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

[sherlock-is-ace]

.

[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

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!

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

[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.

[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.

[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.

[hollandorks]

haven

battinson! bruce wayne x f! reader

interlude three

Summary: After the sudden deaths of her mother and grandmother, y/n is forced to return home to Gotham…and to the man who broke her heart three years ago. Back in Bruce Wayne’s inescapable orbit, she vows to get to the bottom of her former best friend’s new cold personality. But Bruce’s secrets aren’t what she’s expecting.

a/n: I'm alive!!! I don't want to talk about how long it's been since the last chapter because it's a little bit embarrassing. Anyways, I'm back! Hopefully! So here's a brief little Bruce POV to hold you over until the next real chapter, which should hopefully only be a week or two maybe? (Also, I apologize in advance....)

Series Masterlist

word count: 1.2k

Despite everyone who was trying hard to keep her alive, y/n felt utterly alone. 

Bruce's POV

“Bruce, my dear boy, I don’t tell you often enough, but you are…so stubbornly stupid it makes me feel twice my age.” 

Bruce startled and whirled around to face Alfred. The older man was leaning casually along the work station where Bruce’s video equipment was, his cane next to him, legs crossed at the ankles. 

Bruce opened his mouth and then closed it again. 

It was noon now, and he still hadn’t been to bed. He’d been out late staking out Maverick’s again, hoping to catch a lead on Frank Gallo or anyone that could lead him to the man, when Alfred’s call had come. Security breach. Elevator. The panic had almost killed him. Alfred’s next call came in when Bruce was almost home, telling him that everyone was safe. So he had changed direction and left to clean himself up to make an appearance as Bruce instead. 

And still the fear lingered. Someone had been in his home, feet away from y/n, and he had yet to find any proof of how they had done it. 

He wouldn’t–couldn’t–sleep until he was certain she was safe. 

“What did I do this time?” Bruce finally asked. He turned back to the security footage he was pouring over. It terrified him that they could have been so close to y/n. That he could have been too late. That he could have–

He shut the thought down as quickly as it came. No use dwelling on it now. 

“What haven’t you done? You imploded the most important relationship you have–repeatedly, if we’re being honest. You keep secrets from her but toe the line so recklessly it’s going to blow up in your face. You let your emotions get the best of you. And that’s just lately. Shall I go on?” Alfred recrossed his ankles in the other direction. 

Bruce grit his teeth but said nothing. He restarted the security footage from the beginning and paused it frame by frame. A loud clack echoed around the abandoned station each time he smashed the button to go to the next frame. 

“Let’s change tactics then. How long are you going to let her live in fear before you tell her that the Batman is watching over her from inside her home?” 

Bruce’s jaw ached with the force of his clenched teeth. Still, he said nothing. First y/n had yelled at him, now Alfred. He knew his behavior was…abysmal to say the least. But he had more important things to focus on than everyone’s emotions, his own included. 

He had to find Frank Gallo, and take down the rest of the family, once and for all. When that was done, when y/n was safe, he would think about all the ways he had ruined his relationship with her. 

“Are you listening to me, Bruce?” 

“I am trying,” Bruce said with a smack of his fist against the table, “to figure out who the fuck broke into my home and threatened y/n!” His voice echoed loudly around him, setting the bats to fluttering and chittering above them. He restarted the footage once again. 

Alfred made a noise in his throat. “She hasn’t slept at all.” 

Something oily slid down Bruce’s spine. “Neither have I.” It was a deflection and they both knew it. It killed Bruce to know y/n was so scared. But there wasn’t anything he could do about it–other than find those responsible and make them pay. She wouldn’t want his comfort, wouldn’t want him to hover, so he was doing the next best thing and trying to end it. 

Alfred sighed. “All I’m saying is–” 

“I know what you’re saying.” 

“Then why do I have to keep saying it?” 

Bruce went back to ignoring the older man. Let Alfred think what he wanted. Bruce had work to do. Nothing would get better until Frank Gallo and the rest of his family and cronies were gone for good. 

What gives you the right to act like this? she’d asked, all of her anger turned towards Bruce like a roaring inferno. What gave him the right? He had admitted it to her right before that–I give too much of a shit. 

She didn’t know he was still in love with her. That he always had been. 

He’d hurt her so badly she couldn’t see what was right in front of her face–who he was, how he felt, what it was doing to him. If she would just open her eyes, she would know. 

Instead, she had yelled at him. 

He deserved it. He knew he deserved it. But walking in and seeing her hold Officer Martinez’s hand…it made him crazy. He had acted like the worst type of bastard without even thinking. It was pure instinct, the urge to protect her even from a guy like Martinez rising so strongly within him that it was almost as if he had blacked out. Like someone else had taken over his body. 

She rarely ever got mad at him. It had only happened a few times throughout their many years together. It was a sight to behold, her rage, and he had been equal measures impressed and angry both. 

“I don’t have time for this,” Bruce said after long stretch of silence. His voice was raw with exhaustion and emotion. “Either help me figure this out or go back upstairs.” 

He felt rather than saw Alfred bristle. He waited to get berated yet again, but Alfred merely pulled up the footage on another screen and got to work. 

They spent a few minutes in silence, Bruce’s eyes burning from lack of sleep, his thoughts churning. She hasn’t slept. He ached to go upstairs, to tell y/n that she was safe with him, that he would never let anything happen to her. 

But it already had, and all of it had been his fault. 

He knew without a doubt, just as he had known three years ago, that she was safest far away from him. And look what had happened already–the more she’d become entangled with him, with the Batman, the worse things got. She had spent three years in Bludhaven, far away from him, perfectly safe. And the minute she had come home to Gotham, come home to him…it had all gone to shit. Really it had gone to shit before that–when her grandmother had left the tower for the last time. 

Bruce liked to think that was his fault, too, not that he’d ever it admit it out loud. 

“I’m not trying to make you feel guilty,” Alfred said into the silence. His voice was gentle, almost placating. 

“Mm.” It wasn’t working, then, Bruce thought. He already felt guilty enough. 

“I hate seeing you like this. Both of you.” Alfred sighed again. “I just think that talking about it–all of it–would help you both. It might ease the strain of…everything else going on.”

Bruce couldn’t see how it could help, only how it would make things worse. But he didn’t say that to Alfred, merely nodded and kept working. 

Two nights later, all Bruce could think about was that Alfred had been right. 

He should have told y/n the truth while he had the chance.

Next Chapter

taglist:

@ktficworld @grunge-n-roses5 @anon-cat-posts @projectdreamwalker @warsaur @lachillona02 @crazyunsexycool @doetic @alexiris @that-girl-named-alex @harry-bowie-mercury @vaniasagitaa @widows-writings @missing-loki @exactlyelegantwizard @miriamnox @mavenmoon @eclipsedplanet @spencerrxids @giulia2372 @katara-is-a-goddess-changemymind @janezat @incorrectmarvelquotesss @spiritdetectivel @i-have-no-life-charlie @ilovemybabes @curseyouperrytheplatypus @lightsinmycity @yondiii @spideybv28 @fictionalmansl4t

[spider-stark]

GUTS

Pairing - Peter Parker x Reader

Summary - Peter gets seriously hurt saving someones life, in the midst of panic your true feelings for him come out.

Warnings - Stabbing, blood, violence,

a/n - wow what i'm actually posting something that is WILD. anyways, i recently moved to a new apartment so for the past month my brain has been fried and i have had zero time to write. but, here is this lil blurb! and i am in the process of finishing up the next part of Infinitely You if anyone still wants to read it haha enjoy :)

// masterlist // send me your thoughts //

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. 

He had gotten hurt. Really hurt. 

It was a simple carjacking, or at least it was supposed to be simple. The type of petty crime he responded to all the time. 

He had been so bored, legs dangling over the side of the Empire State building when he heard the call come through over the police scanner he’d been listening to. Finally, he thought to himself, webs already shooting from his wrists as he dived off the side of the building, some entertainment. 

But everything went wrong. 

So fucking wrong, so quick. 

There was no time to think as he saw the streetlights dance along the steel blade of the pocket-knife in the carjacker's hand, its sharp edge just milliseconds away from plunging into the innocent man’s stomach. Peter could see the man’s kid in the backseat of the car, heard his shrill screams as he banged against the window, crying for his dad.

He let adrenaline guide his actions, throwing himself in front of the blade with not a hint of hesitation, shoving the innocent man to the asphalt as steel plunged through the fabric of his suit. 

There was so much blood, so much that it left him feeling dizzy. His vision went spotty, struggling to aim for the carjacker as he tried to shoot his webs at him, hoping to stop him just long enough for the police to get here. 

They have to be close, he could faintly hear the sirens blaring over the sound of his own heart thumping in his ears. 

But, due to a heavy hand and blurry vision, he missed. How could he miss? 

The man, the one he saved, was back on his feet and rushing to comfort his son. They hadn’t seemed to notice Peter yet, notice just what he had done, how he had potentially saved that man’s life. He was thankful for it, thankful that the kid was spared the trauma of watching it happen. 

Peter stumbled into the alleyway, the same one the thief had run into, but he had no intentions of chasing the criminal down. He couldn’t, not in the state he was in. 

It had taken every last bit of his strength to get to your house. To get to you. 

You hadn't expected Peter to come by, but then again he rarely ever gave you notice, especially for visits like this. Late nights spent with a cheap dollar store sewing kit and the skill set of someone who had a mild interest in embroidery often being the only thing that stood between Peter and certain death. You hated when he came to you like this, but you’d never say it. You’d stitch him up a thousand times, put yourself through the horrors of watching your best friend nearly bleed out over and over again if it meant that he would still be here—that he would still be alive. 

But this was the closest he had ever gotten to death, just barely holding on when he came crashing through your bedroom window. He was in and out of consciousness the entire time, as you removed the knife, stitched him up, and tried to clean his blood from your carpet. You worried that you would lose him, worried that he wouldn’t wake back up. But, by some stroke of luck, your security deposit was the only thing you lost that night. 

Still, it was different this time. His super-healing had kicked in once he was awake, the blood beginning to clot and stop leaking out from your amaetuer stitch job. But you couldn’t shake that feeling, the terror and anxiety that consumed you when you had to come face-to-face with the idea of losing Spider-Man. Of losing Peter Parker. 

He thought it was a fever dream. The thought of infection setting in to his fresh stab-wound much easier to believe than the possibility of his best friend, the girl of his dreams, suddenly leaning in and kissing him. But it wasn’t a dream, wasn’t his mind playing cruel tricks on him. You were here, right in front of him, your lips desperately moving against his own and your fingers getting tangled in his dark hair. 

So many times he had dreamt of this. Dreamt of crossing the line between just friends and something more, a line that the two of you had been balancing on for years now. He always hoped that one day he would spill his guts to you, but had never quite expected to almost literally spill his guts to you, and certainly wouldn’t have expected it to end like this. 

He was breathless when you pulled away, and he finally realized that he hadn’t even kissed you back, too lost in his own mind. “Wha-why?” 

“I don’t want to lose you.”

It was a desperate answer to a desperate question, a single beat of silence passing before you followed it up, doubling down on the statement. 

“I can’t fucking lose you.” 

Peter’s already shallow breath caught in his throat, butterflies erupting in his stomach (or maybe it was just pain from his newly sustained stab wound, though he found butterflies to be far more romantic). 

“You won’t.” He breathed out the promise, both of you unsure of whether or not it was one he could actually keep, though neither of you cared at this moment. Because for now he was here, he was alive, and he was finally yours. 

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, but he didn’t care so long as it meant you would kiss him again.

[bomberqueen17]

ow

lol so. i'm at home after the farm season right. i have so much writing i have been wanting to do, and i have succeeded at doing some of it! i had a brief "ah chicken season is over" hiatus before The Dread Deturkening, and spent that whole thing writing frantically, hence the solarpunk tall ships idea which is still in progress btw-- I did finally start a for real draft version to solicit feedback and now I realize a bunch of people's tumblr handles is not a great way to actually connect so i need to figure out how to do that-- which is beside the point of this post--

anyway. now that it's For Real Hiatus From Farm Season I'm trying to actually get my life in order and not succeeding very well.

Dude's company laid off a bunch of his team and therefore shut down the local office, so he, being the last man standing, had to go in and clear the space out. As part of that, his former desk is sitting in our garage, and I'm trying to clear out space for it in the basement. The basement is a black hole of fuckery because one year ago, some of you may remember, we had our kitchen remodeled, and we had contracted to do it in February but they called us the last week of November and said can we do it now instead, which sure but it meant I had to haul seventeen years' worth of stuff out of the kitchen into Literally Anywhere Else and then they needed me to clear out part of the basement erroneously believing they were putting in a new support pillar, which they weren't, but then they needed me to clear out a path to the back wall of the basement because the electricians needed to install a whole new panel there, so like, ok cool but it just meant a lot of things got haphazardly hauled from one corner of the basement to another in tremendous hurry with no time for keeping track of what's what. So that's a disaster and now's the time to fix it.

I have also been hauling some of it to the attic. I had been using the desk in the spare room for sewing on the days when Dude was working from his office. Since those days no longer happen, I have no access to those machines now, which are stacked in a corner. The basement is now too crowded for me to resume using the little space I'd carved out down there, so I have put some sewing stuff into the attic, which isn't insulated and is rather drafty now. But anyway. I'm rearranging a lot of things and can't make progress on any projects while that's happening.

I got a ton of reorganizing done on Monday evening in the basement (having spent the whole morning hauling shit out of dude's former office, which is now surrendered and locked and all set), and yet more Tuesday, and was hoping to finish it yesterday but Tuesday evening I fucked up my back, it felt all crunchy, and I was really worried until I woke up Wednesday in just torrents of gore, which I realized is my new perimenopausal normal-- I've started to realize that menstruation does fucky shit to all my connective tissues, so I shouldn't actually worry about my lower back destroying itself if it's also Cramp Time. So I spent yesterday absolutely immobile, dosed up on ibuprofen and just like that scene out of the Shining except wrapped in blankets and drinking herbal tea.

I also spent much of yesterday just. Unconscious? Which was weird. I don't know why I'm so fatigued but at least I'm sleeping.

(I also cleaned the oven. Do not recommend, especially not when one's lower back is doing mysterious rice krispie impressions.)

So today I was hoping to get back to work but I do feel like I've been beaten with sticks. Maybe instead I will finish working out how to get people who've expressed interest in beta-reading into a google doc.

A not so hilarious side note is that if I do not have a desk to sit at I have trouble organizing my thoughts?? IDK it's very weird but there are several tasks I need to do where I'll need to have my laptop and a sheet of paper in front of me I think, and my brain is like "illegal unless At Desk" and that's tough shit since I don't have a desk. I had started noticing it over the summer in the cabin where I also don't have a desk. How do I organize my thoughts if I can't Sit At A Desk to do it????? One would think I'd figure it out since i've spent most of my life without a desk of my very own, but. Not so far!!! Not currently.

Also a major thing my brain is Not Allowing me to do is finish preparing for Christmas. I'm not seeing family for Christmas, for the like tenth year in a row because every year we arrange to do it together my older sister fucking flakes out, and this year it was the off year but she flaked out of thanksgiving instead-- i'm not saying she doesn't flake out for good reasons, one of her kids was real sick and i'm not mad, but the fact remains, we're not seeing that bit of the family and she's not letting us make any contingency plans, so my brain is like Fine No Christmas Then and won't let me figure out what to get people for gifts and it is actually a problem because some of those people are kids and are expecting me to figure it out anyway.

argh.

my beloved godfather, my Type A mom's little underachieving alcoholic gay probably ADHD depressed college dropout brother, never was good at christmas presents for us kids either, and still managed to hold it together better than I am despite being in a relationship with a man who wouldn't allow him to tell us nieces about him and so he just showed up to all our family events and was my uncle's "friend" and we all figured it out anyway so there was no point hiding it from us but ugh they still did and i remember us at some point in the 90s, all us sisters sitting together ranging in age from high school down to elementary school and my older sister being like "we all know they're gay right" and us all being like "yeah why can't we just say it" and the oldest sister looking at me, who even then everybody knew was the gay one, and i was like "man i don't know" and we all just solemnly agreed to not mention it...

anyway

he did better than this but he died of lung cancer in '08 so I can't ask him how he managed it. (what i have in my favor is that my dad's side of the family gave me asthma so i never could have taken up smoking, so at least that won't kill me.)

He never got an ADHD diagnosis tho so I can't find out what meds he took. Well, he took whiskey, we know that. It didn't work though. and he wasn't really a loser, i've met so many people who knew and loved him now that i'm an adult and sometimes go around in the city where he lived. even now so many people remember him so fondly. and he bragged about us, his nieces, all the time, all these people know who i am as soon as i mention him. boy i miss him!!!

this is the miracle of the ADHD brain I was fretting about house cleaning and now i'm grieving my long-dead uncle, who of course I knew mostly through the lens of my mother who literally never understood him in the slightest.

[macsimagines]

Can you headcanon the reactions of yandere kanto mikey, rindou and sanzu when their crush jokingly kisses their cheek?😏

Your favorite bunny!

🐇

I hope work isn't killing you. It's tough out here in the working world. Adulting be tough🥹

Imissedyoumyfunnylittlerabbit

TW: YANDERE BEHAVIOR, MINORS DNI, S/O AND SANZU BEING ASSES

Yandere!Kanto Manjiro Sano (AKA Mikey)

To you its a joke, to him it's everything. Things have been tense since Kanto was officially established. It seems like laughs were a luxury he couldn't afford.

But today you were on a roll. You'd stuck around by his side through everything and chose him over everything. Even if he was different, even if things were hard you tried so hard to bring out a smile in him.

You pulled out all of the stupid puns, even short jokes, and he finally caved and gave you a chuckle. Then you shot him this look like you would start crying, and hugged him like he would disappear if you let go.

"There's the adorable wittle Mikey!" you had laughed, even though he could tell you were just barely holding back from crying. You pecked his cheek, for comedic effect he knows.

However, this small moment solidified something in him. You weren't just someone loyal to Mikey. You were everything.

Yandere!Rindou Haitani

You were anything but ordinary. You bordered on obnoxious most days, but Rin had known you almost his whole life, and even if you never knew when to shut it you were a comfortable constant.

Rindou had been sick. He had woken up that morning feeling like absolute dog-shit and his brother had been no help. "I'm just gonna dip. Don't want to be infected with whatever nasty you got."

At least he was quiet. Maybe he could rest in piece-! "Guess who's here to nurse you back to health, shit-face!" Ya, no. He was stupid to think that YOU of all people would leave him alone.

But to his shock you kept your usual dogging to a minimum, and actually helped. You cleaned up a bit, calling him a piggy the whole time, and actually had made him some porridge. "Say aaah~ for the choo-choo, bitch."

When it was all said and done and you were going to leave, you had to at least fit one more dig at him. "Mama has to dip baby-boy. Here's a g'night kiss!" and you planted one right on his forehead.

Maybe if hadn't been so sick he would've told you to fuck right off, maybe the medicine had him too groggy to think clearly. Maybe that tugging in his chest when he felt your lips wasn't the flu...

Yandere! Sanzu Haruchiyo

Sanzu was obsessed, he was so sprung on you. He constantly would invade your personal space, and always would find an excuse to be touching you.

You on the other hand, were completely indifferent to his advances. Which only drove him more insane for you. It didn't matter what he said or did he'd always be met with ; "Ya. Sure." or "Naw. Not right now."

But he was persistent, he'd always be flirty and even if he was still his usual manic self he at least tried to be a little nicer with you. "Hey sweet-ass, finally ready to let Daddy take care of ya?" A little.

You never gave in, but one day when he was just hanging off of your shoulder and it was only you two in the room you did something that shook him to his core. "C'mon, why not a lil' kiss as a thank you for stayin' late?"

And you actually did it. Just a small peck on his cheek, barely skin to lip contact at all but it was still there. Then you hit him with the most shocking thing of the night; "No one will ever believe you."

[alwerakoo]

no shape for driving

Tales of the TMNT Leo & Raph word count: 2k CW: amputation, injury recovery, PTSD (aka: Raph does lose that finger - the fic)

AO3

---

“I'm trying to help,” Leo tells him.

“It fucking hurts,” Raph bites back, because he's a bad brother.

And an even worse patient.

He holds his hand close to his chest, the other closed around his wrist. As if Leo was going to sit up, reach across the bed, and physically pull his arms back in.

He won't, or at least Raph hopes so, but there's a certain look on his face, that he can't quite decipher.

That makes him anxious.

Lots of things do nowadays.

He thinks that might be the worst part of it all. There's a new twitchiness to him, something that wasn't there before. Something that pulls at his chest, that takes the air out of his lunges, that digs sharp needles into every part of his brain.

It's observant. It notices things he never did before; normal, innocent things that always passed through him without a second thought.

It hears the mechanical turn of a machine, something distant and quiet, so silent he would've thought he imagined it – and Raph spends the rest of the night staring at the bottom of Mikey's bed, body frozen and stiff.

(He did imagine it – maybe. Or at least Mikey didn't seem to recall anything like it in the morning, and then there was that look on his face again, and Raph hadn't dared to ask again.)

It feels someone brush behind his back, a hand on the back of his shell, and he's turning before he can think about it, feet clumsily stumbling back, one after the other.

(“'It's just me,” Donnie told him then, with something sad hidden between the words.

“Yeah, I know,” Raph lied.)

It spots a knife in someone's hand as they're making dinner, the way their fingers curve around the blade, and Raph has to leave the room, breath twice as fast, and a heart in his throat.

(That one pissed him off the most. It wasn't even a knife that did it, after all.)

He hates it.

He hates a lot of things now – Purple Dragons the most.

He hates when his limbs go numb but his mind turns sharp, thoughts turning into a mess of tangles and knots – all fired up, always for nothing.

And then it's over, and his eyes feel wet and hot, and there's a heaviness to his jaw, like cotton stuck under his tongue, and he wants to scream at every person he sees.

He does, sometimes. And then he lets it simmer out, lets his mind and body grow numb, till he can finally gather enough of himself to apologize.

They never hold it against him, and that makes him want to scream all over again.

Leo doesn't look mad right now, either.

He tilts his head slightly, hands rested flat on his thighs, and the ends of his mask curl around his shoulder.

There was always something so perceptive about his eyes, like he could see right past everything Raph wanted to be – straight into everything he truly was.

It's a scary thought, especially now.

“Raph,” Leo tries again.

He sounds low and hushed, but there's a nervous edge to his tone.

Raph can't read his mind, but he sees the way he flexes his fingers against the skin, the sudden twitch of his shoulder.

Leo always seemed to be living on the edge, his mind always faster than his body – too fast for his own good.

Now, it only feels like his edge has grown some new eggshells.

(Raph thinks he can say he understands now. He wishes he didn't.)

“It's... I'm...” He stumbles over his own words, clumsy and uncertain, like cotton in his mouth. “It's fine. I'll do it myself.”

He says it without second-guessing, without giving it too much thought – all impulse, like he has done all his life. Which means that now, something new inside him stirs up, and he hesitates.

He thinks it's a good idea, because if Leo touches him again right now, his skin will burn clean off.

He thinks it's an awful idea, because it means he'll have to look at his hand.

Leo told him it's a process. That it'll take time to get used to.

Mikey told him to take it slow, let his body heal and "chillax" – whatever he meant by that.

Donnie told him not to touch the sewer water with his hand.

Dad didn't say anything. He only held him.

Their advice was honest, most likely true, and never fucking enough.

Because no one told him about this part.

There are moments where he puts his hand behind his thigh, just enough to make it seem absentminded, or he holds it's under his pillow, tucked away for the whole night. Moments where even the thought of it fills his stomach with air and his lungs with acid.

And then there are moments where he can't help but to stare at it. At the jagged skin, pulled together by a nasty, pink scar.

He puts his hand on a table and watches the empty space between his two fingers. He flexes them against the wood, and it's walking down the stairs and missing a step – even if he's looking right at his own feet.

Both moments make him feel like clawing his own brain out.

In front of him, Leo fidgets, first with the bowl of rice sat between them, then with the ends of his mask, twisting them around his finger.

It's an old habit that Raph never thought he'd pick up from him, until he caught himself trying to do it once, and flinched when his mask only met air.

“You look like you're gonna have a heart attack,” Raph says, looking at him.

Leo stops in place, before shifting a little in place, not helping his case.

“I don't,” he says.

“You don't know what you look like,” Raph retorts.

Leo frows, and there's something petulant and childishly annoyed breaking onto his face. Raph had missed it.

“Yes, I do?”

Bickering with his brothers is familiar, and he hates the way everyone around him stirs clear of anything that goes beyond a pleasant grocery small talk. It's been two months, and they still act like he would shatter at any minute.

“You're an idiot.”

Looking at Leo also grants him the perfect excuse to not look at his hand.

He puts his left palm forward, sinking it into the bowl in front of him.

The sensation hits him immediately.

He shivers, arms raising up, and he almost pulls his arm back. He would've, maybe, if Leo didn't reach forward, cradling his elbow.

“It's okay!” He says, far too quickly. “I know it feels weird.”

He doesn't, and 'weird' doesn't cover it.

It's sharp needles digging into his flesh; it's bugs crawling under his skin; it's buzzing static, shooting electricity through his every nerve, and the spot where Leo holds him aches.

He feels the rice sink into the space where his finger used to be, and he feels it grow itchy in a spot he will never again be able to scratch.

Leo looks at him again, with those big, sad eyes of his, and fuck – does Raph hate that look.

It's pity.

He knows it is, he knows it under layers and layers of worry and love and care. He hates it, and he hates himself for not being to appreciate all those other parts.

“I'm fine,” he spits out, jaw tense, looking down.

“Are you?” Leo says, suddenly more serious.

His voice goes a little high, like he's going to choke on his own tongue at any minute.

Raph doesn't raise his head, but he looks up – the image of his brother blurry out of the corners of his vision.

“What?”

“I'm asking: Are you?”

Raph works his jaw.

He knows this part. It feels like half of their conversations end like this nowadays.

‘Yes, I’m fine. No, it’s okay. Yes. No’, rinse and repat, rinse and repeat.

“Do we have to talk about this now?” He sighs.

“I mean, it's like...” Leo pulls back, rubbing his hands together nervously. Raph wishes he hadn't. “I can see it, you know? You're so on the edge, all time, and I know it must be hard, but you never want to talk about it, and I just-” Leo raises his gaze and their eyes meet. His brother's jaw tightens. “I know you've been avoiding your sai.”

Raph tenses.

The muscles in his hand spasm, and he finally pulls his back, the air hitting the scar on it like a harsh gust of wind. He cradles it close to his chest again, breathing out a little too fast.

He thinks he should lie.

Or change the topic, at least. Let Leo have his doubts, his hopes, his little theories.

He doesn't want to crush him, any of them, under the same weight that's been resting on his shoulders for the past two months.

But he also thinks that new, rotten thing inside him wants him to lie, too.

He's tired of letting it win.

“It's...” He looks down, then quickly up, when he spots his left hand. “It doesn't feel right anymore.”

The words sting, sharp in his mouth like chewing glass.

He takes a breath. His eyes feel hot, and he quickly breaths in again, before he has a chance to do something stupid, like cry.

Leo's shoulders sag.

“Oh, Raphie...” He says, voice wobbly.

“Don't call me that,” Raph huffs.

But the half of it gets lost in Leo's collarbone, when he suddenly sits up, throwing his arms around Raph with enough strength to knock the wind out of him.

Raph raises his arms, and his left hand shakes as he places it on Leo's shell.

“It doesn't feel right,” he repeats, right into Leo's arm, hiding in his brother's hold like a little kid. “I don't know what to do. They're- It's- It's my thing, you know? What am I supposed to do now?”

Leo hums. He pushes the bowl aside with his knee, scooting closer. He sits up on his heels, so he's just a little taller than Raph.

“Your sai are not going anywhere,” Leo tells him.

He sounds weirdly on a verge of tears, and that almost makes Raph laugh, because Leo has always been a sympathetic crier, and it’s just so like him, that it makes Raph want to hold him even tighter.

He wants to hold onto any sense of familiarity he has left.

“I'll be okay. You'll see, you're gonna learn how to use them again. You've done it once before, right? And we were toddlers, can't be that much harder now.” Leo rambles.

He has a tendency to do that. On a regular, but especially in hard moments.

“Yeah,” Raph breathes, because in hard moments, he tends to quiet.

“What is that thing Mikey always says?” Raph can't see his face, but he can imagine the way his face scrunches up. He sniffles. “Learn, adjust, overcome?”

“That's not how the meme goes,” Raph laughs, and it comes out a little wet.

“It's close enough,” Leo hums.

“Are you crying?” Raph asks, just to make sure.

Leo sniffles.

“... No?”

Raph doesn’t say anything to that, but Leo must sense his amusement, because he huffs, pulling gently at Raph’s mask tails.

“Shut up, we’re having a moment.”

Raph doesn’t try to argue.

His hand aches, raw and sensitive. He runs it over Leo's shell, and he's expecting his finger to catch on his belts, and then it doesn't.

But he's still holding him.

There's just a little less of him now, in more than one way.

But he will pick himself back up. He knows he will.

He'll fill every void with something new and kind, and everything he can't – with spite alone.

And maybe that new, scared thing inside him will never fully go away. But he can make it wither, just a little bit.

Leo squeezes him, just a little tighter, and Raph doesn't let go.

[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᭡

[what-have-i-unleashed]

ok some freaky scenario in my head right now...

(cw: exhibitionism kink, lemon writing (not detailed but still))

maybe it's after a mission and killer and dust are in the same room idling around. then killer gets bored and glances at dust with a particular look on his face. killer does a kabedon on dust and it's super effective! killer is all smarmy like "hey babygirl~" and dust wants to punt him so badly but also he cannot lie - this scene is kinda doing something to him.

and dust's hands bunch around killer's shirt, twitching, unsure if he wants to push killer away or pull him close. after some time, with much of killer's incessant dirty talk, dust finally pulls him in. and they just start having freaky sex against the door right there and then, both panting and moaning and dust trying to keep it down because they're still in a public space.

and then there's a knock on the door, and dust freezes in place, making killer stop too. it's horror on the other side, grumbling, "killer, you done in there or what?"

"almost," killer replies, his voice breathy and his eyes still trained on dust's face. "give me a few minutes and i''ll finish."

and killer starts moving again inside dust, slowly but surely, regardless of their other teammate just on the other side of the door they're having sex against. and dust just stares at killer in disbelief, but he can't help the arousal building in him. he covers his mouth to stop his moans coming through.

"you got what nightmare ordered?" dust can hear horror's voice travel through the wooden layer.

"yup. just need to clean up a bit here. have some other business to attend to."

dust can't understand how killer's voice can remain so cheerful and stable despite the act they're in right now. a particularly hard thrust has dust let out a tiny squeak and the door gives a thump as he whimpers.

"... what's that?"

"just banged my leg against the desk. nothing to worry about, handsome~"

there's nothing but silence on the other end. then sounds of shuffling. and then everything is quiet again. killer leans into dust's face, whispering.

"figured he's gone?"

dust removes his hand away from his mouth. his chin and his hand are covered in saliva. he glares half-heartedly at killer.

"... fucking... asshole..."

killer hums, "yeah, i'm fucking you right now, dustbunny," killer gives a thrust that almost leaves dust unbalanced on his toes. "also, don't think i didn't notice how tight you were gripping onto me earlier. someone's got a kink~"

whatever protests dust have is swept away in his moans and little breathy 'aah-aah' sounds, increasingly louder as he feels killer hitting his spot. his hands grab onto killer's jacket from behind, trying to force him move closer, harder, faster. killer happily obliges, burying his face in dust's neck as he nips at the bones there.

they go at it for a while, becoming more frantic and desperate, uncaring of the open space surrounding them. dust can feel it so close. so close already. he opens his mouth, ready to urge killer to-

"you guys done in there or what?"

horror's bored voice echoes through the door, making dust tense up and see white little stars in his vision. he gasps, trying to come down from the high as he feels killer release inside of him and purr contently against his chin. dust's legs feel like jelly, and he would fall over if not for killer's tight hold on him.

"coming, big guy~" killer cheers. "we're done here. hope you got a great show."

"it was okay."

"just okay?!" killer gasps, all fake indignation. "didn't know you have such high standards for entertainment. maybe dusty can show you some next time."

dust has never wanted to hit killer's smug face so hard right now. but, he has to stop his bodily tremors first, still sensitive in its aftershock. and then, he'll have his revenge on killer the moment he least expects it. for sure.