#hopefully y'all enjoy as well lol

[marshmellowtea]

i took a lot more photos than these at the con yesterday but these are the ones i decided were most worth sharing on here in this compilation post so here they are! :D fun fact about the lip gloss idk why i kept putting it on because aside from eating/drinking and the occasional photo i wore my mask basically the whole time i was there and now it has a disgusting smudge on it from me doing that so. that was certainly a Choice i made XD

[anerbananers]

Re-uploading my HK Tarot cards because I've updated some cards and I've been working on the MINOR ARCANA here and there! Just finished the HUNTER as the KING OF COINS! Before that I did Bardoon as Page of Swords and Lost Kin as King of Cups. Enjoy!

Next up: MASK MAKER as Ace of Wands and VESPA + HIVE KNIGHT as Queen of Swords

(I used to joke about how TC is waiting for me to finish the minor arcana before releasing Silksong and now it's feeling less like a joke y'all...idk...my anxiety whispers to me at night like "ok but WHAT IF-")

---

P.S. I swapped Ogrim and the Radiance so now hopefully the pitchforks will never rise again about "WHY IS THE RADIANCE THE MOON WHEN-" She's the sun now okay?! Rest. The war is won lol. I was trying to keep to the card meanings and the moon fits the radiance SO well and the sun is such a happy/triumphant card and that Moth Menace™ does NOT invoke happiness for me, BUT it confused so many folks, and since I'm not even making a traditional deck with any of the symbols, I figured fuck it. Vibes matter. She's literally "light" so bam, she's the sun card now even though she doesn't deserve it! Real ones know what's tea though. <3 I brought in the "white defender" aspect of Ogrim to invoke some moon..ness. lol Moon still fits him so I'm fine with that.

[theveryworstthing]

I'm Alive

I posted this on patreon so I might as well post it again here. Hopefully current and past patrons see this as well as people who have just been generally curious about where I've been.

I'm very sorry for not being around and I'm very grateful to those who stuck around. To those who didn't, I get it and I truly appreciate you passing through. 

Last year and the beginning of this year have been pretty bad. Some of you might have heard about my grandma's death and sadly, she was just the first of the family losses in the time I've been gone. There was also a friend's death discovery, my parents' health tanking, my friends Going Through It, and my own physical/mental problems. I didn't want to talk to the internet about these things because they were/are very overwhelming and private and tbh I used all my energy to help with the household and make sure work got turned in on time. When I had spare time after dealing with the near constant disasters, I didn't really feel like interacting with the internet at all beyond using it as a way to talk to far away friends (mostly to give them the thumbs up that i was alive) or watch/read things when my brain was less scrambled. Social media was an absolute no go and I didn't have any non-work art to post so I just kind of mentally crawled under the porch to die lol. 

I only drew work related things for months due to extreme burnout and it took me almost a month off after my last job to remember how to create again. I couldn't draw or write, it was kinda like art block except it was more like nothing was there at all? It's hard to explain. 

Things are still happening but I need to get back in the saddle eventually so here I am. 

I'm going to post the little art I did in June and all the sketches I did in January when I re-learned how to draw for myself. Again, I'm so sorry for being away without saying anything and I'm grateful to whoever threw me a buck, or even just casually enjoyed my art. Leaving like I did was really irresponsible and there's no excuse for not at least making a post about all of this sooner.  Every month I got a patreon payment was another wave of guilt because I literally couldn't give y'all anything but at the same time that money was letting me book flights to funerals and keeping my mom comfortable while she recovered from surgery right after I spent a lot of my savings in 2022 trying to fight my late cat's cancer. And then not posting about what was going on made me more anxious as time went on because there was more guilt every month so I felt like I needed to come back with a bunch of art and energy and good reasons and it was just. A Mess. 

But anyway.

I'm alive, I'm back. The Horrors persist, but so do I.

Thank you for your patience.

[genericpuff]

Hi! So this is coming from a place of genuine concern, LR Persephone isn't going to have DID right? I know you probably can't reveal much but DID is already a very stigmatized disorder so I'm always worried when I see the Signs, I hope you understand lol

I understand fully your concerns, and I hope I can reassure you in my own intentions regarding Kore / Persephone that the goal is not to demonize or stigmatize DID in any way. I actually do regularly interact with a family member who's currently seeking an official diagnosis for it, and have my own firsthand experiences with my own mental health and symptoms of childhood trauma that are intersectional with that of DID. Of course, that doesn't mean that I'm immune to stigmatizing, but rest assured that I am aware of the stigmas surrounding DID and the misconceptions that a lot of people have about it, no thanks to how it's been portrayed in mainstream media.

If I can add some additional and necessary context as to why I chose to write Kore like this, much of how I'm writing her is based on how she was initially presented to us in S1 of LO, particularly through the personification of her wrath:

I really liked this concept and was subsequently disappointed when it seemed to get left behind (though considering how LO turned out, maybe that was for the better lmao) I've always enjoyed these "inner conflict" character dynamics, but I also understand from years of writing characters like this that much of these types of tropes are often intersectional with common misconceptions and stigmas surrounding personality disorders and mental illness.

Within the context of Rekindled, Kore does not specifically have DID but her experiences are clearly intersectional with it. Ultimately my goal is to empathize, not demonize. As much as "Persephone" may be currently presenting herself as a sort of snarky "alter ego" of Kore, she is not evil, no more "evil" than Kore herself, because they're ultimately of the same mind and body, flaws and all. Persephone is often speaking truths that Kore is simply not willing to admit or able to face, the worst of which we've yet to uncover, but will be necessary to overcome. There will certainly be times when Kore's actions - spurred on by the voice of Persephone in her ear - may be ugly or wrong, but I hope in the end that I'll achieve my goal in expressing that everyone - even immortal gods - can always have another chance to heal, to forgive themselves for their past, and to do right by themselves for the sake of a brighter future. This will apply to other gods in the story as well, many of whom also share Kore's struggles and experiences.

And, assuming I do my part and deliver on my promises, there will be closure for Kore/Persephone, the readers who relate to their struggles and experiences, and many of the other characters who were hung out to dry in the original comic. That's definitely one of my biggest goals with this retelling, at least! (•̀ᴗ•́)و It's definitely one of my riskier moves as the nature of the subject is very sensitive, but I'm giving it my all in the hopes that it pays off in a more nuanced and in-depth character arc for Kore/Persephone than what we got in LO that can hopefully be embraced as a message of acceptance and self-love. And y'all can hold me to that (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧

[misc-obeyme]

Couples Discount! - Secret Scene

Well, I shouldn't be surprised I guess. My "should I post the smut?" poll had some pretty definitive results. It's not yet over, but really I don't think I need to wait for it. Y'all voted for the smut.

I would like to begin by apologizing for my smut writing skills. I'm not at all confident in them, which is why this is the first time I'm really posting any.

So this is the secret smut scene that would come after the end of this daily chat scene I wrote, though you don't really need to read it before this. This right here is pure smut, so you know. Context isn't really required.

Please tell me if it's terrible. My anxiety is high so I need to know if it's really bad lol. Also I really tried to keep MC gender neutral so hopefully that turned out okay.

GN!MC x Diavolo - NSFW - MDNI

Warnings: oral sex, penetrative sex (reader receiving in both cases), please let me know if I should add anything here

Any thoughts you'd been having about the repercussions of the kiss you shared with Diavolo on the plaza bench were completely discarded now. You sat on the edge of Diavolo's bed with the demon prince on his knees between your thighs and thinking wasn't something you'd managed to do at all for the past several minutes.

One of your hands was in Diavolo's hair, the other one gripping the sheets beside you as you melted into the feeling of his tongue, his lips, his mouth giving you untold amounts of pleasure. He had placed one of your legs on his shoulder and his hand still rested on it. You could tell from the way his fingers flexed against you that he was trying not to grip you too hard.

You hadn't been sure what spending the night with Diavolo would be like, but so far he seemed to want nothing more than to worship you. He especially seemed to enjoy hearing you moan, deliberately doing things that he thought might draw one out of you.

You were slightly annoyed about the fact that he himself was still fully dressed while your clothes were already in a heap on the floor. However, you couldn't hold onto this thought for long enough to call him out on it. Not when he was using his tongue so expertly, the tension building up in your body as your pleasure intensified with every second.

It was almost teasing, though, never quite enough to bring you over the edge. Your fingers clenched and unclenched in his hair in both frustration and enjoyment.

"D-diavolo," you managed to say. "Please."

That single word apparently had quite the effect because Diavolo responded immediately. Where before he was only using his tongue, now he put his entire mouth on you. There was so much more sensation that you cried out, the hand in his hair becoming a fist. You had a vague thought about how you hoped you weren't hurting him, but it was gone in an instant as Diavolo sucked.

You moaned, unable to keep yourself from doing so, the feeling building and building. Diavolo didn't let up. He could tell you were close and he was determined to make you come. You felt your thighs shivering, squeezing slightly as the intensity increased.

Your body began to tense as you felt yourself nearing your climax until it finally hit you in waves. You couldn't even manage to spare a thought for what might be happening to Diavolo as your thighs clenched, your fingers still holding tightly to his hair.

You took several deep breaths as you let yourself relax. You let go of Diavolo's hair. He looked up at you from between your thighs with a smile so bright you couldn't help but laugh a little.

You cupped his cheek as you caught your breath, bending forward a little to lean your forehead against his. "You have way too much clothing on," you said, pulling at one of the buttons on his shirt with the other hand.

Diavolo chuckled. "I'm sorry, MC," he said. "Won't you help me remedy that?"

He didn't have to ask you twice. You started using both hands to unbutton his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. You let your hands linger on his bare chest, truly a glorious sight to behold, before reaching down for the pants. But in the position he was in, you couldn't quite reach them.

Diavolo kissed you before standing up to take his pants off himself. You watched as he did, finally freeing his enormous cock. Just looking at it made your skin flush and your body throb as your mind went wild with the possibilities.

It was very tempting to take it into your mouth, since it was right at the same height as your face. But you were more interested in putting it somewhere else.

Despite this, you couldn't resist reaching out and taking it in your hand. Diavolo made a soft humming sound at the contact and you looked up to see him biting his lip.

It was such a cute expression on him that it made your stomach flip. You found yourself suddenly impatient, letting go so you could grab his hands and pull him onto the bed.

Diavolo let you take control, moving easily as you positioned him so he was sitting up against his pillows. Once he was where you wanted him, you straddled his lap, putting your hands on his chest and kissing him deeply.

His mouth opened for you instantly, your tongue sliding in and tasting the salt of your cum on him. You tried not to let this make you rabid. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, your hands running through his hair again, your ass rubbing against the hardness of his cock.

You pulled away and looked at him. He was breathing hard with his pupils fully dilated. He looked like he was dizzy with lust, but there was an edge of concern on his face. He reached over to the bedside table, taking out a bottle of lube.

Certainly Diavolo was quite large, so you thought it best not to skip this step, even though the look on his face sent another stab of heat through your body. He slathered his fingers and you gasped as he put first one and then another inside you, stretching you gently.

Diavolo took his time and you were losing your mind with need by the time he pulled his fingers out of you. You put your hands on his shoulders and rose up, preparing to take him inside.

"MC," he said, voice quiet as he settled his hands on your hips.

You didn't let him finish whatever he was going to say, instead sinking down onto his cock. This elicited a moan that was like sweet music to your ears and he practically whimpered your name.

You decided to go slowly, moving down inch by inch until you had him fully inside you.

The feeling of him was exquisite. Your body flushed with heat as you squeezed yourself around him and he moaned. His hands gripped the soft flesh of your hips tighter.

Diavolo nuzzled into your neck, peppering you with kisses. "Are you all right?" he murmured into your skin.

"Don't worry," you said. "I'm fine." You tangled your fingers in his hair again, holding him to you as you began to move yourself slowly up and down his cock.

Diavolo's head rested on your shoulder and for a moment he seemed too overwhelmed by the sensation to do much of anything. But then his hands began to move you, too, increasing your pace. You matched him easily, speeding things up, but sitting down fully every time, allowing him to hit that spot inside you perfectly over and over.

Diavolo seemed to be unable to stop himself from thrusting up into you, but you didn't mind at all, moaning in response to the feeling of it. Diavolo's hands moved from your waist to your back, his head falling a little to press against your chest. Both of you were moaning now and you could already feel the tension of your second orgasm tightening in your belly.

It felt so good, you were completely lost in him, your hands roaming over his skin, the lingering scent of his cologne mixed with sweat and sex. The feeling of him inside you, thick and powerful, the way his hands moved you so easily, the desperate sounds of him mumbling your name over and over again.

Until at last, you felt yourself tightening, your body responding to the pleasure. You cried out his name as you came, your hands on his shoulders, your nails piercing skin, your head thrown back.

As you were just beginning to come down from this high, you felt him clutch you hard, a soft groan from his throat, and the warmth of his cum spilling inside you.

Exhausted, you collapsed against him. Diavolo's arms wrapped around you, holding you to him as you rested your head on his chest.

This was only the beginning of your infamous night with Lord Diavolo and you would be pleased to discover just how much stamina the prince of the Devildom really had.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[starryjkoo]

Just saw a so-called ARMY say that Jimin and Jung kook being "spotted" out together today is because of the Buddy System. Apparently to this very smart and educated person, that's how the Buddy System works; just as they enlisted together, when they are given off-days, where one goes the other has to go as well, it's not because they wanted to hang out with each other but because the system they enlisted under obligates them to do so..

Was it not months ago when JK was free and he was spotted out with Eunwoo and his 97 squad or something like that? I remember Taekookers and a few bitter ex-jikookers-turned-PJMs talking about "the first chance at freedom and he decided to spend it away from Jimin". Now they are obligated to be together even during their free time and stuff🤷🏽‍♀

The things we read...

Anyway, y'all Jokers stay safe✌🏽... and sane.

that is some insane logic 😭 I’d say there’s no way that person isn’t a closet tkkr but then again I remember how many ARMYs were crashing out in the quotes of a tweet that pointed out JK knew JM’s apartment password and saying “he probably knows all his hyung’s passwards!!!😡" so you know what, it doesn’t surprise me someone would say that.

That’s so funny though, Jikook’s military mandated Christmas vacation celebration lol. Maybe the military can team up with BH to give us Are You Sure: A very Jikook Christmas🤞

And yeah, those groups are so annoying, always flip-flopping on their narratives and in our business with the worst takes imaginable. Speaking of that though, I read a really funny post about tkkrs and the progression of their jkk enlistment denial arguments the other day, something like -

“enlisting together is fake news, wait for the official announcement” “they’ll be separated after thirty days” “they went to different units” “cooks live on a different plane of existence than other soldiers” and now we’re at “they’re only showering together because of the communal showers!!” so are they finally admitting they enlisted together or…?

Anyways, happy holidays everybody! Hopefully Jikook are enjoying their break and holiday too!! (and hopefully BH cut them a check and we’ll finally get that jkk live)

[cozy-cinnamon-roll]

Stitches (Part II)

(Read Part I Here! used to be We Interrupt This Broadcast... changed the name because I feel like this fits better 😅)

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairing: Ler!Rosie, Ler!OC, Lee!Alastor (strictly platonic)

Content/Trigger Warnings: tickling, very brief blood mention, medical themes (non-graphic & painless). And again, this is set right after Alastor gets his ass handed to him by Adam, so you can expect some angst (don't worry, he gets better).

If there are any trigger warnings you'd like me to add in the future (and/or to this fic), PLEASE let me know! I am always happy to oblige. 💕

This is a ticklefic! If that's not your cup of tea, kindly move along.

"Almost ready" I said. "Basically finished" I said. Sorry y'all, the Chronic Illness Fairy struck. 😅 I will say this was my favorite part to write, but also the one I'm most uncertain about... bit more angst in this installment and I'm not much of an angst writer lol... but with Rosie in the mix (especially as a ler), angst never lasts long. 🥰

Also I changed the title. Hopefully it's not confusing that way... cuz without Part 1 this fic makes zero sense 😅

One last thing... I'm so happy y'all like Trudy! Was thinking about posting a lil sketch of her at some point (I need a new insomnia project now that this fic is done 😅). I've been having a truly awful few weeks on the anxiety front, so all the positive feedback on Part I has been quite literally making my days 💕

Hope you enjoy!!

--------------------------------------------------------------

"Ooh, you stubborn little bastard. You're still gonna refuse to laugh?" Rosie mutters.

Alastor doesn't dare try to speak. All he can manage is a defiant shake of his head.

"Look, my friend. If you 'don't mind a little tickling,' and getting all giggly is your specialty…" Rosie tweaks his bottom rib, eliciting a noise that comes just short of a squeak. "What, exactly, is the problem here?"

"I'm supposed to be in control!" he grinds out through his twitching grin.

"You are in control, sir." Trudy abruptly withdraws her hands, holding them up innocently. "You can tell me to stop at any time."

Alastor cringes. He was sorta hoping no one would point that out.

"Which is why I find it so fascinating that you haven't yet." A sly smirk creeps across Rosie's face.

Oh, for fuck's sake.

"I- I'm humoring you!"

"Humoring me?" Rosie tilts her head. "My dear, I hope you're not doing this just for my sake. If you don't want Trudy to check for further injury-"

"No, I do! O-on my terms!"

"This is on your terms."

"Yes, but-"

"In fact, you insisted."

He stumbles again, before mumbling another meager, "…to humor you!"

Trudy shoots her boss a disoriented look - but Rosie, as usual, is hearing her friend loud and clear.

"Alastor." Rosie rolls her eyes, gestures for Trudy to step aside, and scoots over to place a hand on his knee. "Adam is dead. Everyone in hell thinks you're either succumbing to your wounds in some remote gutter or hiding in whatever alternate dimension you just spent the last seven years. You're not even 'on air'." She leans in. "You can drop the act for a moment, if it's what you need."

That certainly hits the mark. For the first time, Alastor's smile falters - not completely dropping, but certainly losing much of the strained quality it's had since he arrived.

"I wish I could, my dear."

Encouraged, Rosie continues. "Well, what's stopping ya? As much as I love spending time with Alastor the Radio Demon… if you wanna take this opportunity to let out whoever's underneath that effervescent grin of yours, you know we wouldn't mind."

Alastor swallows - and for the first time in a decades, Rosie finds his expression difficult to read. "Rosie, I'm afraid I can't really..."

"I mean, you've been holding that same silly show-host-smile for years! Don't tell me you've never gotten tired of it!"

"It's sewn on, Rosie."

"…What?"

He hesitates. "Let's just say today wasn't the first time I've been, ah... stitched up." As he speaks, he gestures to his toothy grin. And for once, there's not a trace of distortion in his voice.

Rosie's dark eyes go wide when she realizes what he means. The cannibal overlord just stands there for a beat, in an uncharacteristic moment of shock.

But, being Rosie, she quickly recovers. "Well, so what?"

"I'm just saying, I'm afraid I can't really drop the act."

"Nonsense! Since when has your act had anything to do with your face?" Rosie flicks her hand, as if brushing the thought aside. "Who cares if you can't show genuine Alastor. I wanna hear him."

"But my microphone..."

"You're doing just fine without it."

Once again, this attempt at reassurance only makes Alastor look more disturbed. "Th-this can't be me!"

"...Well, no. This right here sure isn't the Alastor I know. But…"

Alastor is barely listening to her anymore. His broadcast persona has been his sole identity since he was alive. Now his radio tower has been reduced to rubble, his microphone snapped clean in half, even his carefully-styled clothing left in tatters…

If this is the Genuine Alastor he's now stuck with - panicked, stuttering, weak - he can't imagine how he'll ever be able to face the rest of hell…

But these racing thoughts are once again interrupted by nails tracing up his sides. A sharp yelp cuts the air as poor Alastor just about jumps out of his skin.

"…Perhaps I can offer a little help?" Rosie suggests gently, once she has his undivided (and adorably flustered) attention. "On your terms, of course?"

Alastor just gazes back at her for a long moment. "What do you have in mind?"

"I happen to know something about you that even you can't fake."

The radio demon hesitates… before heaving a sigh and, to Rosie's surprise, giving a small nod of consent.

She breaks into a brilliant (and frankly terrifying) smile.

Before Alastor can brace himself, Rosie's hands have both found his sides and begun working into his waist. Having just watched him squirm around under Trudy's thorough probing twice (and adored every second of it), she already has a pretty good idea of where his worst spots are.

Which is made abundantly clear by Alastor's reaction. Within seconds he's gone from still trying to hold it all in by habit, to giggling into his hands, to cackling hysterically.

And it's the kind of laughter she's spent the last seven years missing. This isn't the confident, taunting chuckle he brings out for battles or brushing off rivals; this is bright, helpless, occasionally hiccuping laughter, the kind that is nearly impossible for him to stop once he starts - and the kind she only has the privilege of hearing when something truly amuses him.

"You can't sew your laughter on," Rosie reminds him. "This is all yours."

Rosie's fingers creep up under his shirt to scribble on bare tummy, adding a couple new sweet spots to her mental catalogue. This technique brings out even more of her favorite little quirks: the way he bats playfully (and completely ineffectually) at her wrists; his repeated attempts to speak around his laughter that only result in frantic spurts of incomprehensible, giggle-laced gibberish.

As she traces her nails across his lower belly she also finds a tiiiny layer of unexpected pudge. Which probably shouldn't surprise her - he's been out of the battle scene for seven years, after all. All those deer carcasses have to go somewhere.

Regardless, she finds it terribly endearing for some reason... and the surge of affection translates into a corresponding surge in the intensity of Rosie's tickles.

"AHaha! Ro- Rosie!" he blurts, his voice jumping a full octave higher than normal. "Stop!!"

Rosie removes her hands immediately. "Stop?"

"Aha- ah- well- I mean, er…" He stumbles breathlessly, and gives a sheepish cough.

"You didn't really want me to stop, did you?"

Rosie resumes with a chuckle, reeling herself in just a little. "How 'bout we say... oh... 'enough,' if you really want me to quit?"

Of course, she has to go and say it out loud.

"M-more of a reflehex..." he admits reluctantly.

Alastor tosses a shaky thumbs-up at her, already too lost in his own giggles to manage a verbal reply.

And he's gotta admit… Rosie was absolutely right. He wouldn't stop her right now for all the souls in hell. There's a reason Alastor has the most recognizable evil cackle of any other overlord. He can't help but find dissolving into laughter as cathartic and exhilarating as always - even if this time, it's not at some poor soul's misfortune. It's a result of his best friend's affection for her darling deer demon.

"As fun as getting your soft little belly is," Rosie muses, pausing to let Alastor catch his breath for a moment, "I can't help but wonder if you're ticklish anywhere else…"

Alastor may be off the air, but Rosie can practically hear the screech of microphone feedback just by the look on his face. "….I plead the fifth."

"Have you considered his ears?" Trudy pipes up shyly. While she'd managed to restrain herself behind an impeccably professional bedside manner earlier, it had taken everything in her power not to stroke Alastor's ears when she'd been close enough to do so. They were just. so. fluffy.

"Ohhh, heavens…" Alastor, for his part, curls in on himself at the mere suggestion.

Rosie grins. "Hey, 'no' is always an option."

A long pause. Alastor can't believe he's considering this. But the sensation of being tickled, as unbearable as it is, does feel awfully pleasant… and it's been so long since anyone has dared to touch him…

And what else does he have to lose at this point, anyway?

"I suppose if you're… very gentle…"

"Are you aware that your ears are the softest thing in the nine circles?"

This stipulation ends up backfiring. When it comes to his ears, gentle is worse. So, so much worse.

Poor Alastor is too busy clutching his stomach and snickering madly into his sleeve to reply.

"I should know, I work in retail. These right here-" Rosie traces her fingers down the feathery-soft edges, sending the radio demon into a new round of hysterics. "-Would fetch a pretty penny."

"They're nohot for saHA-ale!!"

"Nooo, I should say not." Rosie's hapless victim lurches back into the cushions as her fingers find the fluffy region at the base of his ears. Even without the microphone, his cackles have no problem filling the room. "You're the only demon classy enough to wear them."

"And don' you - GAHaha! - f-forget it!" He's so drunk on laughter now that he's beginning to slur his words. His careful elocution has gone the same place as his steady tone, and lack of stutter.

Luckily, he's also far too drunk on laughter to care.

...Right about there, Rosie notices that the faint hum of radio static in the air is no longer just in her head.

He is laughing his heart out for the first time in weeks. Genuinely laughing for the first time in decades. And laughing completely for himself, for his own enjoyment, without need for intimidation or control or image or audience, for the first time since long before he died.

While Trudy typically can't say much for her self-preservation instinct, she's got enough of one to feel hesitant joining her boss in tickling the most powerful overlord in hell (outside the pretense of medical intervention, at least). So she just stands back, watching fondly as The Most Dangerous Overlord This Side of the Pentagram utterly destroys the deer demon.

...At least, until she notices a flicker of green light out of the corner of her eye. Lying forgotten on the end table, the splintered ends of Alastor's microphone are sparking and crackling like live wires.

The surgeon creeps over for a closer look, staring in fascination. And then - just as Rosie gets poor Alastor behind the ears and delivers a scribble to his tummy at the same time - she ever-so-gently nudges the fractured ends closer to one another.

To her surprise, a bright green spark arcs clear across the gap. For a fraction of a second, the whole staff radiates a flash of a familiar green glow.

--------------------------------------------------------------

"Keep him laughing, Rosie," Trudy murmurs over her shoulder. It appears the Radio Demon's downfall will be nothing more than an intermission.

Thanks for being so patient with me y'all! Hope it was worth the wait 💕

💜- Cozy

[simaddix]

Still working on armory stuff...

This set by far has been the biggest challenge I've had... working with multiple bones, premium items and functional items has been a trip, but SO. WORTH. IT. Gah! A quick update into the vault of wips I've got going on... enjoy a peek into my project!

For years (years) I've wanted to take on the store's archery item, and... I did. To my absolute surprise, I got this bad boy working. The middle targets swing, the shots hit the upper targets instead of landing in midair, I scared my children half to death with dinosaur sounds, it was a complete success, and I'm so stoked! This one needs a couple of cosmetic tweaks to the image files, and I want to test the pathing to make it a bit more friendly in close environments, but otherwise it's in game and working!

Next up, my precious... old hay bales, working as archery targets. Y'all don't know the WILLPOWER it took to stay on this current project when these hit my game... I almost bailed off to start a farm set, but I stayed on track! (claps self on the back, I'm so proud lol) These have the same issue as other custom targets; without the frame, the shots/arrows currently follow the same path of the store item, but they do function.

Hopefully if I can fix the pathing issues, the other targets will work along with the frame. Otherwise, I'll make deco versions as well so they don't battle for the same space/footprint, and will look something like this ^

I've played with several target stands, both 3D models I downloaded and from Skyrim, and I wound up modeling a few myself. I have one up and running in game already, and will be testing the textures before getting the other two up and running. These are also functional, the arrows will just follow the same path as the store item again. I'm trying to figure out how to fix that issue for all the targets, but one thing at a time.

Next we have more deco items, including crossbows (loaded, and unloaded, ha ), archery stands for bows and arrows, and a ballista.... of all things.. lol

I have a few more items I want to add into the mix, but I'm making progress. I can't wait to get this out to y'all! Enjoy the view!

[thatstonedwriter]

⋆｡˚ 「 Office Romance 」 ⋆｡˚

◉ A/n- The original ask requested a male reader, but I ended up writing a more gender neutral perspective, I hope that's alright

◉ Sinopsis; A shy coworker has a crush on Loona

___˙•˚∘✮🌙ᯓ🪐˙•˚∘___

Everyone at I.M.P is well aware of your crush on Loona, I hate to break it to you. But the way you steal glances at her and go out of your way to side with her whenever she gets into fights with Moxxie is just a bit telling.

Honestly, it's a bit surprising. Considering your introverted nature, nobody would’ve guessed you'd fall for the harsh, intimidating and (mostly) emotionally unavailable Hellhound.

Sorry, but you're gonna have to deal with Blitzø a lot. He too is aware of the crush you have on Loona and will constantly hound (lol pun intended) you about your intentions. And of course you get the classic "Conversation leads to HPV!!" line. Literally whenever you're talking to Loona, Blitzø interrupts.

Even with playful teasing, I wouldn't be too worried about it. Loona is always on your side; stands up for you during fights, and punts Blitzø out of the building whenever he harasses you (hopefully he warms up to you, if he wants to stop getting concussions)

At first, Loona likely denies it whenever someone mentions how you have a crush on her. It may be super obvious to everyone else, but Loona has a hard time believing anyone, especially you, would reciprocate her feelings.

Folks, this is the epitome of slow burn. When you're too anxious to admit your feelings and Loona is too closed off to allow herself to be with you, it results in.. Drum roll please.. Coworker intervention!! (mostly on Millie's part)

Millie convinces Blitzø and Moxxie to help her get you and Loona together. It likely starts off with y'all being left behind while the rest of the team goes on a mission without y'all because Blitzø "forgot" to message you. Can't complain though, because it means you and Loona have the office to yourselves for a while.

It would probably take a long time for a conversation to be started up, but that's okay. You and Loona can enjoy each other's presence without needing to speak. Inevitably though, y'all start talking and maybe Loona makes an off-handed remark on the "rumors" going around the office.

That's your chance to confess, I highly recommend you take it. Y'all finally have the opportunity to get your feelings out in the open, and once Loona realizes you're serious about your feelings, she decides that a relationship with you.. Might be the best thing ever.

Safe to say, the I.M.P squad comes back to a very happy new couple. blitzø isn't thrilled but he'll get over it. And once he trusts you with Loona, he treats you like family

___‎˙•˚∘✮ 🔭๋࣭ᯓ🌙˙•˚∘___

[sissylittlefeather]

Time for a little brain break! I'll come back to How the Web Was Woven soon!

Lover Doll: A Danny Fisher Story

A/N: I know this is like the least creative name for a Danny Fisher (from King Creole) fic but whatever lol. This is a dirty (and borderline inappropriate oops) little thing I wrote just for the hell of it. Hopefully some of y'all enjoy it. I like to imagine this is where Danny gets his affection for older women 🤭

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI!, inappropriate relationship (BUT EVERYONE IS OF LEGAL AGE), kissing, cussing, fingering, oral sex (f & m receiving), p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, swallowing

Word count: ~2.5k

Unfamiliar with Danny? Here ya go:

You were nervous to start teaching in the beginning, but by your third year you'd settled into your position fairly well. At 25, you finally felt like you had enough years between you and your high school students to make your authority legitimate.

And then they transferred Danny Fisher into your class. Danny had struggled in school, so he hadn't graduated when he was supposed to. That meant he was 19 when he sauntered into your math class and sat at the back. His heavily-lidded eyes and flyaway hair were enough to make you swoon, but you tried to look away.

He ignores you for the most part, until you call him by name to answer a question. You're determined to treat him just like any other student, despite the way your stomach flip flops when you look at him.

"Aw, Miss, I don't-" Just then he glances up and makes eye contact with you. Your cheeks flush and he loses the second half of his sentence. A couple of seconds pass and you realize what's happening.

"Never mind, Danny. Anyone else know the answer?" Class continues like normal until the bell rings at the end. He's in your last class of the day, so you're prepared to drop into your chair once all the kids leave, but he stays behind.

"Miss, you got a second?"

"Sure, Danny. What do you need?" You ask, heart in your throat.

"I didn't know teachers could be so young."

"Oh. Well, yes, I suppose."

"And pretty." You feel the blush rise in your cheeks again.

"Did you have a question?" He seems to be searching for something he can ask.

"Can you help me with those equations from earlier?" He smiles and his dimple catches you completely off guard. Then, he sits down at a desk in the front of the room and opens his math textbook.

"Oh, sure, Danny." Without thinking, you lean over the desk to see which questions he's talking about. When you do, he can see down the front of your dress. He takes a quick peek and then looks away, clearing his throat. You realize what just happened and stand up as quickly as possible. Now it's his turn to blush. He stands up from the desk holding his book in front of his lap, you suspect in an effort to hide himself.

"I have to get to work. We'll have to look at the equations another time." He smiles again and hurries from your room. When the door closes behind him, you can't help but laugh.

******

You continue this way for a month, with him staying after school as often as possible for tutoring. But what starts as a mild flirtation gets stronger and stronger every time.

At one point he accidentally calls you "honey" when he gets frustrated with a question. He instantly apologizes, but you just laugh. Secretly, you love it and wish he would do it again.

You know it's wrong. He's your student. But he's also a grown man and your reaction to him is uncontrollable. You're used to 17-year-old boys who are basically big toddlers. Danny is only two years older than that, but he's worked more hours than you have. Nothing about him feels like a boy.

******

One day, you stand looking out the classroom window while he's at the blackboard. You're feeling particularly sorry for yourself and the situation you're in with him. The attraction is undeniable, but nothing will ever come of it. He notices that you seem sad today, so he puts the chalk down and walks up behind you. He stands close enough for you to feel his breath on your neck. You can tell by the way he stands there that he wants to touch you, to put his arms around your waist or his hands on your hips, but he doesn't. Not yet.

"You alright, Miss y/l/n?" You take a deep breath before answering him. You wish he would touch you.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just..." You turn to face him and he's even closer than you thought. You look up into his face. All he would have to do is lean down a few inches and his lips would be on yours.

"Can I..." His eyes flick down to your mouth. You're just about to tell him yes when he leans in just enough and presses his lips to yours gently. His hands shake a little, but he reaches out and puts them on your hips. He pulls back for a second, checking to make sure you don't want him to stop and then kisses you again, more passionately this time, sliding his hands back behind you and pulling your body in close to his. You break the kiss and pull back away from him.

"Danny, wait. This is wrong."

"Wrong? It doesn't feel wrong?"

"I'm your teacher." You look down at your feet.

"Hey." He tips your chin up with his hand and looks into your eyes. "Listen. You're a woman. I'm a man. This feels right to me. Does it feel right to you?"

"Yes." You nod. "But that doesn't mean it is."

"Y/n... can I call you by your name?" You nod again. "Y/n, you make me feel things I've never felt before. That can't be wrong."

"Oh, yes it can. Surely you know..." Then a thought occurs to you. You look at him with your head cocked to the side. Then, you walk backwards away from him and perch on the edge of your desk.

"Danny, you say I make you feel things you've never felt before. Have you ever been with a woman?" You try to look into his eyes but he avoids you. He looks down and tries to hide the fact that he's blushing.

"No." He answers with a tone of slight annoyance. Then he looks back up into your face. "But that doesn't mean I can't or won't. I want to. I want to be with you."

"Oh, Danny. I'm just not sure that's a good idea. I am your teacher-"

"Then teach me." He wraps himself around you again and kisses you deeply, his tongue sliding into your mouth. "Teach me, please." He whispers when he pulls back from the kiss.

Your eyes flick between his and you want nothing more than to say yes. Your body is screaming at you to kiss him again and rip his clothes off. You know it's wrong, but you're not sure if you care anymore. Can something that feels so right really be wrong?

Finally, you nod and he looks at you eagerly. His hands go to your hips and he pushes against you as he kisses you passionately. He kisses down your neck and reaches behind you to unzip your dress. He pulls the top of your dress down so that you're only in your bra from the waist up. You push his t-shirt up and over his head and off. His chest has the smallest patch of soft hair and you're reminded how young he is. But just when you're about to back out again, he pulls your hips away from the desk and lets your dress fall to the floor at your feet. Now you stand there in nothing but your bra and panties. He takes you in slowly and looks at you hungrily like he might devour you if he could.

You nervously glance at the classroom door. It's closed and you know that by now the building is empty. And then a thought occurs to you.

"Don't you have to be at work soon?"

"No." He responds firmly and dives into a deep kiss, his hands running up and down your body. They tremble slightly, but he hopes you ignore it as he slides them up to hold your breasts. You reach down and feel his hard cock pressing against his jeans. When you touch him, he backs out of the kiss and whimpers a bit.

"Danny, do you know what happens next?" You ask quietly as you stroke him. He grunts and nods.

"Yes, I do."

As if to show you that he does, he slips his fingers, still slightly trembling, under the waistband of your panties and pushes one finger into you. You moan softly as he adds a second finger and pumps them in and out of you slowly.

"Yes, don't stop." You whisper. He nods and keeps working his hand as you close your eyes and continue to stroke him through his pants. After a few more seconds, you use both hands to undo his zipper and push them down his legs. He steps out of them and you look at him in just his underwear with his hand in your panties. He might be 19 and a virgin, but his body is that of a man and it elicits a physical response from you that he can feel with his fingers. He smiles and kisses your shoulder gently.

You reach back and undo your bra, letting it drop to the floor. He stops moving his hand for a second as he takes in your naked breasts. You put your hand back on him and feel his cock twitch. He whimpers again.

"I want to kiss you, but not on your lips."

"Where, then?"

"Everywhere." He looks into your eyes almost pleadingly.

"Then kiss me, Danny." He kisses your mouth once before leaving a trail of hot kisses on your neck down to your chest. He runs his tongue in a circle around one nipple and ghosts his lips across your skin to the other one, pulling it into his mouth gently. But he doesn't stop there. He gets on his knees and kisses down your stomach, pulling his fingers out of you and dragging your panties down your legs. Then, he leans you back against the desk a little and spreads your legs, kissing your center. He leans his forehead against your lower stomach.

"I've never done this before. How do I... what do you...?"

"Just kiss me. With your tongue. Here." You put your finger on your clit and rub it in circles, so he will know what to do. He nods and leans forward again, pressing his mouth to you. He begins to move his tongue over and around your clit and you have to bite your lower lip to keep from crying out.

"Like this?"

"God, yes, don't stop!" He smiles and presses a finger into you again while he licks you. He pumps his finger in and out while he moves his tongue feverishly on your clit. You feel the coil of your orgasm tighten in your belly and he keeps on licking you. The coil snaps and you gasp.

"Yes! Yes! Oh, Danny, yes!" You moan as quietly as you can, while you come hard in his mouth. He feels your walls flutter and pulse around his fingers.

"W-w-was that good?" He looks up at you from his place between your legs and you almost melt.

"Yes!" He smiles and kisses your hip and then stands up, wiping his face with his hand. You push his underwear down and watch his cock bounce free. He closes his eyes and bites his bottom lip when you reach out and palm his dick, sliding his foreskin back.

"You're sure this is what you want, Danny?" His eyes pop open and he looks at you desperately.

"Honey, I've never wanted anything more." He lifts you by the hips and sets you on the desk. You pull his hips in between your legs and line him up with your entrance. He holds you and pushes into you slowly, grunting when he fills you fully. His cock is bigger than you expected and you moan at the sensation of him hitting the most sensitive place inside you. He pulls back and pushes into you again deeply. Then, he picks up the pace a little and starts to slam his hips into you passionately. Your breasts bounce with his rhythm and he leans down and kisses your chest again while he fucks into you.

"Yes, honey, goddamn, that feels good." He puts his hand on the side of your neck and runs his thumb over your lips. His hips pound into yours over and over, his cock sliding in and out of you rhythmically. He looks down at the place where you're connected and groans. The sight of himself moving in and out of you is enough to almost push him over the edge. But you're not finished with him yet.

"Oh, no honey, what're you doing?"

You push him backwards out of you and then around to the chair on the other side of the desk. He falls into the chair and you crawl on top of him, one leg on either side of him, and sink down onto his dick with your hands on his shoulders. "Oh." He moans breathlessly as you begin to bounce on him. His hands go to your breasts, squeezing them gently and teasing your nipples with his thumb and fingers.

"Do you like this, Danny?" You ask, your voice dripping with desire like the sweetest honey. He nods and whimpers, leaning forward to kiss your neck.

"Yes, I love it." He whispers as he nuzzles you just below your ear. You switch to rolling your hips, pushing him deeper and deeper inside you. He puts his hands on your hips while you ride him. "'M bout to come, doll."

You stand up off of him and he whines desperately.

"No..."

But then you get on your knees and put your mouth around his cock and he inhales sharply. You bounce your mouth on him vigorously and then pull all of him into you, letting him hit the back of your throat.

"Oh, fuck, y/n!" He cries out as he comes hard in your mouth and you swallow it down. You lick around the head of his cock one last time and then stand up. He pulls you down into his lap and cups your face in his hand.

"Honey, that was..." You smile and he kisses you softly. He presses his forehead to yours. "Thank you."

You sit there like that naked together for a while before you speak again.

"Danny, we can't tell anyone about this."

"I know. We can do it again sometime, though, right?"

"I don't know. We probably shouldn't have done it this time."

"Shhh." He holds your face again. "Yes, we should've. You mean more to me than just this. I think I'm fallin' for you." You feel the tears gather in your eyes.

"Oh, Danny..."

"I am. So stop sayin' it's wrong." You kiss him again and he holds you tightly. Finally, you stand up and start to gather your clothes, tears falling down your face silently.

"Why're you cryin', doll?" He stands up and you look into his eyes.

"Because I'm falling for you too." He wraps you in his arms again and you cry against his chest. You know that nothing can come from this, but right now, he's yours and you're his.

In this moment, nothing else matters.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist: wasn't sure on some of these, so sorry if I tag you and you didn't want to be tagged!

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @ashtag6887 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @tacozebra051

[moodymisty]

Hello🌻I hope you are doing well✨ Do you write in Warhammer? I saw this in the list of fandoms, but if not, I apologize a thousand😅 So, Sanguinius/reader-eternal. A moment of rest. Suppose there was some kind of difficult battle, and returning to his chambers after a victorious battle, Sanguinius feels tired and empty, he is dirty from blood and dirt, his hair is tangled, his wings have also lost their whiteness. And so he enters his chambers and smells a pleasant, but unfamiliar smell. The reader, anticipating in what state he would return, prepared a bath and took out her personal bathroom things (gels, shampoos, salts, candles, perfumes - with such smells that no one in the Imperium had seen since the Dark Era) and even more valuable to her (let it be a gift from parents or something) some kind of music player. Well, the reader comforts Angel, turns on music from his youth (maybe Beethoven, Wagner, Tchaikovsky or whatever you like best)), bathes him, takes care of his hair, nails and all that. How you can make his wings comfortable, I can’t imagine🤔 but in general, the reader was able to wash them somehow) Tells stories of plants, fruits, and animals that no primarch could ever see. About your favorite music, some kind of warm memory. Well, something like that😅 sorry if this is too long. In general, you can change the conditions to suit your comfort❤

Author's Note: So I was actually thinking of something somewhat similar to write in my own time because I'm a lonely primarch/astartes fucker for Guilliman (or pre-heresy Lorgar but that's just my 'I can fix him' mental illness talking) So when you sent this in I just about ascended. Emperor save my heretical ass for making this way too fluffy for Warhammer.

Relationships: Sanguinius/Fem!Reader

Warnings: It's 40k lol so references to war and all sorts of violence but other than that, just fluff. Also the slightest hint at the BA astartes being a bit platonic yandere for their Primarch's beloved because it's my headcanon. Enjoy petting the pigeon primarch y'all

For someone as primped and perfect as Sanguinius- A beautiful angel with not a hair out of place or word said without the most careful of consideration, his personal quarters are an absolute mess.

Feathers of all sizes lay scattered across the floor and the giant bed that adorns the massive room, its blankets strewn about and slept in multiple times without being made up in-between. In all of it’s disheveled look, it looks comfortable to say the least.

It's not as if you actually mind the mess, it's not bad enough to even really call it one, but it's simply amusing to think of someone as borderline ethereal as Sanguinius sleeping in a messy, wrinkled bed adorned with his own down.

The Blood Angel guards posted in the hall had allowed you to pass into his quarters without fuss, one of many privileges that you're still getting used to. They nodded towards you and spoke with that Astartes specific rigid but technically polite prose; Seeped in a level of respect you don't feel entirely deserving of.

Sanguinius' angelic sons are, intense. Any other word you think of is too negative in it's definition, or doesn't accurately describe this feeling of heavy downward pressure on your body you get whenever you are close to them. They have a protective quality that has only seemed to intensify the closer you've gotten to their genefather, as you can feel eyes on your back until the door closes behind you and the guards only then return to their vigilant watch of the palace halls.

Sometimes, you swear they're following you.

A pondering for another time perhaps, as you look around the messy quarters holding your things in your hands.

Sanguinius is due to return to Terra at any moment now, and after so long with only vox messages and handwritten letters, you've decided to attempt to surprise him. You probably won't be able to do so, but you can at least prepare him something that will hopefully brighten up his spirits. You can tell from his slip ups in tone that some things have been grating on him like waves on a cliffside.

You'll do anything to make sure that the Angel, your Angel, never looses that glow that seems to follow him; And perhaps steal some of those rare snippets of time to have him just to yourself. Even if only for a moment.

In the separate room that serves as his private bath you begin to run hot water, billows of steam quickly rising to the ceiling and covering the metal adornments around the room with dew. It pours out the open door, as you sit your bag on the edge and pull out various different things. Some sourced from other planets, one from your father who all but fainted upon your asking of it for a Primarch, all being hard to obtain; Little bundles of rare luxury. You fully intend to make use of them all. They smell like flowers and sea salt, far better than the scent of the iron and filth-covered armor aboard the Red Tear.

Though your ears prick to the sound of heavy footsteps before you can fully finish setting up, and you lean up and away from the massive bath and leave the room only just as Sanguinius himself enters. In saying any moment, you seem to have been perfectly accurate.

The first thing you notice of him, besides your joy of seeing him, is he has primary feathers that are bent and sticking out away from the natural pattern of his wings, a few even cracked and torn. He's already gone though the necessary process to remove his armor, and now he's clad in the usual and more comfortable garb he would wear when originally on Baal.

While Sanguinius himself is unharmed, not a single wound and the blood dried on himself not his own, he still is disheveled and messy; Hair tangled from being blown in the wind and getting caught in the raised collar of his armor. You can see mud staining the tips of his wings where it splattered upward, unable to fully protect them from whatever muck he came in contact with.

"I know,"

He sees the look on your face, and his gentle stoicism parts ever so slightly as his lips part. His eyes show the glint of irritation through his long lashes as he looks slightly downward and to the side with a furrowed brow.

"I look a mess. there is no need to point it out. Believe me when I tell you someone else has already done so." He normally wouldn't be fond of something laughing at his current condition, but he supposes he can find the entertainment in it. It's an easier thing to swallow when it's his little beloved doing so. The sound of your quiet, breathily laugh is soothing more than aggravating, and he enjoys the look of sweet mirth plastered on your face. While it may be somewhat at his expense, he doesn't mind all too much considering.

"Well, then you might like the surprise I made up for you even more." His lips crook upward in the most gentle of smirks; Though he was more than likely instantly cued into your gift by the feeling of steam wafting from the other room into this one.

"If not just to get all the dirt from your wings."

At the mere mention of it you watch his wings stretch, shaking slightly as he attempts to right feathers stuck out of alignment. He reaches for the front of his robes as he walks towards the bath.

"I hope you didn't prepare all of this only for me to enjoy it alone. I'd find myself dreadfully bored without any company." You shake your head, following the angel into the bath while he quickly begins to slip into the hot water. You move in not long after, the water almost too hot on your skin, but the feeling of the steam on your face is pleasant.

He attempts to stretch his wings; Though not many rooms can handle his wings fully unfurled. The main room of his quarters when his bed resides can, but in here he finds the tips of his primary flight feathers brushing against the wall. When you attempt to move closer, he furls his wings back up to avoid you bumping them. It lets you reach close enough to his hair, where you wet it with the hot water and watch his eyes gently close. You watch as his hair slowly becomes clean even after so long, golden sheen returning as the soot washes away.

"I have been so besieged by the smell of crude oils and sweat as of late, I swear I'd forgotten what flowers smelled like..."

He smiles when the sound of your quiet, breathy laugh hits his ears, though you still continue treating him. He might have normally apposed to such obnoxious pampering, but you seem to enjoy it, and he’ll partake in a moment of selfishness.

“Let me enjoy this moment without your mockery, will you?” Your fingers weave into his golden hair, just a bit wavy even with the water weighing it down.

"Terribly sorry, Lord Primarch." How he hates that stuffy title; His nose wrinkles. When you notice his doing so, you laugh again.

"It's the title my father used when I told him I needed some of these things." His eyes open to watch you for a moment.

"They're made of flowers from my home planet; When I said they were for The Angel Sanguinius, I swear he choked on his own spit then and there. Thought I had finally killed him."

He listens to you mumble about their origin for a short while, if for nothing more than to fill the silence. The water is no longer running, so other than the occasional splash of water the room is near silent.

You feel the brush of his feathers against your bare skin as they adjust, the water turning color as the grime slips from them and they return to their pristine white color. After all this time he finally feels clean, such a luxury he's been unable to indulge in for quite some time. Perhaps he’s odd in that regard, hating it far more than some of his fellow Primarchs.

He feels you ever so gently brush along a feather to align it with the others, fingers gentle like touching the thinnest glass. His eyes are still closed while you do so. Your gentleness of it isn’t lost on him, as he feels lips against the corner of his mouth.

A rare moment of peace; He'll indulge in it while he has the chance.

[notsoattractivearenti]

Goodbye, Summer (Christian Pulisic x Reader)

Song Inspo: Summer Love - One Direction (listening to the song while reading is highly recommended!)

WC: 2.7K

Warnings: cursing, angst

A/N: after a few months i finally finished this fic!!! this is my first christian angst it felt kinda strange to write one for him lol and just so y'all know i haven't been able to write angst with a happy ending so, be aware. and the start of the ‘summer love’ is a lot different than usual hopefully not too weird for your liking tho. also this wasn't proofread, sorry if this turns out to be shit. anw hope you guys enjoy and i’d love to hear your thoughts thru ask/reply/reblog 💗 apologies for any grammatical errors! feedbacks are highly appreciated 🤍

–

“Cause you were mine for the summer

Now we know it's nearly over

Feels like snow in September

But I always will remember”

—

Summer has come to an end. Well, technically summer hasn’t ended yet – but Christian had to move to Italy and this move wasn’t exactly planned but quite expected – so yeah, to me, summer is about to end. And the moment Christian hops on the plane, there goes my summer of love. It was fun while it lasted – though I wish it would never end.

Christian told me he was leaving just a few days prior. He had been back to the States two days after the end of the Premier League season and ever since we had been spending the summer together. I knew this was coming as we agreed we would only be together for the summer but I didn’t think it would be this hard.

—

I met him through a mutual friend last year when he was briefly in Florida to visit his family and friends for Christmas. I still had a boyfriend at the time – even though my relationship ended the very next day, it was already broken to begin with – so we became strictly friends and I had no intentions on dating him. Jokes on me, because I had caught feelings for him but I was so wounded by the heartbreak I wasn’t even aware of it. He did catch feelings too, though he thought I needed time to process the breakup so confessing his feelings wouldn’t be appropriate.

I didn’t want a serious relationship for a while – or so I thought – therefore I didn’t even think of dating since my last one. Christian and I would sometimes text each other, but it wasn’t a constant thing. We hadn’t really seen each other in person since because of the distance, but I watched every match he played and usually texted him to give my support before the match.

One night within the second week of May, he told me by text that he was going back to Florida for summer break and looking forward to spending the rest of the summer with me. I thought to myself: why would he spend his short break with me? I responded to him by asking why just me and not his friends and family, hoping he would say something funny and odd like he always does and instead he said something I didn’t see coming.

“Because I like you and I want to be with you.”

My heart stopped the second I saw that text. Christian… Likes me? My goodness, what an oblivious idiot I had been. I was deeply wounded by my past I didn’t see what was going on in front of me the whole time. I didn’t know what else to say and I accidentally left his text on read that night.

“Y/N? Are you okay?”

“Did I say something wrong?”

“I’ve freaked you out haven’t I? Fuck I’m sorry!!!” 

Oh shit. I woke up to those unread messages from Christian – I just remembered I hadn’t texted him back last night. I immediately tried to reply but as my thumbs touched the screen to type, no words came to mind. I honestly didn’t know how to react, if I tell him I’m not looking for a relationship would it hurt him?

“I…”

“Christian…”

“If you want a relationship, I don’t know if I’m the right person for you…”

I locked my phone screen right after I sent those messages. I hoped I wasn’t being too harsh to him, but being put in this position was so overwhelming and I didn’t know what else to say. I just… I wasn’t ready. And I couldn’t tell when I would be. Not to mention he lives thousands of miles away from me and I didn’t think I could handle the distance.

An hour later, I finally heard back from Christian.

“I get it and I respect that.”

“What if we just… Be together for the summer?”

“We don’t have to think about what’s gonna happen after. Just be in the moment… You and me.”

I gave that idea of his a thought – a not-so-long thought because I was assuming I didn’t have enough time. I’d admit, while I found it interesting, I couldn’t help but wonder: would it be worth it? Would someone get hurt at the end?

Before the day ended, I finally made up my mind.

“Okay. I’m in…”

“But just for the summer.”

“And only if nobody is gonna get hurt.”

—

When he arrived, I was the one who picked him up at the airport. We absolutely spent our summer together everyday – there wasn’t a day that went by without him by my side and vice versa. He invited me to spend some time with his family and friends on their boats, and I had him spending time with mine on either the beach or my family’s home.

We were well aware we only had each other for the summer, thus we made sure every moment counts no matter how little or big it might be. We knew once this summer ends it also marks the end of our time together and go back to live our own separate lives. I didn’t want to think about what will happen next – I just want to live in the moment.

The more I spend my time with him, the stronger my feelings grow. It’s been messing up my mind, but I couldn’t let it ruin my summer. This was the best summer I’ve ever had in a long time, and I would not take it for granted. The memories we were creating throughout will forever live on in my head.

—

In the middle of our “summer of love”, Christian came to an agreement with AC Milan, and by that his time in Chelsea had come to an end and he had to relocate to Italy. And the club wanted him to join them for preseason, meaning his summer break had to be cut off sooner than he planned.

When he broke the news, I was stunned – not that I wasn’t happy about his move to Milan, I just needed time to process it. I also wasn’t ready for our summer to be over, but the circumstances forced us to cut our time short. It was pretty saddening for us that we unfortunately had to burst our little bubble.

“So… That’s it for us then?” I carefully asked.

“Let’s just not talk about it.” He refused.

I didn’t want to cause a fight at the time, so I agreed to let it go.

The entire time, I felt like I had to walk on eggshells around him. But eventually I couldn’t do that forever. You can't escape the reality no matter how much you want to.

—

Christian was packing his bags as he had a flight to catch the next morning. Yes, I couldn’t emphasize enough that we know our whatever-you-called-ship is coming to an end. In every hello there is a goodbye, right? But why does this feel so hard?

We have tried really hard not to mention anything about the fact that our summer love will be over soon but it is an inevitable topic. There is no way we can escape the conversation, especially on our very last day together. And I have to be the one to bring this up because Christian clearly didn’t want to – he might be the one who suggested the idea, but he is the one who is more in denial.

“Chris, you know we both have to say something, don’t you?” I tried to start the conversation.

“Can we not? Please.” He whimpered.

“We have to.” I insisted.

He kept packing in silence, not wanting to talk about the painful reality. I was sitting on the corner of his bed while he was standing across from me, avoiding eye contact since I started talking. He was looking down all the time – organizing his belongings – and not once he took even a little glance at me. I looked closely at his face, paying attention to every little detail I could. His face was red, eyes were puffy and watery, lips were tight – it was obvious to me he was trying so hard not to cry.

“So are you just going to freeze me out the entire time or?” Still no answer from him. 

I went and sat a lot closer to him and he tried to look away.

“Stop it, please! At least just look at my fucking eyes if you don’t want to fucking speak!”

And suddenly I saw tears running down on his face. He couldn’t hold them back anymore – his heart was completely shattered and it was obvious he was nowhere near ready to face the harsh reality.

“Chris… Listen…”

“Why can’t you change your mind?”

He asked a question that got me startled.

“What is it about me and the time that we had that made you certain you still don’t want a relationship?” His voice was trembling.

It took me a while to even say one fucking word to him. I felt like the worst person on earth for breaking the sweetest man’s heart. And to be honest, I broke my own heart too – and I was really trying my hardest to conceal it from him.

“Chris, you were the one who said, and I quote, “just be together for the summer”! I was being so clear I didn’t want a relationship yet you still offered me that. There’s nothing wrong with you, it’s just… I’m not ready. And I don’t know when I will be again.” I desperately tried to explain myself to him but I seemed to upset him even more.

“Yeah, right.” He shook his head and smacked his lips. “Whatever you say.”

I sighed.

“Chris… Please, why won’t you believe me?” I asked him quietly.

“I don’t buy your bullshit anymore.” He replied coldly, while wiping his tears.

Now done packing, he grabbed the car keys and put most of his belongings in the trunk.

I still wanted to have more conversation – about us, specifically – but after he was done with his stuff, he refused.

“I’m tired and I have an early flight to catch tomorrow. I think I should just go to sleep right now.” He said as he walked into his room.

“Yeah, of course...” I responded.

I tried to softly grab his hand but he swung his arm further away from me.

“See you tomorrow, Chris. Goo-”

He slammed the door on my face before I got to tell him goodnight. At the moment, I thought to myself: oh no, he really hates me.

—

The next morning I drove Christian to the airport. He was going to Milan with his dad and he was meeting him at the airport. On the way there, we didn’t really talk much. There was so much silence – and somehow it made everything even more painful.

I couldn’t handle the tension any longer, so I tried to break the ice.

“Hey, thank you for spending the summer with me. It was the best I’ve ever had.”

He only nodded.

“Umm, I’m sorry this only lasted for a short while...”

He looked down, he sniffed and rubbed his nose and sighed. 

“Well, have fun in Milan! You needed a fresh start and you’re about to get one… Christian, I am proud of you.”

I tried to be supportive and not say anything that could be perceived as “something wrong” because I knew he was in a fragile state at the moment, though it seemed like he wasn’t going to respond the way I hoped he would. I was genuinely proud of him by the way – always have and always will.

He looked up but still avoiding eye contact, let out a slight smile and chuckled a little bit.

“Yeah, thanks.”

“And uh… Maybe you’d forget about me with all the girls you’re going to meet there...”

I immediately regretted what I just said. Shit. What the fuck did I just say?

He finally looked directly into my eyes – a look full of disbelief and disappointment. There was a moment of silence between us. This time, I was the one who couldn’t see him in the eyes.

“Chris, I’m so, so sorry I didn’t m-”

“How could you say that, Y/N?” He cut me off before I finished talking, by the tone of his voice I could tell he was mad at me.

I froze for a minute. I knew I had fucked up but I never thought it would be so much worse – at the moment I was really, really fucking shit up.

“Do you think my feelings for you aren't real enough so other girls can easily make it go away? Do you really think I can forget you just like that? Are you implying that what we had all summer will not stick in your memories?”

“Wha- no, Chris, that’s not what I mean!”

What a mess I had made... And before I knew it, tears started to fill my eyes.

“Well to me it sounded like that. I’m appalled to know you don’t see whatever we were as something real and meaningful. Maybe it was a mistake to even ask you to give us a chance in the first place.” He sounded like he was truly aching and filled with regrets.

I glanced at him for a bit and I saw him biting his lip and his face was already all red. I never wanted our goodbye to be this heartbreaking but well… In this situation it’s bound to happen, isn’t it? Because I didn’t want to escalate our situation any further, I decided to shut my mouth and stop talking altogether. I was aware that whatever I said might hurt him deeper. Fuck, why can’t things be easier?

—

After what felt like a very long ride, we finally got to the airport. We met Christian’s dad, Mark, at the front gate as I helped Christian with his belongings. Mark greeted me and gave me a hug.

“Hey, Y/N! Thanks for dropping Christian off, if only you could come with us to Italy!” Mark excitedly thanked me, not knowing what happened between Christian and I.

I shook my head and slightly laughed to cover my discomfort. Then I saw Christian looking at his watch, and whispered to his dad: “let’s go.”

I took it as my cue to leave, so I said my farewell to both of them.

“Well, have a safe flight, Mr. Pulisic.” I smiled and nodded at Mark. 

Then I turned to Christian. He was still visibly upset – I didn’t have the heart to say anything, really. I had caused him a lot of pain, and I was afraid to open my mouth. But at the moment I knew I had to, since I didn’t know if we would ever see each other again.

“You too, Chris. Good luck over there.” I softly tapped his arm.

I waved at them and was ready to walk away when I felt a hand touch my shoulder. I turned around and it was Christian. He pulled me in for a hug – a very, very tight hug, like he wouldn’t let me go. He rested his head on my shoulder and I rubbed his back the whole time. It was a long hug – probably the longest ever for both of us – and we could no longer keep our overflowing emotions inside anymore.

“I’m sorry…” I whimpered.

“I know.” He whispered.

He stroked my head and kissed me in the forehead. His lips stayed there for a while.

“Y/N, I have to go...”

It was the hardest thing to do but I pulled away from the hug. Before he went inside, he took my hands and looked me in the eyes.

“Y/N, you will always be my greatest summer love… I will never forget you.” He said under his breath.

And the moment he walked through the gate, that was the last time I saw him in person. What we had might be short, but I will forever be thankful Christian made my summer unforgettable.

—

“You were my summer love

You always will be my summer love”

–

taglist: @pulisicsgirl @neverinadream @swimmingismywholelife @chilwellspulisic @bracedes @lovelynikol16 @thoseboysinblue @lizzypotter14 @masonsrem @landoslover

[danses-with-dogmeat]

Day 31 -- Edward Deegan

The (nsfw) details for Kinktober 2023, Day 31 are just below the cut!

Minors, please don’t interact.

Aphrodisiacs with Edward Deegan x g/n!Sole

Lordy lordy, how I was SO excited to write for this man. And hopefully this doesn't disappoint!

Sorry it took so long to get out as well, some life stuff came up this past week that held me up, but it's out now! 😁

I hope you all enjoy immensely lol 😏

Also, thank you to everyone who indulged me this October! Your support (especially with some of these lesser-known characters) was absolutely amazing! ❤️ I'm going to be taking somewhat of a lil break for the next couple weeks to post everything on AO3 and recover lol, but after that, I'll post an update and see about opening up requests for the first time in... Jesus, a VERY long time. I'll talk to y'all then!!!

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

Included: Aphrodisiacs, masturbation, fantasies, voyeurism-ish, attempted confessions, actual confessions, kissing, touching, hand jobs, affection, sweetness, cuddling.

Words: 4.6k

--

The door burst open with a crash, almost rattling off its hinges in his haste, in his salacious wrath and desperation. Edward closed it just as aggressively, feeling the surface of his skin itch, feeling his breath pull in with heavy, heady gulps that had his chest straining at the seams. Sweat poured from him, in a way the ghoul didn’t even know it could, with his ruined skin. 

Is it happening? Is it… working?

He hoped so. 

After the hell he just went through? The embarrassment of the overwhelming heat that was encasing him, the labor of his breaths, the haze in his expression. Normally, he’s cool as can be, smooth, stoic, even, but he was gasping, shaking, and more so than that, he was tenting out the front of his cargo pants to the point of blunt obviousness. 

The symptoms don’t matter. He told himself, as the memory of Sole's baffled expression flashed in his foggy mind. As long as it works, none of it matters at all. 

They’ll see him, for the first time, he hoped, Sole would see what he was before he was… this. 

Edward didn’t like to wave his own flag too vigorously, no, he wasn’t a vain man, but he had been… maybe handsome was too strong a word, but he hadn’t been this, that’s for certain. Jack had reminded him time and time again, that he had been more attractive back before his ghoulification, but now he was more intimidating. It made his job of protecting the family and occasionally threatening people a bit easier, they both agreed on that account. 

When it came to Sole though… he wasn't sure he wanted to be intimidating. 

He didn’t know what he was doing, trying to get wrapped up with a pre-war widow(er) like them, but logic had nothing to do with this shit. Before them, he hadn’t cared, hadn’t minded the way he looked, hadn’t minded his solitude, his loyalty to this family and lack of contact with anyone outside of it. Edward had always promised not to dabble in Jack’s serums, no matter what outcomes they promised, but when it came to Sole, when it came to being… acceptable by their standards, he’d thought this was a good idea, thought it could make him… well, desirable was another strong word for him to use, but he at least hoped they could see him as something more than Jack Cabot’s bodyguard. 

Edward growled as he tugged his hat from his head, throwing it to the worn, wooden floor below. His room was dark, musty, and consisted of nothing more than a weapon’s trunk, a dresser and a single bed on the far side of the little room. He cast bits of armor and clothing over the whole of the floor as he moved towards that shoddy mattress, hearing it squeak and protest as he laid back on it and tugged at the stiff fabric of his cargo pants. His underwear followed shortly after, both being kicked to the base of the bed as he spread himself out on it. 

He felt he could crawl out of his own skin, hell maybe he wanted that. Maybe the transformation was happening now, but… goddamn, why was he so hard? Why was his mind so... stuck?

It’s true, he was usually thinking of Sole these days, but never this… disrespectfully. That curious expression of theirs as he excused himself from their and Jack’s meeting, the way their eyes had followed him out, the concern he saw there, right at the end. Oh, but how he craved their attention, even when it worried for him. 

He imagined the sort of expressions they’d make if he had his hands on them now, if he could’ve stayed, thrown Jack out of the dining room instead of leaving himself. He could take them over the table, lying down the dining mats to keep the wood from harshly bruising their soft skin as his hands moved over their body, as he laid overtop them, pressing them into the oaken hardness until they were arching against it, setting his mouth on them, his lack of lips, his hot tongue, hearing them gasp, feeling them grow needy beneath his worshipful touch. 

Edward’s breaths left him in pants now, very nearly moans as he found his dry, rough hand moving over his rigid, drooling cock. 

What the hell?

He hadn’t even realized he’d grabbed ahold of himself, he’d been so wrapped up in his fantasy. Already, the sensitive skin around his shaft burned with the ungentle friction of his hand, but… he couldn’t stop himself, no matter how he tried to use logic, tried to think about the pain his thrusting palm was causing him, it was even more painful to consider pulling away, to leave himself stiff and wanting. 

It was impossible, too, not to think of Sole. As much as it made him feel dirty, it made his teeth grit and his chest ache, there was nothing else in Edward’s head. No thoughts beyond them. He had no past, no present, no Cabot issues, no frustrations beyond the need to be near to Sole, the want to feel them in his arms, the gripping, dizzying necessity of feeling their warmth all around him, caressing, encasing his cock. 

It was shallow, it was rude, it was creepy, but fuck… it felt too good. 

He kept imaging it, in details like brushstrokes of a world-famous masterpiece, he saw the light in their eyes, the way their hair spread like a crown around their head, splendid and mussed from his attentions, the glisten of their spit on their lips, of his spit mingling there from their recent kisses, that vein bulging in their neck from the strain of holding back, from the greatness of the pleasure he brought them. 

“Sole, holy shit…” Edward rasped through gritted teeth, hearing the slap of skin as his hand moved rapidly over his erection, hitting the base of him with such force it had him flinching and bucking into his touch in the same movement. 

“Wish you were here.” He growled out, his voice a dry husk, breathless and scratchy. 

If they were here though, is this really what they’d want to be seeing? Want to be doing... with him?

Probably not. Edward’s mind tried to reason. Still though, shit doesn’t stop me from wanting it. Needing it. 

What the hell was in that serum? 

 The ghoul felt his cock might burst into flames with the increasing friction of his hand. He felt the foreskin catching at his textured palms, his calloused fingers, he felt pre-cum drooling down steadily, slicking what little it could as his hand tugged and bullied himself until tears sprung to the corners of his pale, bloodshot eyes. 

Sweat poured in rivers down the grooves of his flesh, unchanged, unsmoothed and still just as ghoulish as it’d been yesterday and a hundred years before that. 

If it doesn’t heal me… what will this serum do?

It was all his mind could afford to think. In short sentences, simple collections of words, as the bulk of his focus remained on Sole. Their face in the throes of pleasure, the imagined feel of them all around him. Their sweet scent, gritty but old-fashioned, somewhere between the adventures of the Commonwealth and home. The way their nails would scrape at his skin, the way they’d breathe his name, the way they’d seek him out, their eyes, their lips, their affections, all for him... In this ideal, fictional headspace of his. 

Still though, Edward's imagination had his body frantically catching up, growing closer and closer to his release as he painted the image in his mind of what they’d look like in the midst of their own climactic end, brought about by his hand. The way they’d cry his name, grip tightly to his cock, pull him further into their desperate grasp as they shuddered below his frame– it was so real, his imagining of it all, that Edward went tumbling over the edge right along with them. 

The ghoul couldn’t help the gasps leaving him, the moans that he begged the drywall not to allow to pass through, just in case Sole’s meeting was over now, in case Jack came to check on him, in case the house was silent, but for him. It was no use pleading with the house though, not when his voice was so stubborn. 

Not when his imagination decided to materialize something beyond his comprehension– beyond his wildest fears. 

“Shit… Ed– I’m sorry, I should-- yeah, I'll just...”

Sole’s voice was so quiet, like it was entering his ears from another dimension; distant, like melodies from a neighbor’s radio across the street. 

He almost didn’t react to their presence at all. 

Almost. 

No true words left the ghoul, then, as he frantically pulled the scratchy blanket over his lap on the mattress. It did little to cover the way his erection still stood, stiff and stubborn, tenting the fabric as he moved to conceal it and as much else of him as he possibly could in such haste. 

Edward allowed himself one clear of his throat, before he began apologizing, explaining his actions away, pleading their forgiveness, questioning if they saw anything– all at once in a strange amalgamation of nonsense that even he scratched his head at. 

“S-sorry. Not– This isn’t– You should probably– Ah, shit, Sole…” He ended with a defeated shake of his head, feeling embarrassment of two separate types heating his ears and cheeks with each passing moment they spent looking over at him. First, was the shame of this person that he loved and admired seeing him utterly debased and wretched in his dark little room, with their name on his tongue as he did it. Second… Well, the shame that he’d tried to change himself for them, without even knowing if they were interested at all, that he’d been so desperate as to do this to himself, rather than simply be honest with them. 

Two hundred years of protecting an ancient, powerful family from all manners of incomprehensible harm, and he was still a coward. Afraid of his own feelings, afraid of rejection, afraid of his own damn skin. 

“Are you…” Their gentle voice snapped him out of his mental anguish, “I just wanted to come and check on you. After you ran out on the meeting, well… It looked like you were gonna be sick or something. I wanted to make sure you’re okay.” 

Edward gulped, audibly and visually, and felt another wave of heat threaten to consume him, his cock jerking angrily below the blanket as a chill ran up his spine. 

Knock it off. His command to his body became more of a plea as he felt the serum bubbling up in his veins once again. 

“Wish you hadn’t seen this, Sole.” 

They didn’t leave, didn’t cringe or cry out or laugh at him, not when they first saw him, and not now. No, instead, Sole reached around and closed the door with a click behind them as they stepped into the dim little room, and made their way to sit on the far edge of his bed. 

“Are you alright?” Their bright eyes stayed locked to his, “What happened, Edward?”

His name on their lips was like a firebrand to his heart, setting it aglow with new, resounding affection that made his fingers twitch and his teeth grit together. 

“The serum…” He managed out, “Thought I could take some. See what happens, see if…” 

Edward’s own gasp interrupted him, as his body carried on with its basal needs without his consent. His fists clenched until his knuckles ached, until he felt the blood flow from his wrists halt in its tracks. 

“That’s what did this to you?” Sole blinked at him, their eyes remaining respectfully on his face as his body reacted to their voice, their proximity, the continuing effects of that damned serum.  Still though, even with all their unflappable respect for him, Edward could see they way their fingers fidgeted, the way their face seemed to heat, the way they so stubbornly made sure to keep their gaze on his face, and as far from his lap as they could without being overtly obvious.

"Jack said that he was experimenting a bit with the serums, but this is... Well..."

Sole cleared their throat as Edward mentally kicked himself.

Should've checked with the boss before trying this shit out on myself.

Idiot.

They must've seen the way he chastised himself within, for in the next moment, Sole scooted themself closer, and put a hand on his covered knee.

"I don't know if it's any of my business, really, but... Why did you take it?"

None of their business..? Edward could've laughed aloud at that. If only they knew.

"Thought it could help." He said vaguely, his voice still strained, his breath still more rapid than it had any right to be.

The place where their hand laid over his knee, even with the bed sheet keeping their skin from his, zapped life-giving defibrillations all throughout his body. It charged the blood in his veins, collected in pockets of heat in his chest, the base of his spine, the back of his head, between his legs, imprisoning the words in his head that he fought to pull out through his mouth. He wanted to tell them the truth, felt he needed to now, that they deserved to hear it, but his body demanded more. It wanted to act on his debased musings and pull Sole into his arms right now, to set his hungry mouth upon them, to tell them, not with his voice, but with the grip of his hands, the aching need of his heavy breaths, to show them, in favor of messily prying the words from his throat.

Can't do that. His true self told his body firmly, as many times as it could, to keep his hands in place on the mattress, to keep his eyes on the wall, rather than sweeping over their vault-suit clad body.

If I give myself an inch, I may not be able to stop.

That terrified him more than any other effect the serum could have on him. It scared him and made his mind and body tremble like the thought of becoming feral.

"Help what?" Sole prompted with a gentle whisper, and he could taste their breath as it washed over him. Jack's dessert coffee. Chocolate bon bons. Those sweet, frozen cherries the family has managed to keep all these years.

Edward's mouth watered.

"Edward?"

He must've been silent longer than he realized, but finally, the ghoul was able to blink, to take in a breath and hold it there, rather than panting it back out straightaway like a dog.

Maybe it's wearing off?

He could only hope.

Yet... The persisting aching firmness of his cock, the sweat collecting at the base of his back and along his chest, under his arms, it all told a different story.

"Sorry," He all but choked out the word. "I... It was for you."

Forcibly, he took the chance and set his gaze upon their face, trying to keep his body under his firm control as he took in their reaction.

"M-me? How... Why?"

Why? He let out a dry chuckle. That's a dangerous question to ask if you want to be out of here before dawn.

"Wanted to be better. Wanted to change so you could... So we..." A forceful shudder ran through his body, stilling his tongue, forcing his muscles to clench until they knotted, making his hips buck up off of the mattress until Sole was forced to pull their hand away.

"Shit--" His voice was back to a growl: low, intense, and charged with carnal desire he only dreamed he could keep at bay. "Have to leave, Sole. It's coming back."

"W-what is?" They stayed firmly, infuriatingly, next to him on the bed, their voice concerned, but also... something else.

"Edward," He felt his cock pulse and drool below the sheet at the way his name left them. "Tell me how to help you. I want to help."

"No." The ghoul shook his head, even as it fell backwards, slamming into the wall behind him as his body writhed and demanded attention.

"Please."

Fuck. He thought, his head still shaking in denial. Don't say that.

"It hurts me to see you like this. Especially if I had something to do with it."

Everything to do with it, more like.

"T-touch me."

It left him before Edward had a chance to reign it in, before his consciousness could plead with this serum-induced need of his and tell him to be patient, to speak to Sole, to tell them the whole truth, to take things slow, to make it last.

To his surprise though, instead of being offended, of scoffing and walking away, of looking disgusted or scared at his request, Sole, at last, let their eyes trail down his body. They even smiled as they bit their bottom lip, and moved their hands out towards him.

Without thinking, Edward leaned forward and into their touch, letting their palms press to the rough hills and valleys of his frame, letting them slide over his bare, glistening chest until one moved up to his face, and pulled him into a surprisingly lustful kiss.

Their passion rivalled his own, even, as they crawled almost on top of him, as their fingers thirsted for more area to touch, as they tilted their head and set their soft, warm lips upon his with vigor, kneading over his own marred mouth like his tongue held the key to their survival. It seemed theirs really did, in his case. His body needed them-- their touch-- like life needs water, needs air, needs sunshine, like a heart needs blood and a mind needs a thought. These feelings, the sensations they inspired, were a direct product of his being, but also the very reason he seemed to exist.

Edward finally gave permission for his own hands to set upon them in turn; though, he held back the force that the serum screamed to take them with. Stiffly, his palms caressed their waist, the jut of their hips, the small of their back, up to the base of their neck. He touched them like he was meant to cover them in it, like he was stained with paint meant to encase their entire being. Edward let himself kiss them, too, with the fervor this heat within him demanded. Let himself commit the shape of their lips and the sweet taste of them to his memory.

In case I never get the chance again.

He wasn't sure he'd blame them, if that was the case, but... at this point, there were many signs that pointed to something he hadn't considered.

Do they... Have they wanted me too? All this time?

Edward wished he could ask, but thoughts were like rising steam, and he wasn't able to grasp onto a single one and form it to words. Especially as Sole's hands travelled over him, as their lips left his and they moved their body downwards, adjusting so they could pull the sheet from overtop his bare form.

They did it slowly, their eyes asking before their voice could: 'Is this okay?'

He nodded to them, breathless, with his hands still firmly set upon their body, and they slid the scratchy blanket off him and to the unoccupied side of the mattress.

Sole barely took a pause, their eyes looking him over with just enough time for him to doubt their attraction-- no, their tolerance-- to and of his appearance. But then their hands were moving again, one sliding to the back of his neck, urging him back to their beckoning lips, while the other grazed over the head of his weeping cock, and took it in-hand.

"I've wanted this too, you know." Sole whispered into him, their hand moving slowly but firmly along the stiffness of his shaft, building that ever-growing heat in him to the point of pain.

Edward's mind was so addled, so distracted by their blinding touch, that he almost didn't hear what they'd just confessed. His eyes blinked open, his grip tightened unwittingly on their body as his expression pleaded 'tell me again.'

"You don't have to change a thing, Edward." Their thumb circled over the overly sensitive slit in his cock, and he pulled a hissing breath in between his teeth. "I want you just the way you are now."

Sole leaned in again, and he pressed forward more firmly than intended, thanking them with actions rather than the words he couldn't seem to muster in his current state. He moaned into the kiss, even, as their hand continued its relentless stroking, as it circled and tugged at his skin in a way more delectable than he ever seemed to master, than he ever thought was even possible.

But maybe that was because it was Sole's hand that was doing it.

They tried to pull away, to take in a much needed breath, and Edward couldn't help himself, couldn't pry his phantom lips away from their skin. He set them upon their cheek, down to their jaw, feeling the way their muscles clenched there in response, the way they shuddered when his rough lips journeyed to their sensitive neck.

Edward could feel everything.

He wasn't sure if it was the serum, or just the way his mind and heart clung to this contact-- to the fact that he was really here, doing this with Sole, with the man/woman of his dreams and most profound desires-- but he could feel every raise of a goosebump on their skin, feel their pulse thundering in their veins, could taste the essence of their being in their scent, on their flesh.

Their whole story: living before the war, the soap they'd used all those years ago, the cream they'd rubbed into their skin, and then their years locked away in their frozen prison, the hint of ice, of coolness they radiated from those long years, the ache of their great sadness, the strain of their muscles for undergoing that horrendous trauma. It was all there, beneath the touch of his lips, caressed by the heat of his breath. Edward cherished every bit of it, loved them for their scars, the same way they cared for him in spite of his own.

He didn't know why he didn't let himself see if before, didn't let himself believe it was true, but they really were a fine match.

Him and Sole... they understood each other. He knew their experiences better than any born and raised wastelander could, knew their struggles more intimately than the Cabot family ever could... and Sole knew of his own suffering more than any other human ever could.

Why'd I have to turn to extremes so soon? Risk fucking this up...

It was the only question-- the only thought-- he could stand to formulate as of now, as their grip squeezed over him, as their stiff fingers wrung his pleasure from his core out to the surface. Edward felt it building, felt the swell, the rhythm of his bucking hips grow fevered and desperate, and he felt their smile, even, before he glanced up to see it.

It was a focused sort of grin, their brows were drawn, their pupils blown wide and dark and wanting in a way that he thought it might just be his own reflection shining in them.

How could Sole look this way, for a man like me? A man, that isn't even--

The ghoul didn't have time to finish that thought, not as their thumb swiped over his tip again, as their other hand went down to join the first, massaging and kneading over his aching, burning, destitute hardness until he was holding back cries.

The meat of his wrist fit between clenching teeth, his forehead pressed to the hardness of Sole's collarbone as he leaned into the contact, aching and screaming for more with everything apart from his voice.

If Jack heard, or Wilhelmina...

If he hadn't been so occupied, he might've shuddered at the thought.

But this? Letting go, being vulnerable, allowing himself pleasure, a moment that was truly private between him and Sole? Anything was worth that. He'd lose his job, his room here, his name, his life, if it meant he could do this, see this, feel this again, with Sole by his side, in his arms, touching him this way.

He half wondered if he'd passed out in his bed after the last bout of pleasure, if he'd fallen asleep and the serum inspired the sweetest dream there was.

Sole's voice though, the feel of them, the way their scent and being surrounded him in every way... it couldn't be the case. It was sweeter than he believed reality could be, especially these days, but damnit, there was no doubt in his head that it was real.

"Let go, Edward."

Their voice was pleading with him, their hands pulling him along, never ceasing, as they brought him straight into that all-encompassing bliss. He couldn't hold back now, not at his climax, and Edward's head flew back, his muscles straining, his mouth falling open to release the most animalistic of sounds: a groan from the very base of him that had Sole writhing and gasping right along with him.

I made him sound like that. Their touch cried out as their hands squeezed and clenched until his essence was spilling out onto his clenching stomach, pouring down over their fingers and soiling the bedsheets below.

"Yes." Sole breathed, and he felt another shudder jolt through him, another spurt of seed from his pulsing cock. "That's it, hon. Let go for me."

Tears were collecting at the sides of Edward's eyes, his relief and euphoric release leaving him in trembles and heavy breaths.

It took a few moments, took the last of his pleasure to bleed out, and then Edward was back on earth, back in his room, back in this skin once more.

Sole pulled their touch from his over-sensitive cock, wiping their soiled hands carefully on the bedsheet before lying down beside him and resting their head on his shoulder. A cool hand smoothed its way over his body, making a home over his sweltering, still-heaving chest as Sole clung to him.

The serum hadn't quite worked, not the way Edward had intended it to, but... It really had worked though, hadn't it? Not the way he imagined, sure, but the end result was... close enough.

He didn't even realize it, not until his cheeks began to ache, but he was smiling, grinning toothily like a fool in love, as Sole rested against him, as he wound his arms around their form, holding them close, savoring every ounce of the person who accepted him, who didn't turn him away, who cared for him... as he was.

"Thank you." He rasped, sliding his hands over them as soothingly as he could manage.

Sole only hummed, a sweet, happy sound, and he felt the vibration of it throughout his body as they lay against him.

He felt at peace, then. He felt warm, he felt sated and valued and more content than he could ever recall before, and yet... A familiar sort of churning, a boiling sensation rose from deep inside him. His muscles twitched and his tired member gave a rousing pulse between his legs.

Edward could only swallow and do the ghoul equivalent of blushing, as Sole's wide eyes peeked up at him with one eyebrow quirked in question. Though, as he looked down at them-- in a coy, apologetic sort of way-- they still wore that fond, fiendish smile.

The night wasn't over just yet.

[strawberryfairi]

Synopsis🌹: After discovering a strange yet alluring red book in a boutique bookstore, you find yourself sucked into a strange world, where all of your inner most desires exist…

Pairings: Wakasa Imaushi X Musician! Black Fem 🤎 Reader (ANYONE CAN READ🧚🏾‍♀️)  Content: Author AU, scifi, Musician! reader, reader is a talented nerd, smutty romance, tiny doses of angst, adventure, futuristic city, magic?, !!sexual tension!!, etc (just find out the rest, lol)

w.c: 1.2k💠 Released: October 2

Previous | Next | Chapters Masterlist

A/N🧚🏾‍♀️: Stop it's chapter freaking 1 on October 2nd! I'm beyond excited about this story so I really hope you guys enjoy it too! I'm getting heavy in my world building bag with this one y'all💅🏾👩🏾‍🍳

C.W:  None

𝟏 || 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤

(Red Book of Desires Theme: Victory - Lost Traveler )

It's not often you come into a bookstore, but when you do, it's usually when you're on a mission for a specific book you'd like to purchase.

Not today though.

It's a sunny day, the weekend, and everyone's out to enjoy the summer breeze during the early afternoon. You'd just taken yourself out for brunch, and it seemed like a sin to go and head straight back home when the day looks like something out of a movie.

Not a cloud in sight, the sky a vibrant blue, summer flowers are fully in bloom, and friends and families are all walking around perusing through shops or utilizing a restaurant's outside seating.

So voila, you decide to stroll through this quaint, old style looking bookstore. It's a boutique, nestled right inbetween Tony's Brick Oven Pizza Place and a vinyl record store. It's such a cute atmosphere.

The door chimes as you walk in, and the smell of books instantly greets your nose. Shiny, dark wood shelves hold a plethora of vintage stories from Dostoyevsky to Baltasar Gracián, along with newer selections as well. Each section labeled by the genre.

With a slender finger you graze it gingerly along the hard spines of each book, waltzing through the isles pretending to be a princess in her grandiose atheneaum.

"What's this...?" You whisper to yourself, pausing as your finger rests on a bright red book.

It's particularly vibrant compared to the other books on this shelf; and seemingly newer looking.

"There's no title on the spine..." You notice, your brow raising curiously.

With a low "Hmph..." and a tilt of your head, you pluck the book from its home on the shelf, and run your hand across the blank cover.

As your fingers brush the book, royal purple cursive lettering begins to appear like magic, revealing the title. But there's no author.

"The book of desires; by no one." You mumble, and for a moment you look both ways down the isle, hoping this wasn't some kind of wild sex positions book or something.

Biting your lower lip you can't help but look and see what it's about, turning over the cover and searching for a hopefully interesting synopsis.

Instantly your brows furrow. Each page is completely blank. Just pure white paper with a red cover and purple titling. "This book ain't 'bout shit. Is this a journal..?" You question out loud.

"Careful with that." A male voice says from behind, making you nearly jump out of your skin.

"Oh! You scared me." You chuckle awkwardly, abruptly closing the book as you turn to see the face that matches the voice. You figure they must mean for you to be careful since it's potentially an old book, and could probably fall apart at any moment.

"I didn't mean to touch—" You start, but the man waves you off with a knowing smile.

"No one ever does..." He steps closer, his eyes never leaving the book. "That one's been waiting a long time for someone to pick it up again. Looks like today's it's lucky day." He adds with an inviting smile.

You glance back at the book. It's strange how drawn you seem to feel towards it. "Do you know what it's about?" You ask, voice quiet, as though speaking too loudly might somehow break the connection.

The man shrugs. "It's different for everyone. It shows you exactly what you desire most; even if you don't know what that is." Then his smile widens just a fraction as he says,

"It's not always what you expect, though."

You frown, unsure if the man is messing with you or not. To be honest, wether it's true or not, this man is doing a damn good job at selling you this book though, that's for sure. You look down at the mysterious book, watching the title reappear as your fingers slide over the red cover. A strange warmth spreads through you, and you feel a sudden rush of excitement, or maybe it's more of a curiosity, and something else... It's like a deep, unspoken yearning.

"How much is it?" You ask softly.

The man chuckles softly. "For you? It's free. Consider it a friendly gift."

Your eyes widen as you hesitate, but then, before you can begin to protest, you decide to just thank him.  "Oh, that's so kind of you! You didn't have to-

You cut yourself off as a sudden, abrupt shiver runs down your spine, and for a brief second, the world around you seems to flicker. You blink reflexively, but everything is already normal again before you could even process what you actually saw. The bookstore, the red book that is now yours, the dark wood shelves. Everything's still there.

"Enjoy." The man says from behind you. Yet as you whip around, he's nowhere to be seen.

Back in your little apartment, you sit on your cozy bed, staring at the new book. The sun has long set, and the LED lights you have lining the upper part of your ceiling glow a soft orange-yellow hue, the perfect ambience.

You flip the book open to the first page. There are no author's notes, no table of contents, no nothing. Just a single line that slowly appears, written in elegant, looping script:

"𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒹𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝑒𝓈𝒾𝓇𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝓈𝓉?"

You furrow your brows, feeling a strange, intensely magnetic pull. It's silly, really. You don't believe in magic or anything like that, but the question the book asks you lingers deep in your mind. As if it's engraving itself there.

What do I desire most?

Success, obviously. You've been working so hard to make it in the music industry, writing songs, performing at small venues, sending out demo after demo, reaching out to producers and other artists further than you in the industry, and getting nothing but rejections in return. You want to be heard, to have people love your music, to finally feel like all your hard work has paid off. Has been worth something.

But there's something else, too. Something deeper. A part of you that's always been restless, yearning for something more since childhood. The excitement of a true adventure, probably. Or love. Things like the movies that've shaped you into the starry eyed, hopeless romantic dreamer you always have been. Peter Pan, The Goonies, Who Framed Roger Rabbit to name a few. Then with romance...

You've never really had the time for romance after graduating college. Not with everything you've been focusing on. Then honestly, when you think about it, you just aren't in the mood. Not for another mediocre experience people nowadays love to call "romance" and "a relationship". But sometimes you do dream of it—of passion, of something wild and exciting, of a life that's more than just struggling to get by and toughing and "thugging" it out one disappointment after the other. Telling yourself one day it'll all work out when in the moment you couldn't be any more lost and unsatisfied.

That's the word right there, unsatisfied.

You shake your head, letting out a small "tch" at the way this one sentence had really gone and thrown you into an abyss of depressing introspection. It's stupid, but still, you want to read more.

With a dramatic sigh, bracing yourself for the next simple yet wildly cryptic question, you flip to the next page. And then—

Darkness.

[neoninky]

My phone has been blowing up all day with likes and reblogs on this spur of the moment joke post I made yesterday and honestly, it blows my mind and also amuses me to no end. Tumblr has informed me that, no doubt greatly due to the influx of activity on said post: I have achieved 1000 likes AND 100 reblogs...DAYUM. I'm finishing up a bigger, non-TWST related piece of art but today was one of those days and I wanted to pause and just do something to make myself - and hopefully others - laugh. So in honor of the mentioned post and everyone who has enjoyed it, behold:

My very first Twisted Wonderland fanart sort of and it's this lolololol congrats to Malleus Draconia for being the first TWST character I've ever drawn again sort of lol I'd like to think that instead of an actual Yuusona being isekai'd into the world of Twisted Wonderland, this is an AU where my Inky Bun mascot exists in Twisted Wonderland as a psuedo-magical rabbit creature. Somehow she ended up at Night Raven and the minute she did, Crowley saw an opportunity to potentially quell his rowdy students and keep them from going into a frenzy every five minutes...clearly it's going super well LOL. Thus the Therapy Rabbit AU is born. Also in this AU, she has Sora/Kingdom Hearts magic where her color and outfit change depending on which dorm she is currently visiting. So here in the picture above, we have a very terrified Diasomnia!Inky Bun godspeed bunbun Tagging my moots and others that have enjoyed my posts before cuz hi I hope y'all are well lol: @wysteriadelights @nuitthegoddess @iscarlettappel @aiimee9 @foxwitchaine @feldya @yunaemiya @1ndigowitch @victoria1676 @zstargalaxy

[juletheghoul]

Bravo, Dieter.

Authors note: I'm just as surprised to be here as you are. We're starting the year off with a bang, writing for a character I've only ever done half a drabble of lol, hopefully you enjoy what I came up with. As always, thank you @wheresarizona for beta-ing and letting me exorcise my demons through you. Shoutout to @frannyzooey for her unending support, and to my literal wife @foli-vora for screaming reassurances at me (affectionately) Love y'all!

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: a sprinkle of angst (Dieter is a dummy- no specifics, I left whatever dumb comment he said up to your interpretation), 18+ no minors, piv sex, dirty talk, feelings? let me know if I missed any!

Masterlist

-----

There were twelve of them, twelve absolutely perfect roses wrapped up in expensive-looking brown paper, and they made you sigh. There was only one person who could have sent them. 

Goddamn it, Dieter.

There was a card tucked between the blood-red blooms, three little words.

“Text me back.♥️”

Your blood boiled, fizzled, and cracked under the strength of your annoyance, and without giving it much thought, you marched right over to the garbage can and shoved everything in, vowing silently to put it out of your mind. 

Three days passed before the second, bigger bouquet arrived at your door—more roses, bigger and somehow more lush than the first bouquet. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. Please talk to me. ♥️♥️♥️”

They went into the trash with a roll of your eyes, ignoring the slight flicker of guilt at the waste of such beautiful flowers. Still, the memory of his words came back into the forefront of your mind, compounding the sentiment that they had no place amongst your things. 

Two days later, another gorgeous arrangement sat on your kitchen counter, this time an array of different colours and textures; a work of art. 

“Nothing in this world feels like you. Let’s kiss.♥️”

Your eyes close, and you can feel him, feel the way his mouth moved against yours, how he’d kiss you until you dripped for him. How sweetly his tongue moved against yours, against your nipple, between your legs. The flowers were on the receiving end of the daggers in your eyes for him, but they stayed on the counter. 

The fourth bouquet was the epitome of excess. 

It was massive, almost too heavy, and it was only with sheer determination that you managed to heave it onto the counter. A storm of white blooms contained within a surprisingly tasteful black vessel. Orchids, roses–peonies that were almost fluffy, a baby’s breath halo. 

“I miss how wet your pussy gets for me.♥️” 

A gasp. A widening of your eyes and more memories of the times he pulled you apart in your bedroom, in his. 

Your fingers fly across the keys on your phone. 

[you] Dieter, enough. 

[D] I knew that last note would get you.

[you] Stop sending me fucking flowers.

[D] Forgive me. I miss you, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.

You chewed on your lip, anger burning white hot in your gut that he managed to get you speaking to him once again. It was in you to turn off your phone and head out, grab a drink with some friends, or indulge in some retail therapy, but you didn’t. You wouldn’t. Truth was, you missed him too, missed whatever arrangement you’d both somehow found yourselves in after one too many flirty comments, one too many lonely nights. 

[you] it seemed like you did. You really hurt my feelings, and I don’t want to deal with it if that’s how it’s going to be. 

You stared at your phone, wondering whether you truly preferred cutting all ties. 

[D] I know, I really am sorry–let me come over. We can talk about it, and I can apologize in person. 

You hesitated, knowing full well what would happen if you let him in. 

[you] just to talk…? 

[D] Yes, just to talk…be there in 20 mins?

[you] Fine. 

[D] see you soon xo

You rushed to your bathroom, ignoring the excitement and arousal burning in your belly as you jumped into the shower. 

All too soon, there’s a knock at the door, and it’s almost irritating how fast you move to answer it.

“Hi, babe.” He’s leaning against the doorframe with a cheeky little smile, and you long to smack it off his face; he must see it because the smile vanishes and is replaced with a boyish frown. 

A cat caught with the canary. 

“Don’t ‘babe’ me, Dieter.” You move to let him in, and the smell of his body wash makes you salivate.

You ignore it.

“Look, I know it was a stupid thing to say. I don’t even know why I said it. I didn’t mean it at all—can we please just forget it happened?” His voice is velvet, his shoulders are so broad, and it’s not lost on you that he’s wearing a baggy pair of sweats with an even baggier sweatshirt. The outline of his cock a calculated taunt.

You cross your arms and turn away. 

“It was mean. So fucking mean, and it made me feel horrible.” Your voice comes out smaller than you mean it to, a true glimpse into how hurt you were. You feel his broadness behind you. 

“I know, it was so stupid, I’m stupid sometimes—I regretted it as I was saying it. I didn’t mean it at all.” His big hands skate across your shoulders, slowly turning you to face him. “Can you forgive me?” He’s staring at your mouth, and you almost pant. He’s so close, he smells so fucking good, and every molecule of your being screams at you to just give in. 

He senses it.

His hands slide down your sides, grabbing onto your hips softly as he pulls you ever closer. His head dips, and he plants a soft kiss on your neck. The sigh you let out fills the dwindling space between you, involuntary. Just like the way your head moves almost imperceptibly to the side to give him more access, he doesn’t disappoint.

“Forgive me?” He kisses your jaw, moving up towards your ear. “I missed you so much.” He bites your earlobe while his hands move to grab at your ass. “Did you miss me?” He moves to the other side, repeating the same circuit before he looks you in the eye.

Your slightly parted lips and glazed-over expression are all the confirmation he needs to know he’s been forgiven. 

He presses his lips to yours softly, so soft it almost tickles, and he swallows the small whimper it pulls out from your throat. 

He presses himself closer still, the wall of his chest pressed up against you tight. His kiss turns from something soft to all-consuming, something breathless.

“I thought-“ he moves to kiss your neck again. “-you only came to talk.” Your hands move without your permission, fingers threading through the wild locks of his hair. 

“We did talk.” His tongue is in your mouth now, and it tastes like the gum he always chews, minty and sweet. “I wanna kiss now.” He devours you again as his hand creeps up your shirt, and now the cup of your bra is being pulled down. His tongue moves against yours while his fingers pluck at your nipple.

You moan, and it spurs him on, his cock hard against your hip, and suddenly you're herded towards the bedroom, only stopping every so often en route for him to press you against a wall or door. His hands are always moving, always grabbing and palming. 

You land in your bed with a soft gasp, but he doesn’t let you land alone; he’s right there with you. The look of triumph shining out through his dark eyes, lidded with the same passion that presses against your core when he slots his hips in the cradle of your thighs. A soft hum from him, a panted breath from you, and the whisper of skin moving against the now-rumpled sheets of your bed are the soundtrack to your reunion. 

He pulls away, and you chase his mouth, any anger left overtaken by lust. He laughs low, not unkindly, moving to kneel between your legs as you stretch out before him. His eyes follow the movement of your body, plotting how he’ll devour you.

He smiles as he divests you of your layers, unwrapping you like a present, and as they come off, your arousal burns brighter, pools at your opening like a spring just for him. 

“Admit it-you missed me.” He’s almost breathless, his fingers curl around the waistband of your panties. 

“Obviously.” You grit out the word, raising your hips to help him, and he lets out a bark of laughter. “I don’t need your smugness, mister.” You reach up to pull his shirt up and off, and he lets you. The broadness of his shoulders, and the golden skin on display, almost makes you sigh.

“I like that you missed me-“ he lifts your leg by your knee and the flash of his rings catches your eye before he places a soft kiss on your calf. “-makes me hard as a fucking rock.” He wasn’t lying; you could see the proof of it tenting the front of his sweats.

“Show me how much you like it.” You match his tone, reaching up to run your fingers down his belly, through the little patch of hair, and further down until you tease at his waistband.

“Pull me out.” His words send a thrill through you, and you rush to comply, relishing the look on his face when you finally wrap your hand around the heft of him. His low moan goes straight to your cunt when you rub your thumb through the pearl of his own arousal, giving him a quick stroke before he pulls his sweats down and off. 

His cock bobs in front, resting against your wet center when he gets back into position, hot and heavy, and by the way your heart is pounding, he can surely feel it even there-all for him. He spreads your legs open and up, bending them at the knees and holding them tight to your chest with his big hands on your shins. 

“God, you’re so fucking wet. I bet I could just slip right in, wouldn’t even need my hands.” He rocks himself back and forth slowly, coating himself in your liquid heat, his eyes glued to your cunt. You writhe, whining with frustration. He lets out a tsk, drunk on his ability to get you into this state. One of his hands moves, and then his thumb is circling your perky little clit, dizzying circles, while his cock rests just at the mouth of your pussy, the thickness of him opening you up like a flower. He leans forward slightly, letting his spit drip down where his thumb is, and it’s like you're drowning in him. 

Your hands pluck at your nipples as the circling of his thumb pushes you closer and closer towards nirvana.

“God, yes, play with your tits.” He swirls his thumb faster, the glide of it just right—and then you’re floating, gifting him with a filthy moan as your cunt clenches, all but pulling him inside. He doesn’t wait until your orgasm passes; he feeds himself into your fluttering entrance, and his earlier musing was correct-he slides right in. 

“Fuck.” His voice is low, the bravado gone, lost in the proverbial sauce as he coats himself in you. He speeds up quickly, unable—or unwilling to pace himself. His eyes are glazed over when he looks up at you, a gorgeous flush creeping up his chest, lighting up his cheeks and his ears. His panting breath, the wet sounds of your joining, and your gasping moans all come together to make the song that always plays whenever he’s with you. 

“I’m gonna fucking come-“ he sounds wrecked, and he is- his hips snapping faster now, the wet clutch of your cunt casts its spell on him, and within a handful of thrusts, he’s groaning, his hand leaves your shin and moves to hold himself as he comes. The first spurt of it is inside, but he pulls out and finishes on the lips of your sex, and you know this is his favourite part. 

“Oh fuckkk, there it is-“ He groans out the words, and his voice is somehow more vulgar than the act, mesmerized by the sight of your pussy covered in his come. “God, I fucking missed that.” He hisses, enduring the discomfort of overstimulation just to rub himself in his own mess. 

“I missed it too.” You’re sated, basking in the afterglow, loving the mess just as much as he does. He smiles up at you, and you ignore the way your heart pounds for him.

“I know you did.” He’s not cocky when he says it, and it makes ignoring the pounding harder than it should. His fingers collect some of his fluids and push it back in, as deep as his thick fingers can get, before popping them into his mouth, pulling an involuntary moan. “Give me a few, and then I’ll fuck you on your knees how you like.” He leans forward to lay between your legs, kissing his way up from your sternum to plant one of those toe-curling kisses on your mouth once more.

“What a gentleman.” You wrap your arms and legs around him, relishing his dimpled smile. 

“You should know-“ he frowns now, eyes darting, and you know what he’s thinking, wondering if maybe there’s a pounding he’s ignoring. 

“You’re forgiven, Dieter, it’s okay. Just stop sending me flowers.” You run your fingers through his hair; nothing else needs to be said on the matter, and for the rest of the night-there isn’t.

--------------------

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