#he leans on the door frame but somehow it looks a bit weird

[chevvy-yates]

[NC_RES]-31102049-EUR-GER scharfenberg_g_portraits_027_CC_7THH.file ///core:_ryder_von_scharfenberg.file\\\

—

⚠️ READ: Please do not repost/reupload any of my art here or to any other platform, or I will be forced to do anything to get it annihilated.

Double Sleeved Long Sleeve by @johnau6ust & @veegeealvarez.

[greenandsorrow]

the price for misbehaving (i)

Alastor in the rut x gn!reader

WARNINGS; 18+, reader with female parts, horniness & hormones, deer/doe!demon!reader, breeding k1nk, primal instincts, mentions of deer mating season, premature ejaculation, masturbation, dry humping, penetrative sex, marking & biting, friends to lovers, very descriptive, smut with emotion, corn with plot, fictional man being pathetic

Dividers by; @cafekitsune & @saradika-graphics

Please do not repost or directly copy my work and don't use it on AI platforms either ❤️

I somehow always manage to write more than originally planned, so this is big. Also, this is my first time writing a gender neutral reader -I'm still learning.

my original idea • ~masterpost~

Alastor is the radio demon. You have no clue how he manages to behave like he's the epitome of etiquette and a true gentleman, while also having the reputation of one of the most dangerous citizens of Hell, an overlord, a sinister killer and a cannibal.

Alastor is your friend. You fell in Hell three decades after him, but the fact that you're also a deer demon seemed to get him interested in you. His smile is less a sign of dominance and more one of sympathy around you. What's more, the radio demon is a tad bit protective when it comes to you. You'll never know it, but Alastor has his way of keeping you safe, discreetly pulling the strings, luckily for your sake.

He had been missing for years and when he had come to your door, big grin, shiny hooves and polished cane and had told you about the "Hazbin Hotel" you hadn't questioned much. It was weird that someone like him would back up Lucifer's daughter on such an idealistic plan, but with the extermination being a constant bane in your life, you had agreed heartily. You had wrapped your arms around Alastor's lean frame in a never recorpirated hug and you'd been off to your new place of residence.

You like the hotel. You and Niffty are old friends, the barman is a familiar face and Charlie is thrilled to have you here. The other residents have been no trouble to you, so you've managed to adjust to your new lifestyle no problem.

Let's not forget one thing though, you're all sinners and Alastor is ten times the amount you are. This comes with consequences for him. Alastor is bound to face an eternal struggle against his animal side, a struggle that he's been destined to lose. According to Angel, the radio demon you call your friend would identify as asexual had he been born later on Earth. But even with that, the urges he has to experience during the rutting season can't be prevented. You're still unaware your friend has to go through this.

But that's Alastor's price for misbehaving.

It's another evening at the hotel.

Charlie and Vaggie are on a date and that means no planned activities for the rest of you. You like the peace and quiet. Your deer ears are lowered in concentration as you're sitting on the couch of the lounge area, reading a book which has turned out to be a sick and twisted edition of Pride & Prejudice.

Alastor's been very distant since the beginning of autumn. More than usual. It's almost October now... and it has peaked your interest why he has been spending whole days locked up in his quarters. Sometime during September, you two had been chatting merrily about jazz, when all of a sudden his pupils had shrank and he had let out an uncharacteristically shaky sigh. You remember how his breathing had sped up and he had smiled politely before vanishing into thin air.

You're about to stand up and go to your room, when your ears practically perk up at the sound of static. You know this sound... and even though it usually means bad news, you look up and give the source of it a little smile. "Oh, hi Al..."

Alastor's antlers begin to grow, but he can control himself for now. The rutting starts hitting him with a new wave of frustration -and it's getting worse now that he's in your presence.

"My favorite y/n! What are you reading my dear?", his grin and confidence hide how vulnerable he feels in this state.

"Charlie gifted me some of her old books and-"

"Oh Charlie! She is a gem, isn't she?" Alastor suddenly leans to the side, as if trying to scratch something out of his hair. His face quickly returns back to its normal grin... but he also begins to scratch his arm.

You chuckle awkwardly. Why is he looking so irritable?

"Well, she's so nice, I can't disagree with you there... and I'm glad she finally decided to take some time off to spend with her girlfriend."

He laughs, showing off his sharp teeth as you initiate in small talk.

Alastor can feel a voice deep within calling him to give in and claim you, breed you 'till his hunger is satisfied. The radio demon's expression fades to an empty, dull stare, as his instincts fight against him. Now you're feeling uneasy and you shift in your seat.

"Ah- sorry dear. Got caught up there, I forgot myself." Alastor takes a quick breath, his eyes narrowing as he struggles to stay in control. "Don't you worry y/n! I'm certainly quite harmless."

He's in full rutting mode, his voice starts becoming breathy -the animalistic urges taking over. It's only getting worse as he stands close to you, the hormones increasing his urge to be near you, to make you his and his alone.

His voice is hoarse now and his breathing heavier. "Have you seen Niffty by chance?"

His ears move as if they're itching him.

You clear your throat and try to keep your curiosity regarding his behavior at bay. "I'm afraid I haven't, she's probably killing bugs somewhere..."

Alastor's expression shifts to one of pure annoyance. To your oblivious so far mind, Al is probably just pissed off at something. "Well then, if you happen to see her, do tell her she better not disturb me at my room... and don't you dare forget it my dear!"

"I- I won't."

His pupils almost completely disappear as he stares at you and his mouth curls into a snarl with his yellowish teeth out.

He has a hypnotic effect on you, you're beginning to feel lightheaded being near him. He takes a step back, moving a safe distance away from you -because he feels like he's gonna launch on you at any given moment. Alastor is getting tired of trying to maintain his composure around you.

He hates how shallow his breathing has become, how the urge to take you has become too much for him to bear. A low growling noise escapes him.

Alastor watches as you resume your previous activity of reading. Humiliated from his lack of control and frustrated from the stinging sensation in his loins he slips away from the lounge.

Alastor is alone now, his eyes wild with lust and desperation, as he looks around his room in a frenzy. He grabs a pillow and starts rubbing his groin against it. He feels like his body is melting from all the heatb -he can't help but imagine the pillow is your backside.

"Oh~", he breathes out raggedly, his inhales shallower and shallower as his imagination toys with him. You'd look so delicious in the place of the lifeless pillow... Alastor's heart is racing and his antlers have grown sharp and tall on his head.

He is overwhelmed, being rather sexually unbothered the rest of the year has made his shaft extra sensitive.

...why him? Why does he have to go through this rutting thing? It makes him feel powerless and he hates it...

Alastor groans in desperation. He squeezes his eyes shut, imagining your soft skin sliding against his body... He thinks of your cute fluffy tail. You get all your clothes tailored so that there's space for it to protrude while he always tucks his own in his suit pants...

In a fury, he takes off his coat and crawls on the bed, placing the pillow between his legs. He's in all fours as he humps it like a real deer.

He keeps growling, the sound mixing with static. He can't stop thinking of you -the perfect mate... another deer. Alastor's mind is playing out all these amazing things, your smile and your voice, your butt, your ears that match his own... and your neck that he'd definitely mark with his teeth if he was ever given the chance.

Alastor is in a trance. With shaky hands he curses himself for, he reaches down to his crotch and takes out his cock. His tip is flushed and swollen and he hisses as he continues to push his hips against the pillow. The deer demon grunts softly, his hips moving involuntarily with restless abandon as he pretends to be mating with a partner.

"Take that... oh~" Alastor's cock throbs painfully, desperate for release. The pillow has been providing him with some much needed friction the last few weeks, but he knows it soon won't be enough to satisfy him. His red hair is sticking to his forehead and he's panting so much -chasing his release with a desperation he'd consider pathetic, if he could focus on anything else than his tightening balls.

Alastor continues to rub against the pillow and the motion makes his tail slip out of his suit pants. He can feel his body heat up even more, sweat beading on his forehead as he approaches his climax.

Your curiosity has gotten the best of you. You can't concentrate on your book and all you can think of is Alastor. In any case, the other residents of the hotel are busy doing their own thing, so there's no one stopping you from walking all the way to Alastor's rooms. There's static coming from his bedroom, but what really intrigues you are the groans... they're rather guttural... You assume he maybe hunted down an animal and he's devouring it? This has to be it...

On the other side of the door, Alastor is shaking with desire and his heart is pounding. The smell of you -that he assumes is part of his fantasy- is driving him insane, as he is almost ready to release a torrent of hot cum on his pillow.

"Alastor?" you knock on the big, ornate door.

This sudden interruption almost causes Alastor to fall over. He quickly covers his twitching member and throws the pillow away from him. One would expect him to feel embarrassed, but his first thought at being caught red handed is to kill you. Luckily for you, it's just a thought.

"Al? It's y/n. Can I come in?"

The radio demon's face contorts in desperation as he realizes how unsatisfied he feels. His hips are still rocking back and forth slightly, despite his attempts to control his body.

Why did you have to pay him a visit NOW? He was so close to finding relief...

Alastor has become desperate and not to mention agitated. What if you smell his arousal in the air? What if you look down and see the outline of his dick in his pants?!

He groans and shifts uncomfortably. The demon closes his eyes for a moment as he tries to even out his breathing.

Eventually, he shakes his head and walks to the door. He has fought against mighty overlords, he shouldn't hesitate to face his harmless friend just because he is in the rut.

Alastor doesn't want to admit it, but he most definitely is in breeding mode. Proof of that... the moment he opens the door, your smell becomes so strong to his heightened senses that he almost cums in his pants from it alone. Your friend bites back a groan.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, my dear?"

Taking in his appearance, something is definitely off to your inquisitive eyes. You notice how he's only in his shirt and vest -something truly rare for the Alastor you've come to know. His bow tie is crooked and the cherry on top... you can see his tail! It's red like his ears and... moving? You wonder why.

"Is he in musth or something?" you joke in your head.

"I was just bored in all honesty... Everyone is occupied with something. Um... you look... sick?"

"Ha!Ha! Don't be absurd y/n! You can't get any sicker than you already are in Hell!"

He can't hide the slight edge from his voice. He claims he is fine, but the look on his face screams otherwise.

Alastor's temperature keeps rising, his body is so sensitive and without realizing it, he neglects to filter his voice.

"Would you like to come in?"

Your eyes widen and you look at him with genuine surprise clear on your features. He quickly catches up that he screwed, but lets it go, the shivers he's starting to experience as his unattended cock is asking for some action having gained all his focus.

The air in the room is thick and you begin to have second thoughts about your decision to come here, but it's too late for that, so you just walk in Alastor's bedroom. His quarters are always clean and intimidating just like their occupant. Still, you like coming here, he's never been hostile towards you and if anything, dancing with Alastor or spilling some tea with him has always been part of your routine here at the hotel.

"Wanna dance?"

"You know I always do." Alastor manages to keep his smile and composure despite the sweat running down his back.

The jookbox starts playing on its own and you casually walk closer to your years long friend. Since he's always been much taller, you place your hands on his chest, while he wraps his own around your waist.

Alastor's lips start tingling as he looks down at your exposed neck. He bites the insides of his mouth until he tastes blood -he can't allow himself to think about you like that.

You sway back and forth in the rhythm of the old timey tunes, inevitably rubbing against him. The new found friction has him biting down on his tongue and clenching his fists behind your back until his nails are piercing his palms -otherwise he'd be howling out in despair.

Immersed in the songs you love so much, you unconsciously shift even closer to your fellow deer demon, but he harshly jerks away from you, his expression growing panicked. "H- haha... I c- can't let you d- do that my friend!"

You frown. Why can't you dance with him like you always do? ...and did the radio demon just stutter? You sigh at his lack of cheerfulness and look down.

Your now downcast gaze gives you a nice view of his... crotch area... and the said area has a raging bulge. Your first thought is to touch it and indulge in the attraction you've always felt for Alastor, but the way his antlers are growing right now and the static that's peaking up again make you turn to leave.

Long fingers wrap around your wrist in an instant and when you turn back at him, his eyes have changed.

"The song's not over dear y/n.", he says in the same strained tone and you swallow.

"R- right... my bad."

He has you pressed tightly against him in no time and he's swaying with you almost like he's on autopilot. And you can now feel his unbelievably hard erection against your lower body. Alastor grunts softly, his eternal smile faltering as his cock keeps throbbing painfully within his pants, desperate for release.

The demon's eyes wander over you, taking in your form. He knows he has to maintain some semblance of control, but his hormones are off the roof. Without realizing the inappropriateness of his actions, Alastor reaches out to touch you, fingers grazing the skin of your cheek. The demon's cock throbs even harder at the contact, leaking pre-cum in his underwear.

"You're so beautiful..."

Heat pools in your belly and your face flushes at his simple comment. He's a charmer, but that's a new one. His monocle slips down slightly as he leans in close, his scent of musk and arousal surrounding you.

Alastor's hands move to your hips, pulling you impossibly close. His eyes lock onto yours, filled with lust and a primal need. He presses his hips against yours and you can feel his clothed cock twitching eagerly.

His monocle falls to the floor as he loses himself in the rutting.

"Al- what's happening?"

Before you can question his unusual behaviour any further, Alastor presses his hardened length against your stomach with intent. A mix of frustration and pleasure is clear on his features.

To say you're surprised would be an understatement, but you don't stop him. You watch in awe as your bricked up friend loses himself to lust and his need to mate.

Your innocent dancing moment has turned into him dry humping you. He releases a guttural groan -too far gone to care about composure.

Alastor begins to grind against you faster, mimicking the movements of a rutting deer. His grip tightens around you, his need growing stronger and overwhelming. The bulge in his pants keeps pushing insistently against you, but you're so stunned by this turn of events that you grab him by the arms and take a step back.

Alastor's eyes flatter open and for a moment... He snaps out of his blurry state of mind. He straightens and clears his throat. He then gives you a stern look, with ears lowered.

"Get out."

"B- but we were-"

"You don't want to make me repeat myself."

The moment he's alone again, Alastor works the buttons of his dress pants in a daze, freeing his swollen cock. A low growl rumbles in his chest -and the deer demon is convinced that if he doesn't cum in the following minute, he's going to die a second time. He keeps making soft sounds, his body aching with the need to mate.

He had you right here, but he can't bring himself to be so vulnerable in front of someone other than himself.

What would Vox say if he found out that Alastor is forced to go through a mating season like some fucking animal? Why does the price of his sins have to manifest into some primal need to breed?

"Fffffuck!"

His mind gets fixated on the ache between his legs.

With an animalistic sound of pure lust, Alastor reaches down and wraps his fingers around one of his heavy testacles. He squeezes it gently, feeling his warm seed oozing out his slit. He leaks copious amounts of pre-cum on his crimson bedsheets. The radio demon watches, transfixed by the sight of his own seed dripping down the length of his hard dick. It's a powerful aphrodisiac for him and he can't help but imagine it spilling into you instead.

His cock twitches in anticipation and he gives in. Every day since the rutting season began, he has been trying to suppress his instincts and today has been no different, if anything, your presence made his hormones go even more nuts... and you should be happy you're not carrying his fawns by now.

Alastor begins to stroke himself -legs spread and sweat making his clothes stick to his body. His breath catches in his throat as his hips involuntarily back into his hand. The tips of his claws grow slightly and he's jerking himself off at a punishing pace now. Alastor's groans turn into pleasured whimpers as he arches his back, driving his erection deeper in his hand.

What would it feel like to finish inside you? To make you come... To have your heat contracting around his rock-hard member as you milk him past the point of no return?

"Oh- ...agh- y/n..."

He's murmuring things in unknown languages, but it all comes back to your name.

Alastor's hips begin to thrust forward in time with his strokes, seeking release from the torment of his lust. He snarls and growls in a throaty manner. He physically can't take it anymore, his balls feel like they're on fire...

The radio demon's eyes roll back in his head, the pleasure is intense, but it's only fueling his desire for a real partner more.

His fingers are sliding up and down his sensitive shaft and he can feel himself getting closer -but he knows that's not enough. Alastor's breath has become ragged, his monocle forgotten along with his pride somewhere far away... his vision is blurring...

Feeling himself nearing the edge, Alastor grits his teeth and pushes through the ache. His muscles tense... and then, he finally comes in a powerful burst of pleasure, shooting thick ropes of cum across the room. He keeps coming, his hips bucking upward, pushing his cock even deeper into his fist as he empties himself.

Alastor's orgasm was intense -almost violent- but it was the sweet release he's been craving all day long. As his climax finally begins to subside, the demon collapses back onto the bed, panting heavily.

However, his cock has remained hard and throbbing between his legs, demanding more attention as he tries to catch his breath.

Slowly, a tired Alastor sits up and glances down at his still engorged member. A part of him is reveling in the feeling of power that comes with being so thoroughly aroused, but he's not ready to admit that. For now, needs to fuck something, anything.

But hasn't he been tormented enough? Why isn't he satisfied yet?

He reaches for the nearest object. It doesn't matter what it is, as long as it can take his cock and bear the brunt of his ferocious passion. With a sinister chuckle, Alastor picks up another unlucky cushion and holds it tightly against his hips. His cock jerks repeatedly as he positions himself with the head of his shaft pressing against the soft fabric.

The cushion offers little resistance but serves as an outlet for Alastor's raging desire. He pounds away at it, relentlessly, his body shaking. With the ever present sound of static -evidence of his frustration-, he rhythmically pistons in and out of his makeshift partner with brutal force.

He's been doing this for weeks now, all the unsatisfied hunger making him lose his sanity bit by bit.

The radio demon's eyes are glazed over with passion. He continues fucking the cushion with savage intensity... still he wishes he could take it out on someone made of flesh and blood, someone who would react and offer him some reassurance that he's not going to pass out.

The pleasure is threatening to overwhelm Alastor once again and with labored breathing, he frantically moves his hips-

"N- no, n- no....agh-" he lets out a feral roar, spurting a sticky cumshot onto the cushion. This time, when he collapses on the mattress, he is exhausted.

He doesn't bother looking down at his angry cock, the discomfort isn't going away till the mating season ends...

...let's go back to you now.

After being so abruptly pushed away by Alastor, you went straight to your room. You have a lot to ponder over after tonight. Maybe you did have a small a crush on your friend that had allowed the situation to escalate. His behavior has been so off putting though.

You'd been proud of yourself, considering that you know Alastor better than anyone else in Hell, since he talks about everything with you over a cup of tea. He had been so excited to tell you he'll soon be back on air and he's always somewhere around you at all times. So, the fact that he just expressed sexual desire for you and then told you to leave him alone immediately after...

You would have never guessed that your fellow deer demon is interested in sex. He's been in the company of some of the most desired demons, but he's simply not into that kind of thing... Yet, he had dry humped you like some desperate animal.

His scent had been so blissful to your nostrils, that he had almost woken something primal in your own body. There's definitely a lot of tension between you two now and you hope that tomorrow he will approach you.

You sigh and get all cozy under your bed covers. How should you deal with the situation at hand? You know him. Not just the radio demon, or Alastor the cannibal, but him.

Maybe the whole redemption thing is working after all, but when did you start being so considerate and thoughtful of other sinners' hardships? And if your friend's hardship is a constant hard on, perhaps your services will be appreciated -or you've just been hanging out with Angel too much.

It's a new day in Hell.

You take your time getting ready before joining Niffty in the kitchen to make breakfast.

Alastor is sat on his bed, his face buried in his hands as he trembles with unwanted arousal. He's almost at the point of a nervous breakdown. The radio demon is getting angrier with himself -the urge to find you and claim you is getting worse and worse and he struggles to maintain his calm.

Alastor gets ready. His routine a bit different when in rutting mode. He first relieves some of the pressure in his balls, he then puts on a clean shirt, fixes his hair and places his red monocle back in place. And of course, his smile, because he's never fully dressed without one!

"Oh good morning my fellows! What a pleasant breakfast you seem to be having!" He prefers to eat alone, so him appearing late isn't something worth noticing... but the tenting in his trousers definitely is...

And when Angel smirks mischievously at him, Alastor smiles in such an unnerving manner that the spider demon has to cower behind Husk.

"Al! Morning!" you say a bit too cheerfully. Your ears rise on your head to match your general attitude.

The radio demon grins at you -internally relieved you're not keeping last night against him. He rarely feels any remorse -part of why he's in Hell- but he's not proud of snapping at you last night just because he's irritable and frustrated 24/7. You're a deer demon like him, but you never get in heat like an animal, you weren't as sinister as he was when alive and therefore your punishment isn't as tormenting.

You stand up and start gathering the dishes. Charlie is eager to help you, but you manage to deny her excessive kindness for once.

Alastor swallows a guttural growl as you turn your back at him and start walking to the kitchen, your deer tail and your ass all too enticing for him. His legs begin to move against his will, following you like he's being driven purely by instinct. He is once again biting his tongue hard enough to taste the familiar to him, metallic taste of blood. There is a certain strain the urge is causing him... and for once Alastor is feeling desperate for touch.

"Angel and I are going outside today, he said he wants me to meet a friend of his... Um, I think her name's Cherri or something."

You obviously felt his presence, his red eyes feasting on your form the whole time.

"How delightful, making new acquaintances! I am still decorating my humble station. Haha!"

"Oh, I can't wait to experience your radio show again Al! It's been so long!"

His arrogant smirk is accompanied by a twitch of his stiff dick. The energy boost he feels when you acknowledge his power... it makes him dangerously lightheaded.

He walks closer to you, looming right behind you as you stretch to put something on a high self. Alastor has you trapped between the kitchen counter and his body. The demon's cock throbs painfully against the fabric of his pants. The said fabric growing damp as he grows harder.

With a frenzied urgency, Alastor gives in to his animal side and leans in, his hot breath in your ear is sending shivers down your spine, your pupils dilating.

"Do you even realize what you've been doing to me sweet y/n?"

He is getting impatient... and when you don't answer him immediately, he presses his tent against your ass. "Do you my little deer?"

The sound of static feels the air, his voice distorted and his breathing heavier than before. "You... have no idea how much I want- no... how much I need this, with you."

You swallow, your own breath has sped up and heat has pooled in your tummy again. But when you turn to look at him, you come face to face with a hideous creature with wild eyes. You flinch. Alastor's smile fails him and you swear you hear the most discreet of sniffles coming from him.

"Help me." That's proof enough for you that your friend is going through something he clearly didn't ask for, but it's taking over him anyway.

Angel Dust has described to you how he'd needed time to get used to having multiple arms and you have to file down your antlers daily, so that they don't overgrow and cause you headaches. Alastor on the other hand loses himself to primal urges once a year.

You lock your gaze on his and extend a steady hand, placing it on the side of his pale face. Not only does he allow it, but your small gesture seems to have the effect on Alastor, his demon form receding -and you can see how sweaty and shaky he really is, while also trying so hard to hold back from bending you over the counter and taking you raw right now.

"Stay still..."

It's now or never for you. You hesitantly cup his bulge.

Alastor gasps, his eyes rolling back in his head as he leans into your touch. He's already so aroused that any contact sends shivers down his spine. He buries his face in your neck and starts nibbling or better... biting around your collarbones. It's a cannibalistic urge of his, but he would kill himself before causing you any real harm.

Alastor groans, his still clothed member twitching under the pressure of your hand. The demon can barely think straight -rutting instincts taking over completely.

"I need... I need to be inside you." He can only whisper, reaching down to pull your shirt up, his fingers trembling as he does, revealing your upper body to him. "Yes... I need you."

This is all so sudden for you, but you finally know with certainty what's happening. "You're... mating or something?"

You stop rubbing his clothed crotch and Alastor moans, the sound carrying the old audio-like effect. He nods slightly, his hips bucking against your hand. He's so close to losing control. The mating season has driven him mad with lust. A lust projected on you, it seems.

"Y/n... I need you now."

"Al... They- They're gonna hear us... We're in the frickin' kitchen! ...we can't... can't-"

Alastor's eyes widen and he stumbles back, his erection pleading to be freed from his dress pants.

He looks at you incredulously, angrily. "What?! But I... I said that I need you." He starts panting, there's a look of betrayal on his face that has you short circuiting.

"I'm already half naked here and you're... You're obviously hard- It's too risky!"

"I. Don't. Care."

"Well you should... but..." you sigh.

"I do have another idea. I've been rather inactive in the afterlife but... I can do it for you."

Your friend's heart is racing with anticipation. He tries to control his unsteady breathing -without much success.

"Another idea?" he asks with a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "What is it?"

"I know it's not what you really crave... but I can... you know... jerk you off?"

Did you really just say that?

He begins to unbutton his pants hurriedly.

"Very well..."

As Alastor's pants fall to his knees, he scratches his fluffy ears, presenting his throbbing member to you. It's a sight to behold -long with a shimmering dew covering the tip.

"Do it."

Your mouth waters as your eyes take in Alastor's cock. The head of it is a deep reddish purple, almost glowing. His ballsack hangs heavy, filled with seed, so that he can breed for as long as the rutting lasts. Something must've altered in your brain's chemistry, because you take his balls in your hand, fondling them. The deer demon lets out a low moan, his hips thrusting forward slightly. The sensation of your hand on his sensitive balls is almost too much for him to bear...

"More..." he manages to whisper between pants.

Encouraged by his reaction, you squeeze his balls softly and Al lets out a throaty groan, his dick twitching, almost ready to explode. He's not used to other people touching him.

You're still unsure if that's the right thing to do in the kitchen, where anyone can walk in at any given moment. But he seems to be really into it and the look in his eyes makes it clear to you that you can't just stop now. So that's what he's been struggling with, what's been making him stay locked in his room, until dealing with it on his own wasn't enough.

Alastor's gaze is pleading you and his voice comes out shaky, unfiltered.

"Please... I need more..." He then reaches down and moves your hand on his eager cock. You wrap your fingers around his length, with your thumb resting on his head, tracing it slowly. The sounds he makes and the way his features contort with pleasure makes you start stroking him.

The overlord can't believe what's happening. He has never experienced anything like this and it feels incredible. The more you stroke him, the more he bucks his hips into your hand. "Y- yes... just like that..."

You feel so confident now that he seems to have let go completely, allowing you to do as you please with his body. You know teasing isn't fair, especially in his hormonal state, but you can't help slowing down your hand's movements -playing with the friction you're providing him with. He lets out a frustrated huff of air, his nostrils flaring.

"Faster."

"Nope, I told you I don't want anyone finding us out."

"I didn't ask you darling. It was an order."

You stubbornly slow down your hand even more and you know that this is far from enough for him. Alastor needs more speed, more pressure.

"I... Don't... Give a single penny if they'll hear us... J- just... y/n, get me there." His body trembles with need as he speaks to you.

"You... You accepted to help me... And yet, you- you refuse to give me what I want." He looks down at your lips with a mix of lust and anger in his bright eyes.

You suppress a mischievous giggle.

It's empowering seeing such a strong demon being dependent on you. You can feel the heat radiating from his dick and he makes a desperate little sound when you begin moving your hand up and down his long member again.

You almost feel pity for him -teasing is fun, but you don't want to disrespect him or humiliate him while he's so vulnerable and out of control. Though that decision has nothing to do with the fact that he could kill you, you actually feel strongly for him and the way both pairs of your ears move in sink as you pick up pace is so... natural for you, like you two belong together in a primal sense.

Alastor feels his muscles tensing up and his black heart is pounding like crazy.

"I can't- can't-"

He looks mesmerized at your hand jerking him off at a now delicious speed.

You are so turned on and you want to give him all the pleasure you can, even if you're in the hotel's kitchen. You begin sinking on your knees and you see him gulp. Your friend freezes for a moment, his mind racing with images of pleasure and ecstasy.

"That's new."

"How so Al?"

"I've never had that... but I want to now."

You can't help but smile. He probably never wanted a blow job before and he won't be in the mood for one after the rutting ends.

You're now at the right height so you just go for it, leaning in. Your tongue swirls around his pulsating cockhead and you're surprised from the amount of pre cum he can produce. Alastor's eyes roll back in his head as he lets out a long, low moan. The sensation of your warm breath and wet tongue on him sends shivers down his spine.

"Don't stop..."

You lick his slit and he groans deeply, his eyes squeezing shut. "Yeah... Keep doing this... agh~"

You're offering stimulation and he's gritting his teeth at the feeling, but something isn't quite right. You're once again toying with him, denying him the release he so desperately wants.

"I will have you... eventually."

Alastor then takes a big breath, his cock is still hard as steel. "You're a real temptation~" He glares at you -rather hungrily- his nostrils once again flaring.

"Don't try to make me beg."

"But would you now?" Under any other circumstances, you'd never be that bold with him....

Alastor laughs darkly in response to your challenge, causing a cold chill to run down your spine.

"You wound me, my dear. I would never beg for anything... Especially not when it comes to satisfying this... this unwanted but still unyeilding desire..."

You smile wickedly -your ears conveying your feelings, as always, when they move. In a swift motion, but still cautiously, you push back his foreskin. A low, agonizing moan escapes Alastor's lips as your action exposes his sensitive flesh to the air. Hips jerking forward involuntarily, seeking more contact with your hand...

"You're killing me mon cher~"

"Buckle up Al..."

You start stroking him thoroughly.

The radio demon closes his eyes, ragged breaths leaving his open mouth as you jerk him off. Every fiber of his being is focused on the pleasure. He groans... feeling his elusive climax approaching at last. "Unh..."

You're now applying some serious pressure on his throbbing dick. With a primal scream, Alastor's entire body tenses up and he begins releasing his seed on your hand.

"Oh goodness..." He keeps groaning and you can see him shudder as he does so. He continues spurting thick, white fluid onto your hand, seemingly unable to stop himself.

In his eyes there's a mix of lust and gratitude. He licks his lips unconsciously.

"What else can you do to me?"

"W- What? Me?"

The demon chuckles lightly at your question. His eyes trail down your body appreciatively when you stand up. "And why not you? You're here and I need some action these days!"

He grins and you sigh.

"Well, that means it could be anyone... anyone other than me."

You don't like how this revelation makes you feel sad and disappointed.

A sly smirk plays at the corners of Alastor's mouth. "I suppose it could, but then again, why settle for anyone when I can have you?"

His voice is husky and you like this tone from him. "You and I belong together, dear y/n."

He's clearly considering you his mate now.

Your romantic side wins and you cup his face. That seems to sober him up if just for a few minutes. The overlord looks like he's savoring the sensation and a deep sigh escapes him. "I don't deserve this, not with you."

"But I do want to be present through this... I get it."

The glimmer of hope returns to his eyes. "You have to mean it."

"I won't leave you suffering alone Alastor."

He nods as he thinks it over. "In that case... I'll accept your offer."

You smile sweetly. This isn't that bad. He didn't even ask for a deal. You stand on your hooves and give his cheek a little kiss. He beams at you as he takes hold of his signature cane.

"Oh I think I'm going to enjoy this!"

"Haha, so do I... B- But let's make you something to eat before you get all excited again..."

"That's a wonderful idea darling! And I might as well tell you about Susan's new act while you're at it."

Alastor feels a warmth he hasn't in a long time. As you work on preparing food for him, he seems content and somewhat at peace. But then, like clockwork, the desire is going to build up again. Through the week the rutting hits him anew and he becomes extremely short-tempered. He has to change rooms when Charlie starts singing and he's constantly arguing with Husk.

Alastor surprises himself.

During the times he does manage to control his primitive urges, he's actually avoiding you. He has this idea that he would end up hurting you if things ever escalated fully between you two.

Could this mean that he actually cares about your wellbeing?

He is an overlord. He is the one and only radio demon, there's no way he has a soft spot for his fellow deer demon -who had relieved him of weeks of pent up tension just with their touch.

You, on the other hand, feel no shame nor guilt for your little encounter with Alastor in the kitchen. If anything, the fact that he's still in his mating season is making you wet, longing for more.

One fateful night, all of you're sitting together, you across from Alastor's armchair... and it's impossible to not look down. He has a prominent bulge and you're not even surprised. However, when you look back up, you freeze like a... well, you do freeze like a deer caught in the headlights, because he is staring at you so very intensely.

The air feels thick all of a sudden and his gaze implies many things -to your delight. He excuses himself shortly after, but not before giving you a slight nod. He wants you now. He needs you now.

Experiencing a slight Deja vu, you find yourself knocking on his door the very same night. The Deja vu intensifies at the sound of static coming from the other side of the door. You decide to let yourself in when there's no answer. "Al?"

A pair of big and intricate antlers comes in your vision. The smell of him floods your senses. It's intoxitacing, addictive. You want him too.

Alastor wastes no time.

He pushes you up against the nearest wall, his body pressing tightly against yours. His breath is coming in ragged gasps, his eyes full of lust and desire. The demon growls, baring his teeth in a feral grin.

In one swift motion, he tears your clothes from your body, leaving you naked and vulnerable before him. His eyes roam over your exposed flesh, his lips parted in a wicked grin.

With an animalistic growl, he buries his face between your breasts, sucking on your nipples with rough abandon. You moan and arch your back, the sensation sinfully satisfying. Noticing your response, Alastor's movements become even more frenzied. He reaches down to grip your hips, lifting you up onto the wall.

You then unzip his pants, lost in the haze of your increasing desire for him. Alasor groans when you do that, his hips bucking forward as you free his cock from its confines. It slaps against your lower stomach -rigid and angry.

With another feral growl, Alastor turns you around so that you're facing the wall -gaining a perfect view of your ass and tail.

You gasp as he parts your folds with his thumb, finding your already dripping entrance. Maybe he's not that experienced, but right now he seems to be driven by some infallible instinct. His finger doesn't stay in your cunt for long though, since the man is getting desperate to claim you as his -in a much more effective fashion.

You turn you head to the side and lock eyes with him. You shiver, almost scared at the pure hunger on his face. He thrusts into you with brutal force, driving his cock inside you deep and hard. His hips start pistoning against your ass, as he takes you without mercy. He's breeding, essentially. It's not meant to be slow or soft.

The gentleman you knew is gone for now, but you're digging your nails in his shoulders and letting out whines and moans nonetheless.

With each thrust, he growls like a beast claiming his prize. Alastor's eyes are wild and feral, reflecting the primal lust that consumes him. His heavy balls are slapping against your skin. You're turning to jelly slowly but surely, surrendering to him in way that feels natural to you -not forced.

Your old friend grunts in both pain and pleasure, losing himself in the heat of the moment. His fingers dig into your skin, leaving marks on your hips that show his possessiveness.

You reach behind you, grabbing his thighs to somehow ground yourself from the onslaught of pleasure in your core. A guttural moan escapes him as you touch his sensitive flesh. His hips buck against yours, driving himself deeper inside you and your eyes roll back in your head.

Alastor continues to pound into you relentlessly, his cock throbbing with each powerful stroke. He's sweating and he starts taking off his clothes -in a uncharacteristically clumsy manner.

He can't take it anymore, your tightening walls becoming overwhelming for him to bear. Feeling the pressure building within him, he growls low in his throat and picks up the pace even more.

The new speed he fucks you in has you seeing stars, the knot on your stomach snapping without warning. You cry out his name loud enough for everyone in the hotel to hear -but you simply don't care.

He moans your name as well, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he drives himself deeper into you one last time. His body shudders violently as he reaches the height of his own orgasm. Hot, thick cum is filling you up and there's so much of... It's dripping out of you and onto the carpet.

He finally did it. He's mated. He's bred you.

Spent and panting heavily, Alastor collapses on you, his forehead resting on your shoulder. You can feel his breath -and teeth- on your skin as you try to catch your breath. His dick is softening inside you, but he doesn't pull out just yet. His primal instinct is still active and making sure you take every last drop of his seed.

After you both relax in the present silence for a bit, he casually lifts you up and places you on the bed -the manhandling making you blush profusely, but he doesn't seem to notice. He lets out a sound close to purring as he lays down next to you, spooning you.

You sigh, feeling exhausted and simultaneously content. You roll over so that you're facing him... and he looks like he's already fallen asleep.

Your heartbeat has turned back to normal and you find shelter in his long and elegant neck, as you start dozing off into a peaceful and dreamless slumber.

He's not cold or ignorant the next morning.

...that morning ends up with him grasping at the air, as if searching for something to hold on to, as your head bobs up and down under the sheets.

It becomes common knowledge that Alastor's mood improves significantly after having sex with you. Something that does occur a couple more times in the spam of a week or so.

You knew the rutting was coming to an end when his desperate and forceful claiming -usually from behind- became passionate love making.

There was this one night...

Like a true gentleman of his time, Alastor had made love to you with deep, sensual thrusts as your hands had gotten lost in his fluffy hair. You had been underneath him.

Your orgasm had been accompanied by a soundless moan as you'd thrown your head back and he'd nuzzled your neck, breath labored and a frown on his face as he'd come shortly after you. You had let him fall asleep on you that night, both of you panting, sweat covering you.

The only time Alastor isn't smiling is when he is asleep, you have come to realize. You can't help but notice how tired he looks as you lay motionless next him. So you gently start caressing his ears -and he groans softly, nuzzling deeper into your touch, without even bothering to open his eyes. A small smile forms on his mouth, a real one.

Is this love? Maybe someday.

The End??

Support your gal who's in university! Even a single penny means the world coming from you!!! Thank you so much🫶 CLICK HERE(PayPal link)

my masterlist || hazbin masterlist❤️

tag list; @stygianoir @aperfectidiot @lady-valtieri @what-0-life @clowncollegealum @whatinthepluto @dragonqueenfk @ajajajajajakak @ellie-x0xo @1rxsemary1 @ermmmwhattheflipguys @kimkimmm2411 @sukaretto-n

[soul-controller]

Punished For Pride

“Hey stud, time to come back to Earth! Weren’t you going to flex those muscle tits of yours for me?”

As Joseph shook his head, the man gave a dopey chuckle before taking a puff from the cigarette that loosely hung from his lips. Despite thinking such a command was weird, he pulled open his shirt and began to sensually pop his pecs for the enthusiastic twink standing in front of him. Upon doing it a few times and watching the twink stare in absolute lust though, the sudden throbbing of his boner made him shake away such a bizarre thought. Why would this be weird? He loved nothing more than flaunting his godly body to pretty twinks like this guy!

Across from him Oliver, the twink, couldn’t help but have a full-body shiver while standing outside in his glittery mesh crop top and vibrant purple booty shorts. Although this was partially due to the cold breeze that whipped against his frail frame, he was truly shivering in both delight and amusement at the man who was continuing to flex his muscles and remark about how pretty Oliver was. The reason behind this was just a few minutes ago, the bulky redneck had been a homophobic asshole who had admonished Oliver for his “faggy” attire and threatened to beat his ass if he didn’t change.

Growing up in a small town, Oliver was used to his fair share of close-minded people who didn’t accept his lifestyle, especially in high school as he found himself bullied by countless jocks. It was through his own desperation for relief from these situations that allowed him to stumble upon the art of hypnosis, which he quickly began to study and become an expert in. In addition to wanting to make his life easier, he was desperate for a little bit of revenge and thus began to one-by-one send his tormentors into a deep slumber as he retooled their minds and personalities to his liking. 

Given how extreme their hatred was of a self-identifying queer man, Oliver was left with no other choice but to cheekily assume they were closet cases and thus it was his task of freeing them from the deep closet they had buried themselves into. From there, his school was going through a coming out epidemic as every single jock who tormented Oliver suddenly broke up with their gorgeous cheerleader girlfriends, declared their homosexuality to the world, and began to spend time in the locker rooms after their practices exploring each others’ bodies.

Ever since he made his way to college where he was surrounded by more open-minded and accepting individuals, Oliver’s penchant for hypnosis had become less and less frequently utilized. But after encountering Joseph leaning against the brick wall of a next door biker bar, old habits die hard so he approached the man and sent him into a deep slumber. In addition to turning him into a proud gay man, the twink altered his personality to become somehow who loved to flaunt their body and flex their muscles – so much so that the man implanted a suggestion for Joseph to quit his job instantly and search for work at the gay club as a go-go dancer.

Upon hearing the man ask if he could join him, Oliver extended out an arm and watched as the formerly stern redneck giggled like a schoolgirl and wrapped his burly forearm around the twink’s. As Joseph quickly pulled his cigarette from his lips and flicked it away, the duo looked at each other and smiled before they made their way into the club for a hot and sweaty night…

Eager to read more stories like this? Head over to my Patreon to discover tons of hot transformation fiction including monthly mini-stories like this one!

[astermath]

“So? Whatever.”

pairing: dave lizewski x popular!fem!reader 

summary: The preppy girl that just about everyone admires has more in common with Dave than he expects. He doesn’t quite know how to handle this information, but it excites him nonetheless.

word count: 2K

♡ LANDING PAGE♡

notes: I haven’t written something like this in a good while, so please bear with me if I’m rusty or there are some mistakes here and there. Reader is referred to with she/her pronouns, I tried to be as non descriptive as possible about her appearance. I do love writing a bit of a mean reader like this, but don’t worry, she’ll warm up to him. This fic takes place in senior year for age purposes, I’m pretty much fully ignoring the timeline of the film. Comments and/or requests are super welcome btw!! Hope you enjoy!! <3

(ps this will get a part two don’t worry xx)

To Dave, girls like you were unreachable. You could hear about them, you could listen to them talk in the hallways, sneak a glance their way… But talk to them? Any single one of their group would consider that social suicide. The only reason any of them even looked in his direction was to ask him to do their homework. So why in god’s name were you at his locker? Why were you acknowledging his existence at all?

“What’s that?” You leaned against the locker next to his, pointing at the piece of a comic book panel he’d taped to the door. It pictured Spider-man putting on his mask for the first time, something Dave looked to when he needed some motivation for the day. 

He struggled to get basically any words out, still not fully registering that you’re within such close range. He could smell you… God that was really weird to think about, he felt like a creep already, but you just… Smelled really nice. Like vanilla, mixed with something sweet. He realized he hadn’t answered your question yet and was just staring in front of him like a weirdo. “O-Oh, yeah, that’s uh… That’s Spider-man. It’s this… This superhero I like.” He adjusted the strap of his backpack to keep his hands busy.

You smiled and rolled your eyes. “Duh, I know who Spider-man is, please.” You couldn’t help but think he was doing anything to avoid looking into your eyes, as if you’d turn him to stone if he dared to do so. Which, yes, was exactly how he felt.

“I wanted to know which comic that was from. The art style looks a lot different than the ones I’ve seen.” Now this part was pretty much making his teenage brain short circuit. He probably didn’t hear that right, there’s no way a popular girl like you read comics, right? This had to be some kind of elaborate joke, like you were trying to pull a prank on him by making him ramble about his favorite superheroes. However, he wasn’t close minded. Even if this was a prank, at least you were talking to him, right?

“Yeah, sorry, I uh… Forget he’s a pretty popular character sometimes. This one’s from a collector’s edition. One of the pages was kinda falling apart so I just… Taped my favorite panel to my locker.” Again, he tried to look anywhere else, but it felt rude not to be making eye contact with the person who’s trying to give you a chance at a conversation. His eyes met yours and he realised he hadn’t ever actually seen you up close like this. You were really pretty, he knew that, but he never noticed these particular things about you before. The way your hair framed your features so nicely, the little beauty mark that seemed to be somehow perfectly placed, or the way a dimple appeared on your right cheek when you smiled.

“Hopefully you didn’t pay too much for it, those things cost like, a fortune.” You followed, snapping him out of his haze as you twirled a piece of hair between your index and middle finger. Dave was much taller than you, so you had to look up to match his gaze, which was already hard since he kept avoiding your eyes. You never realized how much he’d matured since freshman year. He looked pretty cute… Really cute, actually. 

“S-So, uhm, I really don‘t wanna be rude, but…” He closed his locker before looking at you with a rather awkward expression. “Why are you here? Why are you… talking to me?” Honestly, not an unjustified question. Dave was often the subject of bullying, and the popular girls clique made no exception to that rule. He doesn’t remember you specifically doing anything, although... He has a vague memory of you being in the car with those jocks when they threw spoiled milk at him.

“What? A girl can’t talk to her fellow classmate? This is a free country, you know.” You pretended to be a little hurt by his assumption that you were probably just here to make fun of him. In all honesty he was still a little dumbfounded by this whole ordeal, and the fact that half the people that passed you were giving you two weird looks really wasn’t helping. “You know I sit behind you in English, right?” He responds by nodding. He is painfully aware of this fact, as your friends had expressed their empathy for you when your seat was assigned behind him, though you honestly didn’t mind. And also the fact that he got a fair share of gossip from you and your best friend always whispering to each other. “Well,” you flipped a bit of hair over your shoulder. “I saw you had a copy of Birth of Venom in your backpack, and I... Wanted to ask if I could borrow it...” You looked to the side, muttering the last part. As much as you tried not to care what people thought, you did have a bit of a reputation that you were stuck to. Liking comics wasn’t for you, you were a cheerleader, you went to parties, you liked shopping. Okay, you secretly liked comics.

Dave looked at you with a puzzled expression. “I-I’m sorry, can you repeat tha--”

“Can I borrow your stupid comic or what?” You interrupted him, clearly looking a bit embarrassed. 

“Oh!” His face was getting hot, this conversation was lasting way longer than he imagined it would. Usually he’d have his face shoved into his locker by now. “U-Uhm, sure! It’s a bit expensive, but... Well, just don’t damage it, please.” He took his backpack off his shoulder and was about to pull it out before you grabbed his arm. 

“Not here you dumbass! Just, like... Ugh, meet me at my car after school’s over, you can hand it to me then.” You were acting like this was some kind of illegal drug deal, but this truly was something important to you. Your dad had already made it very clear that he didn’t want his little girl becoming some kind of tomboy and have her mind run rampant with superhero stories. Especially with this Kickass guy running around...

The bell rang and you silently thanked it for doing so. “Look, I gotta go. White Corvette, by the vending machines.” You walked past him, and a waft of that lovely vanilla scent hit his nose. He damn near melted into the floor when your arm brushed against his. “Later, Lizewksi.”

You leaned against the hood of your car, scrolling on your phone as you waited for the brunette to show up. You couldn’t help but feel a little guilty that you were just meeting him in secret like this. It’s not like you were embarrassed to be seen with him, or that you didn’t like him, it’s just that liking comics and superheroes was just about the dorkiest thing anyone could be into. Especially with Kickass running around, and, well, kicking ass, people would probably be thinking you’d be into this whole vigilante business yourself. Sure, you thought it was cool that people were doing something about all the crime, but you’d rather die than mess up your hair beating some thug’s ass. 

You noticed someone approaching and noticed that Dave wasn’t alone. With a bit of a disgusted expression, you gestured to his two sidekicks. “I don’t remember inviting the entire geek entourage to come see me. This isn’t some kinda meet and greet, you know.” Todd and Marty seemed, just like Dave before, a little shocked that you were talking to them. 

“S-Sorry, they just uh...” Dave began.

“We didn’t believe him.” Todd followed.

“...believe what?” You questioned, crossing your arms.

“That a chick like you was into comics.” Marty said, before Todd smacked him on the back of the head. “Dude! Don’t say it like that!”

You got a bit flustered, and looked at Dave. “You told them!? What the fuck, Lizewski?”

“I-I’m sorry!” He held up his hands. “They were asking me what we were talking about, and... I panicked.” They were more so insinuating that he was flirting with her, and he didn’t want that rumor going around, in case your jock brother caught wind of that and beat his ass for flirting with his sister.

You sighed, looking down and pinching the bridge of your nose before waving your hand out in a dismissive manner. “It’s... whatever, just leave. Before I change my mind and throw a bitch fit.” His two friends gave him a suggestive look before heading out. “Those two better not snitch or I’ll cut off their shrimps.” He nodded, just a little intimidated by the threat.

He got out his backpack and handed you the comic. “I’m still surprised I uh... I never knew you were into this stuff.” His breath hitched in his throat when your finger brushed over his as you took it from him. You flipped through it, keeping your eyes on the pages.

“Yeah, well... There’s a lot you don’t know about me, as much as I’m sure you guys love to assume.” You realized you hadn’t even told him your name, so you looked up at him and held out your hand, introducing yourself. You know, out of courtesy. 

“I-I know your name, but uhm... I’m Dave.” Your hand felt so soft, your beautifully manicured fingers being a real juxtaposition to his. His hand was much bigger and rougher than yours. You wondered why his hand was so calloused anyways... He didn’t look like he did many sports.

“Wait... Your name isn’t Lizewski?” You chuckled. “Christ, my bad... I always thought that was just your first name.” Your feeling of guilt for the boy before you flared up a bit again. He was being really nice to you, offering you something personal of his that he probably spent a pretty penny on. And you didn’t even know his actual name before. No wonder some people thought you were a bit of a bitch, you thought to yourself. 

“Hey, uhm... I know you got a bunch of these, and my dad would kill me if he knew I was reading them. He hates vigilantes, and he thinks reading comics will get me into the whole thing. Stupid, I know, but... He takes it surprisingly seriously.” You put the comic away carefully. “So I have a proposition for you.”

His eyebrows rose a little. A proposition, alright. No big deal. Could be literally anything though. 

“Come to my house this Saturday, bring a bunch of these, and I’ll tell my dad you’re coming to tutor me for physics or something.” You tilted your head a little, your locks falling gently over your shoulders. “I’ll pay you. Money’s not a problem. It’ll be like I’m renting them from you.”

He thought for a second, but in all honesty... How was this not a total win/win situation? He got to be in a pretty girl’s room, read comics with her, talk about them and make money. What kind of idiot would say no to that? “Yeah! Sounds good to me, uh... What do you want me to...” His words trailed off as you pulled out a pen and reached for his hand, writing a string of numbers on the back of it. 

“I’ll text you the address, and which series I like. I’ll let you do the picking. Oh, and Dave?”

“Y-Yeah?” He felt like his heart was going to beat right out of his chest. This is the closest you’ve ever stood to him. 

Your grip on his hand tightens, and you look up at him with a death stare. “Not a word to anyone about this.” You followed with a cutesy smile. “Alrighty?” You let go of his hand and put your stuff away before pulling out your car keys. 

Dave stands frozen in place, a faint blush already spread across his cheeks. He swore you were going to be the death of him. He looked down for a second and realized that what you wrote down wasn’t just some random numbers. It was your phone number. It all just suddenly felt very real to him, he’d never gotten a girl’s number before. And you were just about the last person he’d expect it from too.

You got in your car and turned on your engine. “See ya on Saturday, Lizewski! Don’t be late or I’ll kill you!” You smile, before driving off at a totally normal and acceptable speed. 

He gave a nervous wave before he looked back down at his hand. There was a little heart scribbled behind the phone number. It probably meant nothing.

But boy did it make his heart flutter. 

[marleyybluu]

Scream

Spooky Diaz x f!reader

Word count: 821

Content Warning(s): 18+, smut out the ass, mask kinks, p in v, little bit of porn, little bit of plot, Spooky's big fucking arms, I picture spooky hella tatted, the reader is not race-coded, reader speaks and understands Spanish, no one is pulling out (I seriously have a problem), backshots anyone? mirror sex anyone?, I'm toasted rn so sorry for the mistakes, lmk if i missed any or if i forgot to tag you

A/N: if yall know me well enough, you know what kind of state of mind I'm in 🍃and I just thought I'd write a little quickie since Halloween is next week and I don't think I've ever written anything in regard to Halloween so here we are.

(not mine, got it off Pinterest. i could koala cuddle those arms fuuuuck)

It started off as a joke. You'd become influenced by the amount of Ghost face masks you'd seen on TikTok, girls buying their boyfriends the infamous Ghost face mask so that they could put it on and pretend to be the killer from the movie, a few even accessorized with a fake knife and the women always seemed to get off on the idea. It was weird to you, at first, but then you became curious about what he would look like with the mask on. Maybe you'd open up a new kink for yourself, or maybe not but it was worth a try. 

So you went to Spirit Halloween and travelled over to the mask section where only two of the Scream masks were hanging. It seemed like you weren't the only inquisitive one. You bought some other things to decorate the porch with and headed back home. You called out to your boyfriend saying you needed a favour. He sprints into the living room where he sees your hands behind your back and that smirk on your face, you were up to no good. 

You present him with the mask and he chuckles shaking his head. You tell him that you want to know what he'd look like in it, but you don't want to see him try it on in front of you, you want him to walk into the room like the videos you'd seen. You hand him the mask and trot upstairs and into your shared bedroom where you sit patiently on the bed. 

It took a few minutes but you'd finally heard the creaking of the stairs, your heart raced with anticipation and a familiar tingle in your fingers and toes. All over your body really. He emerges from the dark hallway into your dimly lit room and leans against the door frame. Your breath gets caught in your throat, and your thighs squeeze together. He had upped it a bit by removing his shirt and all he had on was a grey wifebeater and sweats to match. His arms were so big and his chest was so large, his broad shoulders adding to the attraction and his scattered tattoos were a bonus. 

You blink and before you know it those clothes, accompanied by your own, have been disregarded and scattered all over the floor. And somehow, here you were, face shoved into the mattress and back arched professionally. His enormous hands gripped your waist as he pulled you into his thrusts making you feel every inch, every vein that was prominent on his shaft. You whine, fingers gripping the sheets for dear life as he pounded you, the bed shaking and creaking to match his rhythm. 

"Look up, mi amor, this what you wanted right?" He mocked, you raise your head with the little bit of strength you had and looked up at the mirror across from the end of your bed, you bite your lip, the sight was something out of Twitter porn. The mask, his arms, the grip he had on your flesh, the way your ass recoils every time it collides with his pelvis-- Oh it was almost magical. "Fuck! That feels so fucking good." You whimper, your toes curl and you feel another orgasm approaching, only the gods in heaven knew what number this one was. You cried as you felt your hands, with a mind of their own, move from their position as you tried to crawl away from him, it was too much, the sheets were damn near soaked and sticky. 

Spooky caught on and pulled you back. "¿Adónde vas, cariño? Hm? Can't take it?"

You gasp as he draws you close to him, his strong arms hooked around your waist, your back pressed against his chest. "Oh, fuck, fuck,fuck!" Was all you could get out before your walls squeezed him, your head in the cloud and your vision completely fucked out. Your head falls back on his shoulder while he continues to slam into you, his own high slowly creeping over him. He takes off the mask and kisses your neck, licking and sucking enough to leave his mark. 

"You want me to come for you, bebita?" He grunts hotly in your ear, you moan and nod as an answer. Usually, he would tell you to use your words but considering your current sex-dazed state, he'd leave it alone for today. He buries his dick deep, his throbbing erection painting your walls making them extra sticky. You smile drunkenly when he affectionately nudges the back of your shoulder with his nose. "You always feel so fucking good, baby, I fucking swear." He praises, now kissing your skin. "Te amo." You manage to squeak out. 

He chuckles. "Te amo, mamita." 

He playfully smacks your ass before easing his way out of you, you fall on to the bed and sigh, completely and utterly satisfied. 

Thank god for TikTok trends.

If you liked this fic feel free to like this fic, reblogs and comments are appreciated.

see you in the next one. peace and love 🤙🏾

🏷: @darqchilddaydreamz @realhotgurlshit @skyesthebomb @librarian1002

who might be interested: @miyahmaraj @bigenergy777

[st1llwthyou]

POPPIN’ CHERRY.

fandom ꕀ bts

pairing ꕀ jungkook x f!reader

applicable aus & genre ꕀ roommate au, smut

synopsis ꕀ those were the last words he ever expected to come out of your mouth. but heck, jungkook would be lying if he said that he didn’t fucking love it.

word count ꕀ 2,322

warnings & tags ꕀ language, inexperienced reader, dom/sub dynamics, biting, pet names (fem! – baby, angel etc.), nipple play, dacryphilia, corruption kink (implied), dirty talk, cunnilingus, pussy drunk!jk, fingering — RATED E for explicit content.

notes ꕀ hello! i’m a newbie lskjdikdj and this is my tumblr debut 🫣! i’m so, very nervous and scared, but i hope you enjoy <3!

“You want me to… what?!” Jungkook looks at you wide-eyed, clearly flabbergasted by your proposition. You swallow nervously, hoping with all your might that your little plan works out. 

“Make me orgasm… can you not?” You whisper with bated breath. It’s uncertain where your boldness is coming from, but you’ve come a bit too far to back out now. 

He shakes his head a few times, getting up from his bed to approach you. “It’s not about if I can or not, ____. Do you not understand how fucking abrupt this is? I’m sort of weirded out, where is this coming from, huh?” 

You lean against the door frame to his room, heaving out a sigh. Of course, you know how out of the blue this is, to him. It almost makes you sad that he’s never picked up on any of the hints you’ve dropped before. That you like him. 

“I… um, heard you.” You murmur. It won’t hurt to tell a bit of truth.

“... Heard what exactly?” Jungkook quirks an eyebrow at you, skeptical. 

“You… and the girls you bring back sometimes.” That sentence stings to even utter, but you manage somehow. 

A sigh escapes his pretty lips. “Fuck… I thought you’d be sleeping. And the walls seem pretty darn thick so I assumed not a lot of noise will travel.” 

“I was sleeping, I just… woke up again to the sounds of, y’know…” 

A heavy silence falls between you two. You wait for him to say something, anything, but he doesn’t. Jungkook just regards you silently, those magnetic pools of honey trailing over your figure with no prominent emotions visible. 

“Hey… you can decline, by the way. If it wasn’t clear. I’ll go back and we can just, um, pretend that nothing happened and go back to being normal roommates.” Tears burn in the back of your eyes, but you still try to appear brave and strong in front him. 

“I know I can decline. But I’m not sure if I want to.” Jungkook takes a few more steps forward, reaching for you. As his warm, big hand finds your jaw, you lean into the comforting touch instinctively. “You’re so sweet and adorable, I never thought I’d hear those words out of your mouth.” 

“Can you just—” 

“But I liked it. Say it again.” He disrupts your complaint even before you could start. It takes you a few moments to properly register what he said. But once you do, your whole body thrums from excitement, heartbeat going crazy.

“Mm–make me come, Jungkook.” Your voice is barely audible, but just enough for his blood to rush south. His strong arms wrap around your smaller frame to hoist you up, carrying you to his bed. 

“I might just not survive this, fuck.” Jungkook hisses under his breath, gently dropping you on his mattress. He’s over aware of every little thing about you now, from the outline of your pebbled nipples on your pajama, to your glossy eyes that are locked on him. 

“Can I call you ‘baby’? And other nicknames?” He enquires hopefully, his hands eagerly exploring your curves. You tremble under his touch, vigorously shaking your head in an assertive manner. Jungkook chuckles.

“Aww, you’re so cute and eager, baby.” He hovers over you, his eyes searching for yours. “You want me to make you come, hm?” 

Even though your heart feels like it’ll burst out of your chest, you lock your eyes with him. “Yea… I– I’ve never orgasmed in my life.” Your voice is small, heat rising to your cheeks as you confess, embarrassed. Jungkook leans down to nuzzle your face, dropping a butterfly kiss right beneath your eye.

“Is that so? Not even by yourself?” One of his hands slips beneath your pajama, gently stroking your tummy. He smiles when you nod, his other hand cupping your face. “It’s okay, we can try it out today and see what happens.” 

Jungkook is so close, studying you and everything you do — almost enamored by your nuances. “May I kiss you?” He rests his forehead against yours, waiting for your confirmation. 

“Yes please.” He doesn’t waste a second, soft lips finding yours in a sweet kiss. The simple touch alone gets you exhilarated, hands gripping onto his t-shirt. He lets his tongue run over your lower lip, making you twitch under him. 

That snaps something in Jungkook, his hand firmly grasping your jaw while he coaxes your mouth open to him. You gasp when he teases your tongue with his, taking control of the kiss from the get go. The way he moves his tongue against yours makes you dizzy, strange sensations flooding your body. It feels like he’s unraveling you. 

Your little moans and whimpers egg him on, his teeth nibbling at your lower lip. Jungkook is feeling partially intoxicated by you, his mind hazy from lust. Although, he pulls away from the mind-numbing kiss a while later to give you some space to breathe. “Fuck,” he curses, enticed by your teary eyes and swollen lips. 

It takes you a while to gather yourself, but you soon realize how much effect that single kiss had on you. Your underwear has soaked through with your arousal, uncomfortably sticking to your skin. Your nipples are also rock hard, aching to be touched. 

“Jungkook,” you whine weakly, thrashing a bit to show your distress. His mouth returns to yours, right hand swifty unbuttoning your pajama. Jungkook trails down wet kisses down your neck, suckling on the soft skin in places. A moan escapes you when he tweaks your clothed nipple between his fingers. 

“I haven’t started anything yet, princess.” His whisper is hot against your cleavage, right hand slipping beneath your back to unhook your bra. “So pretty,” he coos, throwing it away somewhere in the room. A sudden wave of embarrassment hits you as you realize that this is the most bare you’ve ever been to anyone. So, you try to cover yourself, but he’s faster to stop you, narrowing his eyes. “Don’t. Did I not mention how fucking pretty you are?”

Face flushed, you avoid eye contact. “Sorry… it’s just– um, the first time someone saw me like this.” 

Jungkook lets go of your wrists, the weight of your words sinking in. “Good fucking lord, ____.” His eyes darken, breathing uneven. “Let me take care of you, angel.” He captures your lips in a searing kiss, strong, calloused hand massaging your breast. His other hand is at the small of your back, supporting both of you. 

Eventually, he trails downward, pressing open-mouthed kisses until he reaches your unoccupied breast. With his eyes locked on you, Jungkook licks at your stiffened bud, earning a whimper from you. “Look at me, princess.” He encourages, almost losing it when your droopy eyes fixate on his face. 

With his cock throbbing inside his boxer-briefs, he wraps his lips around your nipple, earning him a lewd whine. You place your arm over your mouth quickly, head falling back as he runs his teeth and tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves. It feels unbelievably good, you had no idea having your nipples sucked would be like this.

“Oh my god,” you cry out, overwhelmed by the sensation when Jungkook also starts tweaking and teasing your other nipple with his finger. More arousal has leaked from your sopping hole, a tight feeling inside your lower belly coiling. The pleasure is almost blinding, making you twitch and tremble under him.

Soon, he impatiently moves to ravish the unattended breast, adding more to your devastation. You’re just barely hanging in there, extremely unsure of what’s happening with your body, feeling like you might explode any minute. Jungkook, on the other hand, bites and suckles on your tits like his life depends on it, frenzied by your sweet taste and reactions. 

But he stops short when he notices your hips bucking up, eyes teary, ready to spill the diamond drops. “My baby,” he murmurs, letting his right hand slip inside your pajama bottoms. You moan out of relief when he presses down on your clit, inner walls clenching around nothing. Jungkook is almost surprised when he finally feels the damp cloth of your cotton panties. “Fuck, can’t believe you.” 

He quickly gets rid of your bottoms, eyes falling upon the massive wet patch on your panties. “No– it’s embarrassing—” You try to cross your legs shut. Quite genuinely, you had no idea that it’s possible to produce that much liquid down there. Unfortunately, he’s way too strong, spreading your legs apart with bare-minimum effort. 

“Shh, nothing is embarrassing, angel. You’re a fucking goddess, out of the world, even.” Jungkook sounds so sincere that your heart skips a beat. “I’ll make you feel so good, baby.” He pulls at the waistband of your panties, slowly taking the offending material off. An expletive rumbles in his throat when he sees the strings of your arousal attaching you to your underwear. 

“You’re gonna drive me crazy.” He hisses, struggling to keep his urges on check. Blindly throwing away the panties somewhere, Jungkook eagerly settles down between your legs, already feeling his cock twitch at the sight of your drenched pussy. “Goddamn…” He gingerly parts your nether lips, exposing your dripping hole to his hungry gaze. 

“Don’t stare at it like that,” your voice is small, heart doing backflips in your chest. It makes you feel so shy, the way his eyes are trained on your lady bits. His short laugh makes you wanna rub your thighs together. 

“Awe, is my princess feeling embarrassed? Don’t be, you have the prettiest pussy, all swollen and wet for me~” Jungkook rubs his middle finger along your slit, letting it coat into your nectar. New to the feeling of his thick, calloused finger, you whimper out of sensitivity. Oh, the way he’s absolutely adored by you. 

He tilts his head as if he’s contemplating something. Then all of a sudden, he starts lowering himself until he is face to face with your core. “Wan’ a taste of your cute, little pussy.” Goosebumps spread over your skin as you clench at the thought. Jungkook lazily thumbs your swollen clit, enamored by your responses. “You’re so fucking responsive, makes me wanna play with you forever.” 

“Nngh— Jungkook!” you squeal as he licks a fat stroke along your pussy, covering the whole area with his saliva. It’s weird — the way it feels, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like it. He moans at the initial taste, putting your legs on his shoulder to really get in there. 

Jungkook laps at your cunt hungrily, his thumb diligently rubbing your clit. His tongue teasingly rims around your entrance, before plunging into the depths of your core. You jolt, crying out of despair, hypersensitive to his ministrations. The flexible muscle strokes at your gummy walls, increasing the weird feeling inside your stomach. Now, you feel certain that you will burst at any moment, clenching on his tongue helplessly. 

But he doesn’t stop, his little groans going straight through your core. Jungkook is in a frenzy, his whole mouth buried in your pussy as he greedily devours every single drop of your nectar. With his movements getting quicker and rougher, the knots in your lower stomach start to feel like they’ll snap. “Oh my god,” you cry out loud, “Jungkook, it– ugh, feels so weird— wait— Aah!” 

Your body goes rigid as soon as he pinches your clit between his fingers, a flooding sensation spreading throughout you. White spots appear in your vision while your body breaks out in exhilarating shivers, a string of incoherent words leaving you. Jungkook, on the other hand, slurps at your juices, his heart swelling in his chest. This is the first time you experienced a release. And he’s the first person to taste your sweet cherry pop. 

Your body loosens up soon after, leaving you all mushy. He holds you close, slowly retracting his tongue from your pussy, making you whine weakly. It makes an embarrassingly loud popping sound when he finally pulls away, his whole mouth covered with your slick, glistening under the dim lighting of his bedroom. 

“Baby,” Jungkook coos at you, noticing the tear streaks on your temples. He never thought he’d be seeing you like this, but he’s loving every second of it. You look messed up in the best way possible, all for him. “Did I make you feel good, hm? You came all over my face, look at me, c’mon~” 

His voice is cocky, eyes twinkling with mischief. When you finally meet his eyes, Jungkook reaches for your with his left hand, wiping away the stray tears. You’re unsure what to say, still processing everything that just happened. But still, you clear your throat, starting, “Um… Thank you…” 

“Oh? For what?” He can’t help his chuckle. You’re just so freaking cute.

“For… for making me come, like I asked, Jungkook.” you whisper, nuzzling his hand affectionately. 

“Trust me, it was my pleasure. But you’re welcome! Care to receive my other services regarding this?” 

You flush at his words, immediately realizing what he means exactly.

“Well…?” Jungkook raises an eyebrow, quite impatient.

“Mmm… I’d love to.” He doesn’t waste a single second upon your confirmation, his tattooed right hand cupping your pussy in a rough manner. 

“God—” you moan as he pushes his middle finger inside, overwhelmed by how thick and long it is compared to your own, familiar one. Jungkook leans down to press a sweet kiss on your lips.

“I’m really sorry, but I don’t think you’ll be getting any sleep tonight.” His big, brown eyes look into yours, full of lust and something softer that you can’t really place. 

“I don’t mind.” Your smile turns into a broken moan when he hits a specific spot deep inside you, your gummy walls squeezing his finger appreciatively. 

Being stupidly bold isn’t so bad all the time, maybe. 

˗ˏˋ ★ extended notes ˎˊ˗

thanks so much for reading 🥺! i hope this was okay >.< (pls ignore typos or other mistakes, english is not my 1st language) ; i’d love to hear your thoughts about this! please reblog, comment, or even send me asks, feedback is very much appreciated!

[linpunny]

Heated kisses and mistletoe!

Pairing: Rin Matsuoka x Fem!reader

WC :0.6k

Summary: You and Rin get a surprise from Nagisa and things get more heated than you and he had anticipated under the mistletoe.

Warnings: None, just some good making out with Rin :)

A/N : SURPRISE !!! This is my secret santa for my dear Wallaby @fictionfordays. (@enchantedforest-network) Merry Merry Christmas to you bby! I hope you enjoy you and Rin getting steamy under the mistletoe this year! Sorry this took a bit longer than I had wanted i got sick again uwuwuuw. Happy holidays i hope you enjoy <3

Nervous!Rin Who arrives at the Nagisa’s Christmas party with you closely standing beside him, tucked into his side, you just as nervous as he is to arrive together in front of all your friends. So when the door opens and Nagisa coos with a twinkle in eyes as he looks up at the mistletoe he had hung just moments before, Rei being his look at out for the both of you to arrive, you both flush and nearly fall into each other. Half out of embarrassment half out of sheer shock, but could you really be shocked when Nagisa has been trying to get you and Rin out of this weird friendzone for years?

Nervous!Rin Who flushes brighter than his maroon hair, palm coming nervously to cover the back of his neck, like that would do anything to stop the blush that is creeping up his neck and ears. He can’t help but gulp as his eyes scan the room, everyone staring at the two of you, waiting for the magic kiss.

Nervous!Rin that finally builds up the courage even though he stands on the world champion stage and dives fearlessly into the never ending depths of the pool everyday takes a step. Shifting his body to shield yours, his tall frame and broad swimmer shoulders blocking the view of your face a he bends down, calloused thumb hooking under your chin to bring your face to his.

Nervous!Rin who gives a low hiss through his sharp toothy smile seeing how pretty and soft you are right now staring into his eyes, reflecting back the same want and need as the mistletoe dangles just above the both of you. His heart is hammering, choppy and unsmooth, making him feel out of his element because right now he ins’t one with his body and he almost feels like he’s sinking even if there isn’t any water dragging him down.

Nervous!Rin finally dips his head down, eyes glancing to make sure no one could see him steal his first kiss from you one last time before his lips are finally brushing feather light against yours.Your leaning on your tip toes the moment his lips meet yours to deepen the kiss and he grabs your waist, large hand roughly pulling you into his chest while his hand on your chin circles your neck in the softest grip, keeping you in place. He doesn’t want you to move, not right now cause he doesn’t have much control left in his body thats now melted into yours.

Not so Nervous!Rin who doesn’t realize how much of his weight is bearing down on you as your fingers somehow end up carded through his soft hair tugging at the strands that have fallen out of place, groaning for air but he only pulls away to give you a small peck, enough of a break for you to both to take a small intake of air to calm the fire in your lungs before his face is slotting back against yours, tongue darting out to lick the seam of your lips.

Not so nervous!Rin That forgets your standing infront of Nagisa’s front door, his tongue curling around yours as all your combined friends try and peek at the two of you but his body is still blocking you from their curious stares, blushing faces and shouting and not to mention the giggling that Nagisa isn’t hiding in the slightest. He only remembers that you have an audience when he gives you one last long open mouthed kiss, the sharp ridges of his teeth digging into the plump of your bottom as he pull away with a cocky grin, “Merry Christmas Angel.” He smiles and hopes that he can get more than just a make out session once the two of you get more alone time tonight.

© Linpunny 2023 All of the following works are fictional and belong to me. Please do not copy, edit, or steal any of my content. Do not advertise on any other social media.

[whatareyousearchingfordean]

The Heat of the Matter

Summary: Dreams are keeping her awake, so Y/n decides to visit Dean at work

Pairing: Dean Winchester x female!reader

Word Count: 1.3K+

Warnings: Language, sexual intercourse (wrap it before you tap it), low-key voyeurism

Author’s Note: I can't believe I wrote words! It's not a lot of words but it's words. This little one-shot was inspired by a dream I had the other night so enjoy!

Check out Alexandra’s Library for more works by yours truly!

“It’s late.”

The statement was laced with more concern than it was accusatory. The firefighter stood before her in a dark pair of joggers and a t-shirt with the department emblem on his left chest. His hair was ruffled as if he had just run his hands through it before greeting her. For a moment, she felt bad for waking him, until she remembered that he had answered her text almost immediately. He had been awake too. 

“Couldn’t sleep, weird dreams,” she replied, pushing past him into the darkness of the fire station. Dean had met her at the back door, leading straight to the firehouse living quarters. The kitchen was easily recognizable as she stepped into it, even in the darkness. The double industrial-sized refrigerators hummed in the distance and the large dining table, big enough for at least a dozen men, loomed in the center of the space. 

“So you decide to visit me at work… in the middle of the night?” Dean closed the door, the latch clicking quietly behind them. She hummed to herself as she ran a finger across the glossy wood of the table, the red Maltese firefighter cross in the center shining in the little bit of light coming from outside.  

“I was lying in bed, staring up at the fan whirring above me, and it got me thinking,” she answered as she continued deeper into the station, towards the one place she truly wanted to see. Dean’s soft footsteps followed after her, through the rec room and finally stopping just before the door to the apparatus bay. 

“About?” He tried again, his curiosity rising with her elusive behavior. 

She pursed her lips as if she had to remember what had been keeping her up, before turning to push into the bay. The large space somehow felt freeing as she stepped into the moonlight streaming in from the large windowed doors. She no longer had to hold back. 

“Me, you… us.”

“Us?” Dean paused in the doorway as she skipped towards the engine. The soft summer dress she had slipped on in her haste to get out the door flowed around her as she spun back to face him, cross-armed and leaning against the open door frame. 

“You know I’ve never gotten to sit in one of these?” The woman ran her painted fingers across the shiny chrome and fire-red paint. 

Dean’s nose scrunched at her sudden change in topic. She continued to smile softly at him until he rolled his eyes at her, giving in easily to whatever it was she wanted. 

“Better late than never,” Dean sighed and made his way over to her. The firefighter pulled the engine door open, the creak of the metal echoing around the open space. He offered her his hand, helping the woman into the backseat before slipping in behind her and shutting the door. 

The pair sat across from each other, their legs intertwined in the small space. She looked around her, taking in the equipment that hung overhead and the station name stitched into the fabric of the seats. 

“You wanna tell me what this is really about now?” Dean’s voice had her looking back at him, his hands clasped in his lap as he waited patiently for her to reveal her true motives for coming here. 

“Everybody’s sleeping?” 

“What? Y/n/n, this is-”

“Is everybody asleep?” She asked again, not letting him finish what was sure to be an aggravated rant. He searched her face, looking for something within her features that might answer whatever questions were running through his mind. After a moment, he finally relented with a soft nod of affirmation. 

Leaning forward, the woman placed her hands on Dean’s thighs, slowly running them up toward his hips. Dean sat back in the seat, letting his hands drop to his side as he looked at her, eyes going wide. It was clear this was the last thing he had expected, but he made no move to stop her as she climbed into his lap. 

“Y/n, what are you doing?” His voice was a breath against his lips as her hands found their place at the column of his neck. 

“I thought that much was obvious,” she replied with a smile, leaning in to brush her lips against his pulse just below his jaw. Dean’s hands found the dip in her waist and he gripped tight, fingers curling into the light fabric. 

“This is what you dreamt about, wasn’t it?” It all had finally clicked for him. The being awake in the middle of the night, the needing to see him right away, she had dreamed about being with him and now she was all worked up and needy. 

The woman nodded as she continued her assault on his neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses along the length of it before licking up toward his jaw. He turned his head toward the action, catching her lips with his own and sucking her tongue into his mouth. A low moan vibrated in her chest, urging him on. His thick arms snaked around her, pulling them impossibly close to each other and sending a jolt of excitement through her nervous system when she felt the length of him below her. 

“Okay, sweetheart.” 

That was all she needed to know he was all in and she reached behind herself to pull the zipper of her dress down her back. As the material fell from her body, she pulled her arms free from the dress’ straps. Her body reacted to the cool air inside the engine, goose bumps rising under her skin and her nipples hardening. 

“We’ve gotta be quick,” she explained as she slid back on his thighs, giving herself just enough access to pull on the elastic of his waistband. Dean lifted his hips to allow her to move his sweats and boxers to his thighs. 

“Fuck.” the expletive dripped from his tongue as she took his length in her hand, squeezing gently as she ran her hand from the base of his shaft to the head, bringing his arousal to life. Spitting in her palm, she repeated the action one more time before moving her hips back to his.  The woman slid her panties to the side to line him up with her core and sank onto him. 

Her breath caught in her throat as her body adjusted to the intrusion. Once her muscles relaxed to the fullness, she began, rolling her hips as she moved up and down. Dean’s fingers dug into the flesh at her waist as he helped her with the motion, his hips meeting hers thrust for thrust. 

The dream had left her so inflamed with need that she could already tell she was close. Her body thrummed with the arousal that flooded her bloodstream, releasing itself from its confines with every moan that fell from her lips. 

å“Dean,” she whined as he buried his face in her neck. He was letting her lead this time, letting her use him to get herself off, but she knew how much he was holding back. 

“Yeah, baby, I know, come for me.” His breath fanned over her as her pace quickened in search of her climax. 

A bolt of electricity sparked across her nervous system, snapping the band in her belly and sending her arousal over that final cliff. Her legs shook around his hips, the muscles losing their strength with her orgasm. Dean grunted below her and she just barely registered him twitching inside her, having found his end along with her. 

“Was that better than your dream?” He asked with a wry chuckle, pulling his head back to look at her flushed face. She wrinkled her nose, feigning ignorance for a moment before leaning in to kiss him slow and deep. 

“Let’s just say, I crossed something off my bucket list that I didn’t even know was on there.” She admitted before peppering soft kisses across his cheek.

Forevers: @440mxs-wife @akshi8278 @emoryhemsworth @ever-mischief @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @jbsgirl4ever11 @jensengirl83 @katbratsupernaturalwhore @leigh70 @lyarr24 @maggiegirl17 @maliburenee @muhahaha303 @mrsjenniferwinchester @sexyvixen7 @siospins2 @spnwoman @suckitands33 @stephv213 @stoneyggirl​2 @supernatural3002​ @traceyaudette @xlynnbbyx@anathewierdo @atc74 @austin-winchester67 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​ @briagallen @callmekda @dawnie1988 @deandreamernp @deanwanddamons @ellewritesfix05 @heartsaved @janicho88 @jarpad24 @littlewhiterose @lunarmoon8 @msmarvelouswinchester @polina-93​ @roseblue373 @sleepylunarwolf @spnbaby-67 @squirrelnotsam @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan @suckmyapplejacks​ @supraveng @tatted-trina6 @thoughts-and-funnies @tranquility-or-chaos​ @watermelonlipstick @waywardbeanie @wayward-dreamer @winchest09 @woodworthti666

[vermillionsappho]

Bathroom | Abby Anderson x Y/N

Bathroom- Model!Reader x Billionaire!Abby Anderson

“She said, ‘Forget all the slow dancing

Baby, I could take it to the bathroom’”

-After being invited to a gala by a famous actor, you run into business mogul and billionaire, Abby Anderson, who after a passionate interaction, you just can’t get her off your mind.

3.5k words | Porn with plot

Content Warning: SMUT, cursing, explicit content, scissoring, strap on sex (r!receiving), Abby's strap is referred to as her cock, fingering (r!receiving), top!Abby, bottom!reader, a hint of dom/sub dynamics, degradation, praise, Abby’s a bit elusive lol, a little bit of weirdness/weird behavior towards the reader from men, a little bit of violence, Abby is serious asf lowkey, lmk if I left anything out!

Kinda proofread but like, not really lol

“Y/N! Y/N, who’re you wearing tonight? You look flawless!” A voice calls out as you step onto the steps, your arm hooked onto Alexander Watson’s, a famous blockbuster movie star. He’s been trying to get into your pants a little over a month now, but you finally gave in after he personally invited you to be his date at the event of the year: a gala hosted by some billionaire. Your publicist, Dina, thought it would look good to be seen at such a high-profile event, so you went ahead and humored both her and Alexander.

“It's vintage, hon. From the archives!” You say with a wink, pushing through more crowds of photographers and journalists to get to the entrance.

“Have you met the guy who hosts the gala’s each year?” Another voice calls out and you look at her politely before smiling.

“No, I have not, in fact this is my first year in attendance; but I do hope I have the chance to chat with him!” You say, before Alexander lightly tugs on your arm, leading you towards the entrance.

“Prepare yourself to be amazed.” Alexander leans in and whispers as the doors open and you can’t help the little sigh of wonder that escapes your lips when you step inside.

Outside, the mansion looks huge, but inside the mansion is enormous. White, gold, and marble line the entire mansion. Framed photos and art impeccably decorate the walls, and the long and dimly lit hallways seem to stretch on for forever.

“This is…unlike anything I’ve ever seen before, Jesus Christ, how much money does this guy have?” You whisper and Alexander chuckles.

“Pfft, wish I knew. No one knows anything about the guy, he somehow manages to stay anonymous, and I don’t know how, and I can’t figure out who he is.” Alexander says, taking a flute of champagne off a tray as a waiter walks by, passing it to you, which you accept gracefully.

You take a sip, savoring the tangy, but bitter flavor. You softly smile at him, a hint of mischief twinkling in your eyes.

“I have a little game…” You say and Alexander shoots you a dazzling smile.

“Sounds dangerous, I’m in.” He says and you slowly take another sip of your champagne before putting it on another tray.

“I bet I can figure out who he is by the end of the night.” You say cheekily and he shakes his head with a scoff.

“No way, I’ve been coming to his galas for three years in a row and I haven’t figured it out yet, there’s no way you can.” He says and you roll your eyes.

“I bet I can though.” You say with a shrug of your shoulders, and he cocks his head like he’s thinking.

“Okay, deal. If you figure out who he is by the end of the night…I’ll personally buy you a first-class ticket to Italy, free of charge. But if I win…you have to come back with me when the night ends.” He says with a smirk, one that slightly makes you uncomfortable, but you shake it off.

“Fine, deal.” You say before strutting off. 

You wander the mansion mindlessly, watching the other people with focused eyes. You try to guess based on posture, height, energy, and expressions who the mystery man could possibly be, but you’re stumped.

“Are you lost?” A feminine, but smooth and raspy voice calls out and you whip around, startled out of your concentration.

In front of you stands a tall and gorgeous woman; dressed in a fitting, black, expensive suit. Her muscles somehow ripple even in the suit, and there’s a glimmering watch on her wrist. She’s handsome and beautiful all at once, as her long, beautiful hair falls over the side of her face. Suddenly, you feel shy and subconscious.

“Oh God, you scared me! And no, I’m not lost…I’m looking for someone.” You say quietly and she smiles at you, before chuckling.

The sound sends shivers up your spine a little bit.

“Who are you looking for? I guarantee you I know them.” She says, placing her hands in her pockets and you giggle.

“What makes you so sure that you know who I’m looking for?” You ask, lips curling into a bashful smile.

“Because I know everything.” She says, walking closer, her face confident and your breath hitches.

“What, like you’re God?” You say, teasingly and she snorts.

“I’m better than God.” She says with a shrug of her shoulders, and you look up at her.

“And what’s your name, woman who claims she’s better than God?” You ask with a small grin, and she puts her hand out, veins running up and down her strong hands.

“I’m Abby Anderson.” She says simply, and you wonder who she is outside of her vague introduction.

“So, what do you do, Mrs. Anderson, to put you in the same breathing space as all these rich and famous assholes?” You inquire and she laughs.

“Hmmm, that’s a secret.” She says with a playful smile, and you pout.

“You’re ruining my fun…” You say with a playful whine, and she leans against the wall with a chuckle, crossing her arms.

“How so?” She smiles and you slightly lean over the railing before looking back at her.

“I bet my date that I could figure out who’s the host of the gala; If I win, he’s gonna fly me to Italy…first class trip.” You say with a little smile, bringing your nail to your lips.

Abby flashes a sideways grin, pushing herself off the wall to walk behind you, lips close to your ear, her body hovering over yours.

“First class, where’s his imagination?” She whispers and your breath catches in your throat.

“What would you do, then? If I guessed correctly?” You say, not making eye contact with her.

“Private jet to Italy…then to Paris, and then Spain, and wherever else in the world you haven’t been.” Her voice is lowered, almost seductively and your head subconsciously cocks to the side.

“You could make that happen?” You ask, breathlessly, and her hands move to your waist, slowly turning you to face her, your face only inches apart.

“I can make anything happen…just say the word,” She whispers and your lips slightly part. “So who is it? Who’s your guess? Make me proud and you’ll get your trip and more.” Her nose bumps against yours and you tilt your head up, to look her in her eyes.

“Not a single man had the allure I was looking for.” You confess against her lips, and she chuckles.

“Hmmm, no one?” She hums teasingly and your eyes widen at her tone.

“Because he’s not a man, right? He’s you…” You say in amazement, and she throws her head back in laughter.

“Winner, winner…” She says before finally pressing your lips together.

You gasp into the kiss, and she takes the opportunity to run her tongue against yours, making you whimper softly. Abby presses you against the railing, wrapping your thigh around her waist.

“Abby,” You moan softly at her tight grip, and she kisses down the expanse of your neck before lightly biting and sucking.

“God, you’re exquisite…I should fuck you right here.” She groans into your neck, and you moan out loud at the idea.

“Yeah? Would you like that? If I fucked you in front of all these people? All these people that've been staring at you since you walked in here?” She growls in your ear and you’re about to whimper out a response when a voice calls out from the staircase.

“There’s um…you have an audience.” You’re instantly broken out of your lust-driven haze, turning around as you notice small chatter coming from below you.

There’s a small crowd of mostly men, watching with excited and scandalized expressions and you gasp, horrified.

“Oh, fuck, this is bad. I’m sorry, Abby, I need to go handle something downstairs.” You apologize, quickly running down the steps, embarrassed.

Your face is red as you push past a few people, sighing as you finally make contact with Alexander.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me-” You say, shaking my head and Alexander laughs and scoffs.

“Have you lost your mind? I invite you to this gala out of the kindness of my heart and you go sneak off to make out with a bitch?” He sniffs and You step back, appalled.

“Excuse me? And you didn’t ask, you begged.” You snap, and he cracks his knuckles, chuckling.

“What, like you were begging upstairs to get fucked by that girl? If you wanted someone to fuck you, you could’ve asked nicely, and I would’ve given it to you. You know? ‘Cause I’m a man, and you’re a woman and that’s typically how fucking works.” He says, grabbing your wrist and yanking you towards him, despite you pulling back.

“Back the fuck off, Alexander!” You say, using your other hand to slap him, before stomping away.

Once you’re away from him and calm, you find yourself desperately needing to be in the comfort of Abby’s attentive gaze.

You seek out one of the many waiters and waitresses, smiling sweetly when you finally have the opportunity to pull them aside.

“Hi…would you happen to know who the host of the gala is?” You ask, and the girl meekly looks away.

“I do, but sh-they uh, make us sign NDA’s…so I can’t give out that kind of information.” She says with an awkward grin and you giggle before leaning in.

“I know that the host is a woman named Abby Anderson, it’s fine, we know each other. I just need a favor from you. Would you mind…letting her know that there’s a woman named Y/N waiting for her in the bathroom?” You ask sweetly, brightly smiling when she nods.

You take your time trying to find the bathroom, since there’s so many rooms and hallways, finally deciding on the closest bathroom.

After an excruciating twenty minutes, the door swings open revealing Abby, her sleeves rolled up and a smirk on her face.

“Is there a particular reason for you summoning me to the bathroom?” She asked, a teasing tone in her voice. You laugh, biting your lips as you sweep your hair back behind your bare shoulders.

“Hmmm no reason,” You whisper, approaching her slowly, running your hands up the front of her suit once you’re in front of her. “It’s just…I kept thinking about you leaning me over the stairs.” Your voice low and breathy and she moves her head to the crook of your neck, her breath fanning over it.

“You keep thinking about it? The thought of me bending you over and fucking you got you wet? Are you wet for me, baby?” She whispers and you whimper, eyes closed, head tilted back.

“Yes, I’m so wet, Abby please, I need you to fuck me.” You whimper and she chuckles in your ear.

“You don’t want to go back to the party and dance?” She asks, her voice sarcastic and you shake your head wildly.

“No, fuck the dancing, Abby, need you to fuck me right here, right now.” You whine and she steps back, shrugging her suit jacket off.

“Take your dress off, baby.” She demands, and you feel yourself growing wetter at her serious voice, letting your dress drop to the floor and stepping out of it. You stand in front of her, naked except for your lacy, black panties.

“Show me how wet you are.” She says, and your hand slides down your front, dipping into your underwear as you gather your wetness, groaning at your own touch.

Your wetness drips and glistens on your fingers and she breathes heavily at the sight.

“Fuck, baby, is that all for me?” She asks and you nod your head quickly.

“Yes, all for you, I’m so wet for you, Abby.” You whimper and she steps closer to you and drops to her knees, pulling your panties off.

“Jesus, you’re dripping all over the floor, babe.” She mutters, running her fingers over your soaking cunt. You wince and whimper at the feeling, your breath hitching when you feel puffs of her own breath against your heat.

She licks a stripe over your cunt, parting your folds with her fingers before licking you again.

“You're teasing me…” You gasp, back arching and she chuckles.

“Not teasing you, baby…just wanted a taste.” You can hear the smirk in her voice, and you’re thinking of something smart to say when you feel a wet finger prodding at your entrance.

“Mmph!” You gasp once her finger enters you, your back fully arching as you press yourself against the sink.

She starts off slow, her finger pressing into you slowly but expertly, before she enters another, your knees nearly buckling at the feeling.

“You’re so tight…” She mutters, twisting her fingers into you quicker and harder. You gasp out more moans, your face red with embarrassment and pleasure as your wetness squelches against her fingers.

She spits against your cunt before spreading and scissoring her fingers apart, stretching you out, and you’re so dizzy with desire, you nearly come from the feeling.

“Gotta get you ready for my cock…gonna take you to my room and fuck you so hard, everyone will hear you screaming my name.” She says, voice edging on a growl, and the growing pit in your stomach explodes.

“God, mmph! C-coming…I’m coming!” You whimper, breaths and moans escaping your mouth as you nearly scream at the pressure.

“Come on my face…come on baby.” She demands and you do exactly as she requests, coming all over her mouth, face, your wetness dripping down her neck.

You’re holding on to the sink for dear life, legs shaking as you come down.

Abby licks your orgasm off her lips, before wiping her mouth with her pocket square, gazing up at you.

“Put your dress back on, and head upstairs. My bedroom is the third room on the right…wait for me.” She whispers into your ear, and you nod, stepping back into your dress, and putting your heels on before exiting the bathroom, eagerly searching for her room.

Your legs are still weak as you speed walk down the hallway, nearly falling through the door when you get there. You collapse on the bed, your head cloudy with want as you eagerly await her arrival, stripping out of your dress so you can be ready for her.

The door creaks as it opens, and your head tilts to look over;

And there she is, unbuttoning her suit jacket and undershirt as she steps into the room, the door closing behind her.

She shrugs her jacket and shirt off, before unbuttoning her dress pants and stepping out of them as you watch her undress, her pace slow and excruciating.

She slowly walks over to her drawers, taking out the purple strap and harness before fixing it on her body.

You almost groan at the size of it.

You’re still laying against the bed, slightly sitting up to watch her as she climbs on top of the bed wordlessly, pulling your legs towards her and spreading them apart to reveal your soaking cunt.

“You’re still wet for me, baby? I got you this worked up?” She asks you and you whimper and nod your head before she smirks and shakes her head, reaching a hand up to grip your jaw.

“I need words…want you to tell me how much you need me to fuck you.” Abby demands and you moan at the request, nodding your head eagerly.

“Need you to fuck me…need you so bad, please Abby.” You beg, whimpering out and God, you’ve never been more turned on before in your life.

Abby chuckles at your desperate pleading, using a hand to spread your lips apart, the other holding her cock at your entrance.

“Such a pretty little pussy…” She mutters breathily and your breath hitches.

“Gonna ruin it.” She says finally, sheathing her cock into you, bottoming out immediately.

You instantly wail at the intrusion, your legs coming up against her waist as you hold on to her for dear life. You're whimpering softly, eyes rolling into the back of your head, and she hasn’t even fucked you yet.

She pulls out slowly, looking down at your cunt to see how it clenches and stretches out around her cock.

“Look at that,” She groans, as she slips out of you, and you look down, moaning at the view.

Abby rubs the tip of her cock into your wetness, before slamming into you again, her pace rough and brutal this time.

You scream at the intrusion, her cock pistoning in and out of you with no mercy, and you can’t stop the loud sounds from exiting your mouth as your back arches off the bed.

“AH! O-oh, oh god!” You moan out and she revels in the noises you're making, quickening her pace.

“So fucking tight, swear I can feel you clenching on my fucking cock.” She says through gritted teeth and her words make you clench even harder.

“Feels so good, Abby!” You shout, mouth slack as you throw your head back and she drives in you harder.

“Yeah? Feels good, baby? Bet your little boyfriend couldn’t make this pussy feel this good.” She grits out and you shake your head, whimpering uncontrollably.

“No one fucks you better than me? Tell me.” She says, leaning down next to your ear.

“No one fucks me better than you, Abby! Fuck me so good!” You gasp, babbling incomprehensibly and she laughs in your ear.

“Fucking you stupid, can’t even talk right.” She says meanly, hitting your spot with vigor, her strap rubbing against her clit as she fucks you hardly.

White hot pleasure shoots up your spine, and you can hardly think or talk.

“My stupid, pretty girl…gonna come for me?” She asks you, breath hitting your ear and you groan in response.

“Mmm, gonna come Abby, please don’t stop!” You moan and Abby leans up, pulling out of you, leaving you feeling empty.

“W-wha?” You whimper dumbly, as she removes the strap and harness, before removing her boxers. She lifts your leg over her shoulder, before placing her wet cunt over your own, and you gasp at the feeling.

“Gonna make you come, pretty girl, don’t worry.” She mutters, before rubbing your cunts together roughly and quickly, her skin pressing into your clit.

“Holy shit…” Your eyes are rolling into the back of your head as your wet cunts press into each other hardly, the pressure nearly painful as you edge onto the precipice of your orgasm.

Abby grunts and moans with effort and pleasure, head thrown back as she feels her orgasm coming on, too.

“Gonna come all over this pretty pussy.” She moans out and you can’t hold back the scream of Abby’s name as her words send you over the edge, your orgasm rattling you.

The sight of your face scrunched up in pleasure, and the sound of her name so loud and breathy, coming off your lips brings on her orgasm and she gasps and groans as she comes on your cunt, your wetness mixing with hers.

“Oh, fuck!” She groans, the feeling and sight making her head hazy as she works you both through your orgasms before she collapses next to you on the bed.

Once your head clears, you turn to face her, chest still heaving as you trail a finger over her parted lips.

“So…” You trail off with a soft smile, and she wraps an arm around your waist before pulling your body closer to hers.

“You won your game.” She mutters with a grin, and you giggle, nosing into her neck.

“Right, means I deserve a prize other than two mind-blowing orgasms.” You say and she chuckles.

“I guess you deserve a trip to Italy…” She says, rolling her eyes playfully and you giggle again, leaning up to peck her lips.

Divider by @cafekitsune

Part 2, Y/N joins the mile high club otw to Italy?

Anyways, comment, like, and repost pleassseee if you enjoyed this. This was my first smut ever written or posted so I’m a little nervous about this, and clearly, I got a little unhinged but lmk if you liked this!

#abby anderson x reader#abby anderson angst#abby anderson smut#lesbian#the last of us fanfiction#abby anderson fanfic#abby anderson#abby tlou#abby x reader#abby x you#abigail anderson #wlw fiction#abby x fem!reader #bisexual #vermillionsappho #vermillionsapphoworks

[m0chaminx]

Gar Logan | Stay

*•.¸♡Request: @cjisbored , thanks love

*•.¸♡Prompts: none

*•.¸♡Warnings: mentions of violence and death

*•.¸♡Paring: Gar Logan x GN!reader

*•.¸♡Summary: You comformt Gar after his experience with CADMUS (just a whole bunch of comfort fluff)

*•.¸♡Words: 635

Gar sat alone in the training room, the cuffs of his green jacket pulled past over his hands. You stood by the door, fingers tapping against the wooden frame, not loud enough to disturb Gar. You took a nervous breath and that's when Gar looked up, slightly glancing over his shoulder. "I can hear you," Gar called softly. "Your hearts racing."

Your hand fell from the door frame and walked over to Gar, sitting beside him on the small steps that led to the sparring space. You ran your hands over your denim jeans and glanced up at Gar. It was only the two of you now that would really use the training room. Kory, Dick and Conner would have no use for it, Rose left a few days after Donna's memorial dinner, and so did Hank and Dawn.

You wouldn't use the training room as much, but every now and then when you'd walk past you'd see Gar. Sometimes he would lazily puch one of the heavy bags other days he would just sit, staring at the unused training weapons.

"Can I ask you something?" Your voice came out as a whisper. Gar nodded softly but his eyes stayed forward, staring at nothing. "How are you? After everything that happened with Donna... and CADMUS, I haven't really asked you about it."

It's not that you and Gar weren't close, you were. You had met him, Kory and Rachel, when Dick asked you to get them safely to Rachel's mother's house and you had been around ever since. You tried to keep Gar as safe as possible but when Dick told everyone the truth about Jerico you couldn't stay in the tower anymore and you followed Hank and Dawn until you got a weird text from Gar about Conner. When you got back to the tower you met with Donna and you both investigated the broken tower.

When you found Gar's bloody hand prints, it felt like your world sunk and when you found he was alive but under the control of a Lex Lab corporation you didn't know what to do. Somehow in the haze of Gar's mind control, you were able to reach out and find him again, though not with the close tiger bite to your left arm. Since then, you hadn't really talked to Gar.

"I didn't mean to bite you," Gar said softly, his voice slightly horse. "I didn't mean to do any of it..."

You shuffled closer to Gar and ran your hand down his arms. "None of it was your fault Gar. None of it was you. CADMUS did some weird experiments on you Gar, you couldn't have stopped it. We... I left you here alone."

"I didn't want to hurt anyone." Gar's jaw clenched as he let out a shaky breath, his arms coming up to hug his knees. "You say it wasn't me, but it feels like it was."

"I'm not saying you can't feel it. I'm just saying it wasn't your fault, you have every right to feel however you want." Gar nodded softly, his expression filled with understanding and empathy. 

You allowed yourself to surrender to the weight of your emotions, leaning your head against his sturdy shoulder, seeking solace and comfort in his presence. With a gentle touch, your hand traversed the expanse of his broad back, its warmth radiating through your fingertips. Each movement conveyed unspoken words of support and solidarity, silently affirming the profound connection between you. In that tender moment, you found solace in the simple yet profound act of physical closeness, as if the weight of the world had momentarily lifted from your shoulders.

"Can you stay with me for a bit?" You nodded softly, his green hair rubbing against your head.

"I'll stay as long as you need."

ﾟ°☆Page Navigation

[thewrittingpan]

Painting Lies 3

Phinks x reader, Fetain x reader, Shalnark x reader

Tigger and content warnings include but are not limited to: blood, gore, violence, kidnapping, abuse, mental health issues, trauma

Wc: 6501

Tumblr links: Part 1, Part 2, Part 4

Ao3: Here

You think you remember the two blonds being there, but you also remember your legs being twice their usual size. Honestly you just stared at the ceiling for a bit wondering what the hell was going on in your head. For all you know you did get into a fight with a giant blanket yesterday but also you felt like you had somehow completed an entire treasure collection in that game you played. Everything in the dream was too close to reality for your liking.

“Hey Phinks?” You looked out into the hall to see if he was up.

“What?” The door across the hall from you opened.

“Weird question, did we have a staring contest during dinner or did I dream that?”

“That kind of happened.” he went to close the door.

“Okay, did you play video games yesterday with me watching?”

He looked at you terribly confused, “no?”

“Did we set up the table?”

“No, shalnark did.”

“Did I go to the basement? Does the basement have a whole art studio too? Because I dreamed there was like some art supply store or something in it and I feel like I'm going insane.”

“Yes to both.”

“Okay okay, now the part that ia really fucking with me is that i swear i woke up in the middle of the night-”

“You did.”

“-and you and the other guys were there-”

“Correct.”

“Then I got kissed goodnight by the three of you? And like some drink that you see moms in movies make for kids after a nightmare?”

He stood looking at you, you had no idea what he was thinking, honestly he looked as confused as you were.

“That didn’t happen, those two just wanted to see you before leaving.”

“Weird.” You mumbled to yourself. “It all felt like stuff that happened or could have.”

Everyone had dreams that left them confused when they woke up, or well you think everyone does. Waking up from them can vary, like with every other kind of sleep. When it came to “what the fuck happened who am I” level of confusion dreams waking up in anyway that left you dazed was not a good thing. What you personally think is worse is when you don’t feel like you have been asleep, or when you think you haven't had a dream.

Your thoughts fizzled out until you could have been a cartoon character with smoke coming out of their head. Confusion sticks, the whole day would probably feel off, and hell you might just fall back asleep with how just trying to think through it all was driving you mad.

“Are you going to spend time around the house or in your room?” Phinks was leaning against the door frame.

“Oh-“ you sifted through your ideas to keep yourself entertained.

There were the new games you’ve been given, but the clearly visible camera in your room had been creeping you out. You had some books but part of you couldn’t stand the idea of reading at the moment, something in your bones felt like they couldn’t find a comfortable way to sit to read. Maybe you could draw- there was that sketch you wanted to paint.

“I might go paint something?” You asked him.

It felt like you were allowed to go paint down there whenever, or that was the ideal goal they had with showing you it. Though there was something about this house, even with Shalnarks advice of Phinks being surprisingly soft, you felt like you were standing on an inch of ice and it was already waiting to break.

He nodded, “Not a bad idea, just don’t go past the curtain, Fetain doesn’t like anyone touching his things. I’ll make something simple to eat, I’m not much of a cook so you’ll have to put up with it or make your own food.” He walked past you towards the kitchen, “I’ll stay down there to make sure you don’t go poking around in things you don’t want to see.”

Yeah totally not threatening or creepy in the slightest. Hell part of you felt like a horror movie character right now, that vague warning only made you want to see what was down there. As you gathered your sketches your mind ran wild. The stairs in this unfinished basement were creaky wood. You looked at your feet as you descended, the wood was nice and sanded, with no nails that you could notice. Yet your mind drew with jagged lines, poorly put together stairs covered in splinters. That would be too empty, not enough visual interest but something could be drawn from those mental images of stairs. Maybe if something was spilling down the stairs it would be interesting, something twisted hidden in the shadows or beneath the stars themselves, something hard to notice but once you do it’s shocking.

You pulled out a pre-stretched canvas. For a while your hands hovered over two, each size would have its benefits, the smaller ones could make the figure have a “weaker” tone. Though the larger would allow the grotesque details you were longing for. Yet you could alter your concept slightly and “zoom in” on a smaller canvas, get up close and personal with the spine. You propped them both up so you could more easily compare them while sorting through your sketches. You tore them from the sketch book with a strange chaotic need. They were spread out across the cold concrete floor. Scattered and overlapped so they could all be seen without taking up much space. It was a kaleidoscope of paper and ink, and you were the crazed lunatic who had created it.

“You’ll have to pick those up when you finish painting.” Phinks stepped down the stairs holding a large plate full of scrambled eggs and waffles. “Or do you think you’ll need to have them spread out while working?”

“Do you have tape?” You asked, “Something stronger than a basic office tape, I could hang them on the wall?”

“Eat some, I’ll find some.”

The food was weirdly over and under done. The waffles had parts that were slightly more runny than they should be but the eggs were concerning. Parts were crispy and almost burnt, while the rest was fluffy, almost as if he had gotten distracted and almost made a bad omelette.

“Duck tape and packing tape.” He placed one roll of each on the table beside you.

“Oh, thanks, that’ll work fine.”

He was quiet, but it wasn't the same way Fetain is. Fetains silence was a threat, one you had grown used to. He had this weight to him that was impossible to ignore when alone, though he easily blended in and was easy to ignore in a group. Phinks was almost the opposite. You never noticed him when it was just him, though that didn’t mean you trusted him in the slightest. There was a comfort to him, familiar almost, half memories of moments with an old friend or a split second where you almost felt like you were sitting in the room with a long forgotten family member. Warmth tried to spread through you, you desperately wanted to trust him when you felt the familiarity, but how could you when you knew nothing about him.

You taped away. Deformed figures, haphazard diagrams and sketches of anatomy from memory. While each sketch held some semblance of a thought, a firework of an idea, sometimes you found that the best ideas grew when you worked without a clear thought. Molding fog and light created forms and shapes that you may overlook, sometimes you could compare them to an instinct, or a deep need to connect with something you had yet to fully understand.

These things made the beginning difficult but one of the most fun parts of it all. Every thought could be quickly scribbled out, fulfilling the urge to create, but not held back by perfection. It was wild, untamed, which made it unpredictable. A great idea could last a second before flickering out while a bad one could haunt you, not because the idea’s roots were rotten but because the branches had been infested by a failure to succeed.

You stared at the sketches of green bruises. The needles poked through skin, emerging from the bones themselves. Single drops of blood would sit atop the skin, staining it, drying deeply into the grooves. If the dirt and grime of the depicted horror went untreated it would stain not only the mind, but cling to the body like death itself, unable to be removed with hours upon days of scrubbing. It would always feel dirty, and you could always end up permanently stained.

This gorey twist that you adapted in your work was a little strange, even you had to admit it. You didn’t like the idea of torture porn when it came to horror movies, which some found surprising, clearly you didn’t hate it, but there had to be something gained from it. In your pieces you wanted each graphic mark to mean something, there needed to be a story you could read into if you wanted, but often they became reflections of struggles. It was relaxing, in the way that snapping and throwing something can make you sigh and sob after the frustration was finally released.

The thing about art is that it sucks ass. While it can be a weight off your shoulders and drain all of the stress out of you, it could just as easily make you want to stab someone’s eyes out. Staring at pins and needles for long enough just made you want to see your eyes shut so you didn’t have to see them everywhere else. Even closing your eyes made you think of the horrible blotchy shading that just did not want to work because you didn’t think and added too much water to your paints. Hell every time you groaned in frustration your fucking kidnapper look scared. So you tossed the brushes in the sink and worked on scrubbing out the paint before you ruined them right away.

“Do you usually work in these long multiple hour sessions?” He asked you over the sound of running water.

The water was cold, dangerously so. Your fingers toyed with the hair gently mixing small amounts of soap into it. This rhythmic movement helped calm you down and get out of the “holy mother of cats why won’t things go right” headspace that you got stuck in.

“Yeah, that’s common, anything less than three is an oddity.”

“I guess I just didn’t understand how hard it was.”

“Every job is kinda like that.”

You left the brushes on a spread out towel to dry. The pallet of rapidly drying paint was still there and there were a few reasons for why you didn’t clean off the paint; it’d ruin the plumbing, it was half dry anyways, you didn’t care, and it was fun to peel off later. If that little thing could give you some control maybe it would be worth it to wait and try to earn a way out.

Part of you felt like you were giving up too easily, that you had already lost your will to fight when you woke up that first day. Yelling at yourself wouldn’t do anything and you knew that but you felt like it was your fault. Perhaps you’re just the circus elephant tied to nothing. Yet you didn't blame yourself, or at least not as much as you think you were supposed to. Playing along and being good allows for you to be taken as a cute little pet that might be too frightened to try anything. Maybe other kidnappers are different.

You looked at Phinks from when he was leaning back in the folding chair balancing on its back legs. He was large, so much strength loomed over him, making him seem like the biggest in the room. Some damn part of him made you both think he was some jockey asshole like in movies and tv, or some large warm hearted man, though the latter seemed like a stretch.

“You’re starring again.”

“I’m thinking.”

“About?”

You gathered up the sketchbook you had ripped a handful of pages out of. You should lie. Shalnark said something like “he wasn’t perceptive” right? What if you were wrong? What about telling the truth? Would he kill you in anger? Slam you into the wall? Be the manifestation of the shadows from the covered half of the basement that had been driving you crazy, pulling you back and deep down into its maw, screaming as you die from-

“Just say it, I’m in a good mood, I don’t want it ruined with some anxiety attack because you’re scared to say someth-.”

“I don’t know how to feel.” You didn’t turn back to him as you walked towards the stairs, stopping at its feet, so he knew you weren’t trying to run away. “I don’t want to upset you or the others and risk dying or something arguably worse. I feel like everything has to be said correctly or not at all so I don’t find out someone is secretly more delusional than a damn LSD trip.”

You heard the chair squeak a bit as he stood up and walked towards the stairs, he didn’t stop like you and slowly started climbing them, slowly so you could continue.

“I should be scared, angry, maybe I should try to kill someone, or myself, try to escape? I don’t know, I can’t do any of those. I don’t want to, I hate how nice my room was, there was so much thought, so much detail, it felt so real, so close to my messy room. It creeps me out, enjoying the food, the room, the clothes, even the personal products make me feel like I graduated from a top academy with no debt and no depression.”

You lead him down the hall towards the living room. “I haven’t even looked outside you know, somehow I feel like it’ll make or break the dream. I think it might make me try something stupid, make me snap or something. I want to feel okay but I don’t, and when I don’t want to feel okay I do!” You ripped the curtain open, startling yourself.

“Did the window change anything?”

Woods. Beautiful moss covered trees that stretched far. The fire kissed trees rained down their leaves and it looked gorgeous. It reminded you of that date with the cats, the betrayal, of this fuck up of yours. It was something akin to heaven in your eyes, a perfectly twisted picture.

“I miss home.” You said finally tears slipping through your horribly masked emotions. You turned from the window stepping away from its bright light and into your dark room. You didn’t close the door fully behind you, it was very easy to look through the gap.

The blankets were smooth but when you burrowed into them to avoid everything, they felt fluffy against your skin. Even as your breath filled the underneath of them with hot air that felt suffocating, you accepted it with open arms. Stale warm air was unpleasant but it felt like the first warmth you’d felt in eons. The world outside this nest was cold and cruel, and you felt chained to the bed the more you thought about it.

The room's gentle darkness left you thinking as you tossed and turned. You fought back sobs but didn’t care about the tears that leaked down your face. Your sweetest boy laid next to you, his paw resting atop your hand as you faced him and the wall. You longed for the comfort of your real bed, sitting on the small balcony with your cat as he stared wide eyed at the birds.

Maybe you could have avoided this. Maybe if you had kept to yourself, avoided people like you had grown accustomed too, you could have continued your life. It didn’t change the fact that you were here now, but you were haunted by it. Those dark eyes at the damn exhibit. Why did it have to happen? Were you a fool? Were there any signs that you could have noticed? No matter how much crying you did or didn’t do you hated every second you were left to think about anything. Each damn second made you manic, and every other one made you depressed and unable to move. You felt so nauseous that soon you just vomited and sat on the bathroom floor headhung as you finally sobbed.

It was loud and obnoxious, you were lucky only one other person was home. It bounced off the walls. Phinks could definitely hear you. It was the kind of sob that was scratchy and full of angry screams, perfect for a tantrum that would destroy everything in a close area. You felt like a toddler who had been told no when asking for candy, a brat who wanted something. It felt like you were the problem even if you were just a victim of your surroundings. Yet you screamed and cried until your throat was sore, until it felt like it could have been bleeding, and you choked on the bubbling sobs as snot filled every airway.

You laid in a puddle of yourself, not moving when the front door opened and slammed shut. Unblinking as keys jingled down the hall with heavy footsteps. Looking with tired weak eyes, up at Phinks who stood, with plastic bags in hand, his face red and his eyes looking at the wall instead of you.

“It’s late, Fei and Shal want you to have a routine but they're not here… come stay up late and watch a movie or something? Shal bought some of your favorites and ones you’ve talked about! I have some chocolate, or popcorn if you’d like? I’m not sure what you all like when it comes to movie snacks…”

Your voice was so scratchy it hurt to hear you speak. “Please…” you whined as he helped pull you up and onto the living room couch.

He handed you the bags, a multipack of tissue boxes, an assortment of chocolate, popcorn, beer, teas, sodas, chips... You dug through it all and he returned with blankets in hand and a stuffed animal he knew you were attached to, that they all knew you were attached to.

He sat next to you, draping the blankets over you. He pulled a box of tissues out handing one to you. “Use the bag as a garbage bag for now.” He laid out everything haphazardly. He gently pulled your head down onto his lap and pressed the remote into your hand.

The blue glow of the tv puts you to sleep soon enough. It didn’t matter if it was one movie or ten, you were asleep, as soon as you were Phinks was too. You used his lap as a pillow, and Phinks leaned back, his head tossed over the couch’s back, his mouth hung open with a light snore as the tv eventually turned itself off.

In the morning you woke up when the keys turned to open the door’s lock. It made you jolt awake as the door was pushed open. Shalnark was clicking through his phone as he carried in a handful of something.

“Oh, you’re both up? How was the movie night?”

You sunk into the blankets giving back into your exhaustion. “Okay.”

You said it mostly to avoid any upset feelings on his end, the movie night was a nice way to avoid it all. You hated it considering everything, but those few hours of just zoning out at the tv and falling asleep to your favorite movies made you fell like home. You could imagine it so vividly it is what lulled you to sleep, the house didn’t have that smell of the three men, it was your home filled with cat fur, paints, and gesso.

You could feel the canvas frame from when you had to custom build one for a commission. Having to stretch it yourself, and you struggled to pull it back enough for it to hold well. The frame was obnoxiously large, you couldn’t fathom how they had the money to commission it or why they’d need one this size. That one had become a secret favorite, it was in someone’s private collection, an anonymous commissioner. You remember them sending someone to pick it up, which was strange, but if someone had that money how weird could it really be?

“Fei will be appearing soon, he has to drag something down to his office.” Shal giggled to himself speaking without catching his breath. “He’s surprisingly very interested in the work he brought back. It’s like a cat that got a hold of a mouse and doesn’t want to let it go.”

He set his envelope of papers down on the table, and sat down next to you on the couch. He was in front of you really, your back pressed firm against the couch nearly sinking into the cushions and the framework. Shalnark was turned slightly so he could face you and Phinks easily, his knees pressed against the front of the couch and one of Phinks’ knees. He breathed in deeply, his breath pushing both his stomach and chest out, he sort of chuckled as he sighed and leaned over to rest his head on the sofa’s back next to Phinks’ shoulder.

“I missed being home.”

Phinks and you didn’t say anything in response. Maybe Phinks secretly hated Shalnark, well, obviously not, but his silence kind of confused you. He cared deeply about the two from what you could tell, but who's to say you were ever good at reading the room. Your view upwards was obstructed by Shalnark hovering-leaning over you. Phinks moved his arm, you could see its shadow crossover you briefly, but you didn’t see what he did. Shalnark sat there resting with the two of you, this serene glazed look to him. He looked so pleasant, his hair hanging in his face, and his eyes closed.

He did eventually move, while he seemed content that was in no way comfortable to sit there for long. Shal eventually collected his things and ran off to go put them away. You gathered up the mess from the night before. Phinks took the trash out, you saw the cement steps out front as the door opened, and cool air rushed in to kiss your cheeks. The cat with wide eyes watched him complete his chores from the window, while you avoided looking at them. It was easier to stay busy with wiping the table and stacking the coasters in a neat pile in the center.

You kept wiping the table. Slow circular motions as you dazed off. The window just hurt you. Its clear glass was a mirror of your betrayal and gentle suffering, every damn time you saw that view it reminded you of the damned date. That date would remind you of his hands in your hair as you sobbed into his lap. What kind of suffering is this all? To be cursed with the inability to act, but blessed with a comfort of home and kindness. though it came from triplet tyrants. What tragedy had you fallen out of?

You went about giving yourself chores, dusting the shelves and tv stand, sweeping the kitchen floor, making a few pancakes with a box mix you had found, then cleaning up the mess you had made. Your hour or two of small chores only could keep you distracted for so long. You could hear Shalnark from his room, typing away on a keyboard and flipping through papers. When you walked past the basement you could hear things being moved around. It was faint and muffled, almost like you were hearing things, you wanted to go down there, the curiosity haunting you, but I’d anyone scared you the most it was Fetain.

You pushed open Phinks’ door. He had looked up at you as you did, but he didn’t say a thing, just motioned for you to come in. It was simple, navy sheets that were wrinkled, a strange mixture of pillows that didn’t have matching cases. There were some clothes lying around the room and the closet was open. He had a simple fold up chair in the corner and some green running jacket thrown across it. He didn’t have curtains, just the plastic blinds though some were bent and damaged. The closest thing to decoration was a digital clock on a wooden stool made bedside table and high quality at home gym equipment on the floor and tucked away into the closet.

“Need something?”

“I’ve never seen your rooms.” You half ignored the question, “and I don’t want to work on my painting when Fetain is working.”

He hummed, and you sat down on his bed looking at his window with the blinds pulled shut. “I hate it,” you said quietly to yourself, not knowing fully what you meant. “I might drive myself crazy. I keep trying to make things make sense, but I don’t get it.” You flopped down and rolled over, you didn’t look up at his face, didn’t acknowledge if he was looking at you or listening. “I think I’m ignoring half of everything to try and pretend that I’m okay.”

His hand rested on your head, his fingers playing with your hair. “You’re putting up with it well, though coming from me that doesn’t mean much.”

You grabbed his hand and his shirt. Pulling yourself up, straddling his waist. “Why couldn’t you have killed me? Torture me? Why not just make my life a real living hell? I feel like I’m burning but there’s nothing there, I keep thinking I’m drowning but I’m not!” Your hand trailed up to his neck, your nails pressing into his jugular, as you pinned him down to the bed. He laid there with his eyes wide but he didn’t move. “Please give me a good reason to hate it here! Please, I can't understand what’s going on! I didn’t ask for this. I don't know what I’m here for!” you screamed at him, though it wasn’t loud, just desperate. “I can’t do anything.”

His hand grabbed your hip and his other grabbed your neck, and he flipped the roles so he was hunched over you. His nails pressed into your skin. There was no weight to the threat. His hands while touching you, felt like they were hovering.

“You’re allowed to be angry, you don’t need permission for it.” And his hands were lifted away. and he was back on his side of the bed laying just like he was earlier, as if you never disrupted him.

Then you cried, you laid there curled up in a ball next to him. He never touched you, until you reached out and touched him, pulling yourself into his arms. He held you then gently and quietly until you relaxed and laid there half asleep and exhausted. His hands cupped your cheeks and you were held close to his face, his mouth a meare inch from your nose.

“I’ll do anything for you, even if you don’t like us or being here. We will do anything to keep you safe. I’ll make you as happy as I can, I swear to you I will.”

You heard Fetain come up from the basement when the door slammed shut. He was lighter than air with his footsteps so when he walked into Phinks’ room and ended up next to the bed you nearly screamed. “Try to sleep at ten and wake up at six. You need good sleep routine.”

You nodded, Phinks had mentioned it right? Ten to six seemed reasonable. “Exactly 6 am?”

“Roughly. Take time to change, one week to do yourself.”

“I’ll try to do it.” You nodded and a yawn slipped from your lips.

“Take nap, us three will talk work.” He waited for Phinks to get up.

Phinks patted your shoulder, “stay here and sleep for a bit we don’t want you dealing with our work stuff yet.”

“Okay.”

But Feitain hovered for a second longer than he needed to, just quietly looking at you with this deep thoughtful look in his eyes, yet he left without saying anything.

They had a habit of leaving you alone with your thoughts. Thankfully your cat at least sits with you when you need it, most of the time.

There was nothing to do with them all being busy. Something told you not to poke around for answers about what they were discussing. Even though you weren’t gonna search around for answers your mind wandered. It was a gross wandering similar to how one could lay in bed and gaze up into the darkness and just sit there. Rambling and turning whispers in your thoughts flashing images of blood gore and violence. How could anyone imagine what their jobs could be? You were used to surrounding yourself with images of oozing guts, but just beccause you had been decentized to it didn’t mean that fucking kidnappers who seemed more than used to living isolated was something you could handle.

You ran your hand back from the cat’s nose to his ears. He pressed himself so firmly against your hand that his eyelids were slightly pulled back as he demanded all of your attention. You could feel him breathing on you, his soft purrs are loud as he clung to you. When the fur around his face is pushed back his whole meringue look changes to one of a rat. His eyes while blown wide into dark saucers continue to look up at you fondly, his fur looks like a front facing bald eagle. There’s a reason you hardly ever see those angles, it’s less flattering. There’s less pride and a slicked back edge that is perceived as coolness. This is what that sweet cat looked like from this angle, his poofy roundness disappeared and strange looking from the front, while you never truly have looked too explore the other angles of the strange hair-do, the adorably crafted ugliness makes you melt into him as he melts into you.

As you lay there thoughts bubbling up worries and anxiety scratching away at your insides, this sweet fluff keeps you grounded. As was his task, he was an unofficial emotional support cat, nothing more than a pet that kept you mentally stable and provided both a comfort and reason to live. It was easy on the days where the paints seemed poisoned to be unable to reason and find out why you were alive. You wondered if everyone questioned this at times perhaps that’s why your artwork seemed so desperate, why you just cling to an intestine rope to pull you closer to answers and people who relate. It’s not something you can say for sure but even now, after a few years of this cat he kept you perfectly content to question but not give up.

He was also a good muse, posing in ways during his naps. Belly up, his head laid back against a pillow, his front paws folded under his chin but his back legs sticking upwards like two towers, fluffy and off white. He laid his ways that made it hard to determine if he was a cat or strang fluffy void, even though lots of cats did that. No matter how many photos and squeals you let out, it never felt the same, there simply isn't a connection. No photo could replace your cat, because you knew just about everything about him.

Sometimes you wondered if you relied too much on the cat, you’d question if the kidnappers thought the same if you weren’t so preoccupied with anything else. Even in captivity it seemed like you never had time for anything. All your plans would get mixed up or you would get horribly distracted. You acted as if you were wandering naked in a dark maze with how time snuck up on you. With no one to truly tell you otherwise you gave into it when you could, which was most of the time. Hours would be spent gazing off into walls and corners as you painted in your own head, it didn’t matter if you pictured it or not, it was the mental motions of the act that kept you entranced.

A jiggle of a brush, a whirlpool of the paint thinner. Hell the actions are what lured you down into the basement again. You hadn’t been told to stay, hadn't been told not to. You may not have paid attention to the home as you were pulled down to the basement by your navel; the living was quiet though the three men hummed and buzzed with a quiet conversation. You continued onto the door opening it so gently and silently you might have well just phased through the door to begin with. The unfinished steps hadn’t groaned or creaked as you stepped on them even though they should. The door hovered open, the light peering and stealing across the floor to the hall now behind you. As a moth would you step down and forwards moving towards your painting.

At this moment your eyes flashed with one lucid thought, “something isn’t right.” It didn't take a genius to know this but somehow as you were drugged by your own relaxation and you had taken the liberty to forget about everything that had been a bright neon sign telling you something was amiss. You looked away from your studio and across the room at another’s.

It’s important to note that some people have a personal belief that art is in the eye of the beholder, regardless of whether each piece usually has an original meaning in the grand scheme of things. You had thoughts and ideas, messages and stories to tell through your paintings. Each a commentary on something since you didn’t believe in unthoughtful gore and brutality, that wasn’t to say it had no meaning, but that there wasn’t a personal thought being expressed even deep below the surface. In this belief of art interpretation all art has at least two meanings, the artist’s original suffering inquiry, and the viewer’s lack of understanding. With this in mind the scene behind the curtain is much different then one in your studio.

The curtain had always been a temptation, that’s a simple fact of the matter. Place a marshmallow in front of a child and most struggle to resist even with the promise of more. This curtain in your case was so much more than temptation. A temptation is often pictured as sweet and sugary, lustful even, not a need but a want. This curtain was so much more than that, it was thorn covered and speckled with a lifetime of warnings but it wasn’t sweet, there was no guarantee of safety but an expectation of more. Even then you peeled it back.

It was more than a treasure trove of goodies, it was a threatening pile of one. The lights were on and you were slammed into with information as you peared across it all, for instance the room was large, much larger than you thought it was. While most of it was still unfinished further back against the far wall was a much more finished section. That is what you noticed second but you just were too in shock to register the first yet. The furthest wall was finished, a simple gray paint and from it hung old custom paintings, things both long forgotten and new. They were strange to see though in comparison to your room when you had first woken up nothing crazy. The first thing you noticed was crazier, though not too surprising.

The wall was lined with a board, hanging from it an assortment of household tools and even more specialty ones. Mostly pliers, wrenches, screwdrivers of all sorts of sizes. There were spools of wire, rope, and bolt cutters. There were more too, there were tweezers, the heavy duty kind, expensive looking, stainless steel and with a rubber grip. Each item while normally not threatening was fucking horrifying. The blindfolded and gagged half-dead looking man would ultimately agree if he saw the line up. Yet the detail of the organization, to the bindings, and yes even the table he was on, made it look like a perfectly created scene. To Feitain, who you half-confidently assumed was the resident torturer, this must be something artistic or even religious, sometimes the two came hand in hand.

His hair was glued by brown dried blood, his nose broken, the bruising covering his cheeks and eyes from what you could tell from afar. There was no way for him to escape from his binds, strapped down to the table. The table itself looked to be something akin to an embalming table, slightly slanted towards a floor drain, some blood already leaking down from the man and dried against the table’s cold smudged metal. He had bruises down his arms and legs dark purple and splotchy. His ankle looked painfully enlarged, not enough to be a break but horribly sprained.

You should have screamed in horror, your heartbeat sped up like crazy after all. There was enough adrenaline that maybe you could have killed a person, not your captors from the look and attitude of them. If a captor can be so unconcerned like they were either they were morons or knew full well that they had perfect complete control. From a second kidnapped person being in the basement looking like a corpse it’s easy to decide which.

Looking on even in your shocked state you made your third discovery. There were bulkhead doors. A small flight of stairs led up to them. In your shock you continued to move like a ghost, even though your chest was pounding. It rumbled in your gut, twisted and stabbed at your lungs, and you looked upwards at it, upwards into the dark steps a small crack of light. Your cat in all his loving sweetness rubbed up against your leg, mewling softly. You walked forwards reaching upward towards the door, climbing the stairs and gently pressing to see if they’d open, to your surprise it did.

[dacialogansuperfan]

hi hello here's a megarod drabble

rated g

rodimus yanks open the door to his favourite supply-closet-turned-hiding-spot and promptly falls face first into chest armour like a brick wall. the door is swiftly tugged shut again, a broad servo brushing against his lower back for an astrosecond before fingers close around the handle and pull, plunging the small space into near darkness. their optics, fixed on each other, provide just enough light for rodimus to make out the slight downward curve to megatron’s mouth. not a frown, more of a wince.

“so,” rodimus starts, leaning back against the door to put what distance he can between them. a frame as large as megatron’s, built for hard labour and cobbled together half from spare parts, runs hotter than the average mech. so does rodimus, for obvious and significantly cooler reasons, and the two of them stuffed into a space that can charitably be called tailgate-sized are beginning to throw off uncomfortable levels of heat, even for him. “come here often?”

megatron sighs. just that small movement of his chest, a quick breath in and released, knocks their plating together, megatron’s armour scraping lightly against his cheek. it already feels a little hot to the touch. when he speaks, rodimus can feel that too, the soft rumble of it passing through him, almost shaking the tips of his helm. 

“no,” and somehow, there’s no reproach in that tone. just a faint, lingering amusement that could be about the existence of rodimus’ secret hiding place, in general, or their present situation, specifically. “but i’m guessing you do.”

rodimus grins. for once, megatron doesn’t have a leg to stand on, vis-à-vis being the more competent captain, if he’s been holed up in the secret hideout longer than rodimus has. which he has. right now, at least, rodimus is totally kicking his aft at being professional, and captainly, and pretty much everything else regarding heading up the lost light, if only because he hasn’t spent the majority of his duty shift in a closet.

never mind that he was planning to spend the rest of his shift in said closet. still is, tentatively, provided megatron’s bizarrely good – as good as it gets with megatron, which pretty much means he’s not actively annoyed at something –  mood lasts, and he doesn’t decide to haul the both of them back to the bridge.

speaking of –

“why are you in here, anyway?” this close, he has to crane his neck to get a good look at megatron’s face, and even then, he’s mostly staring at scuffed chest armour, swooping engravings to either side of an autobot symbol mostly obscured in the dark, and the curve of megatron’s lip plates. he watches them curl into a slight grimace, deepened by the shadows thrown from rodimus’ own optics.

“i’m avoiding minimus.” straight to the point, with only the tiniest bit of shame. rodimus is starting to feel a weird kind of deja vu, but for an experience he’s only ever been on the other side of. it’s both deeply strange, and a little thrilling stepping into megatron’s role, seeing that chastised look in his optics. rodimus takes a step forward, forcing megatron to take one back to keep their plating from colliding.

megatron looks down at him, still wearing that almost-frown, but with a tilt to his helm that suggests confusion, rather than anger. rodimus just smiles at him, brings one hand up to rest over the patterns on his chest.

“i thought you two got along?” at rodimus’ questioning look, one massive shoulder shrugs, scraping against the side of the closet with a muffled shriek. megatron winces, optics shuttering against the noise, and tries to shift his weight away from the wall. he only succeeds in knocking over a cluster of mops leaned against the other side of the supply closet, and his optics stay closed throughout the ensuing clatter that creates. rodimus muffles a laugh into the crook of his free arm, the one not resting against megatron’s heated plating.

when megatron’s optics finally flicker back on, rodimus pokes him in the chest. “so?”

megatron sighs, jostling rodimus’ servo. “you’re right, we usually get along… surprisingly.” that last word softer than the rest, like it wasn’t entirely intentional. rodimus gets that. megatron liking any of them, them liking megatron, was possibly the most surprising thing to happen on this ship – and that was a difficult, if dubious honor to earn. it wasn’t bad, just – hard to wrap a processor around. the relationship between all the autobots on this ship and their co-captain was still tentative, delicate.

rodimus is not entirely sure he’s including himself in that, though.

something else thunks heavily to the floor as megatron brings his arms up behind him to rest, at a somewhat awkward angle, on a low shelf. they’re doing sort of a terrible job at hiding, if that’s what this is. his mouth is a wry smile when he says, “he loses me at alphabetizing.”

rodimus laughs again, a quick burst that is mostly muffled into megatron’s chest. he seems to be doing that often in megatron’s presence, since the universe jump. it’s another one of those tentative, delicate things that he mostly avoids thinking about.

the light of their optics, blue and red overlapping each other in the diminishing space between their faces as rodimus leans up to do something stupid, if only because he hasn’t in a while and it’s becoming increasingly difficult to not think about those delicate things in this tight, hot space with megatron smiling at him like they’re sharing a secret. it reminds him of those flimsy little glasses he’d once picked up on earth, red and blue, held up to his optic and watched the world split into two. this feels sort of like that, between one blink and the next megatron’s smile disappears and is replaced with that same, oddly charming looking of confusion from earlier. rodimus is practically on the tips on his pedes, his arms coming up to wrap around megatron’s neck. holding him in place, or holding himself up.

likely a bit of both.

“well, since we’re here, and we’ve got time to kill,” he says by way of explanation, before brushing his lip plates against megatron’s. quickly, before he can lose his nerve.  

megatron makes a small sound of surprise against his mouth, the soft derma cracked in a half-dozen places of gentle friction against his own, but doesn’t push him away. instead, two rough, large hands come up to rest at his waist, grip paradoxically light. he shivers anyway, pushes himself more firmly against megatron, who finally starts kissing him back.   

rodimus’ back hits the door behind him with a dull thump. he feels himself being pushed, gently, back to the ground, until megatron is bent over him, above and all around him, rodimus’ pedes planted firmly on the floor.

it’s nice. really nice. rodimus can feel the beginnings of charge building lazily between them, the temperature in the already muggy closet climbing by degrees, but for now just this is enough.

when they finally pull away from each other, rodimus slaps a hand to megatron’s mouth.

“we can talk about it later,” and yeah, maybe he makes a face at that, but he does mean it. “okay?”

the look on megatron’s face, what’s visible of it, is almost comically relieved. rodimus snorts, keeping his hand over megatron’s mouth until he gets an eager nod. for a guy who made a name for himself by talking, he avoids the personal kind with an efficiency bordering on pathological. rung might have something to say about it, at least, but rodimus is all for it.

they have time, to deal with whatever this is properly. for now, megatron’s lips over his, warm and yielding, moments after he pulls his hand away – like he can’t wait – is good enough.

[howdoyoudothedew]

Rated: G

Pairing: Mavpunzel (Mavis Dracula/Rapunzel)

Word Count: ~2k

A/N: Librarian Rapunzel and maybe human Mavis?

“Uh, do you have any books on Vlad the Impaler?” Rapunzel looks up just in time to see the prettiest girl she’s probably ever seen brush her hair behind her ear. It’s short enough that parts of it fall back in front of her face immediately; black wisps framing blue eyes.

Rapunzel blinks. “Vlad the Impaler?”

“Yeah,” the girl says. “I’m doing a report on him.”

Rapunzel feels her eyebrows rise in surprise. That’s not a typical report request. It’s not a typical request in general, really.

“You think that’s weird.” The girl seems to deflate, shoulders drooping like a balloon losing air.

“A little,” Rapunzel laughs, then backtracks as she realizes how that probably sounded. “I just mean he’s not usually people’s first choice. Or their second. It’s pretty cool, actually.”

The girl looks at her, head tilted and eyebrows drawn a bit. After a second, she smiles. “Thanks. My professor actually tried to get me to choose someone else, but Vlad’s pretty important to my family, you know?”

“I get it,” Rapunzel says, thinking of Varian. “My little brother is like that with Leonardo Davinci. I think he’d try to date him if he had a time machine.”

“Well, not quite to that level,” the girl laughs, her eyes shining. Rapunzel smiles.

“I can take you to his books, if you want?” Rapunzel says.

“Leonardo Davinci’s?” The girl asks, eyebrows quirking, mouth still wavering in amusement.

“Vlad the Impaler,” Rapunzel says.

“That’d be nice, thanks,” the girl says and Rapunzel slips from behind the counter to lead her to the biographies.

“So why’s he important?” Rapunzel asks as she scans the stickers on the books for ‘Vlad’. When the girl hums a questioning tone, she clarifies. “You said Vlad was important to your family.”

“Ah, yeah,” the girl chuckles. Rapunzel glances out the corner of her eye to see the girl rub her arm, her cheeks pinkened. “We’re sort of related to him. It’s actually, like, a whole gimmick of our family,–”

“Ah-ha!” Rapunzel grabs the book, brandishing it, then flushes. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

The girl shakes her head. “No, it’s fine. Is that the book?”

“What were you saying?” Rapunzel asks as she hands it over.

“Oh, uh, nothing.” The girl shakes her head again, taking the book and tucking it to her chest. Rapunzel has to stop herself from pouting. Curse her overly excited nature. She checks her out back at the counter, the name Mavis Drăculești catching her eye, and then Mavis is out the automatic doors and back into the setting sun.

“Do you have any vampire books that aren’t Twilight or like Twilight?” Mavis asks, leaning her elbows on the divider that rims the edge of the front desk. Rapunzel swivels her chair slightly to be able to see her better, humming an amused note.

“Classical vampires.” Rapunzel nods to herself. “But not Dracula, I’m guessing?”

Mavis shakes her head. “Nah, had it read to me as a bedtime story all the time growing up.”

Rapunzel bites back a laugh and turns to the computer. It’s cute somehow to imagine a small girl, all tucked in, falling asleep while a parent reads her a gothic horror novel. Rapunzel wonders if Mavis ever slept with a stuffed animal, before she mentally shakes the thought from her head. It’s probably not appropriate to wonder that about a patron. It doesn’t stop her from wondering if she ever slept with a nightlight, though. Somehow, Rapunzel gets the feeling she didn’t. Looking at Mavis, Rapunzel thinks she’s always been a friend of the night.

There is a list of books, Twilight included, that she scrolls through, before she stops on one. “Have you considered Draculaura’s book?”

Mavis barks a laugh. The sound is throaty, like it came from the chest, and Rapunzel smiles. “You mean the girl from Monster High?”

“Yeah.” Rapunzel looks up at her, smile full of humour. “It’s currently on shelf if you want to read it.”

“Maybe.” Mavis snorts.

By the time they’re done Mavis is walking out with four vampire books– Draculaura’s diary on top– and possibly a piece of Rapunzel’s heart.

When Rapunzel walks out of the backroom, a paper in her hands and the conversation she’d just had with the page on duty lingering on her tongue, she spots Mavis softly lingering next to the desk like she’s looking for something or someone. Rapunzel stops without meaning to. Mavis’ attention is elsewhere and Rapunzel takes the opportunity to soak the other girl in. She’s wearing a black Metallica t-shirt today, with a black and white striped long sleeve shirt under it. Her thumbs poke out from the thumb holes, and the fingers of her left hand are curled into the sleeve. Her combat boots have blood red laces, something Rapunzel noticed when she first took her to Vlad’s biography. The blue of her eyes shines like turquoise in the midst of all the black.

“I like your shirt,” Rapunzel says, stepping next to her.

“Thanks.” Mavis turns to her without a flinch, smiling. It’s an odd feeling, almost. Rapunzel walks so quietly, she’s grown used to people being surprised at her presence. It’s not a bad odd feeling. “My friend Johnny let me borrow it.”

“He has good taste,” Rapunzel says and Mavis laughs.

“Sometimes,” she says. “You’ve never had a movie night with him.”

“That’s true,” Rapunzel says. “So what can I do you for?”

“Children’s fantasy. Vampires not needed,” Mavis says.

“But appreciated?” Rapunzel asks and Mavis smiles.

“Always.”

“Great!” Rapunzel says, reaching for the books she’s been keeping in the bottom drawer of the front desk. “Because I spotted these and thought maybe you might like them.”

The books are from the The Little Vampire series by Angela Sommer-Bodenburg and Mavis’ eyes light up when she sees them. She takes them from Rapunzel, staring at the art on their covers, and Rapunzel feels her chest warm. Somehow she’d managed to do really good.

“I love this series. My dad read it to me all the time as a kid,” Mavis says.

“I thought that was Dracula?” Rapunzel asks.

“That too,” Mavis says, glancing up at her. “But these, too. He read them every October, it was a tradition until I just… got too old, I guess.” Mavis shrugs.

“I’m glad to get them back to you,” Rapunzel says. Mavis looks at her again with a smile that stops her heart then resets it a few seconds later, like restarting a laptop.

“Thank you.”

“What’s your dad like?” Rapunzel asks as she scans through the catalogue for Mavis.

Mavis shrugs. “Pretty cool, I guess, though he’s a bit of a worrier. He owns a hotel, actually.”

“Just one?” Rapunzel asks.

“Yeah, any more and I think he might blow a gasket,” Mavis laughs and Rapunzel laughs with her.

“So what’s it called?” Rapunzel asks, curious.

Mavis looks around them conspiratorially before she leans in. “Hotel Transylvania,” she says like it’s a secret. Rapunzel’s pretty sure it’s not.

“Hotel Transylvania?” Rapunzel repeats, looking at her, and Mavis shrugs again. There’s a sly smile curving her lips.

“Like I said, my family’s really into the being-related-to-Vlad the Impaler thing. Especially my grandfather. He actually named my dad Dracula,” Mavis says, straightening up again.

“My grandfather was really into it, even named my dad Dracula.”

“Wait, doesn’t that mean-”

“My dad is Dracula Drăculești?” Mavis laughs. “Yeah.”

Rapunzel laughs a little, smiling wide, “That’s pretty cool.”

“Don’t let my dad hear you say that,” Mavis says. Her eyes twinkle like stars and Rapunzel finds herself staring at them, trying to see if she can find the constellations she’s memorized in the night air within their depths before she shakes herself from it and returns to the computer screen.

“I have to admit something to you. I’m not much of a reader,” Mavis says and Rapunzel stares at her in surprise.

“But you’re here nearly every week?” She doesn’t add that Mavis also gets books every time she comes in. She figures it’s implied.

“Yeah.” Mavis shifts, looking down at the grey carpet. Rapunzel tilts her head.

“So… why do you come in?” Rapunzel asks. It’s not to use the internet, or do college courses, because Mavis always walks immediately to the front desk, interacts with her, gets a pile of books checked out, and leaves.

“To see you,” Mavis says, cheeks darkening. Rapunzel thinks she feels her own cheeks heat.

“Oh.”

“Sorry if you don’t want that.” Mavis pushes her hair out of her face like Rapunzel has seen her do a number of times.

“No, I do,” Rapunzel is quick to assure Mavis, hands coming up to touch her, before she forces her arms to her sides. Mavis looks up at her through her lashes, eyes glittering with surprise.

“Really?” Mavis asks.

“Yeah,” Rapunzel says. “I love helping you.”

“Oh,” Mavis says, sounding small. It confuses Rapunzel for a moment, before she realizes what she said and what it probably sounds like.

“I mean! I- You-” Rapunzel clears her throat. “I- I like helping you. Specifically, not just cause it’s my job.”

Mavis perks up, eyebrows raising, and Rapunzel feels her heart lift with it. “Oh.”

“Oh.” Rapunzel nods. She has no idea why she repeated Mavis, but it feels right. It’s a confirmation, an understanding. “I close tonight, but if you want to stay…”

“Yes.” Mavis smiles. “I’ll take you out for food, if you want.”

“That’d be great,” Rapunzel says.

Rapunzel spots Mavis outside the library and waves a goodbye to the other librarian, the LAs, and the page she worked with that night before she runs over to meet her, pulling off her sneakers as she goes. The page smiles knowingly at her and Rapunzel nearly flushes.

"Ready to go?" Mavis pushes off the stone wall and Rapunzel nods before glancing around. There are no cars in the parking lot other than the ones she recognizes as her coworker's.

"Did you drive here?" Rapunzel asks, curious now.

"No." Mavis shakes her head. Rapunzel laughs, making Mavis frown.

"I didn't drive here, either. I walk through the woods," Rapunzel says, pointing at the trees behind them, and Mavis laughs as well.

"Come on," Mavis says. "I know a pretty good 24-hr burger place in walking distance." She holds out her hand and Rapunzel takes it gladly, smiling as much as Mavis does if the pull of her cheeks means anything.

Mavis walks her to a place she already knows and holds the door open for her like a gentleman, a move that would've made Rapunzel smile if she ever stopped smiling practically from the moment Mavis asked her out. Instead Rapunzel just thanks her as she steps inside. Mavis shoves her hands into her pockets as soon as they're both in the building, looking up at the menu.

"Do you usually get the same thing or do you try new things whenever you come?" Rapunzel asks. Mavis shrugs.

"It really depends. The first time I came to one of these places I actually tried to order everything on the menu. Johnny stopped me before I could," Mavis says, snorting. Rapunzel laughs, too, imagining an eager Mavis at the counter, nearly overwhelming the server before Johnny steps in.

"Will I ever meet him?"

"Johnny?" Mavis questions. "Yeah, of course."

"Awesome. He sounds pretty fun," Rapunzel says.

"He is," Mavis says.

The two of them sit at a booth in the corner, close together despite the diner being completely empty beside the workers. They split their fries between them and share a strawberry shake. Rapunzel makes Mavis laugh so hard at one point the milkshake nearly comes out her nose. As it was, the only casuality were a few bits of chewed fry they had to wipe off the table. It's a great first date in Rapunzel's opinion, and if the shine of Mavis' eyes means anything she agrees. Rapunzel chews a bite of her burger and wonders how to ask Mavis on another as well as how to ask for her number.

[lady-of-hearts-and-nightmares]

Mom, I’m Tired (Can I Sleep In Your House Tonight)

PETE AND ESME FIC BABY!!!! Featuring Little! Pete and CG! Esme. These two are so cute I couldn't help but write a fic about them.

@pete-spankoffski since they're inspired by our rps <3

--Summary:

Pete’s used to school being less than great, but somehow today might have been the worst day he’s ever had. It’s not long before Esme catches on to what’s wrong, and luckily she knows how to help him. 

--

Peter Spankoffski is used to school not being less than great. When you go to Hatchetfield High and have to be under the Jagerman’s rule, that’s just expected. All you can really do is keep your head down, hope you draw attention to yourself, and get on with the day. And Pete’s done that for as long as he can remember. He doesn’t really expect good days at school anymore, just bearable ones. 

Today, however, didn’t even manage to be bearable. In fact, as he’s walking home from that hellscape of a school called Hatchetfield High, Pete decides this might just be the worst day at school he’s ever had. Even the day Brad Callahan pantsed him in 7th grade was mildly better than the personal hell he just went through today. 

He doesn’t really want to think about today too much. It’s practically been a blur, anyways. All he really remembers is that he woke up way too early in the morning, he’d been basically alone the whole day (Ruth having to do lights for a full-day rehearsal and Steph and Richie being off sick), Max Jagerman had somehow been worse than usual (Pete had been welcomed into the school with Max tripping him up, bruising his knees and knocking off his glasses), and the cherry on top of it all was that his sensory issues decided to be as crappy as possible, making every noise too loud, every light too bright and every surface that wasn’t his sweater feel weird and uncomfy. 

Now he’s just trying to get home, back to the safety of his room and not have a meltdown. Rose’s gone with Olive and Jamie to some theatre thing, and Ted’s not going to get back from work any time soon, so luckily they won’t see him in this state. He’s angry and tired and so overstimulated right now that he’s not really paying attention to anything around him. 

Suddenly there’s  the screech of car breaks while he’s crossing the street, jolting him into awareness. He turns to see an annoyed looking driver who’s stopped their car, presumably not to hit Pete.

“Watch where you’re going, you idiot!” the driver yells.

Pete winces at the yelling. He’s in a worse mood than the driver, apparently, and this is just adding to everything that happened today.

“Maybe you watch where you're driving!” Pete snaps back, before running across the street and into the apartment block.

Miraculously, Pete somehow manages to get into the apartment and up to his room without having a meltdown. He slams the bedroom door shut - which is a little pointless, considering no one else is home, but he’s too tired to care as he slides down onto the floor. The overstimulation doesn’t seem to be going away like he hoped it would, the lights in his room being way too bright, the hum of the air conditioner worming its way into his ears. He knows he should probably get up and turn them off, but he doesn’t feel like getting up. Pete brings his knees to his chest, leaning his head back on the door frame. He whines a bit, gripping and tugging at his bow tie. 

“Peter?”

A voice says his name. Esme’s voice. Pete looks up to see her standing over him, a look of concern on her face.

“Hi, Esme,” he says, voice quieter than usual. 

He doesn’t really remember when Esme became a part of his life, and she isn’t sure when he became a part of hers, either. Pete also isn’t sure where she’s from or if she’s even human, given how she doesn’t really show up when other people are around. But a bond’s grown between them, one of affection for each other. They can recognize how the other’s feeling most of the time, and right now Esme can tell Pete isn’t feeling too good. 

“Are you okay, little one?” asks Esme, red hair draped across her face. She kneels down to his level to get a better look at him. The ‘little one’ nickname makes him feel fuzzy inside. 

“‘M fine,” he mumbles, unconvincingly. “School was just crap today, what’s new?”

“What’s new is that you usually don’t come back from school like this. Did something happen?”

“A lot happened…” Pete admits, burying his face back in knees, muffling his voice a bit.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Esme puts a hand on his shoulder, gentle yet firm. Something in Pete cracks, and tears start slipping out of his eyes and down his face. He tries to wipe them away, but that just causes Esme to notice and get more concerned. “Peter? What - what’s wrong? What happened at school today, sweetheart?”

And that’s when everything from today is just too much to hold in any longer. 

Pete breaks out in sobs, unable to stop himself. Esme is initially surprised by the outburst, but quickly realises he’s having a meltdown. She switches the lights off, turns down the AC a bit, before approaching Peter carefully. 

“Oh, Peter,” she whispers. “Come here, baby.” She gently pulls him into a hug, one he just lets himself melt into, clinging onto her like a lifeline as she wraps her arms around him. He grips onto her waistcoat, sobbing on her chest. She rubs circles on his back, soothing him, letting him get it all out. 

After some time, Pete’s sobs die down into hiccups and sniffling, though he keeps his face buried in Esme’s chest. He feels bad for getting her pretty waistcoat all wet with tears and snot, but neither of them seem to want to let go. Esme runs a soothing hand through Pete’s hair, playing with it a bit. 

“Ssh…it’s okay, sweetheart, it’s okay. You’re okay,” Esme whispers into his ear, her voice quite, hushed, calming. Safe. Esme’s voice felt safe. Mama’s voice felt safe. 

Feeling himself slipping, Pete blinks, trying (and failing) to stay big. Crying made him really tired, and a little hungry too. His head feels all dizzy. He looks up at Esme, tugging on her arm.

“What is it, little one?” asks Esme, wiping the remaining tears from his eyes. 

“Dizzy,” he manages to get out. Words feel hard right now. 

“Is it your blood sugar?” 

When Pete nods, Esme reaches over to his bag, pulling out one of the spare candy bars he keeps in there, unwrapping it and offering it to him. Pete takes it from her, the sweetness of the chocolate and the sugar making him feel a lot better already.

“Thank you, Mama,” Pete’s words slur together, and the nickname slips out of his mouth before he can stop himself. So much for staying big. He finishes the candy bar, putting the wrapper in the nearby waste bin.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” Esme smiles, patting him on the head. “You’re a very polite boy, Peter. And very clean too.”

Pete giggles, which quickly turns into a yawn. He tries to blink himself awake, but he’s really, really sleepy. 

“Tired, little one?” asks Esme, chuckling a bit when he yawns. Pete shakes his head, but then he yawns again, so he doesn’t end up seeming very convincing. Esme leads him to his bed, letting him rest his head on her lap. 

“‘M not sleepy,” Pete insists again, a bold claim considering his eyes are barely open. Esme playfully raises an eyebrow. Pete pounts at her. “I’m not!”

“Really?” Esme picks a stuffed dinosaur off the bed. “Because Mezzo says otherwise.” Pete’s eyes widen at Mezzo, and he makes grabby hands for the stuffed toy.

“Mezzo’s silly,” Pete mumbles, stuffing his face into Mezzo, yawning again. 

“Alright then. You don’t have to sleep, but you can lay here and play with Mezzo a bit, alright?”

“M’kay Mama!”

Pete starts a half-asleep ramble to Mezzo, asking the stuffed toy about Dinosaurs and pretending it can respond. Esme messes with his hair a bit, humming ‘you are my sunshine,’ half to herself and half to Pete. It’s a moment of peace, of love and tenderness for the two of them.

After some time, Pete falls asleep, mid-sentence in a ramble to Mezzo. Esme removes his glasses from his nose, putting them on the desk for now. Pete unconsciously curls in on himself, holding Mezzo close to his chest, mumbling sleepily. Esme leans down, planting a kiss on his forehead. 

“Goodnight, Little one,” she whispers, caressing his check. Even in his sleep, a small smile creeps up on Pete’s face. Maybe today hadn’t been all bad after all.

[heard-nsfw-is-back]

For Andy/myth's prompt: character A + B are strangers, B comes over to A’s apartment for some reason (neighbors/handy-man/etc), character B uses A’s bathroom and comes out, now flirting much more intensely and A can’t figure out why until they leave and go back in their bathroom to see their sex toys in their sink waiting to be cleaned. (To the tune of steddie)

I hope this is what you envisioned bb

Steve has just cleared off the mess he made on the sheets and was making his way to the kitchen. He needed a snack or something, sweet tooth always somehow worse after masturbating. But the neighbor he literally bumped in to was so cute and he was stressed out from the move it was nice! Steve paused looking inside his fridge. 'Why am I defending myself? I live alone now there's no one here.' He pulled out a jello and plopped down on the dining room chair.

He just took a bite when a frantic knocking was at his door. Steve laughed, he wasn't answering that. He didn't order anything and wasn't expecting anyone. 'No thanks, I choose life.' The knocking came back, louder this time. Steve groaned and ran his fingers through his hair. "Ok! Ok, I'm coming." He shouted and made his way to the door. 'Great I'm totally the girl that dies first in a movie. Deserved.'

He opened it to see his cute neighbor was leaning on the door frame. "Hi hot stuff, so listen I had called a repairman to fix my plumbing and he said it was an easy fix, turns out, nope. So can I use your bathroom?" Steve held the door open and gestured to the back. "Yeah of course." His neighbor grinned and winked. "Thank you my leige." He all but ran to where Steve was pointing and Steve admired what he glanced at. Great hair, nice ass, perfect smile. Damn. He had it bad. He needed to ask the man's name. Hopefully it was something awful and dumb and it'll help kill the weird little crush he developed.

A few minutes later and the man came out of the bathroom. "Hey so I've seen you around. Sorry I never introduced myself." Steve smiled. "No worries I'm Steve." He held out his hand and the man looked at his hand and shrugged. "Eddie. Hi." He shook his hand. "So what brings you here?" Eddie asked and swept his hair up in to a ponytail. "The neighborhood seemed nice when I drove past it a few times, plus the rent isn't bad. And I can buy it in a few years so that's pretty cool." Eddie nodded and leaned against the wall, hip pushed out a little.

Steve glanced at the sliver of skin between his shirt and pants and quickly looked at anything else. 'Get it together please.' He begged himself and pointed at the army of tattoos. "Those are amazing." Eddie smiled and pulled up the sleeves more. "Yeah a few of my friends and I get together after our sessions and get drunk and tattoo ourselves." Steve laughed. "That's really cool but I thought you weren't allowed to be drunk and do that."

Eddie leaned in a little bit. "Only if we're following the rules." Steve stared at Eddie's eyes. They were so so pretty, deep and glittering from mirth and he felt like Eddie was actually looking at him. Not like knowing he was there but paying attention to him. It was nice, being seen. "Do you follow the rules often?" Eddie teased. Steve rolled his eyes. "Unfortunately I'm one of those good boys that follow the rules." "I bet you are." Eddie breathed and Steve's eyebrows shot up. "Are you-"

Loud guitar riffs interrupted his question and Eddie fumbled in his pockets and pulled out his phone. "Yes?" Eddie snapped and stared at the wall, frowning. "Oh great. Thank you. Ok I'll be right back." Eddie put the phone away, little bat creature pop socket sticking out. "That was the plumber they fixed my water situation. I have to head back. Thanks for the help and the view." Eddie grinned and gave him an exaggerated look up and down. Steve blushed and waved him off. "No don't worry. Just being a good neighbor you know." "You can be my good boy whenever you want." Eddie winked again and he walked off and out.

Steve stared at the wall for a bit before following and locking the door. "He was hitting on me right? I wasn't imagining that?" He asked his coat closet. "I mean seriously what? Oh my God my jello." He rushed in to the kitchen and managed to enjoy maybe half of it, the rest too runny now to eat. He curled up in to the couch and watched some bad horror comedies until he was ready for bed.

He went to the bathroom to shower and immediately wanted to jump in to the actual sun. His God damn dildo was just sitting on the sink's edge. "Ok step one, shower. Step two go to bed and pray to anyone listening this is an actual nightmare." He remembered putting it on a towel in the sink to dry before he was going to sanitize it. That explains why his neighbor was being so weird! Eddie wasn't hitting on him, he was messing with him!

For a moment he debating going over and saying something but that would mean talking about this and that wasn't happening. Steve sighed and just glumly picked up the toy and the sanitizer in the medicine cabinet. A little piece of paper fell from under where the toy was sitting and Steve picked it up. 'For a good time call' with a number and a little bat winking. Steve stood there, trying to get his one remaining good braincell to figure out if this was a joke.

He typed the number in to his phone and gave it a call. "Yes?" Eddie snapped and Steve laughed. "So that's just how you answer the phone always." A bunch of crashing and shushing and Steve laughed again. "Are you ok?" Eddie cleared his throat. "Oh I'm more than ok." Steve blinked. 'What does that mean?'

"I'm sure you are. Listen actually I wanted to apologize if I made you uncomfortable with the uh. Y'know." Eddie sighed. "You're a grown man in your own house. I can't judge you." Steve smiled. "Oh well thank you." Eddie continued. "I can ask if next time you plan on using it to give me a call." Steve shook his head, smiling again before he could help it. "For a good time call Eddie?" He teased. "For a good time call Eddie." Was the tease back before Eddie hung up.

[urmomsspeciallady]

Chapter Seven- i wish i could

talk to you - ricky montgomery

POV: Leopold "Butters" Stotch

I woke up to the abrupt ringing of the school bell and my head shot up. Groups of my classmates were rushing out the door, ready for our lunch break. I sit there blinking slowly as I watch the cluster leave one by one. Letting out a yawn, I get out of my seat and stretch. I find the room empty once my eyes properly adjust.

I presume, much like my classmates, Mrs. Garrison had left for her lunch the first chance she got. There were bookbags shoved under desks, even some leaning on sides of desks, and more toppled in the middle of the desk rows. A couple of desks had notebooks out, the others remained bare, as did mine. Catching a glimpse of my desk, I find a fault in my last statement.

A piece of folded paper sat atop the smooth wooden surface of my desktop. I pick it up and unfold it.

Hey Sleeping Beauty, I can hear your snoring. - K ;)

P.S. Ur in my group for the project. I'll c ya at lunch and tell u abt it.

I felt the blood rush to my face and hastily folded the paper up and shoved it in my pocket. I then begin briskly walking, out of the classroom and towards the cafeteria.

The halls were empty and classrooms were dark. To add to the ambience, my shoes made those clear crisp footfall noises with each step. After a while, my pace slowed back down. I could take as long as I needed to get to lunch, besides, I enjoy the quiet here. I walk in uninterrupted peace, for a moment before I feel a hand fall on my shoulder.

"Hey, Buttercup," My eyebrows furrow. Did he just- "Are you finally awake?" It's probably nothing.

I let out a small chuckle, "Not yet." Ken's face faltered for a bit, so I opted to fill the silence. "What's the project we got?"

Kenny began to explain that it was a group project. Our group was me, Kyle, Clyde, and him. Kenny continued explaining which book they chose and what the basis of the project was.

I could hear his words, see his mouth moving, but none of which I processed. Instead, what my focus stuck on was Kenny himself.

His body moved in a pace that matched mine as we walked alongside each other. His golden hair framed his face. His face. His hood had always used to be so big on him that it sheltered his whole face, but now the hood lay atop Kenny's head slightly slouched. Kenny's cheeks were littered with freckles, his thin lips were shaped perfectly, his right eyebrow had a slit, his nose was almost grecian, everything about him looked like something straight from a magazine.

I could tell he was expecting a response from me once I heard my name. I raised my eyebrows and brought myself back to reality.

"... Butters parents will care, they'll probably just be happy he's 'working harder on his studies'. If it's a no, that's okay too. Maybe we can go to Kyle's house."

"Of course! Yeah that's totally fine! …For the project, right?"

Kenny gave a fist pump, shortly adding "Yes! Sweet, thanks bro! Is four good?" I nod and after a moment of silence, Kenny speaks again. "Cartman has been acting.. You know, recently. I'd find it weird if he didn't try to sabotage our project somehow. For one, Kyle is in our group and you know how that goes. Then for some reason he's pissed at me. And he's always been a bitch to you. I'm not sure what his stance is with Clyde, I just know he hates about everybody in our class except for his girlfriend."

I take a deep breath and my shoulders fall. "Thanks for letting me know, Kenny. I'm just. Not sure what to do about it?"

Kenny gently nudged an elbow in my arm and gave me that toothy smile of his. "Don't worry Bunny, I've got you."

I feel myself grin, and I mutter a thank you as we now turn into the cafeteria. Weaving through the tables, we find ours. In it sat Stan and Kyle, following them were a few empty spots. Kenny took his seat next to Kyle as I sat in the space next to Kenny. Across from us were Tweek, Craig, and Tolkien. The only other occupants were Eric, who was given two spaces of distance between him and Tolkien.

The conversation we had joined in on was one that was hard to follow. Eric was yelling, Kyle was trying not to laugh, Stan was laughing, Craig had scoffed, Tolkien's head rested face down on the table, and Tweek was attempting to take a drink from his water. I turned to look at Kenny, who was now solemn and silent.

"Want to get in the lunch line?" I leant over to Kenny and he nodded, soon following me as I got up.

He pushed his hands deep into his coat pockets and swayed on his feet as we stood in line. We passed through the line, and once I got to the end, I slid up quicker. I typed my lunch pin in the keypad, once, then twice, and thanked the lunch lady. I step back, wait a few seconds until I see Kenny reach the end of the line. He exchanges a nod with the lunch lady and joins me as we walk back to the table.

"I'm.." He gives an exaggerated face and pauses. "I'm still surprised that school lunch is free now." I turn my face and sit in my seat, my only response being a slight chuckle.

"Fucking hell, man. That's nasty." Kyle's lip pulled up in disgust.

"And this is why no one likes you." Craig joined in. "One. Just one normal conversation with you. Is that so much to ask?"

"You guys are just lame, once I'm rich and you're not, you guys are going to be sorry." Eric retorted.

Tolkien, entirely fed up, says "I still don't think being an asshole is something you can get rich off of."

"Is too! My mom told me so."

Kenny spoke between bites of his sandwich, "Yeah then why do you still live in a hotdog."

Eric stood up. "I am so done with this bullshit." Everyone glanced at one another, not a single one of them seemed shocked. "Screw you guys, I'm going home." He grabbed his lunch tray and stormed out of the room.

After taking a bite from his lunch, Craig deadpans. "He'll be back by next period."

----- end of chapter

< previous ~ next (coming asap!) >