his arms around the slender frame, tucking his head under the perpetual smile. 

“There, there.” The Radio Demon hummed ever so charmingly, idly petting down Angel’s back. 

The warmth of his rare affection was everything Angel craved as he came down. He buried his face in the crook of Alastor’s neck, finding the red shirt unbuttoned just enough so he could take deep lungfuls of his smoke and sulfur scent. 

More comforting than the sweetest concoctions. 

Alastor’s arms wrapped around him, holding him close. Angel felt safe in his embrace, like nothing could harm him as long as he was in these arms.

They lay there in silence for a few moments, the spider’s breath slowing to fall in line with the Radio Demon’s. Then, Alastor pressed a soft kiss to Angel’s forehead, making him sigh contentedly.

“Al…?” Angel tilted his head back, mismatched eyes pleading.

“Drink,” Alastor ordered, summoning a glass of water and holding the straw to Angel’s lips.

Angel took a few sips, feeling the cool liquid soothe his parched throat. When he opened his mouth again— 

“Are you hungry?”

“Alastor.” 

A bemused smile came to the demon’s lips. “Yes, dear?”

“Is there anything I can do for you?” he asked, his voice soft.

The scarlet eyes lightened at the question, and he brushed a stray hair out of Angel’s face. “Not tonight, darling,” he said, his voice low and soothing. “Tonight, you are in my care. And that’s all that matters.”

Angel smiled and snuggled closer to Alastor, know that the man meant what he said when he said it. 

The spider had this, sense of peace wash over him. He knew that he was safe in Alastor’s care, and that was all that mattered right now.

Alastor simply smiled and wrapped him in a soft pink blanket, pulling him even closer. 

They lay there for a while longer, exchanging unhurried kisses that were sweet and mild.

Before Angel decided he was fucking starving and he would eat whatever the hell Alastor made for him.

Part 2

[boonalina]

Redson and Mk bathing together

(Doodled a little spicynoodles)

(Slight NSFW warning)

This is based off a fanfic I made

[depravedangelbaby]

drunk thoughts: imagining a cnc scene where I use a fake safeword n cry for a long time that it's too much, I can't take it, it's hurting, I don't want it anymore- and being told to shut up and be thankful for it

[sevrina]

✨rainy day, cuddling in the bed and you squishing my titties ✨

me and who??

[catgrassplantdad]

I would like to hear about Ians aftercare. I love mickey aftercare but everyone tell me how Mickey acts post sex towards him 🥹

☀️ hi, anon! i love this! the plan was to just give a brief description of the headcanons i have about this, but then it spiraled. so here's a short drabble about ian receiving aftercare from mickey. 💫

The blindfold is carefully slipped off of him, and Ian opens his eyes, squinting against the low lamp light. He's still dazed, and there's hot, lingering pleasure still warming him, everything just now starting to recede out of him. He's laying flat on his back, loose-limbed, sweat making him stick to the sheets. There's all kinds of shuffling beside him as he takes his shuddering, uneven breaths, and he sees that it's Mickey stacking pillows against the headboard.

Mickey pulls a towel off the nightstand where it had been waiting for them, and then he's right beside him again, blessedly close and comforting, kneeling over him and so, so gently wiping him down. Slow drags on his skin, the softest touch he can manage. Ian hisses when he dabs around his cock, still so sensitive, and Mickey soothes him with a hand on his stomach, murmuring, "sorry, I got you..."

When Mickey leans away to drop the towel onto the floor and rummage around on the nightstand, Ian brings his hands up to his face, closing his eyes and wiping away sweat. He groans when he gets the spins to a surprisingly unbearable degree, opening his eyes back up quickly and trying to focus his vision on a single point on the ceiling, trying to ground himself. His head is all cottony. There's a dull ringing in his ears.

He doesn't normally go completely nonverbal the way Mickey so often does, so he's able to mumble "C'mere, please," and bat a hand out toward his husband, smacking the mattress.

"I'm comin'," Mickey assures him, shuffling over with a water bottle in hand. He drops it on the mattress to take Ian's face in his hands, cradling him sweetly, his touch so warm. "Wanna sit up for me?"

"Mmm," Ian grunts agreeably. Yeah, he wants to sit up. So he can drink the water Mickey has for him. He wants to feel more steady. He wants...ah. He wants a fucking hug.

He groggily heaves himself up, and then Mickey's helping him ease back against the pillows he's stacked for him, all nestled and propped up and cozy. His husband slides into his lap, straddling him and pressed so close, all warm and soft and so lovely and loving. His arms wrap around Ian's shoulders, and Ian buries himself in him. Yes, this is it. Such a good fucking hug. He lets his hands rest on Mickey's hips, his face pressed against his neck, breathing in that warm, slightly musky smell of him, familiar and beautiful. They sit like this for a moment, and his head begins to clear.

He peers over Mickey's shoulder and sees the cuffs lying unbuckled on the bed, the blindfold discarded beside them. He wraps his arms tighter around Mickey, taking one wrist in hand against Mickey's lower back and rubbing it tenderly, remembering. He felt so good. He feels so good.

"Here, drink," Mickey says softly, leaning away to grab the water, Ian unwinding his arms from around him. He unscrews the cap and hands it over, and Ian carefully takes it from him. He holds it with both hands, not trusting his trembling fingers to grasp it with just one. He takes a couple of sips, and fuck, that feels good on his raw throat. It cools him down.

Mickey watches him drink it, then takes it from him when he's done.

"Feelin' alright, tough guy?" he asks sweetly. Ian nods. "Want a snack?" And how is that so cute?

"Yeah." Ian nods again.

Staying firmly seated on Ian, Mickey leans aside again and grabs the little packet on the nightstand. It's trail mix, but it's the kind that's mostly chocolate. Just a bag of candy, really. Ian's got a hell of a sweet tooth, especially after this kind of exertion, and Mickey knows it. He's prepared.

Ian smiles as Mickey carefully rips open the bag and reaches in. He holds up an m&m, and Ian opens his mouth, still smiling. He lets Mickey feed him, laughing a little bit.

"You're cute," he says as he chews.

"Fuck off," Mickey replies, no heat to it. And then, "You're fuckin' cute."

He feeds him another piece of chocolate.

"I can do this part, baby," Ian says as Mickey digs into the bag again. "Can feed myself." Not that he minds, really. He likes this kind of attention.

And Mickey looks at him all soft then, in that way that he does sometimes when he's about to be earnest and sweet, and it's got Ian melting a little bit already.

"I wanna do it," he says. Ian's heart clenches.

"Okay."

He lounges there, leaning back against pillows that his husband piled up for him so he would be comfy, said husband in his lap and being the perfect grounding weight and presence, eating chocolate that his husband slips between his lips with fingers that had only just been wrecking and unraveling him. And he enjoys feeling wholly treasured, entirely taken care of.