#i think i'm FINALLY done with the cleaning... i fucking hope so at least

[sherlock-is-ace]

.

[rcmclachlan]

The Least Vulnerable Spot 8x16 spec fic

In which I ask the ultimate questions: under what circumstances would Tommy not attend the memorial procession for Bobby? Also, how silly can I make this?

+

Buck has never considered himself to be that guy, but when a man hands you the viral antidote he stole for you, kisses you on a rooftop backlit by the sunset while a couple of Sikorsky UH-60s hover threateningly, and whispers "Here's looking at you, kid" before ushering you through the rooftop door so you can save your family while a bunch of stone-faced Army guys advance, you tend to have an expectation or two. Like, that he'll pick up his fucking phone when you call. 

He's left so many voicemails and sent so many texts to Tommy's phone over the last four days that he's pretty sure Verizon has his account flagged, but he thinks Petrea, his account rep, would understand if he explained that his ex-but-maybe-not-ex-boyfriend flew in like a superhero and then ghosted him when Buck needed him the most. She might even dig up a Jilted Before Your Father Figure's Funeral discount for his troubles. 

It's been a week since they held the procession for Bobby, and not even Buck showing up at Tommy's house the night before and pounding on the door for an hour while shouting that he was yellow-bellied (partly true), a traitor to the 118 name (mostly true), and a lousy lay (bold-faced lie) could make the little coward show his face. 

So he's done. He is finished with Tommy Kinard and his massive amounts of baggage that would make even Briggs & Riley close up shop, and he's proving it by leaving one final voicemail that isn't influenced by his sadness over Bobby's death, the stress of the last couple of weeks, or by how much Tommy's abandonment has hurt him. He's going to be a rational adult about this. He's going to be the bigger person.

".... This is all to say that I hope you have an amazing life, Tommy," he says into his phone speaker. "I hope it's filled with love and support, and it's meaningful and fulfills your soul. And I hope you fall in love with a beautiful, kind man who treats you right, and I hope you get married and stay together for fifty blissful years, and then I hope you wake up from the coma to realize it was all a dream and you're all alone, because apparently that's what you really want! And I know you were quoting a movie on the rooftop, and you know what? I'm not going to even look up which movie it was! Look at me, kid, or whatever it was you said!"

Buck misses the days when he could snap his phone shut to hang up, because stabbing end call twenty times until his finger actually taps the button just doesn't give him the same kind of satisfaction. 

Panting for a moment, he pushes all his anger and pain into a little lockbox in the back of his mind, shuts the lid, and takes a breath. Then he pockets his phone and looks up to find everyone in the station frozen, staring at him like he just performed a magic trick or saw a bug on the wall and didn't identify it out loud.

"What?!" he snaps at all of their slack-jawed faces. "Never seen a rational adult before?"

Out of nowhere, a hand lands on his shoulder like a jump scare, and he startles back so hard he almost throws an elbow into Acting Captain Henrietta Wilson's wrinkled nose.

"Hey, Buckaroo," Hen coos. The expression on her face would be more at home on someone who's been tasked with single handedly cleaning up a nuclear meltdown. "Maybe we should put our phones in our lockers so we're not distracted by our very confusing situationships. At least until lunch time when I can escape to Rosetti's to get a break from it."

Buck doesn't whine and he definitely doesn't stamp his feet. "Yeah, but what if he calls?" 

"You know, he probably would just to tell you the quote is actually Here's looking at you, kid," Hen admits. 

"I don't get it. Who's looking at me?" Buck mutters, giving his phone the stink eye before looking up. "What are you doing out here? I thought you were doing paperwork."

Hen shrugs with her entire face. "Well, I was, but when you started wailing I thought another raccoon got caught in the vent fan again, so."

For someone who got the job under the worst set of circumstances imaginable, she looks completely at home in the role, the way she always does. Buck's trying like hell to be happy for her, and he is, deep deep deep down, but he'll be the first to admit he hasn't been handling it well. Yesterday she'd brought in a tiny potted succulent and put it in the upper left corner of what was now her desk where a framed photo of Athena, May, and Harry once sat, and Buck accidentally knocked it onto the floor. And accidentally stepped on it. Twice. Accidentally.

She'd stared at him until he started to sweat, then said flatly, "You're buying me two more."

"Yep," he'd agreed. There's now a bigger succulent on the desk and a bushy lemon lime maranta on the windowsill. 

Whatever she sees on his face makes her roll her eyes, but she puts her hand on his shoulder again and says, "Okay. You get thirty seconds. Lay it on me."

Buck blinks. "Really?"

"Twenty-nine now," Hen says.

Damn, that's generous. Eddie only gave him ten before he tapped out. 

Squaring his shoulders, Buck lets it all come tumbling out: "I thought this meant something! He threw in with us again and kissed me on the roof and said whatever he said and it was supposed to mean something! You don't just bail after that! He was supposed to be here! He was supposed to support me at the funeral! He was supposed to be there for me at the procession and then fuck the sadness out of me afterward! I had a plug in and everything!"

"Time's up," Hen breaks in, a look of abject horror on her face. 

Buck throws his hands up. "That had to only be twenty seconds at most."

Hen's eyes dart down to his hips, then back up to his face. Her glasses magnify them, so they look bigger and wider than usual. She looks like one of those Precious Moments figurines his mom used to collect. "You had a—Buck, that procession went for a full mile."

"Believe me," Buck grumbles, shifting to try and escape the chafed ache that refuses to go away. "I'm well aware. Serves me right for going with the biggest one I own, but, like, I thought Tommy was gonna—"

"Aaaand we're done." Hen executes a perfect about-face and marches in the direction of the admin offices. 

Buck calls after her, "Bobby would've heard me out!"

"Bobby would've jammed pencils in his ears!" Hen shouts over her shoulder. "Which is exactly what I'm about to do!"

This is exactly what he means when he tells Dr. Copeland that no one ever listens to him. 

He's about to go see if he can corner Chimney somewhere with limited escape routes when his phone starts buzzing in his pocket. His heart gets caught up in a dizzying storm of excitement, dread, and grim satisfaction, because he knew Tommy wouldn't be able to deal with the idea of Buck not looking the quote up.

But when he takes his phone out of his pocket, the incoming call isn't from Jaw of Gibraltar ❤️, but Lucy Donato.

Sighing, he takes the call. "Uh, h-hey Lucy—"

She cuts him off immediately with a curt, "Look, don't think I'm not grateful or anything. We all are. Not being forced to listen to sad James Ingram songs day in and day out has been wonderful, but it's been two weeks already and we need our lead pilot back."

"I—what? Lucy, I hate to tell you, but—"

"Tell me precisely zero details about how dick drunk you are, Buckley," Lucy says flatly. "Just tell me when you're letting him go. Cap's getting antsy and Baxter's been on call for so long that his wife is ready to kill him and turn his body into mulch."

Buck stares at Engine 2 until it blurs. "You... are talking about Tommy, right?"

"No, I'm talking about the other dipshit I work with who committed domestic terrorism because your asshole is a Disneyland attraction." Buck makes a face but doesn't correct her. Tommy once likened sex with Buck to riding Big Thunder Mountain for the first time. "He's missed like four shifts. Any more and Cap is gonna have to, like, make some calls. Where the fuck's our pilot, Buckley?"

"He hasn't been in at all?" He echoes faintly, a sinkhole opening in his gut. 

Lucy makes a sound of disgust. "Frankly, I can't believe they dropped your charges. You're way too dangerous to be allowed among the general populace."

The Army colonel who swanned into Chim's hospital room like he expected them to scatter like roaches had taken one look at all of them and scoffed. "Every fiber of my being hates what I'm about to say, but I can't handle another phone call from Sergeant Grant, so: on behalf of the United States government, we're dropping all federal charges for everyone in this room. If I see any of you ever again, I will throw you into a hole so deep it'll make the Kola Borehole look like something a kid dug at the beach."

Except not everyone was in the hospital room that day.

Buck squeezes his eyes shut. "Hey, so I need to call you back."

"Wait, Dana wants to talk to you."

With a yelp of pure terror, Buck stabs his phone until the call ends, then immediately calls Jaw of Gibraltar ❤️. It goes right to voicemail, like it's been doing, and now Buck is pretty sure he knows why.

"Heeeeeeeey," he says through a grimace. "So, uh, I need you to ignore all the other voicemails and texts I sent you. Um, it's entirely possible the reason you haven't been picking up my calls might be, uh, sort of my fault, but just think: someday when we've been married for fifty years, we'll probably still be laughing about this whole thing."

Inbox full, the automated voice cheerfully tells him.

Cringing, he calls Athena.

+

Buck has never actually seen a federal prison—Jamestown was a regular prison, and he didn't have enough time to stop and take it all in—so he's not sure what to expect, but when they fly over Victorville Medium-Security Federal Correctional Institute, he's surprised to see it looks more like an army base than anything. 

The pilot who picked him, Athena, and LAFD union lawyer Bernadette Kaine up from Harbor One—and that had sucked, because the entire Harbor crew was standing on the tarmac giving him the evil eye as he boarded, and while Dana didn't physically drag her thumb across her throat he could see the same sentiment in her blank expression—didn't actually introduce himself, but his name was embroidered on the arm of his flight suit. 

"Your last name is 'Goodenough'?" Buck had asked, grinning. "'Pilot Goodenough'? Hopefully your flying is a lot better than your name suggests!"

Pilot Goodenough stared stone-faced out the windshield and said, "We might hit turbulence during the flight."

And they did, but oddly only whenever Buck unbuckled his belt. The last time Buck went to get up, Athena threatened to shoot him.

When they land, Colonel Whatshisname is there to greet them, and he looks both exhausted and furious to see him and Athena again. 

"Sergeant Grant," the colonel acknowledges through gritted teeth, ignoring Buck entirely. "It's such a pleasure to see you again."  

Athena simply crosses her arms and stares him down, which is impressive to watch, considering the guy's like 6'7". He's shriveling under her scrutiny before Buck's very eyes. 

"Colonel, it appears you forgot something," Athena says, lightly and terrifyingly.

"Someone," Buck interjects, with nowhere near the same impact.

Colonel Whatshisname sighs, looks heavenward at the departing helicopter as though he'd like nothing more than to flag Pilot Goodenough back down to take him away, then beckons them all inside.

When they get to whoever's office the colonel commandeered, Buck is almost completely distracted from why they're there by the sheer amount of rubber ducks that clutter up every flat surface in the room. No two are the same. There's even a little viking duck, complete with a mace. 

"Can I—" Buck starts slowly, inching his hand toward a duck that looks like a firefighter.

Colonel Whatshisname sits down at the desk, hard. "No."

"That's fair."

"Colonel Spade," Bernadette begins, opening her worryingly bulging briefcase. "I'd like to begin by thanking you for your ti—"

"Colonel, you know why we're here," Athena cuts in, taking the seat on the other side of the colonel's desk. She has to clear a path through all the ducks lined up at the edge so she can rest her clasped hands there. "When the charges were dropped for the members of the 118 involved in the incident, LAFD pilot Thomas Kinard's charges should have been included."

At that, Buck moves to stand menacingly at her shoulder like an attack dog, although the colonel doesn't look all that impressed at the display. If anything, he gets a look on his face like he'd just swallowed an assassin bug. Specifically a North American wheel bug. 

"Normally, I would agree with you, but Thomas Kinard abused his military rank and previous clearance to gain access to a secure government building, steal proprietary assets from a lab that could have caused great harm to the population of Los Angeles, and physically assaulted personnel on his way out," Colonel Spade snaps at her. "There was no way we were letting any of that go."

"Assaulted?" Athena lifts a brow. 

"That's awful," Buck rasps, pressing his thighs together. "Like, how many people and what did he do to them? Like, were there concussions? Broken bones? You can go into detail, I'm not squeamish."

The thought of Tommy fighting his way to get to Buck is so disgustingly hot that he might pop a woody in front of Athena, their lawyer lady, a visibly upset military man, and three thousand ducks. Still not the worst place he's ever been turned on.

"Without Kinard, we never would've gotten the antidote in time to save all those people," Athena says, and yanks her chair forward a little, away from Buck. "The people you deemed collateral damage in the fallout of the release of the CCHF virus."

"No one could have predicted Dr. Blake would go rogue," Colonel Spade says easily, with hate in his eyes. "This is hardly the fault of the—"

Suddenly, Bernadette sits up, and it feels like someone's put a spotlight on her. Buck kind of expects her to break into song or something, but what happens is actually so much better.

"The day Dr. Blake stole the virus, her employment was terminated, effective immediately, and yet security didn't walk her out of the building, which goes against all federal mandated safety protocols," Bernadette says, all smiles, practically glowing. "The lab—property of the U.S. government, if I remember correctly—was entirely unsupervised, which gave Dr. Blake the unfettered opportunity to tamper with the virus, speeding up its incubation period without authorization. Or, perhaps she did have authorization and the government failed to disclose this. Tell me, what else is going on under our noses that the government isn't telling us?"

"Try to disappear the brave people who risk their lives to do the right thing, apparently," Athena answers pointedly. 

"I thought you were a union lawyer," Colonel Spade says through a visibly clenched jaw. "What do you know about federal pharmaceutical law?"

Bernadette's smile goes sharp. "I dabble."

Colonel Spade looks, for lack of a better word, murderous. He's probably one smarmy comment from grabbing the nearest rubber duck and bludgeoning Bernadette to death with it.

But Buck has never been able to help himself. "Is this a bad time to mention my ex-girlfriend is an investigative reporter?"

Athena drops her head into her hand. "Buck."

"I'm just saying!" He crosses his arms, trying to puff himself up the way some animals do when they're faced with a predator. "It sure would be a shame if an anonymous tip about all this landed in her lap."

Colonel Spade squints at him. "Are you threatening me, Firefighter Buckley?"

"You're trying to bury Tommy to save your own ass," Buck growls. "Yes, I'm threatening you."

Wordlessly, Bernadette reaches into her briefcase, which looks like it's seriously ready to bust open at the seams, and slides over a packet of paper to Colonel Spade. The colonel snatches it up and starts reading, and the longer he does, the paler he gets.

Finally, he lowers the packet and stabs Bernadette with his eyes. "Where did you get this?"

"I play mahjong with your ex-wife every Sunday," Bernadette says, like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. "She sends her regards. Well, she actually sent the tip of her blackmail iceberg. How is your new wife, by the way? She graduate from college yet?"

Eyes wide, Buck looks at the colonel, who's got the swallowing wheel bugs look on his face again.

After the most awkward ten seconds that Buck's had to endure since Eddie crashed his and Tommy's pizza date, the colonel folds like a bad row of mahjong tiles.

"Fine," he says with a sigh, then glares at Bernadette. "And no, she's a junior."

Buck picks up a rubber duck with sharp teeth like a vampire. "Gross."

+

The colonel washes his hands of them by pushing them onto two enormous guards named Weekes and Kluger, who are basically human trees. 

When Kluger gets his orders to take them to cell 58, he droops like a wilting plant. "Hey, you're not here to, like, take Kinard to Gitmo, right? It's just—he's really cool. He's got the wildest stories."

"Dude figured out what was wrong with my car just from listening to a video on my phone." Weekes grins, then leans in to whisper conspiratorially to Buck, "it was the alternator."

"I offered to introduce him to my sister," Kluger says as they board the elevator, and he's either oblivious to Buck's glare searing a hole in his head or is just flat-out ignoring it, because he continues blithely, "but he said he doesn't like girls. Which is cool. I'm down with the rainbow, you know? So I told him about my cousin, Martin."

Buck makes a politely interested noise, but it mostly sounds like he's biting straight through his tongue. Athena elbows him hard enough to bruise his spleen.

"And what did he have to say about Martin?" Buck asks. Meanwhile, every bone in his body is vibrating at a frequency only dogs can hear.

Kluger doesn't seem to be aware that the head is going to burst into flames any second now. "He said he was flattered and that Martin was hot, but he's already got his heart pinned on someone on the outside."

Buck relaxes with a pleased smile.

"Yeah, except whoever it is left him in here to rot," Weekes adds.

"T-That's unnecessary and completely untrue," Buck lies, trying to sink into the floor so he won't drown in shame right in front of them. 

Thankfully, the elevator comes to a stop at the 5th floor, and Buck pushes his way out to gulp some fresh air. 

He's not sure if being on the 5th floor is a good or bad thing. Tommy was charged with domestic terrorism; what if this is the domestic terrorism floor? What if he's neighbors with neo-nazis? What if he'd been jumped by a faction in the shower and took a beating and has spent the last few days pissing blood and breathing through broken ribs and cursing the day he ever picked up Chimney's call about needing a pilot for an unauthorized rescue? 

What if he regrets ever meeting Buck?

But before Buck can ask Kluger for a bucket to throw up in, they come to a stop in front of a cell marked with the number 58, and Buck forces himself to look inside.

Apparently the question Buck should've been asking was what if Tommy's lying on his bed playing paddle ball while he mouths along to whatever 80s hip-hop song is playing on a little radio? Because that's exactly what Tommy's doing.

"I gave him the radio," Weekes says proudly, reaching out to knock on the glass door. Tommy looks up without pausing his game. The ball keeps thwacking against the wood.

"He's so good at that," Kluger says, starry-eyed. "He beat Officer Amino last week and that guy's won tournaments."

"Is it Girl Scout cookie season already?" Tommy asks cheerfully, then effortlessly twists the paddle so the cord wraps around it. He tucks the ball in. "Sorry, I don't have my wallet on me."

Buck shoves Kluger aside to practically press his nose to the glass. "We take IOUs."

As soon as he sees Buck, Tommy brightens, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He stands, stretching with a groan, and then walks over to the door. Even in the bland blue jumpsuit, he's stupid hot. Helplessly, Buck puts his palm against the glass.

"Nice of you to stop by," Tommy says with a teasing lilt, pressing his own palm to Buck's, and Buck swears he can feel the heat of it through the pane. 

"I was in the neighborhood," Buck teases back. "Figured I'd pop in."

"I won't lie, I've been dreaming about you showing up for a conjugal visit." Tommy looks away from Buck's face to squint at everyone else. "Although you guys weren't there."

At that, Athena cracks a smile and says in an odd voice, almost twangy, "You stupid mullet head, he beat you with nothin'."

Tommy perks up and doesn't miss a bit, drawling, "Yeah, well, sometimes nothin' can be a real cool hand."

Before Buck can ask what the hell they're talking about, someone shoves him aside with surprising strength. He's a little surprised to see it's Bernadette, who he kind of forgot about, but she's clearly the only one who remembers why they're here because she raps on the glass and says, "Mr. Kinard, my name is Bernadette Kaine and I'm here to take you home."

"We're here to take you home," Buck amends. 

Tommy looks at Bernadette for a long moment, head tilting like a puppy hearing a noise for the first time and gaze narrowed, and then snaps his fingers. "Hey, I know you! I sent my paperwork to you the last time I stole a helicopter."

Sighing, Bernadette nods. "If you do it a third time, I get a free sundae."

"What do I get?" Tommy asks.

"Permanent incarceration and possibly the death penalty."

Pursing his lips thoughtfully, Tommy mulls that one over, then gives a decisive nod. "Sounds about right."

+

The helicopter ride home is spent mostly with Buck plastered to Tommy's side while he fills him in on everything he missed. Tommy's devastated to hear about Bobby. He offers Athena his condolences over the open mic, then curls his hand around his headset speaker to murmur apologies into Buck's ear. 

"I wish I'd been there for you," Tommy says, and the words ease some kinked cable inside Buck he hadn't known was there. "I'm sorry I wasn't."

"I'm sorry I forgot there were consequences to your actions and left you to the mercy of the Army," Buck says, pressing his forehead to the jut of Tommy's jaw. "I just assumed everything was taken care of, and I… kind of thought you were ghosting me."

At that, Tommy snorts, wrapping an arm around Buck to hold him impossibly closer. "Evan, come on. You don't kiss a man like that and quote Humphrey Bogart and then ghost him. I'm an asshole and a coward, but I'm not a monster."

Buck winces. "Uh, yeah, when you have a second, can I see your phone?"

"What for?"

"It's better if you don't know," Buck says. "Completely unrelated, but you don't have a code for your voicemail, do you, and if so, can I have it?"

Tommy snickers and presses a kiss to Buck's temple. "How bad did it get?"

"Well, I taught Chim the word 'motherfuckface', so you tell me," Buck admits, cracking a grin when Tommy laughs out loud, but he has a hell of a time trying to keep it up. Finally, he gives up the ghost and tucks his face against Tommy's, eyes prickling hot with guilt. "I'm so sorry. I should've known. I should've known. Never in a million years would you have bailed on the funeral. It should've been my first clue that something was wrong."

Tommy snugs him in close and says quietly, barely audible over the rotors, "To quote an incredible man who drives me up the wall: 'it seems there's a lot we don't know about each other.' I'm glad you know I wouldn't have left you in the lurch like that, but there's a lot more… there's a lot more about me that you should know. That I… well, not exactly want you to know, but that I will tell you. Willingly. Well, not exactly willingly, but—"

"Y-Yeah?" Sniffling a little, Buck pulls away just enough to be able to look up at him. "What are you doing Saturday?"

It wins him a smile. "Vivisecting myself for you, apparently. And maybe burgers afterwards?"

Grinning, Buck snuggles shamelessly back in. "Actually, I wanted to make Bobby's famous lasagna for you. I think I've finally nailed it down. Then you can nail me down."

But before Tommy can respond, Athena breaks in over the line and takes a baseball bat to the moment. "Change the subject. Now."

Swallowing hard, Buck nods and pastes on a smile that doesn't scream 'I'm chubbed up a little in my jeans and I'm trying not to make it everyone's problem.' He coughs a little. "So, uh, who's Humphrey Bogart? Does he have a podcast or something?"

Tommy turns to Athena. "Actually, thanks, but no thanks. Take me back to prison."

[cherriegyuu]

whispers of desire | c.sc | part two

pairing: incubus seungcheol x f!reader  genre: smut, angst, fluff - minors do not interact word count: 5k summary:when you cut a deal with the demon king, the man who shows up to help is nothing like you imagined warnings: mentions of god, demons and religion, infertility, infidelity, buying a child, surrogacy, dirty talking ish, begging, multiple orgarms, unprotected sex, piv, face sitting, fingering... i'm probably forgetting something... idk a/n: it would mean the world to me if you comment your thoughts and reblog this fic. thank you so much for reading. hope you enjoy it!

chapters: one | two ->

“You know, there's something I can't quite understand about you.” 

You let out a screech at the same time as you took two steps closer to the street. Your heart was hammering inside your chest so hard that you could feel it in your ears. Your clear distress was enough to pull an honest laugh out of the man by your side. 

“Jesus, what the fuck?” 

Seungcheol lightly wrapped his arm around your shoulder, further pulling you into the sidewalk when a car passing by honked. 

“You should not use the Lord's name in vain,” Seungcheol laughed again, looking at the sky apologetically, a smile playing on his lips. Something told you that he was not actually apologetic. 

Long gone was the purple suit, not that you had a lot of chances to see him in it. In its place, he wore oversized jeans and a black t-shirt. 

“What do you want?” you stepped out of his embrace, though it was hard to escape on the crowded and narrow sidewalk. 

Unlike the first time, when you woke up that morning, Seungcheol was long gone and there was no real trace of him in your apartment, in your room. It was as if the place had been entirely cleaned while you were asleep and nothing had ever happened. Your pajamas had been neatly folded, and the chair on the side was in the correct place. 

It seemed final, somehow. As if you’d never see him again. Which, you supposed, was likely the protocol in those cases. He had done what he was supposed to do, what you needed him to do. So, truly, it was naive on your part to ever think that there was going to be more than that. 

And by more, you had no idea what that meant. 

“Nothing, actually. I just happened to have some free time.” 

“Shouldn't you be out there getting someone else pregnant? I thought that's what incubi do.” 

God, was it jealousy that you picked up in your own voice? Were you going down that path? It wasn’t enough to make a deal with a demon; you also had to go ahead and have sex with one, and then whatever the fuck that was. You truly had lost your mind in every way possible. 

There had always been a very clear line between sanity and insanity, at least to you. It was probably safe to say that you had crossed that line in the most stupid way possible. Because why would you go ahead and be jealous of a demon, of someone—or something—that had a clear job, and once said job was finished, you’d never see him again? 

“Most people ask for money, power, fame. Getting pregnant isn’t even on the top 10 wishes.” 

“Hm,” was all you had to offer. 

“So, my question for you: Why not just get married again and then try for adoption… again?” This time, as he said the word again twice, his apologetic look seemed honest. 

Why was he following you? You could either make a run for it, though you were certain that he would catch up to you in no time, or just endure it until you reached the subway station. He wouldn’t want to be in it during rush hours. Right? 

“I felt like I was running out of time,” was your honest answer. 

“What about surrogacy?” 

Seungcheol joined his hands behind his back, his eyes solely on you. He didn’t try to step away from the people; he didn't even flinch when a man bumped into his shoulder and cursed him out. He smiled lightly when a yelp came from behind you and soon enough the man was on the ground, gripping his ankle. Seungcheol merely raised his shoulders, a look of innocent mischief on his face. 

“Got scared.” 

It was a thought that occurred to you so many times, one you had talked about with Joshua and one you almost went through with. You had done everything right from the start: you had someone willing to be your surrogate, a lawyer, a doctor for the insemination, an ob-gyn for the follow-up pregnancy.

Everything was lined up to perfection, and you were excited, happy even. You felt as if things were finally going your way, that finally you were going to be okay. 

But, of course, something had to go wrong. A day before you were supposed to meet, your surrogate simply disappeared. You got a text saying that she was sorry and that she couldn’t go through with it. It was a long text of apology, but it didn’t matter that much. You were once again at the starting line; this time, however, you didn’t have it in you to start the race all over again. 

“But not scared enough to take a deal from the demon king himself,” he pushed his lips into a pout, and for whatever reason, you felt your cheeks warm at the sight. “Weird thing to be scared of, but you do you, I suppose.” 

It was something that was on your mind the entire time: how you had gotten into something so out of character for you, something you had been warned about your entire childhood and adolescence. You had always taken your grandma’s words as the beliefs of a religious person, or something she heard from her mother, who heard it from her mother, and so on. 

It never once crossed your mind that any of it might be true. And yet, somehow, you were the one walking side by side—and sleeping—with a demon. 

“What about buying a child?” 

The mischievous gleam in his eyes gave away that he was joking, and you couldn’t hold back your smile. 

“Hm… I don't know, maybe because it's a crime?” 

Although your face was one of disapproval, Seungcheol knew that you were enjoying the banter, much more than you’d ever let on. It was what he wanted. You were always too serious, too focused on what you had to do, where you wanted to go, to just enjoy a little bit of the present. 

“At least you'd be getting a child no one wants,” he pointed out, as if it was an obvious conclusion. 

“Then I'd get arrested before the child turned twelve,” it was your turn to point out an obvious conclusion. 

“You're no fun,” he pouted again. 

The urge to pinch his cheeks was almost too strong to bear, to the point where you had to stuff your hands in the back pockets of your jeans to keep yourself from doing so. 

“Sorry, Mister Demon, there are rules for some of us.” 

“Seungcheol, no, it’s too much.” 

You tried to pull away from him, but he held you in place, his eyes somehow darkening, pleased with himself. Instead of letting you go, he quickened his movements—his fingers going faster, his tongue ruthless over your clit. 

Your grip on the headboard tightened, your hips moving at the same pace as his fingers. You felt the knot in your stomach grow tighter and tighter. 

Seungcheol wrapped his arm around your hips just as you let go of the headboard and gripped his hair, holding him even closer to your cunt despite your protests moments before. 

The sound he made at the back of his throat—guttural and pleased—the way his eyes narrowed and bored into yours with need and command, a silent order echoing through your mind despite his lack of words, made the knot in your stomach tear apart. 

A scream left your lips, your entire body shaking desperately. The orgasm rippled through you in waves, a huge one followed by smaller ones. Seungcheol seemed to know each wave, chasing them with his fingers and tongue until all that was left was your trembling body. 

Your grip on his hair loosened, and you slumped forward against the headboard, too spent to hold yourself up. 

Seungcheol licked your clit one final time, making your body shudder, before sliding his fingers out of you. He kissed the inside of your thigh lightly as he maneuvered you until you were lying on top of him. 

“You are the sexiest little thing.” 

He kissed up your neck, biting your skin before licking the sensitive spot. You had the distinct sense he was marking you, claiming something that wasn’t his. You didn’t have the heart to tell him to stop—not when you wished, just for a little while, that you were. 

“One more time,” you begged, your voice barely a whisper. 

“Needy too,” he laughed “Thought you couldn’t take it anymore” 

Your pussy hovered over his hard cock. Slowly, you rolled your hips, lazy and deliberate. Your cunt clenched around nothing, aching with need. 

“You said I need to cum two times—on your tongue and your dick.” 

You felt his laugh vibrate against your chest as you mimicked his earlier movements, biting his shoulder before sucking, leaving your mark on him. Then, you soothed the spot with your tongue. 

“You already have.” 

You lifted your head to look at him. His smile was knowing, cocky to the last second, laughter dancing in those mesmerizing eyes. 

Suddenly, those words surfaced in your mind—three small, heavy words that should never have formed, not about him, not so soon, and definitely not for someone like him. Yet there they were, screaming inside you. 

You kissed his chin, then his lips. 

“Wrong order,” you murmured, lifting your hips just enough to align his tip with your entrance. 

You tangled your fingers in his hair as you sank onto him, every inch stretching you deliciously. A moan escaped you both as you moved in sync, his gaze never leaving yours. Each lazy thrust of his hips met yours perfectly. 

“My sexy little thing,” he whispered against your lips. 

You liked working with your sister the most when she wasn’t planning a wedding, which almost never happened. Being a wedding planner didn’t give her an opportunity to do a whole lot of different events. But once in a blue moon, when someone begged the right way and offered the right amount of money, she accepted different kinds of events. 

Graduations were your favorite, mostly because those were filled with a different kind of hope. One that didn’t include someone else, one in which your happiness wasn’t directly connected to anyone else’s. It was the celebration of a chapter that finally reached its end. 

“Do you need help with anything?” you asked Luna. 

Your sister turned to you, her eyes narrow with tiredness. Jihoon, her husband, was the sole reason you were there to begin with. He had called and asked you to tag along, saying Luna was overwhelmed with work and was unwilling to accept help from anyone. 

When she first saw you, her first impulse was to kick you out, but you managed to convince her that your help was needed. There were more guests than anticipated, so there was a lot of reorganizing to do. 

“You’re a lifesaver, you know that?” She threw her arms around your shoulders, pulling you in for a tight hug. “I don’t know what I would do without you here.” 

You laughed as you hugged her back. 

“You can thank your husband for that. He called me.” 

Her dreamy eyes at the mention of Jihoon didn’t go unnoticed. It was sweet that after over 10 years together, she still looked like a teenager in love whenever someone brought him up. 

“You can take a break now, okay? Most of the guests have arrived.” 

You shook your head, pushing her shoulders back and forcing her to walk backward. 

“No, you take a break.” 

She seemed unsure, but at your unwavering stance, she finally caved. 

“Fine, but just twenty minutes.” 

“However long you need,” you assured her. 

You took her place next to the entrance. 

It was a good feeling, this weird happiness. Out of the two of you, you were always the dreamer—the one who wanted things that were borderline impossible, the one who wished for a love you knew would never really exist. But a dream was just that: a dream. You could wish for whatever you wanted; that was free and hardly caused you any trouble. 

You knew very well how to separate dreams and reality. 

“You look sinful in this dress,” came a sudden whisper in your ear. 

“Jesus, what the fuck!” You covered your mouth so your scream wouldn’t disturb the guests. 

Suddenly by your side was Seungcheol, in all his purple-suited glory. He’d only ever worn it those first couple of nights. Never again. It was a sight to behold. It didn’t match the place you were in—the purple almost cartoonish in the sea of black suits—but if anyone bothered to ask, you didn’t care. 

“I don’t understand this constant call for Jesus. I never took you for a religious person.” 

He leaned down to whisper in your ear again, but this time you pushed his face away, laughing a little when you felt his smile against your palm. 

“What are you doing here?” 

You pretended to busy yourself with the clipboard in your hands, as if it held unfinished tasks you couldn’t get to because he was in the way. Truthfully, you had nothing else to do. Everything was running smoothly. 

“Like you, I’m here for work,” he said, crossing his arms behind his back with a proud smile. 

“Oh.” 

The giddiness you’d felt when you first saw him died in your stomach, leaving it hollow. You hadn’t thought a single sentence could make you feel so miserable so quickly. 

You’d been having a great day, and suddenly it was gone—like the sun overshadowed by dark clouds. The worst part was that you’d always known those clouds lurked at the edges; you’d just chosen to ignore them. 

“Are you, perhaps, jealous?” His voice was teasing, the dimple you’d grown fond of appearing. 

You wished you could hate him, wished your mind worked as it usually did—how under normal circumstances, you’d never have accepted something like this. But nothing about Seungcheol was normal. There was no protocol for this. 

“Why would I be?” 

“You are.” He laughed, throwing his head back. “You totally are.” 

“Go get someone else pregnant, Seungcheol. Not that you’ve succeeded with me anyway.” 

You shrugged. It was the truth. Almost a month had passed since he first appeared, and you’d gotten your period as usual. All hopes of a baby were gone—at least for a few more weeks. 

“Oh, now you’re doubting my abilities.” He raised an eyebrow, a cocky smile playing on his lips. 

“Off you go,” you said, shooing him away. 

You couldn’t tear your eyes from him, even if you didn’t want to watch him approach someone else. But Seungcheol just wandered the room, his gaze resting on no one in particular. 

It was the first time you’d seen him in a crowd, and the first time you noticed how much attention he drew. Maybe it was the purple suit and red hair, but you suspected it had more to do with how he carried himself—like he owned the place, like everyone was there for him. 

He circled the room twice, not speaking to anyone, barely glancing at them. Then a child bumped into his legs. Seungcheol looked down, unfazed. Your heart clenched as he knelt to the boy’s level, smiling kindly as the child stared in awe. 

You forced yourself to look away, hating how it made you wish for things you couldn’t have. From the corner of your eye, you saw Seungcheol ruffle the boy’s hair and return to you. 

“That was quick.” 

Seungcheol leaned over the stand, taking the clipboard to ensure your full attention. There was something in his eyes—like he was silently telling you something you couldn’t yet decipher. He held your hand, his thumb circling your palm. 

“I came here as a reminder,” he said quietly, almost secretively but reassuringly. 

You didn’t want to read too much into it. 

“A reminder?” 

He glanced over his shoulder before meeting your eyes again. 

“You see that woman—the pregnant one? Not my doing, by the way.”  You discreetly scanned the crowd until you spotted her: a beautiful woman in a green flowy dress, her hands protectively cradling her belly as she stared at Seungcheol with wide, fearful eyes. 

“What about her?” you asked, already knowing the answer. 

“She cut a deal with Jeonghan.” 

“She’ll give her baby to him.” 

The thought was unfathomable. While you’d give anything for a child, others were willing to surrender theirs—one they hadn’t even met. 

“Her firstborn, yeah,” he admitted, his voice low. 

“What does he do with them? The kids he takes?” You focused on your joined hands, how small yours looked in his. 

“He raises us.” 

You stared at him. Us? He was one of Jeonghan’s taken children? You opened your mouth to ask more — but then a familiar face walked in, his ever-present smile in place. 

“Shit, shit, shit, fuck.” You ducked behind Seungcheol, hoping Joshua wouldn’t see you. 

Joshua stood at the entrance, a woman on his arm. He smiled kindly as she spoke. 

“What is it? Are you in pain?” Seungcheol straightened, his hands cradling your face, his eyes filled with concern. 

“My ex-husband just got here.” 

The tenderness in his eyes vanished, replaced by a slow-burning anger. His entire demeanor shifted. This wasn’t the playful, mischievous Seungcheol you knew—this was the demon he’d never let you see. 

“Which table is he at?” He snatched the clipboard from you. 

“Sixteen, far right,” you said, pointing to the empty table. 

“Okay.” He nodded. “Stay here.” 

Seungcheol approached Joshua and the woman, his smile tight.  You’d often wondered how it would feel to see Joshua again. Reality was nothing like you’d imagined. You didn’t hurt. You didn’t feel small. You’d hidden out of surprise, not fear. 

Seungcheol returned, his posture rigid. 

“Your ex is an asshole. Why’d you marry that?”

He tossed the clipboard onto the stand, scowling. 

“What?” 

“He was talking shit about your sister.” 

“Who was talking shit about your sister?” Jiah appeared beside you, grinning. 

“Jesus, what the fuck!” This time, you didn’t bother covering your mouth. 

Seungcheol raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at his lips — the earlier tension gone. 

“You know Grandma would hand you your ass if she heard you talk like that, right?” 

A shrill laugh echoed through the room. Jiah side-eyed Seungcheol, amused but curious about his presence. Her gaze flicked between you and him, her smile knowing. 

“Hi, I’m Jiah.” She extended a hand to Seungcheol. “Who was talking shit about me?” 

Seungcheol seemed surprised to be acknowledged. He hesitated before shaking her hand. 

“Her ex. The shithead.” 

Jiah whirled to you, eyes wide. You waved her off. 

“Joshua is here?” 

“It’s fine.” 

She narrowed her eyes. After Joshua left, you’d been a wreck—barely leaving the house, avoiding even your sister. You’d felt broken. But now? Joshua was like sand: easy to brush off. 

“I’m taking my break now,” you said, walking away without looking back. You needed space from Joshua—and from Seungcheol, too.

The lines between you had blurred dangerously. 

You pushed into the bathroom and finally breathed. The quiet lasted a second before Seungcheol followed you in. 

“Were you really that shaken up seeing him?”

His voice had a new edge — one that sent fire skimming your skin. 

“What if I was?” You knew it was the wrong answer, knew it would provoke him, but you couldn’t help yourself. 

“How long has it been since your divorce?” He stepped closer, the room shrinking around you. 

“I suddenly can’t remember.” 

Seungcheol smiled slowly, dangerously. You heard the lock click. You were done for — and you weren’t sure you cared. 

It was confusing, your entire relationship with Seungcheol. He was always around yet at the same time he wasn't. Even when he was away, his presence lingered. It was like you could feel him everywhere. It wasn't just the sex—though you could never complain about that—it felt like he'd crawled under your skin, and when he wasn't there, you wanted him to be. 

You craved the late hours when you knew he'd come over, those quiet moments where he'd just sit on your couch, eyes closed, his hand absently massaging your thigh. It was like he was recharging. Then he'd open his eyes and start talking about things you could never follow without interrupting every few sentences. Once Seungcheol realized this, he started giving them names. 

"I had to chase after Benny today. The fucker's a shapeshifter. You know what that is, right?" You nodded, biting into another piece of the succulent steak he'd brought. "So you can imagine how hard it was to hunt down that son of a bitch." 

He was complaining, sure, but there was a proud tilt to his stance — like he'd done good work and wanted praise. That was something you'd learned quickly about Seungcheol: he loved being praised for the most ridiculous things. 

"How did you catch him?" 

"He's not smart. Loves strippers — has a favorite who happened to be working. Made it easy." 

You bit back a sudden wave of jealousy. You hated the idea of Seungcheol in places like that, around women like that. That was where the confusion set in. You knew you shouldn't feel this way about him. 

The real issue started when he came back after the first night. It should've been a one-time thing—he'd said so himself. Yet there he was in your bedroom the next night, and the night after, and every night since. 

"Can I ask you something?" you said during a lull. He nodded, curious at your serious tone. "That day at the wedding, you said Jeonghan raises the kids he takes. You said 'us.'" 

Seungcheol just smiled. It had taken you long enough to ask. He'd watched the gears turn in your head, trying to reconcile him being raised by the Demon King. 

"It's not some grand story," he assured. "My parents cut a deal with Jeonghan, and I was the price. Back then, Jeonghan didn't erase their memories, so they knew he'd take me at eighteen. That's why they weren't... great parents." 

He shrugged like it didn't affect him. It did, of course—Seungcheol was just good at pretending. Especially about his childhood before Jeonghan. 

It hadn't taken much convincing. "Where I'm taking you has warm beds and food so good you'll never want to stop eating," Jeonghan had said, snake eyes glinting. Maybe to drive home that he wasn't human. Still, ten-year-old Seungcheol took his hand and left without looking back, carrying only the clothes on his back and a teddy bear from his uncle. 

During the car ride, he'd imagined fire deserts and screaming souls—too many hell-themed video games. Reality was a pristine high-rise apartment. 

"This is where you'll live now," Jeonghan said, opening the door to a room that looked untouched. "Better than the shithole you slept in before." 

Seungcheol sat on the bed, small voice trembling. "Why?" 

"You were mine from birth. Your parents were just... babysitting." 

The next day, Seungcheol changed schools. No one questioned a mid-spring transfer. 

"We're demons, but I refuse to let us be stupid," Jeonghan said when he asked why school was mandatory. 

It took a year to adjust, but eventually, it became the only life he'd ever known. 

"So he raised you?" You frowned, unable to picture Jeonghan as anything parental.

"In his own way. He wasn't loving, but I never felt like a burden. Had everything I needed." 

For a second, Seungcheol looked lost in thought—and for the first time, you let yourself imagine him as a parent. You knew you'd be doing it alone, that your time with him was borrowed... but just for a moment, you indulged the fantasy. 

The image came easily: Seungcheol on the couch, humming softly, a swaddled baby in his arms. So vivid it hurt—like a desert mirage, real until it vanished. 

The thing about incubus is that they are very sudden beings, as well as lacking routine, according to Seungcheol. Suddenly you found yourself in this sort of arrangement with him, one that included him in your bed every single night. 

It started off slowly—him popping into your bedroom some nights while you were still awake, some when you were already asleep. On those nights, his actions would vary between two options: if it was late at night, well past 2 AM, he would just crawl into your bed in nothing but his boxers and hug you tightly during the night; if it was earlier than that, you’d wake up to his lips on your chin, your neck, your breast. 

Somehow, that turned into a small pile of his clothes on your dresser, which magically found its way into one of the drawers. A toothbrush appeared in your bathroom, and he had his own towel too. 

All of it was oddly ordinary, mundane, domestic. 

You’d sometimes wonder just where he was that he got back so late, but truthfully, you didn’t want to know. You knew who he was, what his role was. 

“If you’re going to be here every night and eat my food, you could make yourself useful, you know?” you teased him a little, pointing at the sink filled with dishes from the night before. 

It was an atypical night. Seungcheol had gotten back to your place before seven, while you were still making dinner. He had even knocked on the door, something new he had never done before. “You told me once that I should use the door, so I’m testing it out. It’s overrated, just so you know.” Somehow, a simple meal turned into a candlelit dinner, a bottle of wine turned into two, and the space you had clearly set between the two of you no longer seemed to exist. 

The dishes had been long forgotten, and for the first time in your life, you didn’t mind going to bed with the kitchen in disarray. And you didn’t freak out when you woke up to it. 

“I think I’m pretty useful,” he raised his eyebrow, and you had to bite your lip to keep yourself from smiling because you knew what was coming next. “If I’m not mistaken, I made you cum twice last night, and I could have done it again half an hour ago, but you were the one who didn’t want to.” 

Seungcheol wrapped his hands around your hips, pressing hard, his lips on your neck sucking, and you knew that by the time you walked into your office, there would be a hickey, dark and purple, on your skin. 

It took all of your willpower to pull away from him. 

“You’re distracting,” you grabbed his forgotten shirt from the couch and threw it at him. “And I’m late.” 

“You’ll still be late in an hour, so why hurry?” 

Seungcheol didn’t make a single move to put the shirt on; instead, he chose to cross his arms over his chest. Idiot was flexing. 

“Because then it would be even later,” you rose to your toes, pressing a quick kiss to his lips, quickly moving away before he had a chance to wrap you into his arms again—and this time, there was a high probability of you not trying to escape. “And if you really have a magic dick and managed to knock me up, I’m going to need my job.” 

“Again, you’re no fun at all,” his signature pout broke into a smile that you could swear made the butterflies in your stomach come to life. 

“Well, you didn’t complain last night.” 

The first time you truly considered having a child, you were twenty-two, fresh out of college. Your sister, though slightly younger than you, had just given birth. You were young and still didn’t have your life under control as you wanted, but the thought crossed your mind for the first time as something concrete, an achievable dream. Something that maybe, somewhere down the line, you’d be able to do. 

At the time, you were already with Joshua. Your relationship was nowhere near the commitment of marriage—it would only happen five years later—but he was someone you could picture yourself spending your life with. 

That life, that dream, however, fell short way too quickly. Your marriage didn’t have a long lifespan. The first couple of years were good, very storybook, daydream, fairytale-like. Until it wasn’t. One day it was perfect; the next, it was a multitude of negatives and bad news, one followed by the other, then another. On Monday, you were still a married woman; by Friday, Joshua was out of the house and asking for a divorce. 

And so, your loneliness began. It was like that until Seungcheol came around. He found a way to fill your life in ways you didn’t know it could be filled. He did it with such ease, like he was always meant to be right there. 

Seungcheol managed to make you believe, even if just for a short while, that there was nothing before. That all of it started with him. But just like Joshua, he too disappeared. Unlike Joshua, though, Seungcheol didn’t give you any signs that he might leave. He woke you up with soft, sweet kisses, clung to you the entire morning, up until you reached your work and he couldn’t physically join you. 

You waited for him that night. A sudden itch at the back of your throat, something telling you that something was wrong. The entire night was spent staring at the door, waiting for him to come. But he never did. The sun was already up when you forced yourself out of bed. There was no point in staying there if all you’d do was wonder if he was okay, if something bad had happened. You left for work and went back home. 

Like every day, you were greeted by an empty apartment. It felt colder than usual. You ran to your room, a sudden urgency taking over you. Gone was his hoodie, the one you’d slept in, usually folded on your bed. The drawer was empty too. Every trace of him had vanished, and you were alone. 

Again. 

if you enjoyed reading, please reblog and leave a comment, it really does mean the world to me and i would love to know your thoughts. thank you! 💕

you can read my other fics here ➝ masterlist

[r0-boat]

I have a request:

Levi x Mc x Asmo, double teaming, creampie, whatever floats you boat just PLZ I need the mc to be sandwiched in between them-

🌸

aaaaAAAAAAAAA

This is the hardest thing I've ever written.

How the fuck do you make two demons that are least likely to share you fuck you till you pass out...? Alcohol...

Jealous F*ck

Cw: drinking/alcohol, drunk devils, ooc Asmo because he didn't turn anything into an orgy lol, ooc Levi because he didn't straight up murder Asmodeus, degrading, double penetration, Size Kink, slight breeding, creampie, possessiveness, two devils One hole, there's only one-bed trope, etc

Your worst nightmare has come. You could barely handle these two demons on their own, but now here they were in a drunken haze as they pulled you like a tug of war.

It was a good idea in theory to have the kings get together for drinks, in theory.

You've never seen Belphegor sleep in such an uncomfortable position. The moment the alcohol affected his system, He slept like the dead. You hope Beleth comes back to pick him up.

Beelzebub is straight-up gone. Usually, he sticks around with you wherever you are, but it seems like his drunken mind has other plans. He drags Satan and Mammon in together, and they laugh about partying in Abyssos.

Lucifer doesn't drink. You understand that completely He's probably already getting a headache knowing that the kings will be so hungover they'll be asking him for medication later.

That just leaves you with two.

Leviathan, who wasn't fond of alcohol since he would rather not be caught making a fool of himself, was coaxed into drinking. He's relatively the same, all things considered, just weirdly clingy to you now. You tried so hard to pry him off you; He doesn't even say anything, has his arms wrapped around you, attached to you like a barnacle to a ship. Glaring at everyone who came even close to you.

And Asmodeus, who was already shit-faced, giggled and murmured to himself as he lays on the countertop. You don't want to know what his right hand was doing underneath the table.

You wanted to get these two home fast especially Asmodeus, Who seems calm at first, but there's no telling what drunk Asmodeus will do. In this state he was practically a ticking horny time bomb.

Damn you Beelzebub this was your idea in the first place!

You're lucky that some of the bars in Abyssos have rooms. You drag Leviathan by the collar, Asmo follows you complacently like a lovestruck fool clinging to your shirt until you reach one of the rooms. That was until the peace was disturbed when you felt weight lean on you. Asmodeus wraped his arms around you nuzzling into your neck. "Let's share room together darling! I want you so bad."

Leviathan snarled Your hand still on his collar as he grabs you and pulls you to his chest. You could hear a slight slur in his voice "If They share a room with you they might catch an STD! Go fuck yourself!"

Asmodeus, not amused but not entirely surprised by how possessive Leviathan is, smirks. "Oh please. I am as clean as I am beautiful; and besides You think I haven't already done that? You're just mad at that MC doesn't scream your name is loud as they do mine."

Taunting the king of envy was not a good idea. He already feels jealousy bubbling from how good looking Asmodeus was. His mind swirling with thoughts of Asmo stealing you from him. He could not have that. You could see a vein on his head as he snarls "I'm surprised they can even feel anything with your shrimp dick inside them."

You look back and see Asmodeus, his eyebrow twitching... Oh God... You slipped out of Leviathan's hands to talk to The bartender. Only to come back with a blank expression on your face. Both demons look at you with confusion As you finally get the courage to tell them. "There's only one bedroom available..." You squeak. You could hardly believe it either. You read this shit in a fanfiction once. You're not sure if you're blessed or cursed for that trope to become a reality today of all days.

L

The two Kings looked pissed, at the very notion of having you be in same room as another man. Asmodeus had a rare look of annoyance on his face. Sure, he could just send you to Abbaddon if it wasn't for the fact that he was probably too drunk to use his teleportation magic.

An idea entered his mind, That look of annoyance wiped away into a smirk.

Perhaps instead, he could put the king of envy in his place. The second the two of you walked in, the door to the room was magically locked. Asmodeus grabs hold of you and sits on the bed with you in his lap. The King of Envy's eyes widen as Asmodeus looks back, giving him a smirk. With a hand on your neck and this other slipping underneath your clothes, peeling down just enough for him to see the mark he put right underneath your tummy, which now gave off a faded glow. The mark he gave you was working its magic, making you more sensitive; each small gentle stroke of his fingers gliding underneath your clothes sent shivers down your spine.

Leviathan grits his teeth, seeing the glow of Asmodeus's mark, The fierce look in his eyes focused on you makes you roll your hips against the hard cock underneath you as Levi crawls on top of you his lips immediately going for your neck, He swipes his tongue up before pressing his lips down gently sucking. That gentleness did not last His hand forcefully yanking down your pants and underwear.

Leviathan takes full control as his fingers play with your sensitive parts. Your whole body shakes, gasping and moaning as asmodeus magic make you feel extremely sensitive. Levi's teasing alone could make you cum.

Asmodeus should be mad that Leviathan just took you from him, but honestly, from the way you are shaking and grinding against him, whining and gasping, pleading for more, it was incredibly hot. The king of lust has had threesomes before, but never with another king, in this opportunity sharing you are not was to delicious to pass up.

"grinding against my cock as another man touches you. Such a slut~."

Asmodeus grins Is he buries his face in your hair taking in your scent. Leviathan's brows scrunch as he growls when he feels you grind against his palm.

"You're getting off to this? Worthless whore, One just isn't enough for you is it?" Levi hissed The tips of your fingers pressing against your hole threatening to penetrate.

Asmodeus hums and delight watching your back arch when thick fingers slowly glide inside you. "look how easy they went in. They want this."

"You really are a whore..." Leviathan growls sinking his teeth into your shoulder. "LEVI!" You shriek feeling sharp pain as Leviathan bites down hard enough to leave a mark, his mark.

Asmodeus is a vein demon who would rather not hear his favorite person call out another man's name. Hand clasps over your mouth before fingers invade past your lips. He'll make sure that doesn't happen again. by keeping your mouth stuffed.

Possessive hands and mouths grasping all over your body eager to conquer and claim from leviathan's harsh bites to Asmodeus's soft sucking on your skin.

Asmodeus will not lose again to Leviathan versus cock was already grinding against the curve of your ass He will bully Levi's fingers out of you and replace them with something bigger.

Levi will not lose either You haven't even realized he had taken his clothes off until his fingers left you and replaced of something else.

Sure another demon could just take your mouth. But to them that's second place. Why would they feel your mouth with cum when they could claim you in the most primal way any man could.

If it wasn't for the mark from Asmodeus's magic This would be almost impossible, stretch around two large demon dicks. Let alone have it feel good.

Your eyes roll back as you felt Asmodeus slide inside.

His hand presses against your mouth harder to muffle You're even louder noises as you felt yourself stretched to accommodate another big cock trying to bully its way inside you. Asmodeus hissed in whimpered into your ear feeling the squeeze of you and the throbbing hardness of Leviathan cock against his own shaft.

Leviathan didn't care to react All he was focused on was making you his immediately moving trying to take you from the devil of lusts arms.

Asmodeus, not wanting to let go of you, moved reluctantly until both demons stood up out of the bed, holding you suspended in their arms. Leviathan didn't hesitate to move as soon as he had a better angle slamming his cock deep and hard. With nothing but Levi to grab onto your nails rake against his back Your legs tightening around him But you're mouth still covered forcing to suck on Asmodeus's fingers.

Swept up in lust and the animalistic drive to compete against the other male threatening to take his mate, He moves his hips at the same speed, hands trying to spread you apart to fuck you deeper and faster.

You felt fingers press against your tongue, trying to stop you from saying anything other than a garbled mess. Asmodeus's breath and lips tickle your ear. "You suck my finger so good pretty thing! I want to kiss you so bad!" You could feel the desire in his shaky voice making you clench around the both of them.

If only Asmodeus can remove his stupid hand then Leviathan could kiss you, And damn he wants to. He wants to feel your lips on him. He misses how soft and pillowy they are against him. He's so jealous that Asmodeus has your mouth all to himself when he was generous enough to share your tight milking hole.

"Say that I fuck you better! Say it whore! Say that my cock stretches you more than his! Say that I'm bigger!"

Leviathan snarls again sinking his teeth into your neck trying to go as fast as he can even with his orgasm approaching.

Asmodeus growls pressing his hand harder against your mouth making it harder for you to breathe as you struggle to say anything.

"Don't say that pretty! Call me your husband! Please gorgeous! Tell me that I'm the only man in your life!"

When he finally loosens his hand from your mouth. You struggle to say anything. Whatever you were trying to say just comes out as a garbled mess; as you come around them, milking their cocks together, They also reach their edge coming could, both are cocks squirting so much cum inside you, most of it leaking onto the floor and down your legs. They both stay deep inside you as they emptied their balls as deep as they could.

Hoping perhaps this time one of them will take. Claiming you as his for eternity.

Seeing and feeling your limbs become weak as you threatened to fall their possessiveness subside for a second to comfort and worship you. Leviathan's jealousy still raging inside He didn't hesitate rap his arms fully around you supporting your weakend state. Asmodeus didn't keep his hands off you, neck, nuzzling his face against your neck.

"stop touching them. They had enough of you for one night." Leviathan hissed as he brought you over to the bed His eyes go soft for a second as they lay upon your exhausted form pressing his lips ever so softly against yours before tucking you in bed. Before leaving you to gather his clothes.

When he looked back over he sees Asmodeus an arm underneath you snuggling right against you. He gives him a shit eating smug smile waving his hand goodbye.

That raging green fire boils in Leviathan once again. He was going to leave because the mere thought of staying in the same room as the king of lust and the same man he just had a threesome with pissed him off to no end. But what pissed him off more was knowing what would happen if he was gone leaving you defenseless with that freak.

He grit his teeth throwing his clothes back on the floor before marching over to the bed.

Asmodeus clicked his tongue as Levi snuggled on your side. That Leviathan is as handsome as he is annoying. Squishing his body against you wrapping his arms around you trying to claim as much space on your body as he could.

Asmodeus held you because he loved you and he wants to show it, Leviathan is stubborn to show his love and holds you to claim you as his.

Asmodeus is not afraid like Leviathan, but being has vain as him he will not lose either cuddling closer toward you.

An hour later you yawn your eyes fluttering open. You hadn't even realized what situation you were in until you tried to move. You heard a grown has arms tighten around your form. Your eyes widen looking on either side of you Leviathan snuggling his face against your neck like a teddy bear on the right and on the left Asmodeus laying his head on your chest his hand on your tit...

You were trapped...

And worst of all...

You had to go....

You try again to wiggle yourself free. Smodious crunches his eyebrows groaning and disapproval His hand freeing your tit but wrapping around you.

Fuck!

"please guys... I have to pee..." You quietly plead. Hoping your savior would come soon.

[undressrehearsal]

a bite of luxury

part 1

summary: you decide to look for a sugar mommy and stumble across this strange girl that seems to have more to hide

tags: sugarmommy!ellie, rich!ellie, vampire!ellie (yep, we got it all) alcohol, reader is poor lmao, reader uses she/her and is referred to as a girl once or twice, no smut in this one sorry gotta establish the world first

word count: ~8k

a/n: it's been so long since i posted a fic lol working full time and trying to finish my book is killing my schedule BUT i hope y'all like this this was my fiancee's idea and i'm running with it i got a LOT of plans for this one - plans i think y'all are gonna love

also the drawing in the cover is made by @nramv seriously go check out their work they're so talented!!

if you wanna be added to my tag list just lmk!

part 2

You hadn’t been searching for a sugar mommy. 

Truthfully, when your best friend had sent you the link, you had dismissed it immediately. She had been joking about it for months, talking about how much easier it would be if you just found a nice older woman to take care of you. You hadn’t even opened the link - you only rolled your eyes, replied with a middle finger emoji, and left it at that. 

And yet things kept piling up. The stack of bills on your kitchen counter was growing to a concerning height, a mountain of unanswered responsibilities that was getting harder to ignore. Your landlord kept calling you - you no longer answered, just watched the phone ring until it finally stopped and ignored the increasingly angrier voicemails. Your apartment was an absolute disaster; you could never be bothered to clean it, because by the time you got home from working both of your jobs, you only had enough energy to eat a bowl of leftovers and promptly pass out in bed. 

The link kept popping up in your mind, each bill in your mailbox a gentle reminder. You found yourself scrolling all the way up the text chain to find it again during sleepless nights. So many times you would only stare at it, your thumb hovering over the blue letters, before you closed the chat and threw your phone down. 

It was stupid, of course. But as time went on, the idea of letting yourself get buried alive under a mountain of debt - of getting evicted from your apartment and having to crash on your friend’s couch - seemed all the more stupid. 

So, late on a Thursday night, after you had had another anxiety attack staring down at your bank account, you went back up the text chain, and you clicked the link. 

www.seeking.com

It didn't take long for the messages to start coming in. You should have been flattered, honestly - you had at least a handful of people in your messages practically begging you for the honor of paying your fucking rent - but you really just felt like you were playing a part that you hadn't even read the script for. You had curated your profile with all the things that made you appear more cultured than you actually were: going to museums and pondering over Baroque art and reading poetry over a pretentious cup of coffee. Sure, these were all things you had done - you had photo proof, after all - but somehow you didn't recognize yourself. It felt like you were looking at pictures of a stranger living a life you wanted but couldn't reach. 

Most people were fine - charming, even. You got maybe one or two that felt like they would lure you into their sex dungeon to murder you, but that was expected with any dating site. You even went on a few dates, scrounging up the nicest dress you owned and getting pampered at a five-star restaurant or going for a ride on an older woman’s personal yacht. One person even took you for a helicopter ride, which was fun but she was a little too handsy on the first date to warrant a second. 

One name kept popping up though, a name that was becoming far too familiar in your notifications. 

ellie: meet me at 8 <3 

When she first messaged you, you had thought she was like you: somebody searching for a partner to pay their bills. Her pictures didn't exactly scream sugar mommy material. Her first picture was just a normal selfie taken outside; she wore a worn out leather jacket, her short hair tangled from the wind and green eyes squinting in the sunlight. She had stupid pictures of mushrooms and candid shots of her browsing a science museum, looking far too excited in front of a t-rex skeleton. Hell, in most of her pictures she looked like she was wearing clothes she had found at a thrift store.

You had thought she was like you, until she sent you a picture inside her fucking Rolls-Royce. 

“Fuck,” you audibly cursed into the quiet of your room. You had been talking for a few days, and she had begun to do that - sending you small selfies throughout the day. In the last one, she had taken a picture in front of the mirror at the gym, flicking off the camera, her lean muscles glistening with sweat. Before that, it had been a blurry picture of her dog, Riley - a huge German Shephard - splayed on her back at a park, leaves stuck in her fur. 

So, yeah, when you found out Ellie was not only rich, but rich enough to casually have a Royce, you were more than a little surprised. 

The selfie was cute, you couldn’t deny that. Her hair was wind-swept, catching in those long ass eyelashes. Ellie’s nose was scrunched up, freckles popping against her cheeks, holding up a peace sign. 

She was fucking adorable and you already knew it. But seeing her worn out leather jacket and messy hair against black and white leather seats that looked like they, alone, cost more than your entire apartment complex combined - it was a little jarring. 

And when she asked you out on a date soon after - after finding out she wasn’t Iike you but rather searching for someone like you - how could you say no? 

Ellie offered to pick you up - like a gentleman, she had said - but frankly, you weren’t quite convinced yet that she wasn’t some blood-thirsty pervert trying to lure you into her dungeon, so you politely declined. Instead, in your nicest dress and heels you hardly wore because they pinched your toes, you called an Uber. 

You had never been to this side of town. You had plugged in the address Ellie gave you - had double and triple checked it while your awkwardly chatty Uber driver tried asking you about what you do for a living - but the streets here were so unfamiliar you may as well have been in another city. You looked at the foreign buildings rising up around you, large windows giving you a glimpse of the life inside them. People were sitting outside in the chilly air, laughing over wine and dinner. Looking at them - with perfectly sculpted hair and clothes you would have to spend several entire paychecks on - you felt like a cheap impersonator dressed up in a costume. 

The Uber pulled up in front of a hotel, and your heart stopped. Surely, this wasn’t where Ellie had sent you - leading you to some fucking hotel room when you hadn’t even met yet? 

You turned to the driver, your home address at the edge of your tongue, when the car door opened. 

You had practically been leaning against the door to peer out the window, and nearly lost your balance when it was suddenly gone without warning. You looked up, ready to yell at whatever pretentious prick in Prada was trying to fuck with you - but your voice died in your throat. 

Ellie was shorter than you thought she'd be, honestly. In all her pictures, she had this commanding energy, like she would tower over you in person. 

Which, to be fair, she was. She had her arm propped on the doorframe above your head, leaning over so she could meet your eyes. Her hair was pushed back from her face, a few stray strands falling over her forehead, and she was looking at you with an intensity that hadn't quite translated through her pictures.

Ellie smiled - that adorably crooked smile you had seen in all her selfies - and said, “Hi.” 

And the only word you were able to get your mouth to form was, “Fuck.” 

Ellie blinked at you for a moment - long enough that you could feel the flush creeping up your neck and were ready to walk home if you had to - before she finally laughed. That wasn’t like what you had expected either; she had this deep, rough laugh, almost like she was trying to hold it in. 

She looked up at you through her lashes - you tried to ignore the way your heart inexplicably skipped - and said, “I’ll take that as a compliment?” Her voice tilted up at the end like it was a question. Ellie ducked her head down further, looking past you to meet the driver’s eyes, and pulled cash from her back pocket. With her most charming smile, she handed it to the driver and said, “Thanks for getting her here safe.” 

You didn’t see how much money she gave him, but after she took your hand and guided you out of the car, you turned back just in time to see his grin before he sped off. 

“Thanks for coming out.” You looked back at Ellie and found yourself speechless once again. (You, thankfully, were able to hold in the expletive this time.) The worn out jacket that had featured in just about all of her pictures was missing, replaced instead by a pristine, white satin shirt, the top few buttons undone to expose a sliver of collarbone and a gold chain beneath. Despite the chill in the air, she had a classy black jacket hanging from her arm as though it were an accessory. Ellie smiled and looked down, licking her lips before saying, “You’re quite the sight for sore eyes.”

You tried to smile at her but found that your eyes kept flitting behind her, looking at the looming monstrosity of the hotel. It was a nice hotel - the kind that had a huge fountain right in front of it and a chandelier in the lobby that sparkled through the window - but it was a hotel nonetheless. Despite the set in your jaw, traitorous tears stung the corners of your eyes; you wanted to kick yourself for actually thinking that Ellie might be different. 

Ellie followed your gaze over her shoulder, her smile dropping, before she quickly turned back to you with panic in her eyes. She stumbled over her words as though her tongue weren’t cooperating: “Shit, I’m sorry, this looks really bad doesn't it?” She grimaced and squeezed your hand she was still holding, scratching awkwardly at the back of her head with the other. “Fuck, this isn’t the first impression I wanted. I could promise it's not what it looks like, but maybe it'd be better if I just showed you?”

You honestly did think about telling her to fuck off. She was a complete fucking stranger that you only really knew from a dating app, and she was trying to lure you into a hotel in a part of town you were unfamiliar with - really, only an idiot would follow her. 

But she was looking at you with wide green eyes, the lights around you shining back like stars. While searching for the constellations, you found yourself saying, “Okay.” You blinked, pulled from a trance, and added, “But you should know, I do have a taser in my bag.” 

That pulled a shocked laugh from Ellie’s lips. She gently tugged on your hand, pulling you towards the door, and said, “Smart girl.” 

You knew that the hotel was outside of your price range because a perfectly groomed doorman opened the door for you, waving you inside with a gloved hand. You didn’t take much time to process the interior - the chandelier was just as grand as it had seemed from outside and elaborate columns rose to the ceiling - because Elllie was pulling you towards the elevators. It was like she wanted to ignore the fact that she had brought you to a hotel at all. You couldn’t decide if that was reassuring. 

In the empty elevator, you gently drew your hand back and leaned against the wall opposite her. You tried to ignore looking at the way her pinstripe slacks hugged the curves of her thighs, the fabric straining when she propped one booted foot on the wall behind her. 

“So,” you started in a desperate attempt to fill the awkward silence, “if you’re not leading me into a seedy hotel room on the first date, then what are we doing?” 

“Okay, one,” Ellie said, chuckling, “this is anything but a seedy hotel. And two, what kind of a date would it be if I ruined the surprise?” 

“And what if I don’t like surprises?” you countered. 

Ellie grinned. “I think you’ll like this one.” 

When the elevator doors opened, Ellie held her hand out to you as though it were a question. You hesitated for only a moment before placing your hand back in hers and letting her lead you out into open air. 

You nearly choked on a gasp. 

The bar itself was beautiful - fairy lights stretched above your head, twinkling like stars and casting the rooftop in a warm glow. Wooden tables and plush couches were spread artfully around the space, far enough apart to provide the patrons scattered about with some privacy. 

The bar was beautiful - but the view was fucking breathtaking. 

The city stretched out beyond the railings, open in a way you had never seen before. The skyline rose around you, each building shining like its own little galaxy amidst a sea of stars. The city lights blocked out the actual stars - a fact that never failed to piss you off - but you could see the crescent of the moon rising over the city, casting a quiet glow like a veil. 

You looked back at Ellie, and whatever your face held made her grin. She leaned in just enough so that her murmur was for your ears only: “So, was I right?” 

You blinked, momentarily distracted by her proximity - she smelled intoxicating, spicy and warm with a hint of tobacco beneath - before you finally said, “What?” 

Ellie snorted, breaking whatever spell she had put you under. “The surprise,” she said, leaning away enough for your head to clear. “Was I right?” 

You bit the inside of your cheek, pursing your lips as though you had to think about it. You couldn’t take your eyes away from the skyline stretched before you. 

You finally said, “That depends on how good the drinks are.” 

When Ellie laughed, her eyes crinkled in the corners, her nose scrunching. It was a full, rich sound, hanging in the air above your head like helium. It made something in your chest tighten, and you wanted nothing more than to hear it again. 

She squeezed your hand, a twinkle in her eye, and said, “The old-fashioned's to die for.” 

You pursed your lips again to hide your smile.

Ellie didn’t bother checking in with the host, simply shot her a smile and a wave as you walked by - you tried to bite back a giggle when you saw the host’s face turn red, her eyes tracking Ellie as she led you to a table right along the edge of the railing. She pulled the chair out for you - “Such a gentleman,” you laughed - before taking the seat opposite you.

As she waved over a waiter, you took a moment to lean your head over the railing. It was made entirely of glass, giving you a clear view of the city below. You could hear the distant sound of traffic, cars racing below you like shiny beetles, but it was like it was coming from a different world altogether. Everything seemed impossibly, wonderfully small from up here. 

You looked up at the sound of your name to find a groomed waiter wearing a fucking waistcoat standing before you. Ellie was looking at you with laughter in her eyes, her lips twitching. 

“Shit, sorry,” you said, immediately flinching at your own curse. You suddenly couldn’t remember the proper etiquette in a fancy bar, feeling out of place and underdressed even in your nicest outfit. You looked between Ellie and the waiter, wracking your brain for any kind of drink that wasn’t a trashy cocktail you’d find at a dive bar. 

Seeing you floundering, Ellie gave you a reassuring smile and said, “Do you like wine?” 

Relief washed over you as you nodded. Turning back to the waiter, Ellie ordered something that you couldn’t even hope to pronounce, charm lifting the corner of her mouth. She spoke to the waiter with the steady ease of familiarity, laughing at some inside joke; you briefly wondered just how often Ellie came to this bar. Surely, a nice place like this - at the very precipice of the world, looking down at the stars - wouldn’t be a regular stop on anyone’s schedule, but Ellie and the staff spoke like old friends. 

When the waiter left, tussling Ellie’s hair playfully, she turned back to you and the awkwardness of a first date finally set in. Sure, you had been texting Ellie every day for a week now, but you still hardly knew the girl. You knew she liked mushrooms and hiking. You knew that most of her clothes were from the thrift store even though she could afford any designer brand she wanted. You knew her favorite video game was Dishonored. But nothing you knew was enough for a relationship. 

But you weren't exactly looking for love, were you? 

After a moment of silence, Ellie cleared her throat, looking out over the city. “It's nice out here.” 

You snorted before you could stop yourself, covering your mouth; it didn't cover the laughter in your eyes. You said, “You're really talking to me about the weather?”

Ellie opened her mouth, an indignant sparkle to her eye, before shutting it again. It was like she was malfunctioning, opening and closing her mouth yet no sound came out. She furrowed her brows, looking at you as though you were something new and interesting, before finally chuckling, looking away. “Yeah, I-I guess I am.” When she looked back up at you, her eyes were surprisingly sheepish. “Not making a great first impression, am I?”

You couldn't stop the smile that crept up to your eyes. You leaned closer, propping your chin in your hand, and said, “I think you're doing okay so far.” 

Ellie laughed that wondrous laugh again, her nose scrunching up, and the cord in your shoulders loosened. 

“Okay,” she sighed, her eyes still alight with residual laughter. “Okay, damn. Tell me about yourself.” 

“Well now this just sounds like a job interview.” 

Ellie threw her hands up in mock frustration, trying to stifle her own grin. “Okay, fuck, knock me down again! You're obviously an expert, so show me how it's done.” 

She leaned back and crossed her arms, looking at you expectantly, and it was the perfect moment for your drinks to arrive. Ellie did, in fact, order an old-fashioned. The waiter set two wine glasses on the table, producing a bottle seemingly from thin air. He held it out, explaining to you in rehearsed prose the year, acidity, and complexity in words that passed straight through you. You nodded along even as you didn't process a single word he said. 

When he left, you turned back to Ellie and said, “How did you find this place?” 

Ellie took a sip of her drink. The lights of the city danced in the amber glass. “Just an old haunt of mine, I guess.” 

You took a sip of the wine, taking the distraction. It was warm on your tongue, tasting of wood and fruit and something spicy just underneath. The wine you usually drank was the stuff you could find in your nearest grocery store, often tasting concerningly like bug spray and bought with whatever tips you had managed to scrape together from work. It was usually shared with a friend on your kitchen floor, the walls and thoughts spinning over your head. 

You much preferred wine like this: The taste of warmth and fire on your tongue, the cool air brushing your shoulders at the edge of the sky, and a beautiful person sitting across from you.

When Ellie lowered her glass, you could see amber droplets of whiskey clinging to her lips before her tongue darted out to catch them. You tore your eyes away, but her smile said that she had caught you staring. A chill ran up your spine that you were sure was just from the cold. 

Seeing you shiver, Ellie wordless reached behind her where she had tossed her jacket over the back of her chair. Standing, she rounded the table only for a moment, only long enough to place the coat over your shoulders. Her hands lingered there for a second too long before she retreated, sliding back into her seat as though she had never moved. 

“So, why are you here?” she finally said. 

You pulled the jacket around your shoulders, distracted by the smell of it. The same smell that must be her perfume clung to it, spiced and warm like an open fire, but something else clung to the fabric too. It was strangely metallic, sharp and intoxicating, and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. It was shockingly warm against your skin. 

“I’m here,” you said, raising a brow and ignoring her real question, “because you sent me this address and told me to meet you here at eight wearing my nicest dress.” 

The corner of Ellie’s lips quirked, a grin she was trying to hide. She clasped her hands, leaning across the table so you could smell the whiskey on her breath. “And you agreed to meet a stranger at a seedy hotel,” she murmured, mocking your remark from earlier. Her grin revealed itself when your cheeks flushed. “But why are you here - what are you seeking?” 

You huffed out a laugh, shaking your head. “That’s kind of a dumb question, don’t you think? It’s pretty obvious why I’m on the app.” You cocked your head, leaning across the table, feeling a strange thrill when her eyes flashed. Your heart fluttered at the proximity, and you couldn’t remember when you had become so easily starstruck. “The real question, Ellie, is why are you?“ 

Ellie’s eyes darkened, and you weren’t sure if you just imagined her eyes flicking down to your lips. She looked back up at you through her lashes, her voice rough when she said, “That’s a third date kind of question.” 

Your eyebrows shot up. “What makes you so sure you’ll get a third date?” 

Ellie tilted her head, a slow smile pulling at her lips, and said, “Call it a hunch.” 

The waiter came to check on you, appearing at your shoulder like a ghost. You hastily retreated, leaning back in your chair as though the electricity in the air had shocked you, and took a sip of wine that was more than a little overzealous. You tried to choke it down as Ellie waved the waiter away with that heartstopping crooked smile. What happened to you? Since when were you so easily charmed by freckles, green eyes, and smart-ass comments? You couldn't remember the last time you had been so infatuated during a normal date, let alone one with these kinds of strings attached. 

“So you don't want to be in an interview,” Ellie said once the waiter was out of earshot. “I guess all my typical getting to know you conversations are out of the question.” 

“I didn't say that,” you countered, your throat still burning from your accidental wine waterboarding. “But come on - what girl are you going to impress by asking her questions like ‘Tell me about yourself,’ or ‘Why are you here?’ or ‘Why are you more qualified for this position?’”

“Okay, okay, goddamn,” she said, laughing. Grabbing the wine bottle, she looked at you for permission before pouring you another glass.

You brought the glass up to your lips, taking a sip to hide your smile. The flush in your cheeks was surely from the wine and nothing else. “What about you?” 

“What about me?” 

“I hardly know you.” On one hand, that felt entirely untrue - but especially after this recent discovery, you really knew nothing about this girl. “Tell me about you.” 

Ellie laughed that same rough laugh and your heart jumped. “Oh, so you're allowed to be the interviewer.” 

You nodded, twirling the glass between your fingers and looking at her expectantly. 

After a moment, Ellie rolled her eyes and ran a hand through her hair, but you could see the humor in her eyes. She downed the last of her old-fashioned and, like a good sport, said, “What do you want to know?”

Turns out, there was a lot to know - more than a simple dating app would tell you. Ellie had an older sister, Sarah, who lived in Dallas. Her dog was named after her childhood best friend. Her jacket wasn't thrifted after all, but had been her dad's. Speaking of which, she used to go hunting with him every season (“I haven't been in years, though,” she said, her eyes distant). On the weekends, she'd go to antique stores to look for art and trinkets to fill her house - her favorite antiques were from the 17th century. She hated horror movies and was a sucker for a good romance. 

In return, you caved and answered her pressing questions. You told her about your best friend - Ellie laughed when you told her that your friend had sent you the link to the app in the first place. You told her about your favorite show that you binge-watched whenever you felt like you were spiraling. You did not tell her about your apartment that was probably the size of her closet or the fact that you'd have to watch your budget after taking the Uber tonight, not to mention the extra $30 Uber to get home later. You did tell her about your family, and a strange, unexplained sadness crept into the creases around her mouth. You did tell her about your job, but didn't mention the second one you worked to afford groceries. You told her you were hoping for a real, human connection, yet didn't mention that you couldn’t imagine finding it in a fucking sugar mommy. 

All too soon, the wine bottle was empty and your chest was comfortingly warm. The lights strung across the bar danced above your head like fuzzy stars, and Ellie's smile was the brightest amongst them. Her glass was still empty, her wine glass dry, and yet her eyes told you she was intoxicated by something far stronger. 

“Sorry,” you said, giggling despite yourself. “I didn't mean to drink it all.” 

“Don't worry about it, darling,” she said, her voice silky smooth, reminding you of melted chocolate sliding down your throat. She tilted her glass, letting the remnants of melting ice clink against the side. “I wanted to make sure I could drive home okay.” 

The waiter arrived then, pulling the bill from his pocket and handing it to Ellie. You couldn't read the number upside down, not through the haze of the wine, but the number of digits made your stomach clench. Ellie dropped a black card into the folder and handed it back to the waiter. 

“How much do you want me to Venmo you?” you asked when she turned back to you. You clenched your hands in the hem of your dress, already calculating the extra shift you'd have to pick up to afford it. 

Ellie tilted her head, her brows furrowed. “Nothing,” she said, as though it were obvious. 

“That wasn't exactly a cheap bottle, Ellie,” you laughed. “Let me give you something.” 

Ellie hummed, propping her chin in her hand and looking at you with those same intense eyes; it sent a dangerous shiver down your spine. “I like when you say my name.”

You blinked at her. “Excuse me.” 

“I want to hear it again. That's how you can repay me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Ellie, I-” 

“Okay, now we're even,” she interrupted, smiling that crooked grin that you had started to crave. The waiter returned with her card and Ellie produced cash from her pocket, handing it to the waiter directly. He thanked her profusely before making his exit, grinning. When Ellie looked at you again, you were still watching her expectantly, dumbfounded. She finally rolled her eyes. “Seriously, what kind of date would I be if I made you pay?”

“You're not making me, I'm offering.” 

“And I'm saying no.” Ellie stood, straightening her shirt; when she tugged at it, the collar fell a bit, exposing sharp collarbones beneath. 

Rounding the table, she offered a hand to you, pulling you gently to your feet. You pulled her jacket tighter around yourself, knowing you needed to give it back yet unwilling to part with it just yet. 

Taking your arm, Ellie leaned in close enough that your breath caught in your throat and said, “I know why I found you on Seeking, okay? So, if it's alright with you, let me spoil you. Even if that just means one bottle of wine.” 

You laughed, but it sounded breathy even to your own ringing ears. “One very expensive bottle of wine.”

Ellie shrugged, a sparkle in her eye. “It's a small price to pay for your company.”

You were silent in the elevator, but you held on to her arm as though afraid to let go. You couldn't figure out why, but something in you urgently wanted nothing more than to be close to her. You couldn't remember the last time you had felt such a pull from somebody. 

Back on the street, the lights of the city seemed so much brighter than they had before. Ellie released your arm, turning to face you, and there was a strange pinch between her brows that you couldn't translate. 

“Do you want me to call you an Uber, or do you want me to take you home?” she asked, and your brain short-circuited. When you could do nothing but stammer, tripping over your own tongue, Ellie laughed. There was no mockery behind it, only quiet, bright amusement. “I meant I can drive you to your apartment so you don't have to drunkenly sit in an awkward Uber that smells sickeningly sweet and the driver tries to make mind-numbing small talk.” 

Your sigh of relief came out more like a laugh. 

Ellie tilted her head and stepped closer to you, her hand reaching out to graze your fingers, and that sigh was sucked right back into your lungs. Being so close to her made your head spin. Her breath fanned against your cheeks, smelling of warm whiskey, when she said, “Unless you want to come to my place?”

It had the uncertain tilt of a question, and Ellie wouldn't quite meet your eyes. 

“We don't have to do anything,” she continued in a rush. She scratched anxiously at the back of her head, a nervous laugh slipping between her lips. “We can just sit and talk more. Or watch a movie - my dad had this huge collection. I'm not gonna - You know, I'm not going to do anything you don't want.” She finally interrupted herself with a groan, rubbing a hand over her eyes. “Fuck, sorry, I wanted it to sound more suave than this.” 

And you would be a fucking idiot to go home with this impossible stranger. You had been taught better - never get into a stranger's car, and for the love of God, never let them take you to a second location. You could let her take you back to your apartment at least - you were admittedly incredibly tipsy and didn't particularly want to endure another ride with an annoyingly talkative Uber driver. You could go home, back to your claustrophobic, quiet apartment, and maybe - maybe - text  Ellie about setting up a second date. 

You were not stupid enough to go home with somebody on the first date. 

Except clearly you were, because you took the hand that was still grazing your fingers and looked up at Ellie - the contours of her face were shockingly etched with insecurity. And your dumb mouth said, of its own volition, “Okay.”

You had expected something flashy, like what a wealthy person would own in a movie - like a penthouse overlooking the city with too-white walls and electric guitars hanging, unused, on the walls. Maybe she had walls completely made of windows so it felt like you were on a pedestal overlooking the world. 

You hadn't expected a house that was older than your great-grandparents. 

When Ellie pulled into the driveway, you were sure she was just pulling in someplace to turn around, that she had missed her turn somewhere. But she put her stupidly-expensive car into park and killed the engine, shooting you an awkward glance. 

“Sorry,” she said, chuckling. “I know it’s not much.” 

You could only look at her incredulously, speechless, before looking back up at the house before you. You couldn’t even call it a house really - estate would be more fitting. Maybe mansion. Fuck, her house was the size of your apartment complex. It towered over you, three stories of intricate woodwork, warm brown beams wrapping around the structure like an elaborate skeleton. With beautiful eaves winding around the roof and an entire turret reaching for the moon, it looked like something that had stepped right out of some 1800s southern gothic novel. 

Ellie cleared her throat, startling you from a trance. You looked back at her and, for some reason, couldn’t stop yourself from laughing.

”Shit, sorry,” you said, covering your mouth with your hand. “I just - I’ve just never seen anything like it.” When Ellie’s eyes clouded over with uncertainty, you added softly, “It’s beautiful. Besides, Ellie,” you added, laughing again, “‘not much’ doesn’t really suit you.” 

Ellie opened and closed her mouth and yet no words came out. She was looking at you again as though you were something interesting - something new and exciting. Nobody had ever looked at you that way before, and the way your heart clenched at the sight was more than a little dangerous. 

Ellie finally smiled, huffing out a laugh - your heart was pretty satisfied with how often you were able to make her laugh - and said, “Do you still want to come inside?” 

And, surprisingly, you said, “Yeah, I do.” 

As Ellie got out, rounding the car to open your door for you, you discreetly checked that the taser was still in your bag. Sure, you had agreed to go home with a practical stranger, but you couldn't be too careful. 

The porch steps creaked as she led you to the door - double doors (of course), with stained glass and twisting vines carved into the wood. When Ellie opened them, it felt like you were transported to a different time on an entirely different world. 

The grand staircase caught your eye first - how could it not? Warm wooden steps covered in a blood red runner, a white banister winding up, those same vines that seemed to be the house’s signature carved into it. You could see a large, stained-glass window at the landing before it curved to disappear to the second floor. Moonlight splintered through the window in broken relief. 

As though in a trance, you wandered further into the house, walking to the fireplace situated right beneath the stairs. The wood stacked neatly inside was cold, untouched by a flame. There was a large mirror set atop the mantle, its gold frame a work of art alone. In the reflection, you could see the flush to your cheeks, and tried to convince yourself it was only from the cold. You still wore Ellie’s jacket, and you pulled it tight around your shoulders, as though it were a shield. 

You watched Ellie’s reflection as she walked slowly towards you, a small smile gracing her lips. She came close enough to touch - close enough that you could feel her cool breath against the back of your neck - and yet she didn’t put a hand on you. 

“There’s a lot more to see than the foyer,” she murmured, the words brushing your skin. “If you still want.” 

And you couldn’t stop your own smile as you turned back to her, your heart skipping at her proximity. “Show me.” 

She took your hand, her fingers shockingly cold, and led you into what must have been her living room - sitting room? Despite the fact that the house felt more like a museum - like you would get scolded for touching anything - the room was surprisingly cozy. A large, plush sectional was situated in front of another fireplace- this one also unblemished. Blankets and quilts were thrown over the couch and the accompanying chairs, leaving this time capsule looking strangely welcoming. 

“Okay, I have to ask,” you said, turning back to Ellie. She was watching you carefully, gauging your reaction with soft eyes, and you lost your train of thought. You opened your mouth but no sound came out; you weren’t sure if that was more or less embarrassing than the several curses you had said earlier in the night. 

Ellie hummed, raising her hand as though she wanted to touch you. She stopped only inches away from your cheek and dropped her hand, saying, “I’m an open book.” 

You had to turn away to collect your thoughts, wandering across the room if just to catch your breath. The opposite wall was lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. You ran your fingers along the spines of vintage classics, an array of science books, and comics, enjoying the irony of seeing Savage Starlight in the middle of all this history. You picked up a copy to keep your hands busy. 

“How, um,” you started, stumbling over your words, “how did you end up here?” 

Ellie hummed again, and you heard her footsteps following you. “Here as in this town, this country, this world? You gotta be a little more specific.” 

You sighed, giving in and turning to look at her. She kept a careful distance, standing a few feet away from you with her hands in her pockets. “You know what I mean, smartass.”

Ellie chuckled, but her eyes had grown distant, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. She took a few more steps closer to you, looking at the comic book in your hands. On the app, she hadn’t struck you as the type to get easily bashful, and yet she had proven you wrong a few times already. 

“My family lived here,” she finally said, quiet as a secret. You watched her carefully, jumping at the opportunity to stare at her without those intense eyes looking back at you. Her brow furrowed and she pressed her lips together as though she was in pain, her green eyes shining. “It was just… passed down, I guess? It’s kind of always been here ever since I can remember. I’m not entirely sure when it became mine.” 

You tucked the comic book back into its spot between The Iliad and The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. You said absently, “How old is this place anyway?”

”It was built in 1816,” she said automatically, as though it were memorized. 

“It’s an awfully big house for just one person.” You looked up at her through your lashes as she stepped closer - close enough that you could smell that same metallic warmth that seemed to cling to her. 

“It is,” Ellie murmured, smiling. She reached out again, and this time she allowed herself to touch you. Her cold fingers brushed against your cheek before she gently cupped your jaw, tilting your head so you’d look at her properly. Her green eyes were downright intimidating. “But I keep good company.” 

You rolled your eyes, yet you couldn’t convince yourself to look away. “Is that what you say to all the girls?” 

Ellie hummed, bracing her other hand on the bookshelf behind your head, and murmured, “No, I don’t.” She pressed in closer, her gaze dropping to your mouth, and you felt like your heart was going to leap from your throat. Ellie huffed out a laugh as though she could hear it pounding against your chest. When her thumb brushed your bottom lip, your lips parted on instinct. She didn’t look away, transfixed on the point where her skin touched your mouth, and you almost didn’t hear her when she said, “Can I?” 

And you had never been the kind of person to kiss on the first date, but she was looking at you with eyes hooded with want, her breath fanning against your cheeks. When she licked her lips, you couldn’t stop your eyes from following the motion. Her lips glistened, parted and plump, looking so impossibly soft. Somehow, past your haze, you heard yourself say, “Yes.” 

Ellie took her time in kissing you. She pressed you back gently, your shoulders pressing into the bookshelf behind you, and touched her nose to yours. She took a deep breath, breathing you in. Her hand was soft against your cheek, tilting your jaw up, and you hardly had to move to finally kiss her. 

Ellie tasted just like she smelled - spicy and metallic, the old-fashioned still hanging on her tongue. Despite the cold of her hand on your cheek, her mouth was impossibly warm, her breath slipping between your lips; it was intoxicating in a way that the wine couldn’t compare to. Her mouth moved against yours, soft and slow as a dance. 

Your hands reached out as though of their own accord, circling her waist and gripping at the slippery silk of her shirt. She pressed in close, crowding you against the bookshelf; you could feel her chest pressing against you, her hips on yours, the line of her body against yours making your head spin. And when Ellie’s tongue pressed against your lips, a gentle request for access, you felt like you’d faint altogether. 

Her tongue slipped between your teeth and you couldn’t stop the breathy sound it pulled from your throat. You could feel that infuriating smile against your lips and suddenly wanted nothing more than to wipe it away. You balled her ridiculously expensive shirt in your hands and pulled her impossibly closer, nipping at her bottom lip, and you wanted to swallow her gasp. 

Ellie pulled away, chuckling, but she didn’t go far. She pressed a kiss to your cheek, her lips trailing down to your jaw, and she could probably feel your pulse jump beneath her tongue. You could hear the smile in her voice when she said, “Do you do this often?” 

Her teeth grazed the sensitive spot below your ear, and it took you a few moments before you could respond. “Do what?” Despite yourself - despite the way your fingers gripped her shirt, your head swimming and an unexplainable want burning in your veins - you couldn’t help but laugh. “Go on a date with somebody I met on an app for sugar babies and go back to their ridiculously old mansion on the first date and-“ 

You cut yourself off. You weren’t sure exactly what was happening, and you were afraid that voicing it would break whatever spell you were under - whatever spell made this impossible woman’s touch feel like lightning. 

But Ellie only laughed, biting at the spot where your neck met your shoulder. “Yeah, that.” 

You shivered against her touch. “No, I’ve never really done this.” 

“Guess I’m just lucky.” 

Ellie kissed you again, only briefly, before she finally pulled away. She was grinning, her eyes sparkling with those same constellations; her face wasn’t even flushed, making you feel embarrassed about your burning cheeks. You were panting, intoxicated from the night and wine and Ellie. Her absence felt like an ache, your body craving the feeling of her lips, her teeth, her hands. You were close to tugging her back in, your hands still gripping her shirt, but she gently untangled herself from you with a laugh. 

“I want to keep going.” She paused, and then emphasized, “I really want to keep going. But you drank an entire bottle of wine, and I’d be kind of a shitty host if I didn’t offer you something to drink at least. Or are you hungry?” 

You were hungry, but it was the kind of hunger that food wouldn’t satiate. Still, you let your hands drop back to your sides, feeling your senses return to you now that they weren’t so tuned into Ellie - how she smelled, tasted, felt. When you laughed, it sounded breathy even to your own ears. “Some water would be nice.” 

“I can do that,” she said with a smile. “Stay here.” She kissed you again, lingering for a few moments longer than needed, before she turned and disappeared down the hall, leaving you alone in this ridiculously old mansion. 

With nothing else to keep yourself entertained, you did a slow lap around the room, eyeing the ironic blend of elegant antiques and silly trinkets that were so obviously Ellie. A cracked ivory trinket box sat on a shelf, intricate flowers engraved into the lid, set right next to a small figurine of an astronaut. Beautiful paintings lined the walls, signatures dating back to 1830 in elaborate script at the bottom, but there were also a few posters littered here and there - bands and video games. 

You walked over to the mantle, your fingers grazing over the marble top. The logs inside were untouched, and you briefly wondered if she’d light a fire soon to chase out the chill of autumn. A small jar filled with guitar picks sat at the corner, and you wondered if she really did have an electric guitar collection hidden around here somewhere. Your foot kicked an empty dog bowl, and yet Riley was nowhere to be found. Maybe Ellie took her to daycare when she knew she’d bring a girl home. You nearly laughed at the idea. 

Atop the mantle, hidden behind pictures of what must have been friends or family - hiking or traveling or laughing in somebody’s backyard - there was another picture frame. It must have fallen, face down so that the picture inside was covered. You reached out, careful to not disturb any of the other frames, and picked it up. You were just going to fix it, set it up next to the others, but something in the image caught your eye. You plucked it from its home, bringing it closer, holding it up to the light to get a better look. For a long time, you couldn’t figure out what you were looking at. Your heart hammered against your chest, your ears ringing, as though your body had figured it out before your brain did. 

It was an old photograph, grainy and sepia, faded and frayed around the edges with age. It was the house, looking just like it did today - the huge windows shining in the sunlight, the intricate eaves and wrap-around porch perfectly polished and new. A family stood on the lawn in front of the house, looking awkward and stiff. Back then, cameras took several minutes to actually capture a photo, so people tended to look a little awkward from trying to hold the same expression for so long. But that’s not what had caught your eye. 

It was a small family - a weary looking dad and his two daughters, looking just a few years younger than you. 

She looked a little different. Her hair was longer, falling in waves around her shoulders. She was definitely a few years younger, and she wore a sweet, full-length gown instead of a worn leather jacket. 

You checked the date in the bottom corner at least five times, but there was no mistaking it. The person in the photo was undeniably Ellie, standing in front of this house in 1816. 

tag list: @macaroni676 @ellstronaut @elliewilliamsmiller0 @elliescoolerwife @letsreadsomesins-shallwe @peejayurple @liliflowers-blog @filtered-sunlight @hobbybound

[rosenclaws]

One More Present || Logan Howlett drabble

summary: Logan has one more present for you

warnings: light smut, STILL MINORS DNI AND 18+ ONLY TY, light bondage lol

wc: 546

a/n: So this is a really stupid drabble I thought it would be funny and so here it is lmao. To all the people who wanted a wolverine under their Christmas tree <3

Christmas with your neighbors was more fun than you've had in a long time. It was also the most you've drank in a while. Wade really went all out with his party and his gifts.

Though you really didn't need the uh, interesting picture calendar he had put together for everyone. You're pretty sure you saw Logan throw his into the fireplace when Wade wasn't looking.

The day after Christmas was spent doing pretty much nothing. Logan had taken refuge in your bed as he normally does since you started dating but he was forced to go back to help the clean up. Waking up without your personal space heater was a lonely experience but he left you his flannel at least.

Unfortunately for you, you couldn't escape going back to work and were trapped at your boring job wishing you could be home with Logan instead. Your phone pinged and you looked to see a text from Logan.

Wade's finally fucking gone.

You laugh as you can picture just how much Wade had gotten on Logan's nerves today.

I'm almost done, I miss you

You text back. Logan accidently hits a few different things before finally thumbs uping your message. He really was an old man with technology sometimes. As the time ticked and you were nearing the end of the day you got one more message.

Found something in our bedroom, I think you have one more present to open.

Your brows furrowed in confusion. You can't remember leaving anything and Logan isn't really one for surprise gifts. He would have given it to you yesterday. As you clocked out you tried to call him but he didn't pick up. Weird.

"Logan?" You call as you step through the door.

"In here!" He calls from the bedroom. You shrug off your coat and drop your bag, expecting to find him lounging on the bed or something.

"Hey what..." Your voice trails off as you walk into the room. Logan was laying in bed for sure, but completely naked.

He's smirking as he sits in his totally naked glory. His abs are on full display, thick thighs, and big arms. You swear he was...shiny? But you weren't complaining.

What really catches your eyes is his fat cock, a big red bow tied around it. The red ribbon trailed up his body and sat at one of his wrists which tied him to the bedframe. His muscles flex as he sits up.

"How did you know this is what I asked Santa for?" You tease as you move over to the bed, admiring your stupidly hot boyfriend. He shrugs, the ribbon straining against his muscles.

"You got one more present sweetheart." He looks down to the bow.

"Want to unwrap it?" You smirk as you slowly strip your clothes.

"Merry Christmas to me." You purr as you climb onto the bed.

He watches with hungry eyes as you take the edge of the bow in your teeth and pull it, freeing his cock. Winking as you lower your head. Logan groans as you take the tip of his cock in your mouth, dancing your tongue just the way he likes it. He tugs on the ribbon and somehow it doesn't rip.

"Hope that ribbon can hold you, because I want to have a little fun tonight."

[inexplicifics]

I’m also a writer, of both fanfics and works I hope to publish someday, and I was wondering if I could ask your advice. I have a number of larger projects that I want to undertake, but thinking about how long it’s going to take to finish them makes me anxious and then I won’t even start. You’re an incredible writer and you have so many finished works; how do you do it? What would you recommend for someone who feels incredibly daunted by the lengthy and disheartening process that is writing a novel or series?

Also thank you for your Accidental Warlord series; it brings me inexpressible joy every time I read it

Oooh okay this is a complicated one. Let's see.

First off, and this is hard: don't compare your output to other authors. I have what my friends affectionately refer to as Wordy Bitch Disease. I write a lot, I write fast, and I write clean enough copy that Rose isn't doing copyedits, she's doing plot and characterization fixes. I start a new WIP...pretty near daily some weeks, and they do not all get done. My WIPs list is frankly fucking terrifying. But it's important to note that I have been writing pretty consistently for twenty years at least, and I was not as fast, coherent, or skilled when I started. For that matter, when I'm tired or stressed or just feeling blah, sometimes the words don't come, and it's important not to beat yourself up about it when that happens.

Second bit of advice: start smaller. I really, really like flash fic challenges and themed prompt lists and tumblr ask memes, because they make me limit my story to what can be told in a few thousand words. That lets me improve my craft without getting bogged down in enormous plotlines. (Yes, sometimes the story still grows a plot. But it's less frequent.)

Third bit of advice: take little bites, and accept that it's going to take a long time and possibly several drafts. When I started MBTT, I genuinely thought it would be 50K. (I am bad at estimating finished lengths of stories.) But I still took it one chapter at a time, and tried to have each chapter be a coherent whole, a chunk of story that needed to be told. When I'm working on the AWAU, if I think about the whole overarching storyline too much, I get overwhelmed and have to go stick my head under a proverbial rock for a while. But one story is doable, most of the time. I've had to restart drafts for some stories two, three, four times to get the voice and style and plot to cooperate. Be willing to say, That's not working, and try something else, even if you're really fond of what you've written so far.

Fourth bit of advice: learn what style of planning works for you. Some people like to outline in great detail. Some people like a sketchy outline. Some people, like me, can't outline - it kills the story for me. The WIP I started this morning has a notes section for important characterization details and the single plot point "Bandits?" Anything more than that, and I won't write it, because in some sense I've already written it so why bother doing it again?

Fifth and final bit of advice, because this is getting long: if you can find a cheer-reader, cherish them. Having someone in the doc leaving comments or emoticons helps immensely with knowing how my readers will react and with keeping my own enthusiasm for a story stoked high, which vastly increases the likelihood of it getting finished.

Good luck! Be brave! Thank you for the compliments!

I hope to read your stories someday!

[becausegraf]

Everything You Put Me Through - what is this ‘everything’ really?

Featuring: 

1) Interpreting the actual meaning of Blitz’ angry rant

2) A look into how Stolas misheard him just like most of us did, and 

3) A side-track into how they both gave the wrong signals about what they actually wanted from each other right from the start.

So, idk if this is a new-ish idea or not but

I've been pondering that moment where Blitz goes 'After *everything you've put me through*!!' during their one-sided argument, because it just didn't make a whole lotta sense to me.

The *obvious* reading would be that he means everything as in 'the sex arrangement [that I didn't like but didn't object to]' and I get the impression that's what most people read it as, taking it at face-value. 

It makes no sense though, as we see all kinds of evidence for Blitz actually *wanting* the arrangement to stay exactly as it is. Both before the Full Moon and after he shows his motivation to stick with their deal, and ‘it makes sense’ to him. He's at least physically into Stolas and Stolas is into him, for as far as he knows/hopes, what could possibly be wrong about continuing to have regular sex dates they both enjoy?

Throwing out that accusation of Stolas putting him through something upsetting, I personally felt like he was talking out of his ass spouting something aggressive just to channel his anger *somewhere*, including the whole tangent he went on with the whole 'not taking the lower class seriously' thing. 

Sure, it's an angle you can definitely consider, but it just seemed to have so little to do with their actual interactions around their agreement, and with what was happening right there and then?? The dismissive ‘bye Blitz I'm done talking please leave’ attitude, sure, but something about his rant doesn't seem on-topic enough to be about JUST that.

-

All that said, I think I finally figured something out:

He's talking about explicitly everything *other than the sex part*

‘The sex part’ is specifically what he WAS okay with, but it's the whole 'ugh wtf is he trying to do here, playing at us being actual friends and him caring about me' that was NOT part of the agreement that caused by far the most emotional distress to Blitz, and what I think he had in mind when thinking of 'stuff Stolas put him through' that he'd *actually* have struggled with.

Like.... this might sound kinda backwards but I can see Blitz legitimately struggling with 'how dare he put me in this situation where he gets hurt and I feel like it's my fault, and somehow I'm supposed to care and I DO care but what the fuck am I supposed to *do with that*.'

- because that'd be the sort of emotional challenge that'd really throw him off and make him feel absolutely terrible.

'If he'd just kept this business-only, I wouldn't be this conflicted.’

If it was ‘just business’ and nothing more, there would be neither the expectation nor the justification to approach Stolas and everything about him like a friend. Blitz *needs* it to be unambiguously ‘just business’ for his own comfort and sanity, because if it isn't… 

Example:

A prissy rich boy just looking to get giggity living out his fantasy couldn't possibly give a fuck if his ‘plaything’ to be ignored outside of fun times didn't come see him at the hospital, right? If that's what this is (and to Blitz that was the only believable option), to go visit him would be an enormous risk, and a huge emotionally messy one at that, given what happened the last time he tried to see someone he cared about who got hurt because of him. 

Yeah hahah, no. It's way easier to tell himself Stolas doesn't care, than to open THAT whole can of worms and push himself into the purgatory of being rejected in anger or be made fun of for being so stupid as to think Stolas might have wanted him there for real.

It's that internal emotional turmoil that really messes him up, and that he resents Stolas for. 

‘Why can't he just play by the obvious rules and keep it simple and clean, why does he have to do this pretend-bullshit making me almost think he actually values me, and make it so hard to keep my distance and stay detached, damnit!’

Because if that's what Stolas was actually doing, that would 1000% count as ‘playing with someone's feelings’, wouldn't it?

The annoying nicknames and the 'having sex appointments' stuff is not remotely the sort of thing that actually bothers someone like Blitz that much. It's maybe a nuisance or inconvenience, but there's no way he actually has deep-seated emotional pain about that. 

Stolas trying harder and harder to invite him closer and get to know him, THAT would be what would piss Blitz off, because he could only see it as this owl dragging him into some dumb roleplay. And that is what would actually, genuinely hurt to be a part of, because he wishes it *could* be real.

When Stolas ‘plays at being his friend in earnest’, Blitz thoroughly hates how it makes him feel.

Stolas is NOT pretending, but that's 100% inconceivable to Blitz. It being genuine is the one possible interpretation he can't risk taking seriously because if he's *wrong* oh my lord…

‘This hurts and I wished he'd stop doing what's causing me to feel this way.’

At this point in time, Blitz can't process his own feelings well enough to comprehend that that's what's causing him this pain, so all he feels is agitation over something vague. 

He feels anger, some resentment towards Stolas, and the only proper explanation he can give to himself is that Stolas is being thoughtless and disrespectful towards him - of course he'd be bothered and annoyed. That makes sense in his mental framework.

‘This whole thing he does, pretending to give a shit for real makes me feel like garbage, and he just keeps doing it like it's nothing, because he's just a total braindead douche when it comes to that specific stuff. He doesn't get why he needs to stop at *all*.’’

Blitz is walled off from his own vulnerable yearning and desires by fifteen layers of deflection and ignoring and irony. 

He tells himself he hates Stolas’ disrespectful, patronizing attitude, when the core of it is *disappointment* and self-doubts, and how it triggers his sense of unworthiness and hopelessness about never being able to have anything ‘real’.

He *genuinely* didn't get it, as obvious as it seems from an external POV, and other than Fizz nobody had any reason to challenge him on that. Other parties either didn't care, saw it just like Blitz did, or had no idea Blitz could be *that* freaking blind. 

Example:

Millie goofily referring to Stolas as Blitz's ‘boyfriend’ to her parents. Blitz responds as if she's disrespectfully joining in with Stolas’ thoughtless making a mockery of his feelings just to tease him, rather than being affectionately cheeky about this odd but kind of cute situationship he has going on and ‘pretends’ to be in denial about.

-

ALL OF THIS makes what he said when he blew up at Stolas make perfect sense.

... and it also means Stolas misheard it as 'he thinks I'm just some shallow sex fiend using him for pleasure' instead of 'he's mad at me because to him it sounded like all my attempts to be nice to him were just a messed up powerplay, despite me meaning every word of it'.

To Stolas, Blitz thinking he'd be that shallow is easy to believe because it's the most obviously logical possibility, AND it's also kind of his worst fear at that point. 

The notion of his genuine interest and tenderness being consistently misread, by comparison, is a pretty strange mental twist. It *almost* makes no sense at all that someone could only half-intentionally misconstrue regular kind messages as some contrived fucked up performance.

'When did I ever play with his feelings, it can't be all the times I tried to be nice to him with no strings attached because I really meant that in earnest... so it's gotta be the sex arrangement he's mad over??'

No wonder he took it the way he did.

-

Now, for my third section - it's quite the tragicomedy that their first reunion as adults was a whole pile-up of giving each other inaccurate impressions of what the other one actually wanted.

'Are you here to ravish me' = oh okay, owl do be randy??? thinketh a Blitz

'Oh hey there buddy, want me to ravish you then~?' = oh uh wow uh um ok he's here because he's actually for real into me????? wondereth a Stolas

and then they just kept that little 'roleplay' of trying to give the other what they thought they wanted from each other going, assuming that was the actual primary motivation of the other (when really Blitz was there for the book and Stolas had no idea what he was getting himself into and he was just making shit up on the fly half sloshed).

They pretty much *showed* each other that yes, they do in fact want-a-da-sex from each other, pretty explicitly,

and the deal they struck was just a convenient excuse to keep seeing each other.

It's not that hard to see how Stolas' thinking went there... 

‘Hey so, that was the most amazing thing ever and oh my goodness me, if Blitz actually likes me that way and as an aside he can use the grimoire too, um, well, tee hee hee? maybe we can make it a regular thing officially~?’

He called it favours for favours, but really it's sex for sex, and the grimoire's kind of a bonus tossed in because it makes a neat story, for as far as he's concerned. He clearly didn't have any intentions of withholding it if Blitz wanted a different arrangment.

'Let's keep having dates under this little fun guise of borrowing my book, because hee hee hoo hoo that's a neat dramatic plot device just like in my novels.'

He only way later clues into the implications of it as 'wait shit he does actually really need that book for real, this is kinda messed up despite never intending to lord it over him like this'.

Stolas *would* be the kind of dork to think of it like some romance story where the fated lovers come up with some cover story to continue their passionate forbidden tryst

... and it also makes scheduling really simple, HAH. 

(I mean scheduling can be *such* a pain in the ass, anyone who's ever played DnD would know that well enough, right~? Consistency is key ehehehehe.)

[xhoneygirlxx]

he's not magic

eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: the time of the month has come and Eddie is the only person who can sooth you.

warnings: talks about menstrual cycles/blood. mentions of dying. tooth rotting fluff. Eddie is a cutie pie. pet names used; sweetheart, baby, honey. shitty writing/spelling errors; if you find any plz ignore it lolololololol.

a/n: i'm currently in so much pain from my period and the only thing i want is for someone to coddle me and tell me i'm going to be ok. i hope you guys enjoy this very small thing, it's not much and it's not good but maybe it'll help you feel good on those days when life is shit. love you all <3

--

You're dying, a slow, painful, and mournful death. At this point you stopped caring, stopping all the begging you've done all morning for your life to continue. If this was how you were going out than so be it, you just wished your end had come faster.

You've already bled through two pairs of panties and two pairs of shorts, now left in your trusty period panties and an oversized shirt. Your stomach was bloated to the point it was uncomfortable, your breasts were so swollen that your chest felt like it was going to concave under the weight, and your back felt as if it was going to snap in half at any moment.

It felt like you tried everything, ibuprofen, heating pad, and propping a pillow in between your legs - none of the tricks worked. Now you were left in the fetal position, arms wrapped around your middle and knees pulled to your chest.

For the past how ever many hours you've been moaning out in pain, the stabbing feeling in your uterus just too much to handle. You're sure if someone were to walk in and see you they'd think you were insane and right now you couldn't blame them.

You did look insane, hair wild and matted to your face from all the sweat you've accumulated, voice hoarse and scratchy from all the wounded animal sounds you've made, and your face screwed up in an unflattering way.

Your phone has gone unanswered all day, the only person to have texted you was Eddie. At first it was only tik toks, small comments he thought would make you giggle, and then it turned into him updating you about his day at work, and finally worried questions about if you were okay.

You felt so fucking guilty for not responding, not telling him that you were fine but you just physically couldn't move from your crouched position. This only made you angrier, the fact that your temporarily paralyzed and are restricted from doing the things you need to do.

The fridge sits empty and in need of new groceries, laundry stays piled up by the washer where they wait to be cleaned, and Eddie is waiting for your response worrying about your well being - that is if he hasn't already contacted the national guard to track your location.

Everything is so shitty, the pain, the hurting, the guilt, the frustration. You feel like you're a balloon that's been filled up too much and is waiting to burst at the seams.

You don't have to take long before the heated tears from your eyes fall down, hitting the bridge of your nose, only to land on the pillow beneath your head. It's not a violent cry, at least not yet, just frustrated tears that seem to slip away from their barricade.

You don't even notice the front door of your apartment opening or the sound of Eddie calling for your name, only focusing on the pulsating of your uterus that debilitates your body.

"Fuck, baby I've been worried about you," You don't even turn and look at him, your eyes are still harshly closed. By the sound of his voice you know he's out of breath, brown curls probably wild from the speed of his running.

"Shit, sweetheart, are you okay?" The worry in his voice hits right on the spiderweb crack, shattering you into a million little pieces.

You can't hold it back, the wailing that rips from your throat is something close to bone chilling. Tears streams from your eyes without relent, whole body shaking from the cries that rip from your body.

It doesn't take more than thirty seconds to feel the bed dip as your boyfriend crawls into bed next to you. He doesn't think twice before pulling you in, one arm wrapped around your back and the other soothing down your hair on the side of your head.

"It's okay, baby. M'here, you're okay." Eddie coos and it's like music to your ears.

The warmth from his body fills you in a way your heating pad couldn't. Even with the mucus that fills your nose you catch a whiff of his scent, smoke, pine, and outside -undoubtedly him. His calloused hand runs soothingly up and down your back, allowing your bones to relax into his touch.

Eddie doesn't have to ask, he knows you better than you know yourself, and the way your scrunched up on your bed and crying he knows that you've been battling your pain all day.

"Sweetheart, you have to breath. Can you do that for me? Take one big deep breath, s'all I want, okay?"

You nod your head against his chest, following the way his chest moves as he demonstrates for you. Between hiccupped breaths and streaming tears, you allow your lungs to fill up with as much air as you can take in, releasing it right after in one long exhale.

"Good job, baby. Did such a good job f'me." Eddie's being soft with you, a side of him he only allows you to see and no one else.

You let his praise melt over you, soaking it right up like the plants in a drought. For the first time since you woke up you feel lighter, something you only feel when Eddie's by you. The cramps that have been going nonstop have finally subsided, the presence of your boyfriend scaring them away.

"It hurt so bad, Eds. S'really bad today." Your voice is shaky, as if one wrong move and you can break out into another sob.

"I know, honey, but it's okay. I'm gonna take care of you, kay? I'm gonna make it all better."

You both know that he has no control over what your body decides to do but just the promise alone has your worries easing away. Your body relaxes into him, your knees slowly falling down to their normal position until your laying right up against him.

"On a scale from one to ten, where are you at?" You take a moment to think about it, really evaluating the squeezing of your organs.

"Was a ten but now it's like a seven."

Eddie hums, his hand still soothing up and down your back. A small pause settles over his words, like he's trying to wrack his brain for the next action he's going to make so you can feel better.

"How 'bout you get some rest, then when you get up we'll get you something to eat? Sound okay?" You nod again, too tired to form any sort of response.

Eddie acknowledges your response with a kiss to the top of your head, making you hum in content when he does. It doesn't take long for the tiredness of your body to settle over you, quiet snores coming from your nose in no time.

Even if his arms fall asleep and his back feels stiff, Eddie stays there with you, soothing you in your sleep to ensure that your pain stays at bay. When you do wake up he's right there, waiting for you with some water and more medicine before helping you into the shower.

He's not magic and he has no idea what to do when it comes to woman's health but Eddie Munson will be damned if a period makes his girl cry like that again.

---

[authorhjk1]

Hi! Loved your Yoona fic and your idea. Hope you can do something good for Yeri in this outfit since she looked spectacular in this.

Black

(Kim Yeri X Male Reader)

"You look way better now."

You let out a heavy sigh as you calm down on the park bench.

You are just outside of Seoul. This park used to be part of a garden from one of Joseon's palaces, if you remember correctly. But time and nature have run their course. The park is now starting to turn into a forest.

Kim Yeri looks up at you, after you spoke. She is kneeling on your jacket, right in front of you. After a couple of wonderful moments, she finally made you cum on her face. And while she always pretends to be shy and innocent, you know that she likes being used. Especially when she becomes a brat. And especially in public.

It turns her on, knowing that someone could catch her. Red Velvet's innocent maknae, kneeling on a small gravel path in front of a bench, her face covered in thick, sticky semen by a man her fans don't know.

A man who uses her when and wherever he wants. This is already public enough for your taste. But you wonder if Yeri would've been able to take it a step further. You remember the large pedestal where the throne was standing on as the two of you entered the throne room. There would've been enough room for you to fuck her, while the tourists in the room would've taken pictures of the throne.

"Thank you, daddy."

Yeri scoops up some of your cum with a finger, before she licks it clean.

You were surprised when she called you that for the first time. But it fits her persona. Bubbly and innocent on the outside. A slutty brat on the inside.

"You think I'm done yet?"

Yeri sends a questionable look your way.

"Why did you think I wanted you here and not in a quiet room in the palace?"

She shrugs her shoulders, pretending not to care.

"I didn't want everyone to hear your slutty moans when I fucked you. Now get up."

Yeri gets on her feet, while you are blissfully aware that your cum is still staining her face.

"Bend over."

Despite being a brat and teasing you throughout the day, Yeri follows your every order as soon as you promise to use her. After all, this was her idea. You are just enjoying the ride.

Holding onto the wooden backrest of the bench, Yeri looks over her shoulder at you. Her cum covered face turns you on more than you expected. You are already hard again.

Your cock is still wet from Yeri's saliva as you take it into your hand and reach underneath her black dress. No underwear. Not that you expected any. She understood the concept of free-use.

Without another word, you push into her from behind. Yeri lets out a gasp as she feels your cock penetrating her snug pussy. It's way tighter than her mouth and you enjoy the way her walls wrap around you.

You keep pushing deeper, until your base meets her cheeks. Her dress is bunched up around her waist now, so you have a perfect view of her well shaped butt.

A couple of quick and definitely unexpected spanks make Yeri yelp in pain and surprise. You quickly knead her cheeks afterwards as you pull out of her again.

"Have I been a bad girl, daddy?"

The both of you know that she was. She always is. Especially when she wants to be used.

"Let's see how long you can keep this up."

You're already speaking through your teeth. After cuming on her face already, your cock seems to be more sensitive than usual.

Just as she is about to give you a cheeky reply, you thrust into her again. A load moan escapes her mouth instead. No one is around, or at least you hope so, as you start to take her from behind.

Yeri quickly turns into a mumbling mess within a couple of thrusts. Her tolerance for pleasure is very low. You know it's not going to take long for her, until she is walking on clouds.

You use her inability to keep herself together to, well..., use her. Your hips meet Yeri's with a steady pace as you thrust forward again and again. The young girl's moans increase in volume. Her knuckles turn white as she tightens her grip on the bench and on you.

"Please, daddy! Make'm watch!"

You are too far gone by now, to actually comprehend what she just said. Is someone actually watching? Did you get caught?

You can't think about these questions for more than a split second. Yeri's pussy sucks you in. Your cock, your thoughts, your soul.

"Fuck, daddy! You gonna make me cum."

You catch a globe of your cum falling off her face as you look down on her from behind.

It makes you fuck her harder. Yeri is mewling and crying now, her legs buckling. Her thighs quivering deliciously.

Another hard spank makes her rock forward. Now she is bend over the backrest, her legs holding onto a lower part of the bench. Another spank and Yeri loses complete control.

You hear her shoes scramble in the gravel as you make her climax in public. The light wood starts getting darker underneath her as Yeri stains the bench with her juices.

"God, Yeri."

You groan, knowing that she is gonna make you cum again so soon.

You planned on filling her up to the brim, but where would be the fun in that?

Yeri likes it public. Dearing. Borderline slutty madness. And so, you add to her already stained appearance.

As you are about to climax, you quickly pull out and cum all over her hair from behind. White pearls of your cum cover several parts of her black silky hair.

You know you've made a beautiful mess of her. There is know way she can walk around like that. And yet, Yeri doesn't say a word of disapproval. Her face and her hair covered in your cum and yet, she looks over her shoulder at you, smiling. Glad you took out your stress on her beautiful body.

[xxwhiskeyxx]

Penis Fly Trap

Summary: Well, hello, it's been a while since I've done one of these!

So, in a thread, @miasmaghoul came up with the idea of Mountain having a cunt that will clench so hard around a cock that it is like his knot that he won’t let go until he is ready too and has milked the holder’s balls dry. As she said, ‘It’s like one of those milking machines they use on dairy farms, and no one else has a clue how he manages it, but if Mount’s in the right mood, he’ll make the rounds and drain every pair of balls, he can find just to leave their owners sprawled and drooling in his wake.

Now, this gave me the idea of what if getting milked by Mountain is one of the initiations into the band you do to finally be a part of the pack?

Think of it like this, Phantom and Aurora have been on Earth for around 7 months now, and due to them having been on tour, it’s taken a while for them to get their “initiation” done. Of course, they’ve had sex with the rest of the band at least 5 times each by now, even with Mountain, but they have only heard stories of his cryptic power, which is his milking knot.

But today is the day.

Notes: I know I'm not the best at smut, but I tried my best, I hope y'all enjoy this! And happy new year!

-Love Whiskey <3

Words: 1.7K

The ghouls have been home for a month now, and everything has been set up for the event, which is essentially an all-day orgy. Poor Phantom and Aurora are already fucked out and stupid when it’s their turn with Mountain, having made their rounds with every other ghoul in the pack, from Dewdrop and Aether to Alpha and Omega to Zephyr and Ivy.

Utterly fucked out, holes loose and leaking with slick and cum, cocks sensitive and aching from overuse, Phantom and Aurora cling to each other as they approach Mountain, who is laid out prettily on the couch, idly stroking his hard little t-dick and smirking as a glob of slick drips out of his hole.

“Well, well, well, is it finally my turn?” he purrs as he beckons them closer with his wet fingers, offering the soaked appendages once they’re close enough.

Phantom can’t get his mouth around them fast enough, almost choking himself on them as he licks them clean.

“Oh yes, they’re ready to experience that tight little cunt” Aether chuckles darkly while he’s basically holding Swiss and Dewdrop upright. The giant smiles, “Is that right? Well, I think Phantom can go first since he’s being such a good boy for me. Why don’t you come give me that pretty cock”

The young Quintessence ghoul rushes between those pretty thighs, barely coherent enough to push his cock against that fluttering hole, but he manages. Managing to push all the way to the hilt in one go, making them both let out punched-out noises.

“Fuck-” Mountain groans as he’s filled with a cock for the first time today, having wanted to save himself for these two and not wanting to risk knotting anyone besides Phantom or Aurora. “Go on, sweet boy, take what you need.” the drummer coos, feeling the little ghoul kick inside him.

Phantom whines as his hips draw back before shooting forward, building into a frantic, needy pace that makes Mountain pant. That thick cockhead drags against his gummy walls, slamming into that sensitive spot in just the right way to make that knot in his taunt stomach begin to tighten rapidly.

The poor, needy Quint mewls as he feels Mountain clench, “So, so tight! Need…need more….wanna..feel” Placing a hand on that taught stomach, he pushes down until he feels his cock pistoning in and out, making the giant choke. “Lucifer below, Bug! Gonna make me cum. Is that what you want, to make me knot that pretty little cock and lock you inside me?” he pants out, long legs wrapping tightly around lean hips.

“Please da..mountain, wanna be stuck in you, wanna be knotted” Phantom babbles out, pleading with his big purple eyes, tail curling around his waist to rub that hard little t-dick. Moaning, the Earth ghoul sits up just enough to grip the Quint behind the head and yank him into a filthy kiss, licking into his mouth.

It only takes a few more well-aimed thrusts before Mountain’s eyes roll back into his skull as the knot in his stomach bursts. Clamping down around Phantom’s cock like a vise, locking him in place just as he cums as well. Shooting rope after rope of hot cum into that needy cunt.

Shaking, Phantom drops exhausted into Mountain’s arms, mewling and clawing at the couch as he babbles about how tight it is, how it’s milking him, that it’s too much.

Meanwhile, Aurora bursts into giggles as she watches, “Aww, poor Tommy can’t handle it!” but no one else joins her, making her slowly stop. “You’re laughing now, little songbird, but that’s the standard reaction for anyone experiencing Mountain’s cunt for the first time,” Swiss warns her with a sing-songy voice, smirking at her.

Her mismatched iridescent eyes widened, “Wha..what do you mean, no way?!” her voice cracks slightly as Sunshine presses up behind her, her spent cock slotting against her soft hip, “Oh honey, that tight little hole will quite literally eat you alive, we call it her Penis Fly Trap.”

Poor Aurora feels like she might explode before she gets the chance to experience this god who is so close yet so far as she watches Mountain rub Phantom’s back and coo soft praise to him as they both calm down. “Just…just how intense are we talking?” she asks nervously.

All the ghouls in the room look at each other, “Think about his normal tightness and multiply it by 10.” Alpha smirks at the little ghoulette, making her shudder just imagining it. “I…I think I can handle it better; I’m not nearly as dramatic as Phantom,” she stutters, making the older ghouls laugh.

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re about to eat those words. It’s your turn now.” Zephyr nods to see Phantom sliding out of Mountain with a whimper, immediately collapsing beside him.

The giant sits up with a smirk as Aurora creeps forward. “Hello, little one, are you ready for your turn?” his deep voice made her shudder and thick cock kick between her thighs. Mountain licks his lips as he studies her.

While Phantom is by no means small, Aurora is certainly the bigger of the two. Her cock is at least 7 inches long and almost as thick as Aether, about the width of a beer can, with a pretty pink head that makes his mouth water. It would be such the perfect mouthful for him, imagining just cockwarming her in his throat until she's mewling. But he quickly shakes off the thoughts as she comes within reach.

Holding out a hand, “Why don’t you sit, songbird? No offense, but I’m not quite sure you’re tall enough to fuck me standing,” he teases as her small soft palm meets his.

Aurora’s cheeks flush as she lets him pull her to sit beside him, just for the giant to suddenly move to straddle her lap. Chest heaving, she stares up into those intense green eyes as he takes her cock in hand, “Deep breath, little daffodil, I’m not stopping until I’m done,” is the only warning she gets before Mountain sinks down on her cock with a debauched moan.

Eyes rolling back in her skull as she’s engulfed in tight, hot, gummy walls, Aurora lets out a high-pitched cry, hips stuttering up to try and follow as he lifts himself up. “What did we say, honey? Now enjoy the ride 'cause you just got yourself stuck,” Aether’s voice comes from somewhere she could care less from, focused solely on the tight cunt swallowing up her cunt with each bounce of the large ghoul in her lap.

Her little tits bounce as she grips those lean hips, “Aww sweetheart, did you talk a big game but are unable to keep up with it? Such a stupid little girl, why don’t you just sit there and let me use you like the pretty little toy you are” Mountain coos are he reaches down to stroke his cock in quick little movements.

Poor Aurora feels her brain melting out of her ears as she feels her balls begin to draw up, “Cl..close! Go..Gonna cum” she mewls as she feels the giant clench around her. “Go right ahead, sweetheart. But like I said, I won’t stop until I’m done.”

Aurora lets out a panicked noise as she feels him speed up even more, “Fuck, I’m gonna have to use you two more often, such perfect little toys,” Mountain groans; this is when she notices Phantom kneeling behind them just before his tongue runs from her balls all the way up Mountain’s slit.

The sensation of both Mountain’s cunt squeezing her cock and that filthy little tongue lapping at her is her ultimate downfall. T only takes two passes before she’s shooting deep inside that pretty cock. Squelching noises fill the den as cum begins to leak out that tight hole around her cock, but Phantom is quick to clean this up.

Unfortunately, Aurora realizes Mountain wasn’t kidding as he chuckles darkly, “Aww sweetheart, did you cum?” he coos as she begins to squirm under him, “I told you, I'm not stopping until I am done,” his voice dark as he pins her wrists to the couch when she tries to unsuccessfully shove him off to no avail.

“You know what you can say to stop this, but you won’t feel that pretty cunt cum around you,” Swiss teases from somewhere, but she can’t even hear him as blood pounds in her ears.

It’s all too much, the wet, silky walls squeezing her like a vice, the weight atop her, the hot tongue lapping at her balls. It all leads to her squirting again less than two minutes later.

The poor ghoulette squeals when she finally feels Mountain's cum; that already too-tight vice becomes even tighter, slick gushing around her when he squirts, moaning like a whore as he desperately rubs his clit until he's gushing a mess on Phantom’s face and Aurora’s lap.

Phantom laps desperately to try and catch every drop of cum he possibly can until Mountain is shaking with overstimulation.

There are whoops and hollers of excitement from around them from the ghouls as Mountain slumps onto the couch, curling his large body around Aurora’s tiny one.

Aether comes behind them a few minutes later, running a gentle hand up Mountain’s spine after pulling Phantom up to sit back on the couch. “Lucifer, dammit, Mount, I think you broke the poor thing,” he chuckles when he sees the ghoulette is crossed-eyed and drooling. To which the giant chuckles himself, “Well, I did warn her; she should’ve held it,” he hisses as he slowly lifts himself off, groaning as he collapses on the couch.

Chuckling while Sitting down, Aether pulls those thin but powerful thighs apart to inspect that swollen cunt, lips puffy and clit standing at attention as slick and cum drools from his hole. From behind him, Phantom whines.

Smirking, “Aww buggy, do you wanna clean Mounty out?” he asks Phantom, who nods. “Well, go ahead.” Aether pulls him by the back of the neck between those thighs as Mountain’s eyes widen.

That night, the giant broke in two new members of the pack and was thoroughly rewarded by Phantom’s mouth and the rest of the pack. Let’s just say that the poor giant couldn’t walk right for a week afterward

[alllgator-blood]

I have ten billion WIP sketches I need to finish, but for some reason I stayed up from 9 PM to 4 AM conceptualizing, making patterns, sewing, painting and applying makeup on this stupid fucking felt squid......the detailing needs to be cleaned up cause there's only one coat of paint so far, but he's pretty much done

my neighbors probably think I'm insane because I was running around the yard clenching this toy kallamar in a death grip and flying him around like an airplane/putting him in the barbecue/poking him with a stick. I want to tie him to a string and recreate the opening of napoleon dynamite >:) ALSO I MADE HIM SMOKE OUT OF A STUPID CRYSTAL PIPE BUT PLEASE DON'T ACTUALLY USE THOSE, THEY ARE SUPER TOXIC LMAO MINE IS FOR DECORATION

I don't have any process pics because I had tunnel vision autism style and forgot the rest of the universe existed while I was working on him. BUT if you're curious I'll ramble below the cut

Okay I am not a seamstress by any means. I've sewn my entire life but very, very infrequently. I've done plushies, clothes, cosplays, fursuits, accessories, etc. but I only do one like once a year, so while I planned to make all 5 bishops, I'm not really sure I'll get them all done. The material cost was like 20 bucks tops so I'm not too upset if I don't finish them. I AT LEAST WANT TO GET SHAMURA OR HEKET DONE.

here is the concept sketch ft. heket's toes and shamura's fingers. I decided to do his pre-schism version so I could fit him with jewelry! I did him first because like I said I sew infrequently and don't know wtf I'm doing, everyone else seemed a lot more complicated.

So I basically just traced this drawing on a printer paper-sized canvas in SAI, and guesstimated how everything would look in a 3D space. His head is four pieces, one triangle identical to the one in the picture, two wide triangles that are sewn together in the back, and a circle for his chin. You can't really see it in any of the pics but he's literally like a black cylindrical stick with little tentacles sewn on where his mantle connects to his cloak. The leg tentacles are one piece of felt that look like tassels, where they're connected by a rectangle but branch off into individual pieces. He can't stand up very well, so his cape keeps him up (that's gonna be an issue for every other bishop too except heket cause she's gonna be ROUND). Mostly everything like the crown, cloak, head, etc. are cones so I just had to make a lot of wide triangles.

For the details, I just used acrylic paint that was watered down so he's not especially crunchy, and for the blush tone I used a makeup palette my mom bought me 10 years ago in hopes I'd get in touch with my "feminine side", but I grew up into a nonbinary butch lesbian so OOPS. Kallamar looks better with makeup than me anyway. I'm kinda sad I couldn't get his freckles as lopsided as I draw them but it probably looks better in plush form to have them even anyway....

I could just post the pattern so I don't have to explain this but 1. I am mentally ill about the thought of my kallamar being in someone else's house and 2. the original pattern had to be tweaked while I was working on him so the final pattern straight up doesn't exist, I winged it the whole time

OH and the jewelry is just scrap pieces I had laying around, I might repaint it all to be gold instead of silver + bronze. I used 20g aluminum wire for his armlet thing, jumper rings for his earrings + ring (+ a diamond dot from my mom's kits for the gem) and chain for the bracelet. I made him an amulet as well but it felt like overkill so I took it off. I'm probably gonna make him a plague doctor mask and medicine bag sometime because I think about nurse kallamar more than I probably should :') I've already sewn one as a prop for a toy raven before so it shouldn't be too hard

[solarmorrigan]

Hello there! I’m not entirely sure if you’re still doing the whole angsty-ish prompt thing, but if you are could please consider doing, “Shit, are you bleeding!?”, with steddie and Steve being the one bleeding?

Maybe Steve never actually took care of his bat wounds and they reopened or smth??

If not then that’s totally fine! Feel free to ignore :)

THIS IS VERY LATE, I'M SORRY. I know you sent this request months ago, and believe it or not, I didn't forget about it! It haunted me. (Not really, but I did keep it in mind, and I finally managed to get a little thing out for it! I hope this is a little like what you had in mind?)

[CW: blood, mentions of injury]

-

They’ve done it.

They’ve actually fucking done it.

They pulled off the whole stupid plan, no one is dead (except for Vecna), they’re right-side up, the gate has resealed itself – it’s over.

They won.

And now, there’s just one thing left to do.

Nothing official, really, just something Eddie had promised himself he would do if he actually managed to survive (odds hadn’t seemed to be in his favor at the time, so he hadn’t expected to have to follow through, but he’d also promised himself there would be no more running away). In a way, he’d promised Steve, too, so he thinks he’d better deliver.

(At least, he hopes that’s what he’d communicated to Steve; he hopes that’s what that meaningful look and that significant nod that passed between them had meant and that he’s not about to get his ass kicked after surviving the siege of a bat tornado in a mirror version of his trailer in a fucked up alternate dimension.)

Eddie gives Dustin one last affectionate pat on the back, skirts around where Robin is babbling something enthusiastically at Nancy, who looks a little too shellshocked to do much more than listen with an almost disbelieving smile, and makes it over to where Steve is standing by the front door. He’s got his back to the group, hunched over a little as he fiddles with something beneath his unzipped jacket, but he perks up the moment he hears Eddie’s voice.

“Steve,” Eddie calls, more quietly than the last time, but with no less gravity, and just like last time, Steve turns back, his gaze falling heavily on Eddie.

Before he can talk himself out of it, and horribly aware that this isn’t really the best time or place (but then again, if not here, then where? If not now, when?), Eddie steps closer, steps right into Steve’s space, cups one hand to his ash-smudged cheek, and leans in to kiss him.

He barely even has a moment to wonder if he’s made a monumental mistake before Steve is kissing him back, tilting his head and pressing closer and moving his lips against Eddie’s like this is all he’s ever wanted to do. If the rest of the trailer has fallen conspicuously silent, Eddie doesn’t notice.

The kiss doesn’t last long (not as long as Eddie would like), but that’s alright; it feels like there will probably be more.

“Wanted to do that earlier,” Eddie murmurs as they pull apart. “But I didn’t want you to think it was some kind of last-ditch wish fulfillment because I thought I was going to die. Figured now would be better.”

“Now is good,” Steve says softly; his eyes are a little hazy, a little unfocused (and damn, had Eddie done that?), but they find Eddie’s without trouble. "Now is great."

And then it’s Steve’s hands on Eddie’s face, curled carefully at the edges of his jaw, drawing him in for another kiss. It’s only the feeling of something wet sliding across Eddie’s skin that distracts him and makes him pull back. Steve’s hands fall away, and Eddie reaches up to swipe over his jaw and looks down at his hand.

His heart thumps when he sees red.

“Am I–?” He reaches up again, rubbing his fingers across his skin again, but he feels no pain, finds no injury. “Are you–?” Eddie looks now at Steve’s hand, heart jumping again when he sees more of the same smeared across Steve’s fingers. “Shit, are you bleeding?”

Steve frowns, reaching up with his clean hand to try to swipe the mess away with his thumb. “Sorry,” he mumbles, but he sounds distant now, a little breathless in a way that Eddie can’t blame on any kiss.

Eddie reaches out and spreads his hands under Steve’s jacket, pushing it open to get a good look at him, and finds the damning dark spots spreading across the fabric of the t-shirt underneath.

“Shit,” Eddie hisses. “Shit, shit, Steve–”

“Might’ve pulled something,” Steve murmurs, “fighting Vecna.”

“You think?” Eddie is aware that he’s getting a bit shrill, but he thinks that he really can’t be blamed. “Wheeler!”

Nancy is there in an instant, and Robin is at Steve’s side just as he starts to wobble. She gets an arm around his back and he hisses, reminding them all that the bat bites on his sides aren’t the only wounds he’d sustained.

And then Nancy is barking instructions, and Robin is talking, quiet and rapid-fire at Steve as they sit him down on the couch, and Dustin is demanding to know what’s wrong (and if Eddie thought he’d been getting shrill–), and Eddie only manages to get him out of the vicinity by telling him to go call an ambulance.

“He’s gonna be fine, Henderson, but we need help,” Eddie says firmly, giving him a shove in the direction of the phone. “We’ve got him, he’ll be fine.”

And Eddie hopes to God, to Satan, to who-the-fuck-ever it is he’s supposed to be praying to at this point, that he isn’t lying to the kid.

He’s just gotten Steve – he can’t lose him now.

[muraseclinic]

This is the dumbest post I will ever make online. Anon on to keep my last shred of dignity. Hope the post doesn't break.

All of your pretty words have been plaguing my fucking mind recently. Been thinking a lot about the type of shit you say. I'm normally a sadist dom, but your posts slip me into a stupid fucking masochistic stupor. I've read at least every word about a dozen times over. It's pretty fucked up how desperate I am about all this. I doubt you even care, but I don't think I want you to.

I picture the scene pretty vividly, you telling me exactly what steps puppy has to follow. Maybe I fight back, helplessly trying to turn the tables, but it doesn't work. It'll never work against you. You'll only mindfuck me harder. Telling me I don't know what I want, telling me to get over it. How I don't deserve to be in control. Slipping me further and further into absolute submission, I won't be able to resist anymore.

You'll tell me to cut my veins open, let it all bleed out, and I'll obey. 'Cause it's what you want. My desires don't matter. It's all about pleasing you. The knife'll sink deep into my flesh, carving deep grooves, brilliant shades of red rising to the surface. The blood scent in the air is fucking pungent. You'll laugh, almost angelic but truthfully cruel. You'll stomp down on my wrist, the blood spurting out of the cuts onto your boot, maybe you'll even fracture the bone. You'll tell me to clean up my mess. I'll stick my tongue out like the whores in pornos do, idiot and crass, and I'll lick up my own gore off the vamp of your boot without a second thought. That copper taste so familiar, it's all I'll know beyond this point.

We'll go for hours, days even. I'll be a fuckin' drugged up cut up mess, sobbing and broken, and you'll be laughing through it all. You'll get bored eventually, I know you will, and then you'll give me one last command. You'll tell me those lovely parting words, tell me to kill myself for you, it's the final act to our fucked up scene. And I'll do it. A kicked puppy only wants to please its ruthless master. I'll make it slow, just so you can take in my gargled cries like an alluringly haunting symphony of pain. Choking on my own blood, fucking filthy.

Then what comes after? That's for you to decide. Not me, of course.

fuck anon .ᐟ ,, you’ve really outdone yourself this time haven’t you (ㅅ´ ˘ `) i gotta say, i'm flattered that my “pretty words” have been rattling around that head of yours . . .

now, for that very very nice scene you mentioned . .

i'd peel away that last shred of dignity, leaving you a broken mess at my feet. it’d take some effort, considering you have the same knack for violence and defiance as an untrained mutt, but we’d eventually get there wouldn’t we .ᐣ i'd savor every agonized gasp, every gurgled cry as you choke on your own blood. it'd be one of the most beautiful, and most disgusting things i’ve ever seen, and it’d be all for me . . .

i’d enjoy the moment, might even record you killing yourself just to add it to my personal collection. but, once the deed has been done, and you're lying there in a pool of your own blood .ᐣ well, my interest tends to wane pretty damn quick. ᓚᘏᗢ i dunno - i've got better things to do than babysit a corpse. . .

but just because you’re dead doesn’t mean you can’t be useful, now does it .ᐣ you’ve got a little more left to give until i get sick of you. . .

i’m sure i’d find something, anything, to make it so that even in death you weren’t a waste of time. cut into you with zero-surgical precision, rough and uneven, take out whatever interests me or whatever i think might taste good (๑⃙⃘´༥`๑⃙⃘) maybe i won’t be able to hold back, might not be able to wait til’ everything is clean, cut and organized. might start tearing into you right then and there, making more of a mess of things. you won’t mind, right .ᐣ for the rest of you, i’ll find ways to utilize every last scrap. maybe i’ll tan your skin, craft it into a wallet or a glove . . might take a picture of your body n’ hang it somewhere. your corpse, once i’ve gotten everything i can out of if, will probably be left behind some dingy motel or in an alleyway.

if i’m feeling nice, i might even send it home to where your family is as a surprise. they can burden themselves with it now ᥫ᭡

[cerridwen007]

Unwind.

*Images are from Pinterest and are used for aesthetics only.

Pairing: Boyfriend!Dieter Bravo x f!reader (afab)

Word count: 4.1k (18+) MINORS DNI!

Summary: Your boyfriend, Dieter, has come home early from a project. Hoping to surprise you, he instead gets a surprise of his own when he discovers what you like to do unwind alone from a long day.

Notes/warnings: Smut, fluff, DUB-CON (one party is under the influence of ouid but they are both very into it), established relationship, accidental pervy!Dieter, accidental exhibitionism, pussy drunk Dieter, masturbation (f and m), sex toys, descriptions of smoking the devils lettuce, mentions of other drugs, porn with little plot, oral (f!receiving), piv sex, cumplay, they are both just super horny and sweet for each other, swearing, no y/n. 

a/n: My first Dieter fic, I can’t remember really where or when I got the idea for this fic, but I knew it just screamed Dieter. This is probably quite up there with the filthiest thing i've written, and i'm not sorry, lol. Also, I apologise for my very long absence in posting writing. Life just got the best of me, and I lost all motivation pretty much to write. Ngl I don't think this is my best work, cause I'm a little rusty but it's fun and I enjoyed writing it. But anyway, I hope y'all enjoy, and any interactions with my posts mean the world to me. Love yall so much! <3

*******

Now that his months-long project had wrapped up early, all Dieter wanted to do was surprise you. The both of you had long played the game of hiding behind corners and hiding in all sorts of spots to try and scare each other, all throughout your relationship. 

But more often than not, it was you that made his heart jump out his chest, and a long list of swear words leave his mouth as he over-dramatically clutched his chest. To which you always laughed so hard you cried a little at another successful scare and his reaction. “I'll get you next time.” he mumbles, under his breath, a cheeky grin on his handsome face as he plans when best to get you back.

So now, with an upper hand, he was hoping that he could give you a big fright and jump out of your closet when you least expect it. But what happened was so much more surprising.

You had just gotten back to your shared apartment after what felt like the longest week of your life. You had been drowning in deadlines at work and were so glad that it was friday evening so you could finally get a proper break. After ‘gracefully’ hanging up your jacket on the hooks near the front door and tossing your keys into the bowl on the entryway table, you immediately take off your bra as you walk into your apartment. Throwing it on the back of one of the barstools sitting in front of your kitchen island.

A loud sigh exhaling from your mouth as the pressure is released from your sore shoulders. It had been a long day at work before you ran around afterwards, getting a whole bunch of errands done that you had been putting off. So you were exhausted and understandably so. 

You kick off your shoes as you walk through the messy apartment, not bothering to put them away where they belong or tidy up the growing mess just yet. No, first you need to unwind from the long ass week you had. Besides, the weekend started tomorrow, and you would have plenty of time to clean up then and before Dieter came back a week and a half from now.

You sighed again sadly thinking about your boyfriend. God, you missed him. He had been gone about 3 months now, and each day didn't get any easier. When the two of you were together, you were attached at the hip. Spending all the time you could together; talking, laughing, cuddling and fucking.

So it was quite a change the last few months going from spending almost all your time with your favourite person to almost none, except the few short calls Dieter managed to find time to have with you amongst his very busy schedule. 

You tried to remind yourself of the fact that Dieter would be back before you knew it, and then you could once again spend all the much needed time together that you wanted.

You opened your fridge looking for a snack. You could have to tie your over till dinner that you would order yourself later, a treat for the end of a busy week. 

You picked a few string cheese packets from the chilly shelves of your fridge before closing it shut with your hip as you walked off into your living room. Sitting down with a big “oof” on your couch and immediately sinking deep into the plush cushions as far as you could.

Dieter's heart was beating fast as he watched you through the horizontal slats of the storage closet door. He waited with baited breath, trying to find the perfect time to jump out and give you both the scare and surprise of a lifetime. He had been lucky enough to arrive an hour or so before you got home, which gave him plenty of time to get ready and pick the best hiding spot before you arrived.

He bites his lip, trying to hold back the chuckles wanting to escape as he imagined your hopefully soon to be shocked face. He watches as you get comfy on the couch and can’t help but look at you with adoration, even with dark circles under your eyes and your hair slightly untamed, you looked like a dream, the prettiest thing he has seen. 

You quickly finish your cheese sticks, hungrier than you thought you were, and toss the wrappers on the coffee table. Yet another thing to be cleaned up tomorrow. You let out a long yawn and stretched your arms above your head. A cheeky smile graces your mouth as you realise how you're going to spend the rest of your night unwinding.

You waste no time in reaching into the draws of your coffee table before you and pulling out a dark green bong with small red flowers decorating it that Dieter got you for your birthday last year. You put it down the top of the coffee table briefly as you pull out a matching glass box with your stash in it and a red grinder. 

Your fingers are working swiftly in their practiced work as you get your first cone ready. You pull out your black zippo lighter with your and Dieters' initials and the day the two of you started dating engraved on the front. You flick your thumb over the flint wheel a few times until it ignites. You take in a fraction of a breath before putting your mouth on the end of the glass tube, tilted towards you.

Holding the flame over dried grounds, watching as the white smoke slowly crawls up the neck of the bong. You let the smoke enter your lungs, filling you with warmth.

Your lips only disconnect when all the smoke is gone and you breathe in a little of fresh air. You hold it in your mouth for a few seconds before you tilt your head back and exhale all the hazy smoke. Your loose fist covers your mouth when you let a small cough. 

You decide to do one more hit before you put down the ‘vase’ and let your head rest against the center of the back of the couch. Your legs spread wide, carelessly, as you wait for the drug to slowly take its effects. You groan as you lie back on the couch with a mouthful of smoke. You tilt your head up to look up at the ceiling as you let the hazy white cloud float from your parted lips.

Reaching down beside you, your fingers find something from out under your couch, a rectangle box. You open it to reveal a matte purple 8 inch, life-like, dildo. Fit with veins, balls at the base, and all. Your mouth waters just from the sight.

You have been extremely horny as of late. You always are when Dieter goes away for long periods of time, and you don’t have him to give you toe-curling orgasms all the time. You can never make yourself cum quite as hard as Dieter can make you come, but not from lack of trying. You lazily scoot down the couch a bit so you can take your pants and underwear off. 

Dieter eyes bulge in head when he realises what you about to do and he swears his heart skips a beat when he sees that you're wearing his boxer briefs, even more so when he sees a glistening line of arousal, saturating them. He palms his now fully erect cock through his jeans, as his eyes connect with your glistening folds.

You take the hefty dildo out of the box and half haphazardly toss the container to the ground. Your breath hitches in your throat as you make quite work of sliding it through your folds, the tip catches deliciously on your clit.

You toss it to the side for a quick sec and reach down to your bong on the coffee table, after taking another cone you put it back on the table and grab the remote of the table, flicking on the tv and putting on one of your favourite vibey sex playlists on spotify on.

You sigh as you lean back and you take off your work shirt, leaving you in nothing but a flimsy old tank top, which you nipples prominently stick out of and some cosy socks. You pull your breasts out of your shirt and start groping yourself while watching the screen playing at a low volume, with hazy eyes.

You soon pick the silicone dick up again and slowly tease yourself by tracing around your lips and through your dripping seam. Your head lulls on the back of the couch. You tease around your aching hole with the tip before pushing in ever so slightly. Your eyes roll back for a second as you moan at the slight stretch. “D-dieter.” You softly call out.

His eyes bulge out of his sockets watching you, his hand unconsciously reaching down under the elastic of his pants to feel his rock-hard erection. He swipes his thumb over his weeping tip and has to bite back a groan.

You pump in so slowly, only till it reaches halfway before you pull it out further again. You continue this to help work yourself open.

He watches you intently, stroking himself to the slow rhythm youv’e set for fucking yourself. He uses his other hand to pinch his base every few minutes, to keep from blowing his load, so close just from the sight of you.

God, he doesnt even care about scaring and surprising you anymore, all he cares about is watching you as you fuck your self, quietly calling out his name as you take your time in getting to your release. He has half a mind to just jump out now and fuck you himself but the sight of you spread out for him, caught up in your own little pleasure-filled world is a sight to good to be true. 

He studies your form like he doesn't know it like the back of his hand, like he hasn't spent hours upon hours coaxing the prettiest little moans and whimpers from you, caressing over every single inch of you.

His eyes will never grow tired of the sight of you, your centre gushing with arousal, your eyes fighting to stay open, your mouth on the other hand, fighting to stay closed as a beautifully orchestrated ensemble of curses, moans, groans and his name come flooding out of your mouth.

His mouth waters as the ring of your arousal grows thicker around the base of the silicone cock. He missed the taste of you so much, while he was away. He loved spending hours between your legs, until you were shaking and overstimulated and had to beg him to stop. Crying out “Dieter! Please!” as you struggled to push away his starved mouth.

Your head is feeling quite light now, and the pleasure is rushing through your veins as you increase the speed of your strokes. You keep chanting Dieter’s name, over and over again, softly as if it will summon him somehow. Well shit, maybe it does.

Before he even realises what he is doing, his hand is fumbling for the doorknob of the closet, and he is stepping out, sweaty, and disheveled, all just from watching you. Your heart stops for a second as you hear the closet door near you open, your brain unable to come up with any sane reasonings until Dieter walks out flushed and sheepishly in a trance, consumed by his love and lust for you. 

“Dieter?” You whisper, shocked to your core, that he is standing in front of you and still not entirely convinced that he isn't a hallucination caused by your hornyness and longing for him. And also maybe the drugs too.

He swallows harshly, his throat dry. All the liquids in his body seemingly have traveled lower in anticipation. You're about to jump up from the couch and squeeze him till his ribs break, but he beats you to it, sinking to the floor in front of you and hugging your calves tightly. As much as you missed your baby, you can't help but feel a little awkward, having been caught masturbating and still with the dildo between your legs, no doubt.

Before you can even clear your throat and try to explain yourself, Dieter starts kissing along the tops of your thighs, up your stomach, then sternum, up your throat till his lips lock onto yours. He kisses you with such meaning and passion as he tries and conveys all the feeling of how much he missed you and is so glad to see you now into a single kiss

“God. I. Missed.You. So. Much. Baby.” He says in between quick pecks before once again consuming your mouth with his own, trying to make up for all that lost time he wasn't able to taste your lips on his.

You break the kiss with a gasp, looking down to your legs where Dieter is spreading them to see the current state of your throbbing pussy. “Fuck and it sure looks like she missed me too, huh sweetheart. Just oozing and weeping, begging for my touch. Ain't that right baby?” He lovingly teases.

You grin and spread your legs even further to let him get an even better look at you swollen, glistening folds, still clenching around the girth of the dildo. He reaches his hand up between your legs and pulls the toy in and out of you slowly, eliciting a whimper from you.

“Fuck.” He groans, completely enthralled by the sight of you, and the growing creamy ring of arousal you have created around the base of the cock. He continues to slowly pump it in and out of you, as you squirm above him, your once lost orgasm now coming so close to grasp again. 

“Dieter...please.” You croon, begging him not to stop as you feel the edge of your high starts to wash over you.

“Atta girl, fuck just like that. Cum for me baby.” He softly demands, as he works the now shiny dildo hard, fast and deep into your cunt. He sits up a bit on his knees and hovers over you.

Leaning his head to the side he starts to suck on your pulsing clit. His eyes roaming between your leaking hole and trembling thighs, up to your red, cloudy eyes struggling to stay open with your brows furrowed above them. Your mouth agape, curses and whimpers as your orgasm hits you full force. 

He watches with blown eyes, mouth hanging open, nearly drooling at the sight of your back arching off the couch, as the waves of your orgasm crash over you. He slowly pumps the cock in and out of you, prolonging your high till your legs close firmly around it. He carefully opens them back enough so he can pull out the cock.

He palms himself as he inspects the aftermath, mouth watering from the sight and smell of your creamy residue slathered upon the tip to the flared base of the slick silicone. He sticks out his tongue and brings the base, where most of the cum has gathered in a band round the bottom, to his mouth. You watch stunned and too aroused to speak as he licks it clean of your sweet drippings. 

“God baby, missed the taste of this sweet pussy.” he groans. You clench around nothing as you watch him, eyes fluttering behind closed lids, messily tongue the silicone like one might lick brownie or cookie batter of a spatula.

After he finishes with the lower half, his lips pink and shiny, he wordlessly brings the tip up to your face. You grin devilishly before opening your lips wide and sucking the fat head into your mouth. You too moan at the sweet taste of yourself, not often shared directly from the source but usually from Dieters tongue do you taste the sticky release of your climax.

He palms his painfully hard cock through his pants, before spreading your thighs wide once again, and feasting on the remaining juices. You moan as best as you can with the cock down your throat, before removing it from your mouth and sitting it beside you as you watch Dieter's beautiful curls bob up and down between your legs. 

His tongue slides from your quivering hole to your clit, licking flatly. He alternates between sucking your nub, to fucking into your wet hole.

You fight to keep your thighs open, to not crush his head or let the gorgeous sight below you be hidden, but you can’t any more as the drug haze inside your veins seems to have taken all your strength. Sensing your struggle, Dieter curls his arms around your thighs, holding them open and drags your center closer to his hungry mouth.

You whimper at the dull pain that you feel from his tight grip holding you apart, just under your breaking point. The aching soreness from your legs being spread so wide, only adding to the intensity of pleasure rolling around in your stomach. 

He alternates between eating you messily, and slowly picking you apart. Motorboating his lips and nose between your folds, and precise and firm licks on your clit while curling his thick fingers up into that sweet, sweet spot inside you, that has you moaning, incohesive gibberish from your pleasure and drug intoxication.

Even with Dieter being the sober one (surprisingly), he sounds just as wrecked as you, if not more. So drunk and intoxicated on you and your pussy, something he and you both thought he was deprived of way too long.

Soon you are reaching yet another, and surely not the last of night, orgasm. Your thighs shake with the intensity of the pleasure seeping into your veins. Your lips go from being an wide ‘o’ shape to a cheesy wide grin as the dopamine and endorphins flood your system. 

Dieter makes sure he licks up every single drop of your essence before he rises off his knees slightly and encases you in a massive, big bear hug. Feeling what little air was left in your lungs, you giggle along with Dieter breathlessly as you squeeze his middle just as hard.

He lifts his head to plant the softest, sweet kiss on your lips before rubbing his nose against yours. You take a deep, tired breath in and your eyes flutter close, his delicious musky scent filling your nostrils once again. 

“I missed you so much too, baby.” You whisper. You admire the deep crows feet around his eyes as he grins, his dark rich eyes sparking as he beams with happiness, love, and lust. His smile turns into something that of the devils as he begins to caress your body.

He lifts up your arms and takes off your tank top, throwing it on the ground somewhere. Before his lips lock onto your pebbled nipples. Groaning as he squeezes and plays with the other one, before switching his mouth over. After leaving your tits a glistening, saliva-covered mess he descends further down your body, his kiss-bruised lips planting themselves on every single inch of skin he can see. 

“Mm need to fffffuck you sweetttt thing, and ffffeel that heavenly p-pussy wwwrapped around me againnn.” He mumbles, his lips smushed against your stomach. You softly laugh and nod your head. Getting the gist of what he was saying and knowing him well enough to know what he said that you didn't catch.

“Please Dieter. Please fuck me. Need… to feel you. Missed you…. and your cock…. so fucken much.” You garble out in your own form of a coherent sentence.

Dieter can’t help but whimper listening to you, his cock pulses with need for release as he listens to your confession (although mumbled) of need for him.

He can’t wait any longer.

He reaches under your ass and lifts you up and shifts you so you're lying on your back longways on the couch. He quickly shucks his shirt off, getting a little stuck in the process as he does so. You both giggle and laugh as your hands go up to help him. He soon pulls it off and makes quick work off, shoving his pants and boxers off his legs.

Both of your eyes are shining with something so deep and emotional as you admire each other's naked bodies. A sight seen countless times between the two of you but one that neither would ever grow sick of. You reach up and stroke your hands up and down Dieter's front, feeling his strong chest and plush belly that you love very, very much. He whimpers as your hands trail down into the coarse hair at the base of his leaking cock. 

Even as he towers over your relaxed form, there is an air of submission to him still. The way his eyes are glazed over with no other drug than love, pupils blown wider than when he was higher than a kite on LSD. His eyes brows slightly furrowed in, his chest moving fast as he pants. His bottom lip trembling with anticipation of connecting your bodies together so intimately once again how they should be. How they would always be if Dieter got a chance. 

He shakes himself out of his love trance and lowers himself over you, his forearms resting on the couch beside your head. You close your eyes and kiss him deeply, giving him a piece of you that no one but him gets to have. Literally and spiritually. He groans almost pathetically when you reach your hand down and swipe his tip through your once again dripping folds. 

Your squinting and red eyes look up at him pleadingly, just begging to put the both of you out of the agonising wait and finally feel each other. He smiles a soft smile before he lines himself up and slowly pushes into your pulsing cunt. 

“Ohhhh….ohhh…oh…yeah, honey.” He moans out as he slowly bottoms out in your cunt. You gasp as you adjust to his considerably large girth. Something you truly will never fully get used to. Your hands clutch as his biceps, grounding yourself as your fluttering pussy adjusts to him.

“God….fucken hell, baby. You feel somehow even better than I remember. Jesus christ.” He pants, his face screwing up from the pleasure just simply inside your beautiful heat gives him. He desperately tries to think of anything else other than your stunning form below him and just made for him cunt, feeling already so close to blowing his load.

He reaches down and pinches his base and quickly begins Jack hammering into you fast and hard, to hopefully get you off before he ultimately finishes way quicker than he intended to.

“Oh f-f-fuck, Dieter!” You cry out, eyes squeezing tight at the immediate hard and fast pace Dieter has set while fucking you.

“Im s-sorry b-baby. Fuckkk. You just feel too damn good. I just n-n-need. Ahhh. Need you come before I-I-I do.” He stutters. 

Your heart and cunt clenches around, eyes rolling back from the pure ecstasy coursing through your as Dieter repeatedly stuffs his fat tip into the squishy part deep inside you.

“OoOoh shit, baby. Can feel you clenching real good around me, god damn!”  He groans.

You lay there bonelessly, whimpering as Dieter’s fingers circle you clit just right. Sending you over the edge into the deep depths of mind-numbing pleasure. Your body shakes as your orgasm comes crashing down and over you, with Dieter only seconds after.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Oh oh oh shit,” He wails out with every rope of cum that spurts out of him, his hips almost unconsciously thrusting themselves as deep as they can go every time, only stopping on the last rope of cum, burying his now spent cock deep into your pussy. He lets his full weight drop on top of you as he catches his breath from his own high. 

You breathe out with a soft smile, feeling such bliss and warmth from Dieter being here with you. He moves his head from your neck and looks at you. You both smile wide and break in hearty chuckles, before kissing each other.

You relish in the feeling of Dieter’s chest booming with laughter pressed up against yours, feeling his beating heart beat under you hand, showing that he is here with you now and just Dieter in general, his body fitting on top of your like a puzzle, like two pieces that you never would’ve known hadn't always been connected together like this. 

And that’s exactly how you fall asleep, entwined in each others arms, connected in all ways possible, smiling to yourself as you listen to Dieter’s soft snores and you feel his heart beating strongly against yours, before you two let the sweet blissful temptations of sleep take you too. Everything was going to be okay now that your love was back with you. 

*********

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

safe word angst with slash and femreader? like she uses their safeword and feels bad and slash comforts her

Warnings: Smut, bondage, use of safeword, slight angst, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

Slash had come back from tour and decided he needed to make up for lost time, the second he was through the front door he was on you.

Axl had been particularly difficult throughout the tour, Slash always called you and complained so you expected some anger to linger in him when he was with you but this? You hadn't expected this.

He tied you to the bed with his belt around your wrists, pushing your face into the mattress as he slammed his cock deep in you, girth stretching you out just right, at least that's how it usually was.

Tonight was different, to be fair it had started out fine and you loved when he got rough but after a hours of overstimulating you and not letting you cum your whole body just started to ache all over.

"Slash-! Slash, sto-stop!" You cried, tears streaming down your cheeks, your body bouncing up and down on the mattress.

Slash raised his hand and brought his palm down on your ass in a harsh slap, then he did it again and a third time for good measure, each hit ripped a yelp from your throat. "Shut up, you know you love it, you know you've been waiting for this, fucking cockslut." He said through gritted teeth.

His words hurt more than the physical contact. They had no place to project pain and it sunk deep inside you, into your brain, latching on and ruining you from the inside and working its way out.

When it started hurting you thought you'd tough it out, figuring he'd be done soon. Then he kept going. And going. And hurting.

"Pumpkin..." You managed to mutter.

Slash's hand came down on your ass again. "Say it again, bitch, louder so I can actually hear your whore mouth." He bit.

You bit your lip, choking back a sob as you tried to get your voice steady. "Pumpkin." You said, hoping your voice was loud enough this time.

It must have been given how fast Slash stopped. He immediately pulled out of you and went to take his belt off your wrists, your body finally getting a break from his abuse.

You curled in on yourself, holding yourself tightly and rolling away from him. "Hey, hey, sweetheart, it's ok... it's ok, c'mere..." He said, voice soft as he laid down beside you, reaching out to pull you closer.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." You blurted, your sobs filling the air.

Slash sat up slightly, staring down at you with furrowed brows. "You're sorry?" He asked.

You nodded, another sob racking your body. "I'm sorry, you just-just needed me because you're-you're mad at Axl and I couldn't even be good for you." You cried.

Slash stared a moment longer, slowly shaking his head before getting out of bed. He went to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind himself and making you flinch.

You thought he was mad at you, infuriated even. All he asked was this one little thing of you and you couldn't do it.

You slowly, painfully, sat up and tried to get off the bed. Your legs hurt and you didn't even get to your feet before a hand pushed you back down.

It wasn't harsh, it was just Slash standing over you with a worried look in his eye. He wasn't letting you stand up yet, not when you were crying and hurting, not when it was his fault.

He had a warm, wet cloth in his hand and started wiping you down, cleaning you up while you cried, profusely apologizing to him even after he told you to stop.

Once he was done he tossed the cloth back into the bathroom and went to the closet. He got himself into some shorts and took out a shirt before coming back to put it on you, crawling into bed soon after and pulling you onto his lap.

Slash was never one for comfort, it's not that he didn't want to he just never quite figured out how to do it. He loved you, he did, and he wouldn't let you think otherwise. But in moments when you couldn't help but think otherwise, he never knew what to do.

He'd cleaned you up, told you not to cry, that everything would be ok, he said he loved you, you were in his shirt, in his arms... He picked up the phone on the nightstand and called up your favourite fast food place, ordering you your favourite snacks.

He let out a sigh as he set the phone down, looking at you with a pout and furrowed brows still, walking himself through everything he's done so far and what more there was to do.

"I love you." He said. "I'm sorry for pushing you to say that. There's no reason I ever should've pushed you to say that."

You sniffled softly. "I'm sorry..." You muttered.

"Shut up." He said, not thinking of how harsh it came off until after it left him. "No, don't, keep talking... I like your voice... but stop apologizing, I love you so, so much, alright?" He let out a heavy sigh. Logically he knew he'd said all he could... he never was good with emotions...

"I've got you food coming and you're safe now... What do you want..?" He asked, voice soft as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tighter to his chest.

"You were just angry and... I know you weren't angry at me..." You started.

"You don't believe what I said, do you?" He asked, not letting you finish your thought. Your silence was enough of an answer for him. "I didn't mean those things... I never mean those things..." He said.

"It doesn't feel like it..." You muttered.

Slash exhaled deeply. "I'm sorry, love." He said, the name sending something of comfort to you. "I never meant to hurt you like that, you didn't deserve it..." He kissed your cheek and temple, holding your hands in his.

He thought for a moment before resting his chin on your shoulder. "I love you..." He said softly. You gave a small nod but didn't say anything so he said it again. "I love you." He said it louder this time. "I love your eyes, your cheeks and your nose... I love your hair, I love how you smell..." He let out a soft breath, noticing how your body relaxed at his words. "I love your body, not because of how you make me feel but I love it because you are so beautiful and I don't always deserve you."

You looked back at him at that. Of course you thought he deserved you, you loved him that was enough, wasn't it? "I love you in every way, darling... I love your voice and I love your opinions and I love your cooking and I love everything you do for me and I love you more than I can say, you understand?"

You nodded, leaning back into him. He smiled and started placing kisses all over your face. "So, here's what's gonna happen. I'm gonna hold you and tell you how much I love you and when food gets here you're going to eat it because you need to eat and then we're going to bed and tomorrow I will bring you breakfast in bed. You're not leaving the room for the next week, either... I need to remind you how important you are and I can't do that if you're out there cleaning the house or something."

You chuckled softly at his willingness to really go this far.

Slash might not be the best when it came to dealing with others emotions or expressing his own emotions, but one things for sure; Ola raised one hell of a guy, and, if you really felt the need, you could call her and she'd be right over to set him straight. And he knew that.