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strang3lov3 · 1 month ago

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Downpour

Jack offers you a ride home, pulls over to wait out the storm, and fucks you. (4k)

Tags - smut, fingering, oral (f! receiving) hand jobs, unprotected piv, infidelity (Jack is married still), dirty talk, pet names (darling, sweetie, sweetheart, dear), unspecified age gap, kissing, finger sucking, bit of comeplay/come eating, reader has a bush but is otherwise undescribed #bushnation, Jack is all sweet and tender but kinda pervy too, i've headcannoned that mr. delroy is a man who comes a lot. like just so much come. references to late night with the devil but this fic can be understood without watching the movie, I write car sex uniquely in that I am not bound by physics or logic or any bullshit like that. So it’s like a Mary Poppins bag in there. Lots of room for fucking. No, don’t ask questions. Shhh. Don’t worry about it. Fic Help - @noxturnalpascal thanks for your help sweetheart ♡ i love you forever A/N - the David Dastmalchian brain worms infected me months ago and have not let me rest, so here’s this. Car sex with an older and married Jack Delroy.

I feel a little nervous about writing Jack, as I feel with all characters that are new to me. It takes me some time to find my groove. Kind comments would be appreciated 💕 maybe a prompt or two in the inbox for me to play around with if you wanna see more of him 🙏

As Night Owls comes to a close for the evening, and laughter and chatter begin to fade out, you busy yourself tidying up your station. Cleaning your makeup brushes, packing away your supplies for the weekend. You watch the television in your room and see Jack waving goodbye, shaking audience members’ hands. He’s so handsome tonight. He’s handsome every night.

You’ve been working as a makeup artist on Night Owls for about a year now. It’s a job you kind of stumbled your way into. You had won a raffle ticket to watch Night Owls live show. You were so excited to go and yet you don’t even remember who the guest was that night. You went alone, and found yourself charmed by the show’s host, Jack Delroy. While on commercial break, while the television crew changed the set, you noticed Jack glancing at you as you touched up your makeup, fidgeting and tapping his foot. You offered him a kind smile, and he approached you.

“Jack Delroy,” he said, holding out his hand. You took it, and he kissed the backs of your fingertips. Starstruck, you giggled and gave him your name, tripping over the syllables. “Beautiful name, darling.”

“Thank you, Mr. Delroy.”

Jack held your hand longer than what was appropriate. Realizing this, he quickly dropped it. “So, I apologize, but I'm about to be very forward. Gosh, this is very embarrassing,” he laughed awkwardly, then scratched the back of his neck. “I get a little oily in the face. The lights, you know. You wouldn’t happen to have like, a…” he trailed off, stuttering as he tried to find the right words.

You smiled and held up a finger, then dug through your makeup bag for some Mary Kay Beauty Blotter sheets your friend had given you. “Here.” You held the pack sheets out for the handsome talk show host. “Would these help?”

Jack took the sheets from you and inspected them.

“And this,” you added, handing him your mirror compact. “You just press one of the sheets against your skin.”

Jack grinned kindly, then took one of the small sheets and pressed it on his forehead and his long, gorgeous nose. “You are a lifesaver,” he said. “There. This is much better. I’m almost as pretty as you now, huh?”

Your cheeks warmed and you looked down at your lap to hide your smile.

“Apologies, I’ve been told I'm a chronic flirt.”

“I don’t really mind,” you told him softly.

Jack pressed his lips together in a smile and nodded, then sat in the empty seat next to you. “Alright,” he said, “This is an odd question, but I’d like to toss it out there anyway because you seem to know what you’re doing with this kind of stuff. We’re short a makeup artist here at Night Owls. It’s unorthodox, I know, but you wouldn’t happen to be interested in–”

You gasp. “I’d love to. Yes.”

“--Being our makeup artist,” Jack finished, chuckling at your excitement.

“Sorry, I just - oh god, I’d really love to,” you gushed. Jack opened his mouth to speak further, but was called back to set.

“Stick around after the show, will you?” Jack winked.

“I will, Mr. Delroy.”

And that’s how it happened. The job was simple: A little powder here, moisturizer there, hairspray to seal it all off. Nothing complicated, and it paid well. Lots of perks and advantages, like meeting TV stars and music artists. You consider yourself lucky.

Perhaps your favorite part of the job is getting Jack ready for his shows. You’re no stranger to his handsomeness, but it’s special to experience it the way you do. To wash his face, moisturize it, paint a little makeup on his skin - as if he even needs it. “Make sure you cover up my crows feet, please, darling,” Jack said, pointing to his perceived flaws in the mirror. “Gosh, I’m getting so old. Don’t get old.”

“Noted,” you told him.

“And my hair, could you use a bit of that makeup to cover up my grays? They look so much worse on the screen.”

Your heart broke a little. He’s always asked you to cover his wrinkles, but covering his grays was new. You hate doing it. That’s your least favorite part of the job.

“Oh, but they don’t look so bad, Mr. Delroy.” You combed your fingers through his hair, inspecting the silvery strands he complained about. They look so beautiful against the inky black rest of his hair.

“Jack,” he corrected. “Just Jack. Who says they don’t look so bad?”

“I um…” you hummed, nervously messing with his hair. “Just fans, some of your fans kind of like it.”

“Do they, now?” Jack teased, his eyebrow cocked. He laughed at your bashfulness as you stuttered something in defense. So shy, so sweet.

Jack loves you all the same. He loves the special affection he gets from you as you get him ready each night, he loves getting to peek down your shirt. But he plays the gentlemanly act well, never going further than a little harmless flirting. It’s fun to make you squirm, tease you for your little crush on him. He’s not oblivious to it.

When the Night Owls theme finally ends and the studio lights go out, you get a phone call at your station. You hold the receiver up to your ear. “Hello?”

“It’s Shar,” the voice says. Sharon is your roommate, and also your ride to and from work most nights. She drops you off at the studio before her shift, then picks you up after the show ends each night. Tonight, however, she’s at a party. “I met this guy, and I wanna go home with him. So that means…” Sharon doesn’t finish the sentence. She sounds guilty.

“But you’re my ride, Shar,” you complain. “And they’re saying it’ll rain. What am I gonna do?”

“I promise I’m gonna make it up to you, okay? Don’t be mad. You’re not mad.”

“Sharon,” you groan.

Sharon says your name. “Just listen - he’s so fucking hot, seriously. He’s like a movie star.”

“A movie star, huh?”

“Don’t judge. Like you wouldn’t fuck Jack Delroy if you could. You know what, why don’t you ask him for a ride?” Sharon teases.

“No way, not happening. He’s married, and his wife is sick. Absolutely not.”

“Pussy.” Sharon pauses. “If you really don’t have another way home, I’ll come get you.”

“No, no. It’s fine. I can take the bus, I guess. But you owe me.”

“I do owe you,” Sharon says, “I owe you so much. I love you. Bye. Be safe.”

“You be safe,” you quip. “Condoms.”

Honestly, you’re not mad. Is it an inconvenience, sure. But Sharon works hard and deserves a nice night, and she’s right - you’d fuck your movie - television - star crush if you could too. You’ve taken the bus before, and it’s usually empty this time of night. It’ll be fine.

You grab your purse, pull your knit cardigan over your torso and walk out of the studio, down the hall, then take the elevator down to the lobby. Through light rain, you walk down the street until you’re at a bus station, then sit down on the bench. A gust of wind nearly knocks you over, causing you to shiver and pull your cardigan tighter around your body as you wait for the bus.

At least you don’t have to wait for long, though. Headlights approach, and the vehicle slows down. Except, it’s not the bus you were expecting. It’s a cerulean ‘74 Buick Electra, Jack’s car. He pulls over and leans across the seat to crank the window down. “What the hell are you doing out here?”

“Waiting for the bus,” you yell. Rain’s starting to come down harder, now, soaking your clothes. Jack makes a face and motions for you to get into his car. You wave him off, “It’s okay. It shouldn’t be much longer.”

“Nonsense! Get in the car.”

“It’s really okay, Mr. Delroy.”

Jack rolls his eyes. He gets out of his car and rounds the front of it, then takes your hand and pulls you up from the bench. “I’m not asking. I am telling you, as your boss, to get in my car.”

Jack opens the passenger door and ushers you inside, then shuts your door and gets into the driver’s seat. “It’s supposed to be the storm of the century out there, and you’re gonna let it blow you right away. Crazy girl.”

“Thank you, Mr. Delroy,” you murmur sheepishly.

Jack puts the car into first gear and takes off. “What’ve I told you about calling me Mr. Delroy? Jack, sweetie. Just Jack.”

“I’m sorry, M- Jack.”

“Too sweet for your own good, you know that? Always so polite. Where am I taking you, sweetheart?”

“It’s a little bit far. You’re just gonna take this road for a while,” you instruct. “And then I’ll tell you where to turn. I’m not in the city proper.”

“Must be nice,” Jack replies. “Quiet.”

You shrug. “Sometimes. Not usually. My roommate is kind of noisy.”

Jack chuckles. “The roommate days, gosh. I don’t miss those a bit.” He pauses, thinks of something to say to fill the silence. “You don’t usually take the bus, do you?”

“Not usually, no,” you answer. “My roommate gives me a ride most of the time. But she ditched me tonight, so…”

“That’s a real shame.”

The rain starts to pick up a little more. Jack squints and at the road and increases the speed of his windshield wipers. He tries talking to you, but you can’t hear him over the drumming of rain against his car. Thunder booms, the drumming becomes louder and the windshield is nearly impossible to see out of. Jack has slowed the car down to a crawl, but when hail begins to fall from the sky, he pulls over. He shifts his car into neutral, then pulls the emergency brake to keep the car from rolling. Jack leans in close so you can hear him, “We’re just gonna wait out the storm, okay? It’s not safe to keep driving.”

“Yeah, that seems smart,” you agree. You’re thankful Jack showed up when he did, and that he’s keeping you safe in his car. If you listen closely, you can hear the faint sound of music playing on his stereo. You still feel a little nervous, though. Maybe it’s the storm, or the jitters of being alone with Jack - older, married, handsome Jack. You shiver in your wet cardigan.

“You’re cold,” Jack says. He tugs on your sweater, “Let’s get this off of you, huh? Not gonna let you catch a cold on my watch.” He peels the sweater off of you entirely, then lays it in his backseat. “And look, watch this–” Jack presses a button on his dashboard, a little orange light glows beneath the tiny image of a seat. Within a few seconds, the leather underneath you begins to warm. “Neat, huh? That should warm you up nicely.”

You still look cold, it’s evident in the way you hold yourself. Shoulders curled inward, hands clasped together. Jack thinks about holding you close, using his body to warm yours, but decides against it. You want it too, but you’ll never initiate touch.

You look out of the raindrop-covered window at the creepy woods off to the side, the trees illuminated by the lightning. Jack sees the worry on your face reflected on the glass. “Everything alright, sweetie?”

“It’s just the woods,” you answer. “I don’t know. I don’t like it. I’ve heard about…I don’t know. Scary stuff happens there.”

“Like what?”

“Satanic rituals or something. The occult, that kind of stuff. I’ve heard about it on TV.”

Jack lies to assure you, “It’s all make-belive,” he says, pushing down his own memories of The Grove. The sickly sweet smell of decaying leaves, sticks and branches crunching beneath his feet. The cold, metallic cup against his lips, that awful taste of whatever it is he drank. “But don’t look at the woods. Just look over here, right at me.” Jack turns your face toward his, then taps your nose. “There’s that beautiful smile.”

You grin even wider. You know it’s just his nature, that it’s his job to be charming and likable, charismatic and sweet. It makes you feel so special and seen nonetheless.

Jack smiles too. “I won’t let anything happen to you.” He admires the details in your face for a minute, your perfect nose, sparkling eyes, your pretty lips. His eyes travel lower, tracing the endlessly beautiful curves of your body - breasts, waist, hips, thighs. There’s a rip up high on your nylons, just below your ridden-up skirt. He furrows his brows and touches your bare skin with his finger, “What happened here?”

“Oh.” You touch the tear with your finger, just a hair away from Jack’s. “My cat, Felix. He ripped my tights.”

“Sounds like Felix is a real troublemaker, huh?”

“Oh, he can be,” you giggle quietly. “But I love him anyway.”

Jack keeps his finger on the hole in your nylons, now drawing lines back and forth over your thighs with the rest of his fingers. Little goosebumps erupt on your skin in their wake. “You’re still so cold, darling. What am I gonna do with you?” Another shrug, another shy smile. “Come here,” Jack whispers. He wraps his strong hands around your legs and pulls you across the seat so that your legs are lying across his, and your torso curled into his own. Fuck, he smells good. His cologne is musky and spicy and masculine. You’re so close, Jack can feel your heart pounding nervously. But he says nothing about it, doesn’t want to embarrass you. Instead, Jack just gazes at you warmly, still tracing patterns on your leg. “You’re such a gorgeous girl, have I ever told you that?” He pushes a bit of your hair behind your ear, sending tingles down your neck and spine.

“Jack,” you whisper, elongating his name. “Stop it.”

“I’m serious, darling. If only I were a younger man…If I hadn’t married…” He moves his hand from your ear to your mouth, pulling down on your bottom lip with his thumb. God, you’re so soft. Desire is building within Jack, taking control over his sensibilities. And you, too young and enchanted by Jack fucking Delroy to listen to any inhibitions in your head telling you that you should stop this.

Jack pushes his thumb past your lips and you suck on it gently, so gently, the blunt little edges of your teeth tickling his fleshy skin. Arousal quickly builds in Jack, the sensation overwhelming him and bubbling over. He pulls his thumb from your mouth and holds your cheeks in both of his hands, inching closer to you bit by bit. Jack licks his lips, he’s about to do it. Finally, he does. Jack closes the gap between you by pressing his lips against yours, kissing you softly. He’s relaxed and controlled, but the way you kiss him is desperate and a little tentative. In time and with encouragement from Jack, how he squeezes you and growls against your lips, you find your confidence. You kiss him fervently, tasting him, savoring the softness of his tongue.

Jack takes your hand and presses it against his warm bulge. You gasp, “But your wife–”

“Shh, quiet. She’s not here, now is she?”

“N-no,” you stutter.

“No. It’s just us. You-” Jack unzips his pants and pulls his rock-hard cock out of his boxers. He spits into your palm and has you hold his length, then closes his hand around yours. “-And me.”

With your hand under Jack’s, he pumps his cock. “Oh, that’s good. You’re my good girl,” he breathes.

Jack grips his cock tighter and kisses you again. “Oh, Jack,” you moan. Jack helps you to stroke him from base to tip, your pinky finger brushing against that patch of coarse hair at his pelvis, thumb rubbing over his weeping head.

“Just like this, darling. All the way up, all the way down. Just like this. You’re doing so well.”

Jack twitches in your hand as you feel every thick vein and ridge on his cock. He urges you to pump him faster and at the same time, touches you. He gropes your breasts first, breasts he’s dreamed of touching since he first laid eyes on you. He unbuttons your blouse and slides his hand beneath your bra to squeeze your flesh, tease your nipples. Jack relishes in your body, how supple, soft, warm and wanting you are. You touch him like you love him and Christ, Jack can’t wait to bury himself inside you. Feel that warm, wet embrace of a young woman’s cunt.

“Do you let other men touch you like this, sweetheart?” Jack asks, unzipping your skirt and shoving his hand down the front of your nylons. He toys with the arousal-dampened hair that’s spattered on your mound, then slips his fingers past your lips. “Older men, huh? Married men?”

“N-no, Jack. Just you. Only you.”

“Do you like being touched like this?” You stutter out a frantic, breathy ‘yes’. “Dirty girl. It’s always girls like you.”

Jack circles your clit with his fingertips, then presses two fingers inside you, pumping them in and out. “Distracted, are we?” he murmurs as your hand that strokes his cock slows to a still, so focused on how Jack pleasures you that you forget about his needs.

“H - what?” Jack chuckles and gives your hand a squeeze to remind you. “Oh, I’m s - sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” God, you are such a precious girl, and Jack is a lucky man. He breaks away from you just for a moment to undress himself, shoving his pants down his thighs and unbuttoning his dress shirt. Once bare, Jack turns to you and finds that little tear in your nylons again, then rips the hole wider up the garment. He yanks the nylons and your panties off of your legs and puts them with the rest of his discarded clothes, tucking them away for later. He removes your skirt next, followed by your bra and your blouse. You breathe heavily as Jack takes in your naked form, even more beautiful than he pictured. He needs you now, needs to taste you.

Jack pushes you gently onto your back, laying you out across the bench seat before sinking to his knees on the floor of his Buick. He wraps his strong forearms around your still rain-cold thighs and pulls you close, close enough so that you can feel his hot breaths on your slick pussy. Jack could eat you alive right now.

He spits on your pussy, then rubs your folds with his fingers, paying special attention to your clit. He spreads your lips wide and admires your shiny, glistening center. “My, look at this mess,” Jack marvels, admiring your creamy arousal. He tastes you then, pressing a soft kiss against your core. Jack inhales deeply, taking in your scent, feeling your hair against his shaven face. His tongue darts from between his lips and he licks you up and down, dipping his tongue inside you.

“Jack, oh my - yes,” you gasp, your hands tugging on his graying strands of black hair. Jack slowly licks a long stripe up your seam with his tongue flat against you, all the way from your asshole to clit. “Jack.”

The mess he’s reduced you to. All broken moans, desperate, needy cries of his name. Jack smiles against your cunt and continues licking and lapping at the sensitive part of you. He traces your folds, sucking them between his lips. He draws circles around your clit with the tip of his tongue next, driving you wild. “You like this, darling, don’t you? You like having this pretty pussy eaten?”

All you can do is nod. Jack closes his lips around your clit and sucks, causing you to clamp your thighs around his head and pull his hair tightly between your fingers. Jack forces you apart so that all you can do is take it, all that relentless, smoldering pleasure.

Jack intensifies it all by pushing a finger inside you and curling it, stroking that sensitive part of you. Within seconds you’re coming, rocking your hips against his face as you ride out your high.

There’s barely a comedown. Jack crawls over your body, one foot planted on the floor of the car and the other kneeling on the seat. He reaches behind the front seat for his suit jacket and bunches it up, then fits it between your head and the passenger door. “Don’t want your pretty little head to get hurt is all,” Jack says.

He holds his cock between his thumb and his forefinger before he lines up with your entrance. His cock is big, perfectly lengthy and girthy. You tense up a bit as he fits his cockhead inside of you, “Easy, darling. Take it all for me,” he coos.

You inhale deeply, and on your exhale Jack pushes himself inside of you in full. “Ohhh,” you moan. It’s such a tight fit, he fills you so fully. The aching burn of the stretch takes time to dissipate as Jack rubs your hip. After a moment, Jack pulls out of you, then inches his way back in. Your face previously scrunched in pain is now relaxed, soft little noises of pleasure escaping your lips. “That’s it, good girl,” Jack says. “Wasn’t so difficult, was it?”

Jack laces his fingers between yours and uses his other hand to brace himself on the back of the car seat. Jack begins thrusting, not quite fucking you gently. It builds quickly, the pace both harder and faster. Jack rocks his hips into you at that perfect angle to have you writhing on his cock, the head of it kissing the most sensitive place inside of you over and over. You bury your face into him, the hair on his chest tickling your face.

“Fuck,” Jack grunts, fucking you deeper. He knows he should be more gentle than this, but he can’t be helped. He loses himself inside of you, growling like an animal as he fucks his cock into you. You’re squirming beneath him, muscles tensing against his as you begin to cry, overwhelmed by it all. “Such a filthy fucking girl, crying on my cock. You’re okay, sweetie.”

Jack rolls his hips quickly and fluidly so that his pubic bone is grinding against your mound, the friction inching you closer and closer to a second release, but it isn’t quite enough. You rock your hips to match Jack’s thrusts, needing more against your clit. “M-More please, Jack,” you beg. “I wanna come, Jack, make me come again.”

While still fucking you, Jack spits onto two of his fingertips, then fits his hand between your bodies. He finds your sensitive bud and rubs it, using the momentum of his thrusts to bring you to climax once more. “Come for me, sweetheart. Give - fucking give it to me.”

Jack rounds your clit with his fingers, putting harder pressure against it. In moments, you’re coming for him again, this orgasm more intense than the last. Your moans are louder, more frantic. Your face scrunches in pleasure as you pulse around Jack’s cock, urging his own release along. “Good girl, good fucking girl.”

Jack growls into your ear as he spills into you, milking himself entirely. He fills you with his come, so warm inside you, the throbbing of his cock so pleasurable and satisfying. Dampened with sweat, Jack presses his forehead against yours as he fucks you through his orgasm, then slows to a still. He hisses a little when he pulls out of your cunt, his spend dripping from your hole onto the leather. Jack collects this mess with his finger, then pushes the digit into your mouth as he catches his breath.

It’s all quiet, save for a few scattered raindrops and the sound of you and Jack both catching your breath. Jack breaks the silence. “Well hey, how about that. The storm passed, huh? Was really something, too. I’m glad we pulled over,” Jack laughs nervously. He helps you dress yourself as best as he can, then haphazardly dresses himself too. You smile a little, and Jack touches your face. “You alright, darling?”

“I’m okay,” you answer, still a little tearful. Jack smiles sympathetically and pulls you into his side, then shifts his car into gear.

“Well, let’s get you home, then.”

TY for reading! Comments, reblogs, all of that good stuff would be so appreciated ♡

#jack delroy #jack delroy x reader #Jack delroy x reader smut #jack delroy smut #late night with the devil #david dastmalchian #david Dastmalchian characters #strang3lov3 #jack delroy/reader #jack delroy/you

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adrunkskeletonsduck · 2 years ago

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Tʜᴇ Wᴇɪɢʜᴛ ᴏғ Yᴏᴜʀ Wᴏʀᴅs | Pᴀʀᴛ 3

➜ Pairing: Aonung x fem!sully!reader

➜ Warnings: kissing, fluff, not properly proof read.

➜ Word Count: 0.9k

➜ Notes: Thank you for 300??? Like this is honestly insane, I appreciate all the love I’ve received for this mini series, y’all are amazing! Please tell me if I forgot any warnings, and a reminder that my inbox is always open for asks!

Also I feel like this is kinda bad...anyways enjoy <3

Pᴀʀᴛ 1 | Pᴀʀᴛ 2 | Pᴀʀᴛ 3

Aᴠᴀᴛᴀʀ Mᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

Aonung watched from afar as you handed the necklace to Tsireya, a shy smile on your face as she took it from you and examined it happily. She pulled you into a hug with a bright smile, thanking you profusely and complementing your work before tying it around her neck.

A sense of jealousy bubbled within the boy as he watched the friendly exchange. Since when had you been friends? Let alone friends close enough to gift each other things.

It wasn’t fair, he thought, that you were gifting things to a practical stranger while shoving him - someone who you knew and had showed very obvious romantic interest in you, or at least to his standards - was being shoved aside.

He turned away, unable to watch as Tsireya ran her fingers across the finely woven thread and handpicked stones that sat on her neck and walked away.

Aonung made many more little check-ins on you in the next few days, often times his time was cut short by his own jealousy or sorrow. He was following you around like a lost puppy and although he would never admit it, in the short time you had stopped speaking to him, he had actually come to miss you. You’d been on his mind constantly as he tried to figure out how to fix his actions and make up for his harsh words from the other night.

“Hey are you even listening?” Rotxo asked as he stopped, planting his feet in the sand and looking at Aonung.

“What- Yeah of course I am!” Aonung responded, lying straight to his teeth to his bestfriend. He'd only been half listening to Rotxo as he talked about his latest village ‘adventures’. Rotxo opened his mouth to argue that he really hadn't been, when they were interrupted by a body colliding with Aonung. Aonung looked down, a glare set on his face as he got ready to spit venom at whoever had just bumped into him, only for the words to hitch in his throat as he saw who it was.

That was the other thing, ever since your argument with Aonung, he had been on edge, tense and extra mean. He’d begun picking on your brothers even more, waving off his friends and getting angry over the smallest of things. The boy just didn’t know how to handle losing someone over his own stupidity, and it was eating at him.

“i’m sorr-” you began to apologize, looking up but you cut yourself off as you saw it was him. Your face fell, jerking your hands back from his torso like he’d burned you and glaring at him. He just stared down at you blankly, unsure of what to say or do – he always felt unsure around you. Suddenly the air felt thick as the two of you stared at each other. Rotxo was quick to pick up on the tension that now surrounded the two of you like an aura, mumbling something about needing to go help his father and running off.

“Y/N...” Aonung started, and immediately you were pushing past him, refusing to waste your time on another of his bullshit apologies. He grabbed your arm, preventing you from running of and forcing you took look at his pleading gaze and your resolve crumbled. No matter how mad you were at him, your heart still seemed to be in the palm of his hands.

“What?” you seethed, yanking your arm out of his grasp, “Are you here to tell me how ridiculous I’m being again?” he shook his head, casting his gaze to the ground and swallowing his pride as he prepared himself to be transparent with you.

“I just – I just really miss you.” He looked guilty and regretful as he spoke, he even sounded genuine. For a moment you wanted to put it all behind you and forgive him because you’d missed him too. You blinked, snapping yourself out of your thoughts and steeling yourself. He didn’t deserve forgiveness after what he’d done.

“Aonung I already told yo-” he sighed in frustration, mumbling curses to himself. Reaching out, he grabbed you by your forearm and pulled you into him. You stumbled forward, hands placing themselves on his chest, you opened your mouth to ask what the hell he was doing and looking up only to be cut off as he captured your lips with his. Your eyes widened in surprise as he kissed you, your brain short circuiting as you froze.

Only when you began to feel him pull away did you come back to your sense, slipping your eyes shut and moving a hand to cup his face and pull him back down to kiss him back. He smiled into the kiss, placing his hands onto your waist as he kissed you. Hips molding against yours in a slow flurry of passion, each kiss hotter than the last until he was biting at your bottom lip gently, and then letting it go with a wet ‘pop’ as you pulled away with a small smile.

Pressing his forehead against yours, Aonung spoke,

“You still mad at me?” he asked, and you nodded with a hum,

“Very.”

“I’m really sorry, I just didn’t know how to show you I liked you so I picked on you and I just took it to far, and I have no idea what you're going through but whatever it is I want to be there for you,” he said with a sigh, sincerity evident in his voice as he poured his heart out to you.

“You could have just told me like a normal person,” you snipped in amusement.

“Yeah...” he chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple, “I’ll make it up to you though. I swear.” You nodded in agreement, placing a hungry kiss against his lips as you mumbled,

“Let’s finish this first.”

@oomietopia@iam-mentally-unstable@yeosxxx@heartueheartue@lola-bunn1@eywas-heir@sseleniaa@shebeast7121scared@a-romantic-twst

#adrunkskeletonsduck #x reader #avatar the way of water #aonung x reader #aonung x y/n #aonung x you #avatar twow #Aonung fic #fluff #avatar fic #avatar

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chairofchaos · 4 months ago

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You Deserve Better, and Other Points for Reflection

Hey friends, listen up. Real talk for a second, because nobody deserves this. And, in case anybody cares, I want you to know I come with 12 years of learning on this exact debate we have been having, because I had some very excellent fandom mentors in my communities and in the form of my uncles, who to this day support me writing and reading whatever hell I please, even in the face of protest from my immediate family. There was a lot of learning I had to do to be here with you now, and I am thankful for those people who were willing to tell me so.

If you want to post memes and think pieces and jokes and poems about a fandom debate, go ahead! You create the experience you want to see on your dash, and you will find your people.

If you want to discuss a fandom debate (a little or a lot), go ahead! I’m all for thinking through how we live and act and exist as a fan community.

If you feel that you need to take those things and turn them into vitriol to pour into the DMs and Anons of people who are running a fan week, that is not okay. Not in the slightest.

There is a big difference between debate, discussion, creative protest, and joking around, and intentionally using your words to create harm in someone’s life.

“But, Chaos, this [thing not directly sent to you/not specifically intended for you] hurt my feelings!”

Okay. Get burned once? Great! You learned something: don’t touch the hot iron again. (To translate: block the tag, block the person, whatever you need, and move on. If it isn’t for you that’s ok.) Hurt feelings are to tell you what you can and/or are willing to handle. If you don’t want to see it, block. (I love blocking tags it’s one of my little joys in life lol)

“Chaos, somebody said something really rude to me to my (virtual) face! What do I do?”

Well, you can either respond or you can block. Either way, it will probably help you to move on.

If you are responding, I beg you to keep one thing in mind. I want you to picture 7 year old you at the other end of that message. Or 13 year old you. What kind of words did they deserve to hear in a moment when maybe they weren’t getting something? Use those. Use them kindly, not in a condescending way, but in a “I want to explain this as gently as I would to my younger self” kind of way. If somebody keeps being mean, it isn’t worth it. Please use the block feature and move on. They are not worth your time.

Additionally, I would encourage you to do this: the “touch grass” mentality is something I only direct at myself. (I literally told myself to go touch grass yesterday, and there is at least one person who can corroborate that.) I stand by that decision every single day. It’s kept me out of a lot of trouble. Directing it at others does not end well, but directing it at yourself can be a good way to reflect and to consider sensible actions in the face of overwhelming situations or emotions (of which I experience many).

“Chaos, people are coming into anon and being hateful. Or just rude. Or they’re dumping triggering material into my anons.”

That is on them. That is not on you. They should not do that. And I am so sorry you are dealing with that. I’m going to be honest, I don’t know if you can block from anons (I’ve never even needed to look and so help you all if this is the post that makes me) but if you can, do. I will do what I can to help, if you need it. Regardless of where you stand on any of these issues, because I will not stand for hatred.

“I’m mad about [redacted] and I am going to be rude/mean/intentionally putting triggering material in people’s inboxes and activity feeds!”

You do that and you will be in a world of hurt, my friend. A world of hurt from yourself.

Because we create the experience we think we deserve. If you create an internet experience where it is acceptable to be hateful, vengeful, and downright cruel to other people, that is the experience you will receive in return. You deserve better than that. And if you believe that you deserve better than that but the people you’re directing cruelty towards don’t, then I want you to hear me: you will quickly find that you are not welcome anywhere. There will always be someone to disagree with. There will always be (at least) minute discrepancies in the way two or more people think, even people who are deeply similar.

Hurt the hand that reaches to help you- one day it will be raised against you in hurt as well.

As for me? Well, for that, I leave you with thoughts from George Washington’s Farewell address as paraphrased in Hamilton’s ‘One Last Time’:

“Though, in reviewing the incidents of my administration, I am unconscious of intentional error, I am nevertheless too sensible of my defects not to think it probable that I may have committed many errors.”

I am not a president (and thank god for that because who wants Chaos in charge of a country?). I am simply a fandom member. A writer. A little chaos gremlin lurking behind trees in the forest.

But like Mr. Washington, I am aware that I often fail to live up to my standards and principles. And I hope, truly, though it is wildly uncomfortable for me, that you would call me out for ways I have failed to uphold them, either in the past or in the future. (It would be super great if you like… called me out in DMs and didn’t put me on blast but oh well.)

I am in at least four other major (international, GIANT) fandoms. I am not hopeful enough to think that the ACOTAR fandom will learn from the fandoms of yore. We will have to weather these storms on our own, even with the knowledge and experiences already there. I think that’s okay. Disappointing, perhaps, but okay.

Since this post was much longer than it was intended to be, I will summarize:

If you are intentionally putting hateful materials in the inboxes, DMs, and activity feeds of people you disagree with, you will hurt yourself.

You create the experience you think you deserve, and in doing so, create that experience for others. Good or bad.

Block tags, block blogs, block what you need to enjoy the space. You will find your people.

Being intentionally cruel to other human persons is how you end up finding that nobody is “your people” because you created an environment where no one wants to be. You will be lonely and sad. Don’t make yourself lonely and sad.

I am certain I fail to uphold these principles at times. Feel free to call me out if you see me failing at these. DM appreciated, but I’m the one who invited you to do so so I’m not going to say “don’t blast me on main.” My funeral, I know.

#I would tag this chaos bitching hours but I think I was pretty nice actually #ACOTAR #ACOMAF #ACOWAR #ACOSF #ACOFAS #sarah j maas #SJM #sjm universe #fanfiction #keep fandom alive #acotar fandom #general fandom #fandom culture

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thepupperino · 2 months ago

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Hiiii, Keely! It’s been a while since I’ve found myself in the inbox of my mutuals with a thoughtful question about our boys. However, we’re preparing for the hurricane down this way and I’m looking for something to keep me occupied — like talking to all of my beautiful lovely friends!!

So what I want to discuss today is the love language of our boys. What love language(s) do you think they each excel at and which one(s) do they struggle with the most? Do you think their love language(s) have changed since the beginning? Do you think they still excel or struggle with a certain one(s)?

I would also like to pick your brain on your thoughts of how they protect one another — how they protect one another physically, how they protect one another’s peace, how they protect each other mentally, etc! 🩵

— Much love, Chey

Hi I almost accidentally deleted this instead of answering and my life flashed before my eyes

Anyway THANK YOU for asking this was very fun 😈

So I feel like it’s pretty universally believed that Mickey’s a big acts of service guy, but…can I be honest? I know the man loves a grand gesture, but I think that’s different than acts of service. Honestly the grand gestures almost feel like gift giving to me? Plus I love believing that Mickey grabs a Kind bar for Ian every time he stops at a gas station. I don’t know, especially growing up poor, it changes the way you think about material possessions, and I think he’d want to give everything he can to Ian

I think Mickey probably struggles with words of affirmation—at least receiving it. Like he’s probably more comfortable with it now, but I think for a long time he felt weird about Ian saying nice things to him and was pretty dismissive of any compliments

I 100% believe Ian is a physical touch man—he’s ALWAYS touching Mickey (hand on knee my beloved). I think he just loves being close to him. Plus obviously their sex life has always been…fulfilling and Ian was down bad from the start so I think that plays into it

I also love thinking of him as a words of affirmation guy because I really latch onto the fact that he tested out of English so I KNOW he’s good with words and I know he writes the cutest, sweetest little cards for Mickey on his birthday or their anniversary

Hmm what does Ian struggle with…? Ironically I think he might be a little resistant to gift giving because I think he’s the saver in the relationship, so Mickey keeps getting him these little “I’m thinking of you” gifts and Ian’s like stressing about rent (but also he loves it because that’s his HUSBAND and he’s thinking about him 🥹)

And I don’t know if love languages have changed since the beginning per se, but they’ve obviously both become more comfortable with expressions of love throughout their relationship and I’m having a lot of feelings about that

PROTECTION?! Well physically they will literally kill for each other if push comes to shove I am very confident in that. For some reason I like to think that Ian always tries to walk closer to the road so Mickey won’t get hit if a car swerves or something and Mickey thinks he’s dumb but lets him do it anyway. And Mickey wants to be facing the door on dates and stuff so he can size people up and assess any threats

Protecting each other’s peace I think they’re both willing to be the bad guy if they need an out. Like if Ian just can’t handle being around his family for some reason, Mickey’s like “tell ‘em I’m not in the mood”

MENTALLY I have a lot of feelings 😭 obviously canonically Mickey is great with Ian’s bipolar (we pretend Hall of Shame doesn’t exist) and I think that continues and grows (“I gotta worry, you’re my husband” my beloved). I think he’s VERY aware of potential triggers and warning signs and I think he’s supportive AND gives Ian space when he needs it because he likes his autonomy and independence

I think Mickey has a lot of unresolved trauma and I’m not like his therapist or anything but I’d want to assess for PTSD and generally unhelpful cognitions, and I love the idea that he goes to therapy some day (honestly I’d love if they both did), but I think Ian is really good at holding space for him to share what he’s thinking about AND I think he’s eventually willing to do that

Anyway I hope that answered your questions and PLEASE feel free to send me more, I love thinking about them

#ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #gallavich #shameless #get to know keely #asks

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luckykiwiii101 · 5 months ago

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Clarification #!

Hey Upper East Siders.

Clarification #1

Unfortunately there is drama going on my blog right now. I do NOT want to be portrayed as a bad person. And I also do not want any other bloggers to be portrayed as a bad person. And I do not want @noddingofcat to be portrayed as a bad person. Because believe it or not, I actually think the opposite.

Clarification #2

I know, I know, my blog is sassy and “mean”. People may get offended by the wording on my posts. Yes my “wake up call” type posts are harsh but that’s how I intend them to be. But what I do not intend is for people to get offended by my posts. The sole purpose of my posts are to help you all. As i’ve mentioned previously in many of my posts, babying people and letting them victimise themselves is something i’m strongly against!

Clarification #3

Behind “- gossip girl” I’m a kind and caring person. I don’t want people to feel like they can’t talk to me. If I didn’t care about you guys I wouldn’t make posts and share them with you and answer your asks. But know that if you want my respect you have to reciprocate the respect you give to others.

Clarification #4

I want everyone to acknowledge that I spend on average over 2 hours on my posts, gathering information and drafting it so that I can turn it into the beautiful posts that reside in my master list, on my home page that can be accessed very very easily. So it is frustrating when you guys don’t read them and proceed to send me an anonymous ask asking me the same question when there’s a whole entire long ass hell detailed post in my master list titled in big bold letters. 💀

Clarification #5

Please do not send me an ask if there is clearly a post in my master list that addresses it. I do NOT mind if you made a simple mistake and could not find it but please let me know.

Clarification #6

I do not allow private messages as it’s unfair for me to basically “privately coach” people selectively whilst rejecting others. I also simply just do not have time during the day for that.

Clarification #7

If somebody genuinely needs help and is going through something terrible, I understand if you would want to speak to me since i am a blogger who is educated on the law. I’m still learning new things aswell, and whenever I do I share it with you guys. But I want to let you know in the nicest way that I am not a therapist and I CANNOT guide you about things outside the law of assumption.

Clarification #8

I’ve received many asks in the past of people wishing death on me, calling me a psychopath, insulting me etc. Please understand that if you send me a passive aggressive ask like that I will not be nice and sweet about it. I’m not talking about @noddingofcat btw i’m just clarifying because this isn’t the first time and I DON’T want it to happen again.

Clarification #9

This is personal to @noddingofcat

I genuinely think you are a nice person. You tried to defend me thinking that @queenofuniverses was harassing me. I cannot express how much I respect that. Then you defended @queenofuniverses when I falsely accused her of sending me an anonymous ask. Honestly I really respect that. I’m not trying to get on your good side i’m seriously just saying what I truly feel. And I think everyone knows by now, I speak my thoughts.

Clarification #10

Thanking everyone who follows me for supporting me and my blog. I don’t think you guys actually understand that I care about you guys. I want you to all manifest your dream lives. And i’m DYING to hear your success stories. I completely freak out when l see a success story in my inbox because of how happy it makes me. So keep them coming!!! Not for me but for yourselves ❤️

P.S. I might stop my gossip girl theme and soon my blog as a whole because I don’t want to get caught up into any more miscommunications. This was honestly stressful because I know a lot of you look up to my blog and trust me when I KNOW it hurts to see someone you look up to, turn out to not be someone you expected. I’m far from being that person

Love you, XoXo

- gossip girl

#void state #void #law of assumption #loa tumblr #loassumption #loa blog #loablr #manifestation #loa #the void state

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xoxochb · 1 month ago

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— prue’s official 1k love letter ꣑ৎ‧₊˚.

💌 - dedicated to: all of my lovely followers and mutuals 🫶🏼🫶🏼

if you haven’t seen from my various posts about it then long story short I’ve hit 1k followers! I know for every new 100 followers I’ve hit that I’ve written notes like this whether they’re short or long. unfortunate for you, I’m a writer, so this one is going to be very long, my props to anyone who’s about to read all of this you’re a real one 🤞🏼

I’ve been using tumblr for nearly a year now. It started as a simple blog where I would just make silly pjo posts because I had been re entering that phase from middle school. after a while I started reading fics the lovely writers made on here and I became addicted to them to be honest. now, I’ve always been a writer at heart, when I was little I used to staple papers together and write silly childish books and at school I would always go above and beyond with creative writing assignments. after a while of being here I received a request from one of my early followers asking for a fic. I was new to this whole “sharing my work online” kinda stuff but nonetheless I proceeded to write it for her. It didn’t get many notes but it got enough for more people to come into my inbox and ask for more of my writing. since then I have been an avid riordanverse writer though most of the fandom has diminished by this point I’m still here to serve the people

over this time I’ve been on tumblr I’ve had some issues and I got accused of something that wasn’t true at all and received tons of hate over this (situation is resolved don’t worry). and if you’re still here reading this I suppose that you’re one of the many followers that didn’t leave me over this. but besides this slight issue I’ve met tons of great people on here and I’ve made many friends and found people who love my writing and love seeing my posts. honestly I think joining tumblr and sharing my work on here has been one (or probably only LMAO) of the best decisions I’ve ever made and it makes me incredibly happy to be thanking you all for helping me reach one thousand followers, it’s truly unreal to me and I am beyond words grateful for everyone who’s helped me achieve this accomplishment (I’m giving you all virtual forehead kisses rn 😙😙). I wish I could put into words what I’m feeling… but just imagine happy times, like, infinity!!!

anyways I’m gonna wrap this up because I swear I could ramble on and on all day but I’m pretty sure nobody would listen or read for that long plus I’m basically just talking about the same thing, anyways… again thank you so so so much for one thousand followers it truly means a lot and I will never thank you enough for this <3

with much love, prue 🤍🤍

#prue speaks ੈ✩‧₊˚#xoxochb #I’m still four followers away but I wanted to send this out early because I’m gonna be busy tomorrow :)#the event will be out monday though <33

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cassiefromhell · 1 year ago

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Bats and Fire 04

"The Calendar Situation"

Last time on bats and fire... 01 02 03

a/n: it turns out that i have bad writing motivation and love bouncing between projects, lol (also you can blame late updates on my current bg3 phase and jjk hyperfixation). so expect BAF 1-2x monthly. once again, i am very open to suggestions/themes for future chapters/episodes, so leave them in comments or my inbox!! and my requests are always open <3 enjoy!

warnings: smut, mdni/18+. p in v, oral (f receiving) morning sex, character watches while y/n is eaten out, interruptions, slight overstimulation, etc...

wc: 3.4k

Things were thoroughly out of hand.

Your mates were incapable of not fighting over every single second of your free time. And that turned into tug of war games where you get the lovely privilege of being the rope, and you know what you also weren’t getting?

Sex.

You had not had sex in two weeks.

But you have five mates? How’s that possible?

Because you are almost never left alone with any of them long enough to get someone’s shirt off, nevermind a hand in your pants.

And a girl will get fed up after a while.

But luckily, on your first expedition after your cycle ended, you found the perfect solution…

You stumble into the old shop, wiping your dirtied hands off on your pants. The scent of magic immediately hits your nose, and you bite your tongue to distract yourself from it.

“You look like you’ve been to hell and back,” the female behind the counter says, her sunken gray eyes tracing over your tattered clothing.

You clear your throat, approaching the counter. “Do you carry any blade polish, or leather cleaner?”

She pauses, then opens and closes her mouth. “Say… are you the hunter that our mayor is paying to clear our woods of those damned Puca?”

“How could you tell?”

“I had a feeling.”

The female hobbles her way around the counter, and leads you to the left. She opens a cabinet door, and pulls out two glass containers, one with a clear liquid and the other a slight brown. She hands them both to you. “Your polish and cleanser.”

“Thank you,” you say, turning to head back to the counter. But something shimmers in the corner of your eye, and you pause, turning to face it.

It’s a pile of calendars, the edges glimmering with the sparkle of spells. But who would need a magical calendar?

“Eyeing the Mrythat Calendar?” the shopkeeper asks, coming up beside you. “No one ever buys ‘em.”

“What do they do?” you ask, reaching out to take one and examine it.

“You buy a few, sign ‘em with blood, and then they’re connected to you. Write something on one, it appears on all the others. Useless, if you ask me, but a merchant came through ‘ere with an offer I couldn’t refuse,” she explains, then starts back towards the counter.

You take six of the magical calendars, tucking them under your arm.

“You’re sure ‘bout that, hon?” the female raises a brow at you. “Don’t know what you’d use ‘em for.”

“You don’t even know,” you grin, dropping the calendars on the counter. “You don’t even know.”

The next time you were at each of your mates’ residences, you spread the calendars. Of course, you happened to be with Azriel and Cassian in the House of Wind next, so you got to work...

The sound of the hammer nailing the calendar into the wall echoes down the hall. You step back, satisfied, admiring the shimmering calendar mounted over the soft blue paint.

Cassian rounds the corner, slacks hanging low on his waist, rubbing his eyes. “Love… what’cha doing at four a.m…?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you beam up him, gesturing to the glorious calendar — the solution to all of your problems. “Too excited. Look at it!”

“That’s… that's nice, love,” Cassian mutters, walking up behind you and putting his hands on your waist. “But let’s go back to bed, hmm?”

“No, no,” you gesture to the calendar once more. “I’ve gotta explain to you both how this works— hey— Azriel! Azriel, are you up?”

In response, a shadow comes to your side, winding around your leg.

You frown. “Did your master send you?”

The shadow tightens its grip.

“Is he just avoiding getting up?”

Even tighter.

You huff, poking Cassian’s shoulder. “Go get Azzie. This is important. And now I know he’s awake.”

The Illyrian nods and trudges off, cursing under his breath and running a hand over his face.

You almost feel a little bad, but then you’re distracted by your calendar again.

You did research on how these work. They were invented specifically for managing one person’s schedule, like a boss giving them to his employees to find time for meetings with them. Whoever’s schedule was being managed, just had to mark the calendar with a bloody fingerprint, and then all the calendars they marked would sync up.

You grin, sticking your thumb into your mouth and piercing the skin, then you press it to the back of one of the pages. Instantly, the calendar glows, and then stops, but when you flip it to the current month, you find that it’s been filled in with all of your missions and plans — the magic has even sorted out what days you’re in which court, with which mates.

You grin maniacally.

Shadows slide around the corner, and out come your two Illyrian mates, bleary-eyed and wings damn near dragging.

You grin and clap your hands, pointing at the calendar. “Lookit! Look at what I did!”

“What did you do?” Azriel asks, coming to stand at your side and placing a hand on your lower back. It’s obvious that he’s trying his hardest to sound interested.

“Cass, c’mere,” you grin, tugging him to your other side. “Okay, okay, so, how this works. I have six of these calendars. They’re all enchanted, and they’ll soon all be connected to me by blood. When someone marks one, the others get the same marking, and I simply have to think it in order to add something. Each of my mates will get one, and so my schedule can be fairly organized.”

Cassian nods slowly. “Okay… but I thought normal scheduling was working fine.”

You bark a laugh. “No, no, no. You all are rather fond of interrupting each other’s dates and alone time, claiming to have ‘forgotten’ that I was already scheduled. This fixes that.”

“I do not,” Azriel grumbles, wings twitching.

“Well, see, the main inspiration here was my sex life,” you explain, perfectly calm as both your mates’ eyebrows shoot up. “I haven’t had actual sex in a week and a half, did you both know that?”

Cassian narrows his eyes. “No, no— how is that possible?”

You point to last Friday on the calendar, when you were marked to be on a date with Rhys. “Look, here; at this time, I was on the riverbank of the Sidra, about to be fucked against a tree, until Cassian came in and stayed for the rest of the date— and was completely oblivious to the mood and the arousal drenching the air.” You point to two days ago, when you were supposed to be sleeping at Eris’s palace. “At eleven p.m. that night, I was fully prepared to be ravished and yet Lucien needed me for something. And that’s not an issue, right, because two is better than one! But no, Eris and Lucien refuse to be naked in the same room at the same time.”

“…I see why you want the calendar,” Azriel murmurs, walking away and coming back with a pen and approaching the calendar.

“What are you doing?” Cassian asks, tilting his head to the side.

“We’re the first ones to have this, right?” Azriel looks at you, and you nod in confirmation. “We have all the empty slots. I’m filling them all in with me.”

Cassian blanches, and then steps forward, promptly shoving Azriel to the side and stealing the pen. “Give me that! You can’t take all the slots!”

“You were just too slow,” Azriel grumbles, gesturing to the calendar, which is now half-filled with dates… all with Azriel.

You snort, and then turn on your heel, heading back down the hall. “I’m going back to bed. Whose bed am I getting in?”

“Mine,” they both say at the same time, and you can feel the glare they give each other.

You grin, and turn the corner, knowing one — or both — of them is bound to come running after you.

All goes well with your visit to Rhysand, and he was very happy with his new calendar. However, things get a little bumpy when you’re at the Autumn Court…

“Fuck—” you whimper, gripping Lucien’s hair as his tongue works at your clit, fingers pumping in and out of you steadily. You’ve already come twice, and he’s damn close to working you up to a third.

The bliss is nearly lighting you on fire, legs shaking as you finally approach that cliff again, climbing higher and higher and—

“Cum for me,” Lucien murmurs against your clit, the vibrations nearly tipping you over the edge. He looks up at you with those eyes from between your legs, and you whimper as you reach that—

A knock comes on the door.

Lucien pauses, and you whimper, desperately bucking your hips into his hand and lips.

“Shit, what time is it?” he asks, sitting up and looking at the clock, mouth glistening with your slick.

“Lucien,” you grit out, “please.”

“Times up,” a familiar voice calls from behind the door. “Your slot is only from seven to eight, I have her for the full night from eight p.m. to sunrise.”

You hiss in frustration, gently tugging at Lucien’s hair. “Ignore him.”

Eris slips into the bond immediately. Ignore me?

Eris, give me five minutes. Please.

That’s not what the calendar says.

Does it sound like I give a shit about what the calendar says? You growl down the bond, frustration only building.

Lucien has obediently gone back to working your cunt, sliding two fingers back in. His mouth latches around your clit immediately, and the wondrous sensations start to build up again.

Two minutes later, Eris is speaking down the bond again.

I’d have already gotten you off by now.

Your only reply is an audible whine, surely loud enough for Eris to hear on the other side of the door.

And clearly he does hear it, because he’s winnowed to your side within seconds.

“Add a finger, it’ll make her come faster,” Eris idly comments, taking a seat next to you on the bed. “And harder. That’s important.”

You’re now completely naked and vulnerable in a room with two fully clothed males. Because apparently you’re the only one getting their clothes taken off today.

“What are you—”

“Shush,” Eris hushes you with a gentle kiss, stroking a hand down the center of your torso, rubbing circles on the sensitive skin of your belly. “Let us take care of you.”

Before you can reply, his head dips down to your left nipple, licking a circle around it. His thumb runs circles around your other breast, all while Lucien increases his pace.

With very little warning, your climax creeps up on you, pleasure suddenly spiking. You cry out, gripping Eris’s shoulder for support as you tip over the edge, stars and flames filling your vision as the waves of your orgasm crash over you again and again and again and—

“What does that make?” Eris asks, stroking your hair.

“Three,” replies Lucien, who is gently rubbing circles over your clit, coaxing you through the last waves of pleasure with gentle kisses along your thighs.

The High Lord clicks his tongue. “That won’t do. She needs at least five, else apparently she’ll get needy at an ungodly hour.”

You try to protest. “Will not—”

He stops you with a quirked brow. “Two weeks ago. You woke me up before sunrise by humping me. Like a puppy in heat.”

You open your mouth, and then close it. He’s right. You did do that. But he looked so damn sexy like that, features relaxed and mouth parted and—

Lucien licks a stripe up your folds, and all your thoughts screech to a halt.

“Love,” Rhysand whispers in your ear, pressing kisses over your cheek and hair. “Love, time to get up.”

You blink awake, squinting in the early morning light. “Mm... what time is it?”

“Seven,” he murmurs, slipping his hands up and under the shirt you’re wearing — his shirt — and rubbing your skin.

You groan. “Cass isn’t picking me up ‘till seven-thirty. Why’d you wake me?”

“Because I was thinking we could squeeze a little something in,” Rhys kisses your neck, pressing his hips to yours, letting you feel his bulge beneath his pants. “If you so please.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you bite your lip. You run your hand down his chest, finding his bulge and palming him through his pants. “Needy, are we?”

“Please,” he groans, rutting against your hand once, twice, then pressing more kisses across your collarbones.

You smirk and nod, spreading your legs for him. His reaction is instant, making quick work of your panties and discarding his pants.

He presses a finger into your entrance slowly, hissing as it comes back soaked. “Fuck. So wet for me, love.”

You tilt your hips up for him, and he strokes himself twice, then slowly slides in, stretching you wide. You whimper, gripping his shoulders and chewing your lip to stay quiet. “Fuck…”

Rhys picks up a slow pace, gentle and loving as the kisses he’s pressing along your collar and neck. He rubs your hips in time with his thrusts, each time hitting just a little deeper, each push a little more pleasurable than the last.

“Please,” you moan, desperate for more, deeper, harder, faster… and he doesn’t give it to you.

He presses a chaste kiss to your lips, shaking his head. “Impatient little thing. It’s bright and early, and you want to have the shit fucked out of you?”

You nod, and he merely chuckles. The sound is low and deep and effectively makes you even wetter around him.

He pulls out, and you open your mouth to whine, but he sweeps you up into his arms, picking you up out of the bed. Before you know it, your bare back is against a wall, and he’s entered you once more, this angle deeper than before.

He picks up a bruising pace immediately, and you moan, capturing his lips in yours to swallow both of your noises. You can’t help but tilt your hips with each thrust, desperately matching his pace as that coil in your abdomen begins to grow tauter.

“Fuck— fuckfuckfuckk—” you hiss against his mouth, clutching at his biceps, his neck, his shoulders — anything to ground you as you’re pulled higher and higher.

“I’ve got you, love,” he groans, slamming into you harder, brushing that spot so deep inside of you—

You come immediately, clenching around him and squeezing your eyes shut, moaning loudly as the pleasure drags you down, down, nearly into unconsciousness as your thighs cramp. Rhys has to hold you up to keep you from falling out of his arms, and he follows you with three sharp thrusts and a low growl, spilling into you.

He kisses you, gently, and you run your hands through his hair, rolling your hips against his once.

“God, I love you,” you murmur, between gasps for air.

“I love you too, darling. I love waking up to you next to me,” he murmurs back, nosing your neck. “I love fucking you first thing in the morning.”

“Round two?” You run a hand down his abdomen, licking your lips. You can’t help it; you want to taste him.

He grins deviously, opening his mouth to reply — but then footsteps sound down the hall, accompanied with what is obviously Cassian whistling. He’s definitely giving you a warning that he’s coming — he could be quieter than that.

“Fuck,” you grumble. “Just a sec.”

Cassian, you speak down the bond. Not done here. Give me half an hour.

What? No. He whines, but his footsteps halt. I’m scheduled to pick you up at seven thirty. It’s my time.

I’m aware. The schedule isn’t supposed to be exact. You guys seem to have an issue with that.

…Isn’t exact reserved time the point of the schedule?

You sigh, shaking your head. “Change of plans. I’m calling a mates’ meeting.”

Half an hour later, all of your mates are gathered at Rhys’s dining table, their calendars sitting in front of them. You sit at the head of the table, decidedly unhappy…

“Alright,” Azriel starts, leaning forward on his elbows. “I’ll break the ice. What’s got you upset, love?”

“What do you think has me upset?” you grit out, glaring over at him.

Azriel suppresses a flinch, leaning back in his seat.

“I’m assuming it has to do with the calendar?” Eris says, gesturing to the calendars in front of them all.

“Uh huh. And why, exactly, did I enact the calendar rule?”

There’s a short pause, and then Lucien responds. “To organize your schedule?”

“Because you wanted more sex,” Cassian corrects him, rubbing his chin. Lucien, Eris, and Rhys whip their heads to look at him, having not been there for that conversation. “But hasn’t that succeeded?”

“More sex, yes. But short sex. Painfully short. You know why? Because I start having sex with one of you. We do the deed. I want more. You want more. Then what happens? Knock knock, someone else comes along and refuses to give up precious time from their slot.”

Cassian looks down and away, making a face. Eris doesn’t look pleased either.

“You guys,” you sigh. “The calendar is flexible. You can deal with having half an hour taken off of your slots. It’s supposed to be a guide, not a strict schedule.”

The males before you begrudgingly grumble in agreement, and you gesture to the calendars.

“Okay, thank you. Now that that’s understood, it’s time to schedule next month’s times. Please open your calendars,” you instruct, opening your own. Everybody follows your lead, so you continue. “I’ve marked in all the slots available, and when I’ll be gone. I have two missions next month; a dragon study and a job for the Winter court clearing out a pair of Banshees. The dragon study I have to do alone, but one of you can tag along on the clearing.”

Azriel immediately reaches for a pen, but not before Eris has already winnowed one into his hand, already writing his name.

“Ah!” you hiss, grabbing Eris’s wrist. “We’re drawing sticks.”

Eris snarls at you on pure instinct, then his face goes slack. “Sorry, sorry— I didn’t mean to—”

Immediately, your four other mates are up out of their seats, teeth bared and ready to attack Eris.

“Dear mother,” you groan. “It was instinct. Everybody down.”

Everyone sits.

“That’s the other thing,” you sigh, waving your hand to winnow in a cup with five sticks in it, all marked with a name. “You all need to work on the hostility. I know it’s difficult. But mistakes will be made, fights will be had, and instinct is instinct.”

Lucien mumbles a ‘sorry’ to Eris, and the rest follow, some less apologetic than others.

You carry on with the meeting, and you draw sticks, deciding the order of who gets to pick first. Cassian, much to his joy, gets first, then Azriel, then Lucien, followed by Rhysand, and in dead last — which you’d bet money was influenced by someone’s magic — is a very salty Eris.

Nevertheless, the dates are set, and you dismiss everyone—

“Hold on,” Azriel cuts in, holding up a finger. “There was a prearranged date with Rhys on here. Why only him?”

“Because he’s set to meet my parents,” the words fly out of your mouth before you realize what you’re saying, and you immediately clamp your jaw shut.

Damn your mouth.

All five heads turn to look at you, shocked faces adorning all but one — Rhys, who knew about this and didn’t question it.

“Why only him?” Eris asks, raising a brow.

“I want to meet your parents!” Cassian pouts, leaning forward against the table.

“I do as well,” Lucien adds, scratching the back of his neck.

“Agreed,” Azriel finishes. “I’m free that time. We could just all meet them at once.”

Agreement runs through the circle, leaving you opening and closing your mouth.

Because there’s one issue.

One little, tiny issue…

“Cauldron boil me,” Eris murmurs, slowly leaning back in his seat. “They don’t know you have more than one mate, do they?”

Ah, yes.

That.

To be continued…

tags: @awoa1 @llovelydove @bookishbroadwaybish @maddietheshoe @eerievixen @ghostofnightcrawlerpast @cleverzonkwombatsludge @hyemishii @caro-lightwood-blog @the-sweet-psycho @myheartfollower @bubybubsters @luvmoo @foreverrandomwritings @ummmmmchillanywaysso @spongehappy @fell-in-luvs

comment to be added to the tag list!

(not tagged? either tumblr was a jerk, you changed your username, or i missed your comment! go ahead and ask again, and I'll make sure you're on there.)

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ladypups · 3 months ago

Note

Do you do scenarios or headcanons? If so, how many characters can we request for scenarios or headcanons? Would you do the same prompt with different characters? Can we request for male reader, female reader, gender neutral reader, etc? Are there any characters you won't do in each fandom? Can we request characters from different fandoms in a request? Are there any topics you won't do like rape, suicide, etc? Would you mind if we request for Alternate Universes or Aus like AU where the character lives happily? Would you mind if the request is suggestive, implied sex, or mentioned sex but no explicit sex? Would you do NSFW requests? If so, can we request cunnilingus, finger fucking, size kink, deepthroating, threesome, virginity loss, squirting, nipple play, praise kink, shibari, voice kink, breeding kink, overstimulation, body worship, crossdressing, coming in pants/underwear, and lingerie? What kinks would you accept for requests? Can anons request smut? Can we check with you if you received our requests? Thank you in advance!

Holy wow 😦 that’s a lot of questions lol, I’ll try to get through all of them!!!

Yes I will do scenarios and HC’s!!

Depends on what the suggestion is! Right now for x readers, I am more comfy with at least 1 or 2 people x reader!

I would do the same prompt multiple times!

You can request for any gender, just specify! :)

Depends on what fandom it is. Some characters I will write better than others, usually the ones I have hyperfixations on! And you can request from different fandoms, as long as I’ve watched/seen it!

I won’t do any very triggering topics like r*pe or suicide. I might do awareness for sh but that would be it.

I will do alternate universes and AU’s

Right now I’m not comfy with anything smut related on this blog, so don’t expect anything smutty from me.

And yes you can check if we’ve received a request! Just please don’t spam my inbox too much, it’s not a hassle just might get me overwhelmed.

I hope that answers all the questions <33

#chucky #slasher fanfic #slasher x reader #deadpool x reader #wolverine x reader #descendants x reader #Phil wenneck x reader #deadpool and wolverine x reader #joost x reader #ski aggu x reader #heath ledger joker x reader #the outsiders x reader #dallas winston x reader #Micah Yujin x reader #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x reader #derek morgen x reader #fanfic #ladypups

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theroseceleste · 1 month ago

Text

Vampire Miguel - Part 1 - Ratting Around

You are a journalist for the Daily Bugle in Nueva York, desperate to write about something good to keep your formidable boss from breathing down your neck. You receive a tip-off from a concerned member of the public and begin an investigation. Just what will you discover?

I would like to take this opportunity to thank my brother who is much more of a fan about vampires than I am, so his help has been very much appreciated as I write this. Thank you bro! xx

Minors DNI - Eventual smut and descriptions of violence.

Word count - 4621

Contains - Mentions of rats, particularly dead ones.

If you enjoy this work, please consider liking, commenting and re-blogging. Many thanks xx

Enjoy! xx

Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6

An empty page on your laptop screen glares back at you, while your boss’s angry yelling still rings in your ears. Multiple obnoxious office phones ringing fills the communal workspace, not permitting you to think clearly. The only luxury that provides you some sliver of sanity is your cup of coffee for you to sip on while you panic internally about what the hell you’re going to write about next for The Daily Bugle.

The blinking, black cursor at the top of your blank document taunts you, pressuring you to write something. But what?

You look ruefully at your colleagues who all appear to be busy with something. Either that or they’re all brilliant actors pretending to be working until they catch a sniff of something vaguely interesting happening in Nueva York.

Opening up your emails, you almost scoff with frustration at nothing new in your inbox. Of course. The distinct lack of unread emails is a further taunt. You are going to have to do some serious digging or intense scraping of the barrel to produce something read-worthy.

Underneath all of your subfolders in your email program, a shared mailbox is displayed with several unread items. You hover your mouse over it. Is the day going so badly that you’re considering looking at what everyone else has overlooked? You click on the mailbox with an indignant eye roll. Yes, the day is going that badly…

Taking a sip of your coffee, your eyes scan the unread items. A couple go straight into the Deleted folder as you see they’re clearly phishing emails that have managed to slip through the filter, but the others seemed legitimate reports from the public.

This mailbox was for Nueva York civilians to email in if they spot anything worth reporting on. Normally it’s full of the usual dog fouling on pavements, inconsiderate parking in the residential streets and general noise complaints. But, one email catches your eye.

“Subject: Dead Rats”

Your brow furrows with confusion at the bizarre subject of the email. Out of curiosity, you click it and have a read.

“Dear Sir / Madam

During my regular work commute over the last few days, I’ve seen a significant number of dead rats in alleyways and subway stations. Obviously they’re pests and some might argue it is a good thing that they’re dropping dead, but I find it alarming. What’s killing them? Is it a deadly virus? Or some strange or troubled individual who takes pleasure and amusement in killing them?”

As you contemplate the email, you absentmindedly chew on the end of your pen. That is a strange occurrence, however you suspect your colleagues have ‘overlooked’ it because of the mention of rats. You’re not too keen on the creatures yourself, but it definitely beats writing about terrible parking for the umpteenth time. Hovering your mouse over the email, you assign it to yourself and then reply to the contact for more information.

Despite the rather grim nature of the job you have assigned yourself, you’re glad that you are out of the office. For a change of scenery, (and a chance to avoid your boss), you hop onto the subway to visit one of the places mentioned by the concerned member of the public.

As the train rattles its way through tunnels under the city, you find yourself surprised that the snaking carriages are relatively busy. You have to be in the office by eight AM and you realise this is the usual rush-hour commute for those who work nine-to-five.

The carriage you are in resembles something close to a tin of sardines, people packed closely together, sacrificing their personal space to get to work on time.

You cling to a pole stretching from floor to ceiling in the train while you’re sandwiched from all sides. This isn’t unusual, but what is, is the person behind you. They had approached as they got onto the train after you did, and have increasingly been pressed further and further against your back since. You hear them sniff occasionally, taking in long drags of air through their nose, to the point you feel your hair is being disturbed by it.

At first, you choose not to challenge it, but after the third time, you turn your head to look at the creepy culprit.

Your jaw drops.

Suddenly, all thoughts of their unusual and intrusive behaviour slips from your mind as you gaze up to a beautiful stranger. Piercing blue eyes lock onto yours, widening as the person behind you realises what it seems like they’re doing. A tall man with a young, pale face framed with long, raven black hair places a large hand over his heart.

“Apologies ma’am - crowds make me nervous and I was practising my breathing techniques to keep calm. I am sorry for causing you concern,” his voice is deep and sultry with warm tones that make you go weak at the knees.

A look of sympathy spreads across your face at his words of apology and you start to feel bad for nonverbally accusing him of sniffing you.

To avoid making the situation worse for the poor man, you give him a reassuring smile. “That’s okay. Do what you need to do. Don’t let me stop you.”

Now it’s your turn to risk looking like a creep as you find yourself unable to take your eyes off him. You estimate him to be just over six-foot tall and well built; his defined muscles creating contours through the polo-neck sweater he’s wearing.

He smiles at you, noticing you’re still looking. “I feel a little better now. But, I thank you for being incredibly sweet and kind for understanding.”

Your heart sings at his words of praise while you are unable to suppress a wide smile in return. You find him undeniably mesmerising, as if you’re under his spell.

As you keep your eyes on him, an awkward silence descends on the cramped place you’re in. You are so enthralled that you forget you’re surrounded in every direction, until you feel the momentum of the train slow down as it approaches its next stop.

“Oh, this is me…” you say as you finally manage to tear your gaze from him, although your heart pounds, mourning the loss of such an attractive specimen for you to look at… That is until he replies.

“Me too, thankfully,” he begins as you more than willingly glue your eyes back onto him again. “The train is a little too busy for my liking.”

After the train comes to a stop, the doors draw open as you both shuffle and nudge your way through. Occasionally, you look back at the handsome man to check on him. A frown of concern forms across your face as you notice he looks overwhelmed. Linking your arm around his, you assist him through the final few people before breaking free and disembarking the train.

A deep sigh of relief comes from your new found friend as he wipes his brow. “Ahh, thank you. You have been most kind,” he pauses as he extends his large, soft, right hand towards yours. “I’m Michael, but you can call me Mike.”

Perhaps this day isn’t quite so bad after all. Work might suck, but meeting a handsome man on a train who seems to like you just as much as you like him is certainly a plus.

“Y/N; nice to meet you,” you reply as you reach out to take his hand to shake it. Before you touch him, something catches your eye.

A concerned-looking couple further down the platform flit from stranger to stranger, carrying a stack of paper each. As they turn to face the other way, you see they’re carrying multiple copies of the same picture, but you’re too far away to see what it is exactly.

Your fingers brush against Mike’s palm before they wrap underneath his hand. To your surprise, he feels cold, the unexpected sensation draws your attention back to him.

A contented smile spreads across his lips. “Sorry if I feel a little cold, I have a blood circulatory condition. Extremities don’t quite get enough blood flow to warm them up sometimes.”

For some inexplicable reason, you decide to try and warm his hand up by squeezing your fingers around his. Suddenly, his body jolts as he instinctively yanks his hand out of yours, air hissing between his clenched teeth.

“Oh!” you gasp slightly, feeling bad that you hurt him, although you don’t know how…

Mike wraps his other hand over the one that hurts. “It’s fine. It’s a paper cut. You just squeezed it, that’s all. You didn’t know,” he says with a reassuring smile, not wanting you to be upset about hurting him.

“Well, I’m sorry all the same,” you reply as you place a comforting hand on his arm.

“No need,” he lets go of his hand and places it over the back of yours.

Silence falls between the both of you again, lost in your shared bubble amongst rushing commuters. As your eyes search his in your brief moment of reflection, you consider who he is as a person. You have only known each other for five minutes, but on the surface he seems like a charming, handsome man who is sensitive, emotionally and physically, despite the tall frame and big, strong build.

The thought of having to go your separate ways saddens you. You want to spend more time with him and get to know him. “Hey, can we exchange numbers?”

Michael double-takes at you in surprise. “Oh, sure, of course,” he takes out his phone and prepares to enter your name and number. “I’ll text you later when I get home.”

As he slides his phone back into his pocket, he places a hand on your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “It’s been an absolute pleasure meeting you Y/N. I look forward to talking with you later,” his warm smile blesses you again.

“Yes, speak to you later,” you reply, sounding hopeful.

Finally, your new friend leaves you as he makes his way to a connecting platform. It seems he has somewhere else in the city to go to.

As your mind defogs from its dreamy state, you remember the two people from earlier handing out pictures. Looking around, you can’t seem to find them, but you notice a piece of paper taped to an underground support column. Depicted on the sheet of A4, is a young man, no older than sixteen, dark skin, brown eyes and curly, black hair. Written underneath in big, red, bold letters: ‘Missing - Miles Morales’. In smaller print are a couple of numbers to call if somebody spots him.

You frown with sympathy. That couple could well have been the missing boy's parents, worried sick about their son. Poor Miles seems to be another person added to the list of recent missing teenagers…

Using your phone, you take a picture of the notice to keep with you - just in case.

As you suspected, the subway station is devoid of dead rats. You imagine public services would dispose of their little corpses before too many people start asking questions.

You reach the surface after climbing the steps from the subway; the cool, fresh, autumnal air rushing against your face. Pulling your light coat tighter around you, you begin your investigations by walking down a street and examining each alleyway closely.

Each alley you have visited so far has been fruitless - or rat-less - and disappointing. A sneaking suspicion fills your mind that this is someone’s idea of a prank to send someone on a wild goose chase. Well, the joke’s on them, because you’ve just got a cute guy’s number that you otherwise wouldn’t have obtained if you hadn’t left the office. A smirk flits across your face as you think about Michael.

Up ahead, something catches your eye, bursting your dreamy bubble. A pest control van is parked further down the street. You see the driver getting out of the vehicle and entering the next alleyway. Quickening your walking pace, you make your way towards the pest control man.

Stepping around the corner, you see him kneeling down next to a couple of dead rats. He pauses as he looks up at you, eyeing you up and down.

Extending him your hand, you begin to introduce yourself. “Y/N, from the Daily Bugle. Would you mind if I ask you a couple of questions about the dead rats you’re finding?”

His eyes flit to your extended hand, but he doesn’t take it. “I’d shake it but I’ve been handlin’ dead rodents all mornin’, but sure lady, fire away,” he replies as he picks up the first rat and examines it.

Reaching into your pocket, you pull out your phone and open up your voice notes app.

“Has every rat you’ve found today died the same way?” you ask as you hold the phone close to your mouth, before moving it towards the pest control man.

Observing the rat in his hand, he checks its body before looking back at you and nods. “Yeah, two puncture marks, probably about an inch in width on every one,” he then picks up the second rat and nods again. “Yep, this one too.”

Puncture marks… you think to yourself for a second. “Like, stab wounds?”

The man shakes his head. “Like teeth, canine teeth perhaps?” he offers.

You would go look for yourself, but you’d rather not get too close to dead things, especially rats... “Perhaps a cat?”

He shakes his head again. “Too wide.”

Your shoulders slump as you frown at the confusion. Something’s biting them, but it’s bigger than a cat. It seems unlikely that a dog would be doing it, but you suppose there’s still a chance…

“Can you tell me anything more about the rats? Is there anything else you’ve noticed about them?”

The pest control man starts to put them in a box, to your greatest discomfort, it seems to be already occupied with several other dead animals. “Yeah, they ain’t juicy.”

You raise a questioning brow at his comment. “Juicy?”

Picking up the box, he stands again, causing you to step back and give him a wide berth. “No blood,” he answers as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“They’re… exsanguinated?” you murmur in surprise, now that is something significant. A cat wouldn’t drain it of its blood…

“What?” he asks as he stuffs the box in the back of his van. “Listen lady, there’s a reason you’re in your job and I’m in mine. Big words ain’t my thing. Do you need to know anythin’ else, or can I go?”

There’s a pause as you think for a second. “Yeah, one last thing. Is it just this part of Nueva York, or are the rat deaths more widespread?”

The two doors at the back of his van close with a clunk before he turns to look at you again. “This place and surroundin’ areas, but not all over the city - thank the Lord,” he answers, sounding tired.

“Okay, thank you,” you reply as you switch off your voice notes on your phone and look around trying to think what to do next. Something strange is going on and now your interest is piqued.

The pest control van drives away, no doubt on its way to look for more dead rats.

What you need now is perhaps something that will show what happened. CCTV from local businesses might help, and luckily for you, a nightclub just across the street might have a camera in the perfect position to see into the alleyway where the two rats met their demise.

Looking at your phone you see that it has just gone nine AM and wonder if anyone might be inside the establishment.

Crossing the road, you approach the nightclub called Las Sombras, its name printed in white text on a black board above the glass double doors. Looking inside all the regular lighting is switched on while you spot someone pottering around at the back.

Your rapping on the glass catches the attention of the short woman inside. Looking rather bemused, she comes to the nightclub’s entrance to unlock the doors and open them.

“Can I help you?” the woman asks as she pokes her head out.

“I work for the Daily Bugle, and I’d like to ask nearby businesses some questions about certain events that have taken place around here recently,” you begin as you put on a friendly face, looking slightly amused with her fashion choices.

The woman with the light-brown styled bob raises a quizzical eyebrow behind her pink, heart-shaped glasses. “What events?” she asks, although she looks approachable, there was an air of suspicion or caution to her voice.

You shiver as a cold breeze washes over you. “I know you’re closed but, can I come in?” you ask, pulling your coat around you a little tighter.

The nightclub employee opens the door wider to allow you in, but closes it behind you again and locks it to stop anyone else from entering.

Warmth blankets you as you step into the building, a nice relief from the elements outside.

“Are you the owner of this nightclub?” you ask, sounding intrigued as you look around. The furnishings were sleek, black and modern. Large, black, electric candelabras hang from the ceiling, giving a slight gothic atmosphere to the establishment. Above the bar was another black board and the bar’s name lit up in LEDs.

“Part owner,” she answers before extending her hand to you. “I’m Lyla.”

Taking her hand in yours, you introduce yourself to her. “You have a partnership in owning this place? Where’s the other owner?”

Lyla smiles at your question. “He won’t be around for a while yet. I tend to do a lot of the admin stuff, taking stock of drinks and doing payroll, while he does the more supervisory stuff when the club is open.”

You nod in understanding before looking at the name above the bar. “Las Sombras… Spanish for the Shadows?”

“Yep, sure is. My business partner chose the name.”

“Moody name,” you comment.

“He’s a moody guy.”

A smirk grows across your face. There’s something about Lyla that you really like. You imagine that she’s a rather fun person to be around.

“So, are you going to continue asking about the club, or ask about what you’re actually here for?” Lyla asks as she rests her hands on her hips, her silk, white blouse shimmers in the light from above.

“Oh, yes…” you begin as you slip your phone out of your pocket again, opening the voice notes app, but you don’t press the record button yet. “Have you noticed anything strange or odd going on here or in the surrounding areas of the city?”

Lyla looks at you blankly - clearly your question hasn’t rung any bells. “Nope. What sort of things have been happening?” she asks in return.

“You haven’t seen an increase in rats, particularly dead ones littering alleyways?”

She shakes her head and gives a shrug. “I’ve not noticed anything.”

Regardless of you liking her, you sense she’s not being entirely truthful. “The nightclub has a CCTV camera that overlooks an alley where two rats died under unusual circumstances, could I take a look at the security footage?”

Lyla chuckles slightly at your question. “What is this, CSI: Rodentville?” she asks as she reaches into her pocket for a set of keys. “Come through to the back and we can take a look.”

The gothic theme seems to diminish the moment you step through the door behind the bar. Keys jangle as Lyla unlocks a glossy white door, revealing a small room mostly filled with a desk equipped with a CCTV monitoring system. Plonking herself down on the chair, Lyla wriggles the mouse on the computer to wake it up while you stand right behind her. “Any idea what time last night your precious rats shuffled off this mortal coil?”

Giving a shrug, you answer: “Dunno, I guess it’ll be when the street is quiet? What time does the nightclub close?”

“Around two AM,” Lyla replies as she enters a time into the software. Footage rewinds from live feed, into the past. People walk backwards at top speed, you even see yourself reversing across the road, back towards the alleyway briefly before it finally stops at the specified time window. Pressing play, both you and Lyla watch the footage intently, leaning in closer to try and spot any minor bit of detail that could end up becoming significant.

To start with, nothing out of the ordinary happens, cars pass down the dark street early in the morning, people amble along the sidewalk, behaving normally. Lyla skips the time ahead slightly, not much has changed, except a discarded paper bag blown by the autumnal wind tumbling across the road.

Another skip forward in time reveals something far more interesting. A young man, who looks lost and distressed, retreating into the alleyway opposite the nightclub. Both you and Lyla lean in even closer to see what the person was up to.

As he looks around, checking his surroundings for his security, you recognise his face. Unlocking your phone you go straight to the last photo you took. “M-Miles Morales?” you splutter in shock, pointing at the screen.

“You know the kid?” Lyla asks, looking up at you.

“He’s missing,” you answer, showing the nightclub owner the picture on your phone before looking back up at the CCTV footage. You continue to watch intently as the boy settles down on the cold, concrete slab, hugging his knees to his chest.

“And the rats were found there?” Lyla inquires as she too retrains her focus back on the screen.

“Yep, in the exact same alleyway…” your brows furrow as you notice Miles looking further into his hiding place as if something has got his attention, but before you see him do anything else, the screen goes black and the machine falls silent.

“Well, shit!” Lyla exclaims in frustration, throwing her hands up in the air. “Damn thing’s been doing this for ages.”

Feeling as though the answers to your questions have slipped from your grasping fingers, your breath falters, the harsh pang of disappointment winding you slightly. “Can’t you bring it back?” your eye twitches with irritation as you work hard on masking it.

Lyla frowns and sighs. “Unfortunately, after a system shut-down, expected or not, all footage is lost and starts recording again from fresh,” she watches your shoulders slump at that revelation. “I know. It sucks - I’m sorry. My business partner hasn’t got round to fixing the issue with it yet.”

Pinching the bridge of your nose slightly, you take a deep breath. At least you have seen the missing kid, that should count for something. You take note of the number in the picture and begin to dial it.

“W-wait, what are you doing?” the nightclub owner asks, her voice shaking slightly.

As you dial the number, you briefly look up at Lyla, “Calling the number on the missing person’s poster,” you answer before looking back down again and pressing the dial button. “Tell them I’ve seen Miles in this area,” you finish as you hold the phone up to your ear and wander out of the room, leaving Lyla on her own.

With no more answers available for your mounting questions, you leave Las Sombras after notifying the police about seeing Miles on the CCTV footage. Feeling as though you have achieved something good, you return to the office with a story developing in your mind, something to write about and a mystery for you to investigate further in the coming days.

After writing an article for the Daily Bugle, you feel you have accomplished even more than giving much needed hope to the parents missing their son, Miles. You cast your eye over your work before you submit it to your formidable boss.

“Pest Control Gone Too Far?

It has been brought to my attention by a concerned member of the public that there has been a sharp increase of rat deaths in Nueva York. Now, some of you might be thrilled at the idea that there are fewer rodents to worry about in the city, however, shouldn’t we ask ourselves why this is happening?

When I first heard that rats were simply dropping dead around the city, my first worry was a potential plague that could affect more than just the city’s rodent population.

Upon my investigations today, I met with an employee from pest control who has been cleaning up the mess as a result of the rising number of deaths, and he has provided some interesting insight.

Each rat that has been found and collected has suffered the same cause of death; two puncture wounds as if bitten, and their blood drained from their small bodies.

Is there a blood-thirsty beast roaming the dark streets of Nueva York who has developed an unquenchable thirst for rats? Or is this someone’s idea of a sick joke?”

Feeling happy with your work, you hit send on your email and wait for your boss’s approval.

After getting Las Sombras’s CCTV recording software back online, and completing several tasks like cleaning and staff payroll, Lyla pulls out her phone, biting her lip with concern.

Her thumb hovers with hesitation over a contact on her phone screen, simply labelled ‘M’. Finally, she gives an exasperated sigh, presses on the number and waits for the call to connect. Several rings fill the air as she puts the phone on loud-speaker and leans against the bar.

A click indicates the call has been answered and a gravelly, deep voice speaks. “What? Couldn’t this have waited until later?”

“No it couldn’t,” Lyla begins, “we’ve got a problem.”

“And what problem is that?” the male’s voice on the other end sounds irritated.

“We’ve got some woman sniffing around asking about dead rats-”

“Dead rats?” the man interjects, “you disturbed me for dead rats?”

“No - but a missing kid is draining the vermin of their blood,” the line goes silent for a moment after Lyla speaks. “The bigger problem is, the woman saw the kid on the CCTV footage when she asked to check it. She wanted to learn more about the damned rats. She recognised him and reported him to the police that he’s in this neck of the woods…”

“Shit!” the male voice exclaims before taking a deep breath. “Why was she poking her nose around our place anyway?” he eventually asks with a tone of simmering annoyance.

“She works for the Daily Bugle-”

“Fuck sake, Lyla!,” he pauses for a second, “please tell me, she didn’t see the kid feast on the rodent…” he growls in a threatening tone.

“No, she didn’t. I subtly kicked the power cable out of the back of the machine before she saw anything…” a sigh of relief came from his end of the line.

“Well - that’s something at least. But guess what? You’re covering for me tonight while I now have to fetch the kid before the police find him…”

“I can do that,” Lyla responds as she pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Did you at least catch the kid’s name?”

“Miles - Miles Morales. His face is all over the news and on missing posters around the city.”

“Good, send me his picture and I’ll go looking for him at sundown.”

“Sure, I’ll do that after the call.”

“Oh, and if that nosey woman comes back. Get rid of her.”

Lyla sighs at her business partner’s words. “Understood…”

Thank you for reading part 1 of Vampire Miguel. I hope you're enjoying it so far.

Part 2 >

If you're interested in commissioning me, please click on the link below to find out more.

If you wish to follow me on Twitter, please click on the link below! I'm getting close to 400 followers! And I'll be looking to open a celebration prize draw, one lucky winner's OC will win a NSFW written scenario with our lovely Miguel O'Hara.

#fanfic #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse #commisions open #smut #eventual smut #fem reader #female reader #reader x character #readerxmiguelohara #vampiremiguel

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evieskiesss · 11 months ago

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MY BLOG

hello, welcome to my blog! i’ve decided that i will be telling you all a couple of things about me, as well as some of my boundaries & requirements for requests! this is all basically important info:)

ABOUT ME:

-my online name is evie

-i’m hispanic

-i speak about 5 languages (i am able to understand more).

-i absolutely love tokio hotel, their music brings me comfort<3

-i can play the guitar

-i’m the LEAST pickiest eater you’ll ever meet, i am down to try ANYTHING.

-i am both a bill & tom girly, they’re so cute, i cannot choose between them. and yes, i love them both now. how could you not?

BOUNDARIES:

i am completely open to writing the following..

-smut

-fluff

-angst (always a happy ending)

-hurt to comfort

-lemon (contains sexual content but no p in v)

-kinky stuff

MDNI:

okay, so i’ve been putting this off for a little bit but i believe it is best for me to discuss. i put MDNI in my bio mainly for people who are younger than 15 years old.

the amount of comments that i have received saying that you guys are 12 or 13, makes me very uncomfortable. my stories are not meant to be read by 12/13 year olds. i don’t exactly have an issue if you are 15-16 but younger than that, i will request, that you do not interact with my page.

WHAT I WILL NOT WRITE:

-twince$t b/c ew..

-scat or anything gross..

-no rape.

REQUESTS:

please feel free to inbox me or send in a request through the button on my page! please be patient with me & understand that i am a person with a life outside of this app. i’ve got maybe 170+ requests in my inbox so please be patient. but feel free to send in your ideas, i always love reading them, a lot of you guys give me inspiration!

please try to be more specific when it comes to your requests, i want to please you properly! for example: “could you please do fluff 2006 tom in which reader is drunk and he takes care of her?”.

this is a great example of a request because it includes the genre, the specific time era of the character & the scenario. if you don’t have a specific scenario or specific era you’d like & only have a small thing in mind, that’s perfectly okay as well! for example: “could you please do tom taking reader out on a date?”.

thank you if you’ve read to the end of my post, i love you all so much!:)

#bill kaulitz x reader #evieskiesss #smut #tokio hotel x reader #tom kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz smut #georg listing #gustav schäfer #tokio hotel #tom kaulitz smut

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heavenlyvision · 1 year ago

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helloo!! my friend sent me the bi-han request you wrote for her and your writing is just a m a z i n g! i was wondering if i could request a mileena x gn! afab reader soft smut where mileena is having a stressful day of being an empress and reader tries to relieve her stress when they're finally alone? when it comes to the smut just please don't include any degredation etc!! if you don't write female characters then please ignore this request!!

Thank you for your request! I do not write softer smut frequently, but I tried my hand at it here. My bad habit of adding a plot came back today so I expanded on your idea slightly, I hope you don’t mind. Also, this is a shorter fic as I am not as experienced at writing smut for female characters, and I wanted to fulfil your request sooner rather than later, it had been sitting in my inbox for a bit and I didn’t want you to feel like I was ignoring it! I really hope I lived up to your expectations and that you enjoy it <3

Unwind

Wc: 2.5k

Pairing: Mileena x GN!Reader

Warnings: 18+ only, angst (only an iddy biddy bit), established relationship, cunnilingus (Mileena receiving), I think that's all!

Stressed doesn’t even begin to touch how Mileena has been feeling lately, not that she will admit to it. She’s too proud to confide in you how things have been difficult for her, but it isn’t hard to tell that things have been difficult.

Ever since her mother passed and she took over role of empress she has been trying so hard to be accepted by Outworld. She’s steadfast in ruling fairly and improving in specific areas where her mother had failed to acknowledge properly. Which, you admire greatly, she is a strong leader, and she has been doing an amazing job.

The only complaint you have comes back to her overworking herself, she can’t keep running herself to the ground like this. It makes for poor health and in the long run, will result in poor leadership. You have tried gently mentioning this to her before, but she is not very receptive to your concerns.

Being her partner, you’d have thought you would have more of a sway over things regarding her well-being and health, but she is very resolute in her ideas of ruling.

Tonight is not any different, you are relaxing in your shared chambers when she finally comes in for the night. You had stayed up late waiting for her.

Mileena sneaks into the room, trying to be as quiet as possible, thinking you are already asleep. You watch her move through the room in the dark, she stubs her toe on one of your dressers and it makes you chuckle.

“You’re awake?” She huffs.

You stifle your chuckles, “Yes, I am, I’ve been waiting for you.”

Possessing a flare for the dramatic, you flick the bedside table lamp on, displaying your very awake form. Sitting upright and crossing your arms over your chest, one of your eyebrows raise in her direction. Trying to convey to her with a single look that you have something important to speak with her about.

She sighs, understanding what this conversation is probably concerning, “I am guessing you were not waiting because you miss me?”

“Actually, this pertains to that,” you miss her, and you’re worried about her.

“Let me change first?” She asks.

“Of course.”

She thanks you and moves around the room, undressing herself as she goes. She changes into her night clothes fairly quickly and come to sit beside you on the bed, she turns to face you and you do the same.

Your hand reaches out towards her face, cupping her cheek, “Mileena, I am concerned for you, you have been overworking yourself and it’s effecting your wellbeing.”

You don’t want to mention it, but it is also affecting your relationship. Waiting for her to return to you and watching her stress herself is not easy. You will continue to wait for as long as it takes, loyal to a fault but that doesn’t make it any easier for you.

Her hand comes up and rests over top of yours, “this is my role now, I have more responsibilities.”

You pull back from her, eyes imploring, “I know that, but you are still a person, you are putting too much pressure on yourself to be perfect.”

This is upsetting for you, it’s the most you’ve seen of her in days, and it seems like this disagreement will turn into a fight.

She slumps her shoulders, and her head drops, she seems irate. Like you just aren’t understanding, like you’ll never understand.

“Mileena, I know why you are doing it this way, but you’re my partner and I don’t agree with anyone harming you, including yourself.” This is the most you think you will push it tonight; you can tell she is exhausted.

“I will consider what you have said but I cannot guarantee anything, my duties are immense.” The reply feels political in nature, but you understand, it must be hard to separate the two worlds. Especially when she is more often than not, Empress Mileena and not your Mileena.

You nod your head at her, leaning forward, you peck her cheek and say, “I understand, goodnight.”

Rolling over you flick the lamp off and lay down, trying your best to find sleep.

Mileena sighs deeply beside you, “Goodnight, my love.” She tucks your hair behind your ear in a display of affection before laying down and trying to sleep herself.

⊹˚. ♡

The sleep you have been getting recently is broken and poor, wracked with bad dreams and if there are no dreams, you still wake up with a haunted feeling. The discussion you had with Mileena was a week ago now and nothing has changed, if anything, it has gotten worse. Often, she will not even come to bed.

The poor sleep, you think, is a result of her absence. You used to be able to sleep alone no problem but now you have grown too accustomed to her presence in the bed beside you. You miss her warmth, you miss snuggling into her at night, or early in the morning.

Pushing her further is something you regret now, you thought if you had been a bit more insistent and voiced your concerns, she would be more open to slowing down. That has proven to be the opposite of the truth. Moving forward you aren’t completely sure what to do to help her unwind.

Wandering the palace halls is not one of your favourite pastimes but you’re at a loss for what else you should do presently. All other areas of interest have either, already been tended to today, or are not appealing to you currently.

You’re a little bit shocked when Mileena rounds the corner, even more surprised to see she is unaccompanied.

She also seems surprised at your presence, “What are you doing here? You don’t usually wander the palace.”

“I am at a loss for what to fill the rest of the day with.” You are honest with her.

“I could use some help, if you are willing?” She proposes to you, a rare request for assistance.

“How can I help, Empress?” You jibe her a bit.

Her smile is pleasant, it makes your heart twinge, missing her, “I am on my way to the record room, I’m looking for a specific piece of information and it is quite far back, more eyes would make the search go quicker.”

“I am at your service,” you beam at her.

You’re hoping this is your chance to finally be alone with her long enough to fill the hole in your heart where she previously resided. Or be able to talk with each other and move past your disagreement.

The walk to the record room is quiet and you can’t take it, not able to stand the silence. Not when you feel as though you’ve not spoken to her in weeks.

“I–” You both go to speak at the same time, it has you both chuckling.

“You go first,” she offers.

But you’re curious as to what she was going to say, “No, no, you first, please.”

“I miss you,” is all she says.

“I miss you too,” you reply.

The both of you having the same thing to say makes you feel better. The pair of you mutually missing the other. She also doesn’t seem to be cross with you and that makes you feel better too.

⊹˚. ♡

The record room is a gloomier vibe, compared to the rest of the palace, and it is a bit dusty the further back you go in the palaces history.

Mileena was right to ask for help, she would not be able to do this alone, in fact, “Don’t you usually have people who do this for you?” You ask her.

“Yes, but I felt like it would be better if I did it myself.”

You look at her dubiously and raise a single brow.

She looks to you and sees the expression on your face, “Okay, yes I can see how maybe I might not have to do this myself, and maybe in the future I will ask someone else to do this for me but right now, I get to spend time with you, and I am happy with that.” She smiles sweetly at you.

“Even if that means sifting through dirty old books?” You question.

“Yes, even if it means sifting through dirty old books.”

You blow an amused sigh out through your nose and walk over to her; she turns toward you and you pull her up into a hug. Embracing her fully, trying to hold her in a manner that makes up for the lack of hugs as of late.

Her head is pushed into the side of your own, she whispers to you, “I am sorry.”

“It is okay,” you tell her because it is.

“It is not, I have been neglecting you and our relationship in favour of my duties,” she pulls back from you, to look you in the eyes, “I will be a better partner and I will be a better leader.”

“You are already a great partner, and you are a fantastic leader, you just need to unwind a bit, being stressed will only create more problems in the long run.”

Your hands reach up and hold her face, she leans into your touch, “I just wish I knew how to relax.” She sighs.

Feeling bold you quip, “I know how to help,” and then you’re leaning in and claiming her lips with your own.

She sighs into your kiss, accepting what you’re giving her. Mileena’s hands come to rest on your hips and tug you closer. One of your own hands slides behind her head, the other moving behind her and in the middle of her back, pulling her in even closer.

Your head tilts to the side slightly and you lick against her lips, asking for entrance. She grants it and lets you slip your tongue into her mouth. A muffled gasp coming from her in response. The heat of the kiss making you feel dizzy, not having been touched or touched her in this manner in a while. The feelings, feel brand new again.

Pulling back from her lips, you trail down her face to her neck, pressing firm kisses and light sucks against it, careful not to leave any marks behind.

“Take of your pants?” You ask her.

“Here?” She’s taken aback by your brazenness, not usually one to be so adventurous.

“Yes, here.” You reply, you’re caught up in the moment. You haven’t had her pussy against your mouth in far too long, you’re practically experiencing withdrawals.

She pulls her pants down, undressing her bottom half, you feel like you’re died and gone to heaven.

Pulling your coat off you place it over the seat she was previously sat in, “Sit,” you state, patting the chair.

She has a breathtaking smile on her face, as she sits down, you lean in and kiss her deeply. Only for a moment before focusing back on the task at hand.

You kneel between her legs, “I am ready to serve, Empress.”

She rolls her eyes playfully at you in response and you return a large smile at her.

You kiss both her knees before moving her legs apart, spreading her wide in her chair. She isn’t sat forward enough for your liking, gripping her thighs, you pull her forward. Her cunt almost completely off the chair, the action pulls a delightful gasp from her.

Your hands hold her thighs open as you shuffle closer between her spread legs. Head dipping to kiss her thighs, sucking marks into the left one, from as far down as you can reach to as close to her pussy as you can get without touching her where she needs you most.

Little mewls and sighs come from her mouth as you suck, lick and kiss at her thighs. You switch to her right thigh, giving it the same attention as the previous. Sucking marks into the soft skin, moving closer to the apex of her thighs without giving her the relief of licking her pussy.

“Stop teasing, I don’t need the – hah – foreplay,” she huffs out at you.

Your smile somewhat devious, you blow cool air on her cunt just to watch it clench in response, “You are beautiful,” you sigh out in awe.

Another gasp pulled from her at your act, one that turns into a groan of pleasure as you finally put your whole mouth on her pussy.

Your arms come up and under her thighs, moving them to be held over your shoulders as you gently lick into her pussy hole. The noises she’s making in response to your mouth is making you lightheaded, wanting to stay between her legs forever if it means hearing her whimpers and moans for the rest of your life.

Your tongue moves from her hole to her clit, you flatten your tongue against it and encourage her to grind down on you. Her hips begin writhing up and down, chasing the pleasure your tongue is giving her.

You allow her to use you how she pleases before your hands hold her down, your tongue moving back into her pussy hole, tongue fucking her in earnest. Your nose pressing against her clit.

The stimulation you’re giving her has her hips itching to grind down against you again, her moans and whimpers breaking off into pitchy little gasps. Her thighs shaking around your head, you release her thighs lightly, giving her more room to grind into your face.

Her hand moves from the grip it had on the side of the chair to your head, “Fffffeels divine, my love–”

You release your hold on her completely letting her rut into your face how she desires, she moans loudly at the freedom, enjoying the pleasure she’s using you to give herself. Her cunt starts tightening around your tongue, she’s getting close.

Her thighs attempt to close around your head again, which you don’t allow to happen, your hands come up and hold them open.

She continues grinding down into your face, her slick leaking from her cunt, the taste coating your tongue. You moan into her pussy at the sensation, giving her added stimulation in response, her cunt twitching at the feeling.

Her voice starts to climb in pitch, her words garbled, “Hah – I – mm gonna –”

She cuts herself off with a loud moan and the shout of your name, her cunt spasming around your tongue, she’s cum all over your face. Which you happily receive, continuing to lick at her as she comes down, her hips still grinding against you, riding out her own high.

When she eventually stops moving, you lick and slurp at her cunt, collecting all the slick and cum she released. You pull back before you start to overstimulate her, but not before you press a kiss to her clit, she jumps lightly in response to it.

She looks boneless on the chair, a dazed look in her eyes as she says, “I definitely feel much more relaxed now.”

“I am glad,” you reply to her, looking up at her as your head rests against her thigh. You place small kisses there, “I love you.” You tell her, not for the first time, and certainly not the last.

Her hand strokes your hair tenderly, “I love you, too.”

Things aren’t prefect or magically fixed, but you think because it’s you two, you’ll overcome any issues you may have. Now or in the future.

⊹˚. ♡

A/N: Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed! I don't feel as confident posting this as I do about my other works as I am still new to writing and even newer to writing for women, so I hope this is received well! A small update for everyone, currently I am working through requests in the order that I have received them, so if you have sent me one recently, I am not ignoring it! I am just working through some other stuff at the moment. Though I have a fic idea for Johnny Cage that I want to write, so that might be written in between fulfilling requests :))

#ask vision #mk1 smut #fanfic #smut #mk1 2023 #mileena x reader #mileena x reader smut #mileena smut #mileena mk

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