#please forgive me Chuck

[marinememes]

trick or treat ٩(^‿^)۶ 🐠🐠🐠🐠🐠🐠

Your teat is: this

[pelmenifemme]

Gladly.

Below this read more is a brief history of Chuck Tingle as an author and persona and my theory for why he is, at least sometimes, Justin McElroy.

So, Chuck Tingle, as we all know, is a popular and talented author of esoteric erotica, such as “Pounded in the Butt by my Own Butt” or “Space Raptor Butt Invasion.” This second title was entered by a group of alt-right trolls to the Hugo Awards several years ago. Chuck Tingle took a stand against this group, saying it was the work of devils, and that he would send anti-harassment activist Zoe Quinn to accept the award on his behalf. When he lost, he published “Pounded in the Butt by my Hugo Award Loss.” He lost again later and published “Pounded in the Butt by my Second Hugo Award Nomination.” He made it to the finals both times.

Tingle’s work, also called “tinglers,” are largely accepted to be satire of the erotica genre and under a pseudonym. Despite this, Tingle maintains that his work is all genuine and he is a real person living in Billings, Montana with a son and daughter-in-law. He talks about his experience with autism and the call of the “lonesome train.”

Chuck has continued to be involved in leftist causes. He opposed JKR’s transphobia with his own magic story, “Trans Wizard Harriet Porber and the Bad Boy Parasaurolophus,” and the sequel, “Trans Wizard Harriet Porber and the Theater of Love,” both of which I own on paperback and are quite good. He also appeared in HBomberguy’s fundraiser for trans charity Mermaids.

Tingle puts out new works very quickly, but with a consistent style. So, I wouldn’t be surprised if one person does his writing, but a different one does his public appearances, which he makes with sunglasses and a pink bag over with head with his catchphrase, “Love Is Real.”

As I mentioned, both appear in the podcast Pounded in the Butt by my own Podcast, where Chuck refers to Justin McElroy as his “reverse twin.” This is a concept previously mentioned by Tingle and seems to be something like oneself from another universe. I believe this to be a nod to them being one and the same with the main piece of evidence being, plain and simple, they sound the same. Chuck Tingle simply sounds like Justin McElroy doing an accent.

In the link below is a video of Chuck Tingle in which his voice is clearly heard at 4:15.

This is just my opinion, but I also believe that Justin and Chuck appear to be roughly the same height and build as each other. I also think, as depicted in the images below, that they have pretty similar hands and skin-tone.

I say this, not to take away from the magic of Chuck Tingle, but to appreciate what must be an immense amount of work which goes into his excellent satire, both in writing and through the performance of his public appearances.

Linked below is Justin McElroy’s reading of “Slammed in the Butt by my Handsome Laundry Detergent Pod.”

Why does nobody talk about the fact that Justin McElroy is definitely Chuck Tingle? Like at least in appearances and recordings. This isn’t to say that Justin couldn’t write Tingle’s works, I just don’t know for a fact that he has.

But he sounds just like Justin McElroy and referred to him as his reverse twin in the podcast Pounded in the Butt by my Own Podcast.

[power-handmaiden]

Day 263: Pride And Pre-Judged Ass

I went on a little journey with this one. You see, when I'm not familiar with the inspiration for a literary tingler, I go and read a summary. I've never read Pride and Prejudice. And I probably won't ever because it is REALLY not my style of story. Sorry. Even the summary was bouncing off me. A lot of the details of it didn't seem to match what I read in the tingler anyway and I was ready to shrug and say, OK I'm ready to just say Dr. Tingle was doing his own thing with this one and cribbed a setting and a few names for a work about a fancy butt party.

But then, I spoke with my brother-in-law who happened to really enjoy Pride and Prejudice. I asked him to summarize it for me and get to the point more than the sparknotes did. He skipped a lot of the details for my benefit and focused more on the overarching theme of the main couple getting together in spite of the arbitrary structures of society that kept them from initially getting along.

That made it click for me. This tingler is about the themes. The blinders that only let the ball attendees see each other's asses are the same as the social prejudices that keep people from seeing each other for their whole selves! Pre-judged ass is Prejudice! Fucking brilliant!!!!

[girliism]

senior year was all you and your best friends art and patrick dreamed out. but since you’re threesome became a twosome senior was not what you dreamed.

art spent the first month ignoring you and patrick which was hard given you all had the same classes. patrick was trying to pretend it didn’t hurt him as much as it did but you can only pretend for so long.

the two of you were at his house doing homework. patrick sitting on his bed and you in his squeaky desk chair. “can please stop squeaking.” patrick said very annoyed. you stop your movement. “sorry” you mumble. patrick sighs upset at himself for his outburst. “i didn’t burst at you tennis just sucked today.” you spin around in your chair and crawl onto the bed to take place in his lap. “what happened?” you question pushing your forehead against his. “art traded me for someone else to double with.” art and patrick have been double partners since forever. they never switched not even when patrick kissed art when they were 12 and art punced him in the face and didn’t talk to him for weeks.

you were getting sick of the silent treatment. you missed your best friend you missed art. you missed being with the both of them.

“ok class, today i don’t feel like teaching you so we’re gonna play dodgeball. girls to the left boys to the right.” dodgeball was supposed to be banned in school for promoting violence but your gym teacher could care less. “have we as a society been pushed so far back that you must still separate us by gender in game used as an excuse to be violent.” some girl in class complained. your gym teacher got in her face. “either get to the left or fail my class. now remember nothing below the waist and nothing above the neck.” his whistle rang throughout the gym, and your body moved faster than your mind immediately picking up the ball and chucking it at arts face. “oh my god.” you rush over to him. “what the fuck?” art’s holding his bleeding nose. “what did i just say! jesus someone get this kid to the nurse.” “i’ll do it.”

the two of you walk side by side to the nurse in complete silence.

“you’re our third dodgeball incident this week. hold this i’ll be back.” the nurse leaves. the ticking from the clock cuts through the silence. “so um, how was your summer? is your grandma doing better?” you speak first. “it was fine and my grandma’s fine too. she asked about you and pat.” art’s voice was muffled by the tissue he held on her face. “what did you tell her.” art cocked his head up at you. “that the two of you ripped my heart out and stomped on it.” he said sarcastically. the two of you. art realized this summer that’s his feeling about you and patrick were a lot more complicated. maybe he wasn’t completely upset that you guys were sneaking around maybe it was the fact you guys were doing it without him.

you kicked art in his shin. “ow! will you please stop hurting me.” he lightly kicked you back. “will you please stop being so annoying about this or does a nearly lifelong friendship mean nothing to you?” art wants to forgive you guys it kills him inside, watching the two of laughing and hanging out when it’s usely the three of you. “i’m not ready for that yet.” the nurse walks back in. you and art just staring at each lips saying nothing but eyes saying so much.

“boyfriend.” you smile walking out of your house to patrick’s car. “girlfriend. you ready.” patrick hooks his arm around your neck placing a kiss on your cheek. it was senior ditch day and something you guys always wanted to do for senior ditch day was to go paintballing.

“you guys get an hour in the arena if you run out of paint balloons there’s extra room on the side.” the worker instructed us. “room for one more?” a voice says behind you. “art.” you and patrick say in unison surprised but happy to see he came. picking up on the weird tension the worker added. “also no sex in the arena.” the three of you share a look before heading in.

it’s been five minutes and no one has moved. each seated behind their own pillar waiting for the other to move. “will someone please throw a balloon.” you huff. “i’ll go first. art why don’t you stop being such a jealous pussy.” patrick chucked a ballon at art hitting his arm with paint. “why couldn’t you keep it in your pants.” art threw a ballon back hitting patrick leg. “why can’t we just have a fun time.” it’s your turn to throw ballons at them. “not until he admits that he’s jealous.” patrick steps out into the open. “what the hell would i have to be jealous of.” art steps out too. the two standing face to face. you peak your head up to watch the interaction. “i’m glad you traded doubles partners with me, now i don’t have to do all the work.” patrick stares at art. “only cause you can’t breathe without all the attention being on you.” art smashes a ballon right in the middle of patrick’s chest. “you little shit.” patrick tackles art.

patrick and art roll around on the ground fighting like children. “maybe if you weren’t so scared of your own feelings you would be with us instead of moping around like a lost puppy.” patrick says rolling on top of art pinning him down. art knees him in the back cause patrick to fall over. “fuck you, you don’t know anything.” sick of the both of them fighting you come out from your hiding spot. “would the two of you shut up.” one of them accidentally knocks you in the ankle causing you to fall on top joining in on the rolling. “and what about you huh kissing both of us and making everything confused.” patrick accuses, elbow digging into your side. “don’t blame this on me. it not my fault i want both of you.” the three of you stop rolling and lay on your backs looking up at the sky.

“what does that mean.” art ask even though he knew exactly what it meant. “means she wants to date both of us. freak.” patrick says adding the last part jokingly. you punch his arm. “but you can’t date two people just because you can’t make up your mind.” you groan coving your face. “that not what i meant.” you whisper. the implication of your words float through the air. “oh. i mean i wouldn’t mind you know dating both of you.” patrick understood first cause he too has thought about it. this was all too much for art. “you guys are insane.” art stands up staring down at you and patrick still on the ground. “why are we the insane ones? what’s insane is still after all these years you ignore what you feel for me.” patrick scoffs getting up to confront art. art feels like he can’t breathe and he breaks down crying. “shut up. i don’t have feelings for you i-i can’t.” you and patrick pull him in for a hug letting him cry out everything he’s been bottling up since middle school. “it’s ok art.” you whisper squeezing him tight. “my dad would kill me.” art speaks. “we’ll take care of you.” patrick says. the three up you stand there for a while just hugging before going to get milkshakes.

it took a while for art to get comfortable with the whole throuple thing. you guys told yours and patrick’s parents but were waiting tell you were in college to tell art’s parents though his mom had a feeling. “it’s so good to see the three of you together again.” arts mom set a plate of cookies in front of you guys before leaving you to eat them. she turned around suddenly remembering she had to tell art to call his grandma later but stopped when she saw how the three of you huddled together. your arm looped lightly with arts and how patrick ruffled his hair letting his hand linger longer than normal.

days blended into months and before you know it you and art were pack his car up to drive to stanford for early set up. “you know it’s not to late to join us pat.” you say wrapping you arms around his waist. “yeah i’m sure your dad has contacts there he could get you in easily.” art adds slamming the truck shut coming up to hug you from behind sandwiching you in between them. “as tempting as that sounds i fear life on the road to the pro tennis league is calling me.” you and art pout breaking away from him. “you’ll come visit us right.” patrick looks offended you’d even ask. “my two favorite people in one place together, i’m gonna be there every weekend.” patrick places soft kisses on yours and arts lips before pulls you guys into a hug. “call me when you get there.” you tell him ok getting in the passenger seat and art in the drives as you ride off sticking your hands out the window to waving until your out of sight.

maybe adulthood won’t be so bad now.

(and that is the end. the throuple continues to live happy and healthy forever ☺️.)

[wandaslovey]

Hey, just wanted to say love all ur mommy Wanda content and can’t help but reread them all the time.

I was just wondering if u would wright something along the lines of reader injuring her leg some how, like a sprained ankle, and is having trouble walking on it but is to stubborn to rest up and not walk on it. Hence mommy Wanda having to take manners into her own hands, however u wish to interpret that.

Possibly with praise sprinkled in plz

If not it’s all good :) 

Her Stubborn Girl

a/n: hi nonnie!! thanks for the request! hopefully this (sorta) lengthy drabble is the sort of thing you were looking for :))

a/n: i wrote this in 45 minutes so please forgive all spelling/grammar errors thaaanks🫶🏻🫶🏻

•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•

you fumble with your keys, almost dropping them twice as you all but wrestle with them to stick it through the lock. you were tired physically and mentally. you had three in-person college courses every wednesday, and now being 4 weeks into the semester, you were seriously regretting your decision to be an “over-achiever.” your ankle hurt like a bitch. it was still healing from a sprain, but you hated walking around with those stupid crutches. you’d be damned if you drew more attention to yourself any more than your wrapped ankle already gave away. you finally enter your shared home with your girlfriend, wanda. you saw that her car was parked in the driveway, so she must have decided to work from home today. you huff, tossing your keys on the little table beside the door, carefully chucking your shoes off. you hear wanda’s feet padding against the hard wood floors to the kitchen. you mentally curse yourself as you know she’s going to immediately notice that you walked to your classes today with no crutches. you had hoped you’d have time to go and grab them from where you left them last but, no such luck.

“hi sweetheart, welcome h—“ wanda pauses as she rounds the corner, taking in your appearance and the lack of what should be the accompanying crutches. you offer her a weak smile and turn to get a water from the fridge, not in the mood for her to berate you for your carelessness.

“Y/N! did you seriously go to your classes today without your crutches??” she walks up to you from behind, her arm swiftly wrapping around your back to pull you carefully to the table. you sigh, running your fingers through your hair. you knew how sensitive she was when it came to your health and well-being. “yes. my ankle is almost healed,” you say to placate her, though you know putting so much weight on it today surely didn’t do you any favors. you could feel a throbbing sensation shooting up your leg, even though you were now sitting down. wanda takes the seat next to you, gently lifting your hurt ankle and settling it in her lap. “almost healed my ass…oh honey, look at it! it’s all swollen!” her fingers gently caress the area over her careful wrapping job. “you— stay right here.” she says, her tone chiding. she gently sets your leg to rest on the chair as she gets up to retrieve an ice pack.

she comes and sits back down, resettling your foot in her lap and gently placing the ice pack around your now extra swollen ankle. you suddenly feel a little bit guilty, knowing that you hurting yourself hurts her just as much—maybe even more sometimes. you didn’t mean to upset her. your shoulders slump forward, an apologetic look on your face as she looks at you with nothing but sternness. “i don’t take kindly to you not taking care of yourself Y/N. you know that.” your posture falls, the guilt weighing even heavier on yourself as her words affirm your suspicion. “i’m sorry, mommy.” you use her honorific, hoping it would help in smoothing her over.

your apology seems to fly in one ear and out the other as the firm expression remains plastered on her face. “you’re not going to put any more weight on this ankle of yours for the rest of the day. do you hear me?” you look down. avoiding her gaze as you nod your agreement. she grasps onto your chin with her thumb and first finger, lifting your head back up to look at her. “words. i need to hear you say it.” her grip on your chin is firm and you find that your previous defiant attitude when you first came home had all but vanished into thin air. “i won’t put any more weight on my ankle for the rest of the day,” you say quietly, your lip slightly pouty and your eyes wide, full of sincere apology. “good girl,” she nods, releasing her hold on your chin. she takes pity on you, knowing that she had scolded you enough already.

you sit in comfortable silence for several moments, her still holding the ice pack to your ankle. “how about we watch a movie together before i finish up my work for the day? then i can make us some dinner and you can tell me all you learned in your classes today.” you smile, quickly agreeing with her suggestion.

you move to stand, but she grips onto your foot to keep it there, giving you a warning look. “sorry..” you quickly readjust into your seat, remembering your recent promise to not walk on your bad ankle the rest of the day. she stands up, settling your leg back over the chair. “where did you leave your crutches?” she asks, looking around the room for them. you whine, not wanting to see or use those stupid things ever again. “don’t make me use those. i hate those things. they just make it more difficult to move around and they hurt my armpits..” you complain, your voice sounding petulant like a stubborn child.

she rolls her eyes at your tone, a small affectionate smile tugging at her lips before she suddenly reaches down and pulls you up into her arms. you make a small noise of surprise, but she makes no moves to put you down, instead carrying you to the couch that’s in front of the tv. she settles you onto the cushions, lifting both your legs so your feet were resting in her lap.

she lets you choose the movie and you put one on that you’ve both seen many times together. throughout the movie she’ll glance over at you, smiling kindly whenever your eyes meet hers. somewhere towards the end of the movie, her hands begin massaging your uninjured foot but you find the sensations felt more tickle-y than anything else. you squirm slightly in your seat, your foot twitching in her gently grasp. her lips curve into a knowing smile as she takes notice of your fidgeting.

“does that tickle, detka?” as she asks, she lightly scratches her fingernails over the arch of your foot. you press your lips together, unwilling to give her the reaction she was looking for.

“no,” you say stubbornly, barely glancing in her direction as you opt to keep staring at the screen ahead.

“oh, so you don’t mind if i do this then?” her fingers then move up your foot, tickling the sensitive little spaces in between your toes. you try to jerk and pull your foot back but she was quicker than you—using her other hand to firmly hold your ankle in place. a low whine and a stream of reluctant giggles bubble past your lips as her fingers scratch at your toes. “what’re you laughing at, huh? i thought you said this didn’t tickle…” she teases, keeping up her playful assault on your poor foot for a few more moments before stopping.

she leans closer to you, kissing you sweetly as she gives your foot a soft squeeze. she looks at you, love and adoration evident in her gaze. you melt under her affectionate look, feeling that warm fuzziness seep into your skin and brain.

“Y/N, i don’t ever want to see you without those crutches until the doctor gives you the all clear. if i do see that, you won’t like what i’ll have in store for you.” she turns more stern again for a moment, making sure she gets her point across. you decide to tease her a bit, her little tickle attack making you feel a little giddy still.

“like what? you’ll spank me?” you smirk slightly, knowing that that particular punishment isn’t normally so bad.

“oh no.. no, no. i know you enjoy your spankings far too much, my darling. i was thinking more along the lines of writing me 500 lines stating ‘i will take care of myself and obey my mommy.’”

she mimics your expression, also smirking as she knows you and how much you hate writing lines. you groan and her smirk stretches into a victorious smile.

“how about i throw in a sweetener? if you be the good little girl i know you can be, i’ll let you choose your reward once the doctor clears you.” her offer instantly makes you perk up, your eyes lighting up as several ideas instantly pop into your head.

“really??” you ask excitedly, almost bouncing in your place on the couch. she chuckles, nodding her head. “really, really.”

[drchucktingle]

SO DANG EXCITED for what future of this timeline holds probably gonna post every blurb so please forgive chuck. i am so moved by words of @tkingfisher @gaileyfrey and @ryannorth honestly brings tears to see this reception to CAMP DAMASCUS thank you for proving love to me buckaroos. here is preorder bit.ly/CampDamascus

[yujiwifeyy]

they find you sleeping alone while hugging a plushie (jjk men)

warnings : usage of bunny nickname

an : toji’s part screams daddy issues 🤭 + this is a gn reader fluff! <3

TOJI

you’ve been binge watching this new series ever since you found it yes ofcourse it’s an unhealthy habit but you just can’t help it so here you are in the living room trying your best not to fall asleep while watching this series but oh lord your eyes are giving up right now and in no time you just grabbed your plushie and fell asleep. after sometime toji enters the living room while trying to ask you something ‘honey have you seen my-‘ he stops as his eyes catches you sleeping alone while hugging your plushie he huffs and caresses your cheek ‘look at you sleeping here all alone with your stupid little plushie’ he said as he turns off the tv and makes you lay down with your head on his lap as he strokes your hair softly and starts humming a lullaby while giving you a love stare with the sweetest smile

YUJI

welp training took the most today of your golden retriever bf today. he promised you that he’ll be back to the dorm by 8 but it’s 11 and he still haven’t come back yet you’re missing him right now and just want to cuddle him to sleep but he’s not here yet. yes you were an understanding gf but sometimes you just need him no matter what the situation is and it is indeed one of those times. another hour passed by but no sign of your boyfriend but here you are sleeping on your dorm’s bed while hugging your fav plushie that yuji gifted you hoping that it’ll be enough to overcome the need of his touch but oh god it wasn’t. after few minutes he came back with a tired body he entered the dorm and saw you sleeping alone his eyes turned soft as he approached your sleeping figure and gently cup your cheeks as you whine softly from the touch. he chucked and lays down beside you pulling the blanket over you two while hugging you as tightly yet as gently as possible if you were awake right now he would have totally pampered you with kisses making your face a bit wet but right now he just wanted you to sleep because he thinks you look adorable. he closes his eyes and whispers ‘please forgive me this time bunny’ he smile while giving you a love stare and slowly closes his eyes while keeping you close to him

NANAMI

he entered the home pretty late to his usual time tonight around 9 pm and saw you sleeping alone on the kitchen counter with your head on the counter while hugging a smol plushie. he smiled and walked over to you and saw all the delicious food you’ve made just for him yes , he definitely felt upset by his behaviour but knew that it was for your relationship after all. he tucked your hair behind your ear and smile while looking at you as he tried to pull the plushie away from you and replace it with his arms only to hear you whine softly while gripping the plushie tightly he frowned slightly and started kissing you in your sleep and that’s when you wake up ‘you’re…back’ you said with half closed eyes and looked up at him as he said nothing but held you close ‘i’m sorry my love i’ll be a better boyfriend i promise’

GOJO

it was after a fight when he decided to enter your shared bedroom that’s when he found you sleeping with a plushie alone he felt guilty because an agreement shouldn’t be keeping you guys apart like this. he decided to crawl up beside you and hug you as you’re sleeping then he placed a kiss on your cheek , forehead and neck and started whispering sweet nothings and his apology that’s when you woke up and looked up at him with puffy eyes 'what are you doing’ you asked him with a sleepy voice as he just smiles and hugs you tighter ‘you’re so adorable baby’ he said as he pecked your lips and smiles

GETO

he told you that it’s going to be the last meeting but only if you knew he has been saying that for past four hours you got tired at this point and wanted his touch and kisses but ofcourse your boyfriend was busy with work so you decided to manage it with a plushie tonight because sleeping alone is just a nightmare on it’s own. you fell asleep while hugging your fav plushie on the couch after a few hours geto walked into the living room and found you sleeping alone , without any second thoughts he picked you up and had you lay down on the comfy bed. he turned down the lights and cuddled you softly + gently and started pecking your cheek while admiring your beauty

[xxnashiraxx]

Pairing: Astarion/f!Tav ~ Astarion/f!OC (Ofelia) Word Count: 9,709 Tags/Warnings: 18+ MDNI, Does this Count as Monster Smut?, Oral, PIV Sex, Fingering, Masturbation, Stomach Bulge, Blood Drinking, Very Minor Dubcon (if you squint), Choking Summary: A gifted grimoire from her friends spells trouble when Ofelia accidentally summons an incubus. ~ An Incubus Astarion AU lovingly written and inspired by this artwork by @poofroom featuring my Tav and longfic main character, Ofelia!

divider here🩸

AO3 | Song Reference: Christian Woman by Type O Negative

I'm hoping to complete at least 4 prompts this month, once a week, but my main fic is my upmost priority! Still, I'm really excited to share this one!! @khywren really inspired me with their recent AMAZING writings, please check out their Kinktober 2024 works so far! You won't be disappointed! 🖤

No forgiveness,

For her sins.

Prefers punishment.

Would you suffer eternally?

Or internally?

For her lust,

She’ll burn in hell.

Her soul done medium well.

***

“There, all done!” Ofelia says to herself, dropping the white chalk she’d used to draw the symbol from the spellbook. It’d been a silly present from one of her friends- a gag gift, really. Spirit of the season and all that. What else is she supposed to do on a Friday night after three pina coladas and zero luck?

All her prospects were dull, and all of them had made some kind of backhanded remark about her intelligence or appearance at some point during the conversation that her interest had waned instantly. She’d definitely been to better Halloween parties.

For her own amusement, she sits and holds a candle up, briefly reading over the pages. She’s got the first ingredient, flickering restlessly in her other hand, the food offering to her right (a popcorn ball), something to channel the energy (a crystal that came with the book), and currency of some kind (a few quarters from her laundry fund). The last requirement is her blood.

“Whatever,” She shrugs, setting the candle down on its point in the star before leaning over to grab the pocket knife she’d used to open the package. She’s still tipsy, and explaining away a bandaged hand tomorrow doesn’t seem like that big of an issue to her at the moment.

She carefully presses the blade's tip into the meat of her palm and drags in one clean slice, wincing and holding her hand over the point closest to her. Droplets dot the white chalk with red and she clenches her fingers, waiting until there’s a small puddle, before getting up to grab her first aid kit and wrap the wound. Once reseated, she examines the page, noting something looks off, but neglecting to read further into why the diagrams are different before reciting the words at the bottom of the page.

She holds her breath, eyes scanning the apartment, before settling back on the circle. And… nothing happens.

“Oh!” She gasps when the candle blows out, expecting some kind of grand entrance- maybe a ring of fire! Or a black pit, opening within the symbol! But nothing comes.

She pouts dejectedly and gathers the items up before chucking them all into a box. She glares at the book, clasped between her fingers, and sighs. If anything, she’d hoped for a little excitement from this tonight- but magic isn’t real, and despite her alcohol-addled mind, she was a fool to think she could conjure it.

She gets up and opens her top dresser drawer, tossing the book in without a second thought as she checks the time on her phone- almost one. She walks into the living space, which is technically still part of her bedroom and separated only by a meager curtain. Her TV is off and silent against the wall, and she pulls her hoodie off to toss over the back of her couch.

The cool air flows in from her window AC and blesses the exposed skin around her costume- she’d gone as a devil, the strapless red bodysuit and pink tights still clinging to her. She pulls the headache-inducing horned headband off and sets it next to her sweater, turning and scanning the room for her prize. She smiles when she sees it, fetching the half-empty bottle of Malibu from the counter before downing it until her fingers numb and a delightful buzz thrums in her head. The night had been long, and an untold amount of sticky fluids had gotten on her legs, arms, and torso during the party so a shower before turning in feels like the perfect idea.

She goes into the bedroom to tug the bodice of the costume down until her breasts are free, breathing a sigh of relief when the constricting fabric is finally off. Her tights follow after, leaving her in nothing but her underwear as she moves towards her dresser. Her eyes linger on the book when she opens the drawer to pull out a night dress and she almost closes it before cocking a brow. Her hand hovers over her favorite slip as her eyes fall onto the page she’d been referencing when she drew the circle, but she swears it had been closed when she’d thrown it inside. The scrawl below it almost looks handwritten, not printed, but when Ofelia tries to read it, goosebumps gradually spread over her arms and legs and she scoffs at the words she can decipher.

“What the hell does ‘mind-altering satisfaction’ mean?” She mutters as she closes the book and grabs her dress before shoving the drawer closed again.

She starts the shower before discarding the remaining scrap of cloth into her hamper, leaning against her sink to wipe her makeup off. Tossing the cotton pads into the trash, she jumps under the hot stream, a low hum leaving her lips. It feels amazing as it rushes over her skin and douses her hair. She runs her hands up over her body, jumping when she caresses the sides of her breasts. They’re extra sensitive, and in her tingling, buzzing mind she feels her stomach tighten in response.

She shrugs. No one had been worthy to take home anyway. Might as well make the most of the night.

Her fingers ghost over her nipples and she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip in an effort to stifle the sound that nearly tears out of her throat. Stars dance behind her eyes and she laughs incredulously, wiping the hair plastered to her cheeks away. It’d never felt this intense, and curiosity coaxes her hands lower as she carefully slips a finger between her legs.

“God!” She hisses, catching herself before she falls onto the tiled floor. Her vision nearly whites under the slightest glance against her clit and she heaves for breath, both palms pressing against the wall. She’d only drank her usual cocktails, and had been watching her drink like a hawk all night, so being exposed to something slipped into her glass at the party is out of the question. She shakes her head, cursing as her clit begins to throb steadily against the water streaming down the front of her body. She suppresses another groan, clenching her thighs together as she rinses out the remaining suds from her hair.

The need humming through her veins is almost blinding, and with shaking hands she pushes her hair back before leaning against the wall. She won’t fall this time… won’t fall…

She cries out as she runs her middle finger along her slit, teeth sinking into the soft skin of her forearm. Her entire body shakes from the pleasure of it, so intense that it weakens her knees and she almost buckles to the floor again. She bites harder to center herself, afraid of the bruise that will surely stand out in the morning, but she’ll manage.

She dips between her folds, the slick beneath so copious she can feel it through the stream from the showerhead. She moans and cautiously presses a finger inside, slowly, but no matter how careful she could have been, it doesn’t stop the sharp coil in her gut and the shockwave of ecstasy that flashes from the roots of her hair down to the tips of her toes.

She mewls like an untouched virgin, mind hazy with want. This… this is unlike anything she’s ever felt- not like she’s had much experience in that department- but every nerve feels like it’s on fire. The shower turns to ice and she has to step out, body quivering and skin clammy despite the temperature of the water.

She grabs the towel, whining as the fabric rubs against the sensitive flesh on her breasts before slipping her nightgown over her head. The thin black satin and lace clings to her and she stares at the mess in the mirror as she dries her hair, eyes catching on the stiff peaks on her chest straining against the fabric. They trail up over her arms and her shoulders before stopping and freezing.

“What the hell…?” She whispers, dropping the towel to press up against the sink again, trying to ignore the little shivers of pleasure when her nipples rub against the chilled granite. Her fingers seek the strange marks that circle her neck almost like a tattoo, the dashes and squiggles familiar, almost…

There’s no way. There’s no way.

Ofelia doesn’t stop to pick her towel up off the floor, sweat making her damp hair stick to her face and neck as it breaks out over her entire body. She opens the drawer once more to the book open, not closed as she’d left it. She swears and pulls it out, setting it on top as she looks at the scrawl over the page opposite to the sigil. It’s indecipherable, in some kind of language or symbols she can’t read, but it matches the marks on her skin perfectly. Whatever they are, they’re definitely a result of the ritual, and Ofelia sinks into a sitting position on her mattress as regret fills her mind.

I shouldn’t have done that. God, I’m so stupid. Mama warned me never to mess with this stuff. Ofelia chews on her cuticles, nervous energy humming alongside the desire burning in her body. Every sense of hers is attuned to the way the slip touches her skin, how her clit throbs for attention, how she clenches around nothing, aching to fill the void.

It isn’t natural, and that fact scares her more than she’d like to admit. She pushes the craving to touch out of her mind, grabbing a fresh pair of underwear before crawling beneath her duvet. It’s hot, so hot… her skin feels like lava- her heart beat skyrocketing. Maybe she’s going to die?

“Oh god, I’m so stupid. So stupid!” She sobs, shoving her face into the pillow as she lays on her stomach. The pressure makes her roll her hips before she can stop herself and she whimpers, biting the silk pillowcase to redirect her frustration. Maybe she should give in and see if that’ll end this torment, but the unease of the situation needles at her mind... She rolls over and tugs the blanket around her chin, twisting her hips and drumming her fingers over her stomach. The length of the day settles over her shoulders and it weighs her down despite the sweat on her skin and the ache between her legs. She tries not to picture the relief she’d feel if her legs were spread instead, slip tugged over her chest, underwear discarded. She groans and shuts her eyes, somehow drifting off to sleep.

She dreams in scattered images, flashing across her vision like a picture show. Hot, begging, on her knees. A man with strong hands and sharp teeth touches her heated skin, peels her dress off, mouths at her breasts… her haggard breathing is audible in the room, echoing off the walls, her hips rolling into his touch, her mouth closing around-

Her eyes fly open, the curtains in front of her window fluttering in the breeze as the clock registers that it’s only one thirty. It takes a moment to adjust to the darkness, and she vaguely recalls not leaving it open… The covers fall off her chest when she sits up, soft moonlight pouring in to paint her body a cool blue. The slip rides up her hips, breasts spilling out the sides, and something moves out of the corner of her vision that sparks gooseflesh to spread over her bare thighs and arms.

The curtain flutters away, revealing the silhouette of a man. Except it isn’t a man… As the light illuminates the hard cut of his torso, bat-like wings stretch and unfurl on either side of him, wicked horns curling up and over his silver hair. Red irises glow in the night, trained on her face, a tail swishing behind him. She doesn’t breathe, doesn’t move- her heart pounds, but her body reacts in a way she hadn’t expected. Her skin breaks out in the same feverish sweat that she’d felt before crawling into bed, her stomach aching and her breathing coming in short pants. She chances a glance in the full length mirror across the room, her cheeks flushing red at the uselessness of her night dress. The marks that had started at her neck circle her wrists and close around her thighs like bands.

“Am I dreaming?” She asks softly, unable to resist the pull she feels towards him. He takes a step and she tenses, eyes admiring his broad shoulders, ornamental silver bracers covering each forearm. Most of his body is bare, save for the thin piece of satiny fabric and gilded chains covering his hips. Her eyes trace the trail of hair that disappears beneath, down until her breath chokes out of her. Her thighs press together at the hard outline beneath the loincloth, her imagination filling in the gaps- thick, straining, throbbing. Her mouth floods with saliva and she swallows thickly as the steady pulse from earlier begs for attention, shame dissolving as his crimson gaze flows down over her exposed breasts. The sudden urge to touch him fills her mind until it’s all she can think about, even as he opens his mouth to expose sharp canines.

“I’m afraid not.” His voice, smooth and velvety, covers her body like honey. She shivers as he takes another step, so close now that she can see the sharp tips of his ears beneath his hair. His lips curl into a fiendish grin and she shakes her head, wanting him closer, god, she can’t take the distance anymore. Some fire’s possessing her and she feels herself clench again, the sudden instinct to grind against the mattress and relieve the tension leaving her dazed. Her mind roars, wanting more than anything she’s ever wanted before to have him touch her. It drowns rational thoughts, save for a single line of curiosity.

“What are you?” She can’t help but ask, though her eyes can’t be deceiving her. He appraises her with a considering gleam, his wings folding back and out of the way. The horns have to be enough- the devilish tail. His soft laugh covers her body in a fresh wave of heat and she closes her eyes.

“You summoned me, shouldn’t you know?” She opens her eyes and he’s hovering right across from her at the end of the bed. Eye level with his stomach, she bites back the whimper of need that tries to push past her clenched teeth at the sight of him, his little strip of fabric doing nothing but veiling the color of his skin. She feels a gush of wetness between her legs as she clenches and strains to stay still, huffing her breath out.

“Didn’t think it would work. Are you the one that’s doing this to me?” She mutters, too late to cover her breasts but she does it anyway- anything to remain in the illusion of control. The sharp tick of his smile tells her he isn’t buying it, and she widens her eyes in surprise when his wings disappear. He drops his knees onto the mattress and she yelps when it dips.

Fuck… he’s real.

“What did you think would happen when you opened a black grimoire and chose a spell? That an imp would pop up and throw money at you?” She bites her lip, watching his long black fingernails clench the duvet and pull it farther down the bed.

“Well…” His eyes flash with annoyance.

“All you humans are the same- power, money, fame, wealth. Make a mistake? Wrong page?” She bristles at his sudden chiding, cursing her friends for giving her the damn thing. She’s going to throttle them tomorrow.

“So what? Can’t you just go back to where you came from?” She sucks in a breath when he draws closer, hands planting themselves on either side of her ankles. She watches him carefully, the way the light shines through the thin fabric of his loincloth to show her the heavy shadow of his cock beneath, and she bites the inside of her cheek when her clit throbs at the sight.

“I’m contracted, stupid mortal. Your blood has bound me to this plane. I can't just go back.” He sneers and she squirms as he crawls forward again, his head hovering over her hips. Her mind imagines filthy things with him so close, her body betraying her as her thighs untense and spread softly- barely a few inches- but it’s enough. She watches his gaze drop to the arms covering her chest, then lower, and she snaps her legs back together.

“Um… sorry. What contract? What does it entail?” He looks back up at her, lips pressed into a firm line of disappointment and she glares back.

“You didn’t read the fine print?”

“What fine fucking print? I can’t read half the words on those pages!” She cries out indignantly, not realizing her frustrated gesturing has left her chest exposed again. He surges forward quicker than she can react and with the sharp edges of his nails, he rips the straps off her dress, causing her breasts to fall free properly. She yelps, instinctively trying to cover up again but he snaps his fingers and the script on her wrists glows, making her palms flatten against the bed.

“I’ll let you guess the terms,” He murmurs, sitting back on his heels. She squirms, trying to free her arms, and when he snaps his fingers again she can lift them.

“What- what was that?” She whispers, fear clouding her voice. He smirks, his hands resting on his thighs, and gestures towards the dresser.

“Says it in the fine print.”

“Please?” She whimpers, hugging her torso tightly. She’s afraid- afraid of the patterns on her thighs, on her wrists, on her neck. She stares at them warily, the terror that had been muted by her lust now stretching into every part of her body. What’s going on? What is he? What’s going to happen to me?

“Tssk,” He settles back fully, legs crossing on her mattress. Her eyes move over his face again, catching on his pretty red eyes, his full lips. The slope of his nose is beautiful- strong and sharp. She traces his features, finding her heartbeat slowing slightly the longer she takes him in. His lips part, revealing those sharp fangs on both the top and bottom row of his teeth, and she idly wonders what they’d feel like on her neck, on her skin… “Darling… I can’t have you afraid of me. That’s not how this night is going to go.” His soft voice makes her shiver and she’s lulled by the sound of it. She raises her head slightly, gaze growing heavier the longer he stares at her.

“How this night is going to go…?” She echoes, slow, the end shaped like a question. His tail swishes back and forth before the spade tip caresses up her calf. With him finally touching her, she gasps, the softest glance magnified like it was earlier. She shudders, pressing her thighs more tightly together, shaking her head, but her body eventually wins out.

“The terms, dear…” He murmurs, leaning forward again. Her skin is feverish when his tail draws away and he crawls over her again. She shrinks back, lying against her pillows, his thighs caging her in as his hands settle on either side of her head.

“Uh…” She stammers, trying to get a coherent thought through. He’s so close she can see small flecks of gold in his eyes and the soft ridges on his horns. She finds herself wanting to caress them, the thought causing her cheeks to burn. “Terms… right. The spell is making me… making my body act like this?” She whispers cautiously and he nods, encouraging her to continue. “It made these… weird tattoos show up on my skin… and you can control them?” He nods again, eyes twinkling in amusement. Her nostrils flare in irritation, but she keeps going, realization finally dawning as she approaches the conclusion.

“I… this lust… oh my god…” He tuts, smirking with satisfaction.

“You finally understand?” The growl in his voice makes her eyes flutter shut. With the answer flaring brightly behind her lids, her body opens up in a way it hadn’t before. Her thighs spread until they’re pushing against his knees, her breath leaving her in a rush. She clenches around nothing, thinking about the shape of him under the loincloth and when her eyes snap open again he laughs, deep and sugared.

“You want my body?” She asks breathlessly, the slip hanging over her stomach becoming itchy and unbearable. His lashes fall halfway and when his forked tongue darts across his lower lip she whimpers in response.

“Usually you call an incubus because you need relief, but… your scent is maddening and I've barely even touched you…” He purrs, lips dropping down to her jaw. She moans at the slightest touch, her cunt clenching again followed by a rush of wetness dripping down her folds. Her underwear are long since ruined, and she slowly moves her hands up, hesitating over him.

“Can I… touch you?” She gasps, the last threads of restraint slowly snapping. He pulls away, hungry eyes raking over her face and neck and down to her breasts. She tugs her lower lip into her mouth, watching him nod, before caressing the planes of his chest.

His skin is so hot… a lovely shade of light rose. Her fingers ghost over his collarbones before pressing up, up, to the sides of his face. His crimson gaze flicks back up to meet hers and she teeters over the edge, debating, before he makes the decision for her and leans down to capture her lips.

Wet and messy, their tongues tangle and she whimpers into his mouth, hands carding through his hair. He tastes divine… or wicked, she isn’t sure which. His kiss is hot, lips soft and she moans against his tongue when his teeth catch on her lip to lightly nip at it. It’s all her favorite flavors at once and she can’t keep her hips on the bed, wanting to pull him in closer, wanting to feel the hard edge of his cock-

“Nnng!” She gasps when he nudges his shaft against her stomach, the weight of it making her dizzy. Her clit pulses and blood pounds through her, vocalizing the wave of desire in breathy pants against his mouth. He doesn’t stay quiet either- the sounds and groans he makes turning her insides to liquid as she rocks against him, hands clawing at his back. His anchor on her dress and a loud tear sounds through the room as he rips it free.

“Hey! That was my favorite!” She protests, but he’s sinking his knees between her thighs and tossing the scraps away, revealing her naked torso to him. The anger dies as she watches him draw back, and can almost feel the burning of his gaze over her body. She squirms again, clamping her legs around his, wanting to hide from the attention but it’s all in vain. All for show. She couldn’t deny him now even if she wanted to.

“Darling, don’t lie. You’re just as impatient as I am,” His voice is deep, sitting in the back of his throat. She inhales sharply, watching him lower himself to press his nose into the hollow of her neck. His cock settles over her heat, separated by two layers of fabric, and before she can grind into it his hands are on her hips, forcing them still.

“God…” She whispers, the steady throb against her aching bud making her jaw go slack. He laps at the skin of her neck, making her legs twitch, before his sharp upper canines sink in. If she’d been delirious before… she’s absolutely lost now.

She cries out, heart pounding as he slowly drags his heavy length over her soaked underwear. His loincloth is covering the image from sight as she angels her jaw down, delighting in every bite he peppers over her neck and shoulder. She drags her fingers over his horns and he groans, hips stuttering, the sound needy and desperate. She continues caressing as his tail flicks in the air, pleased and tenderly mouthing at the aching wounds he’s left on her. They sting, but there’s something new in the mix- churning around her gut and making her mouth spill constant sighs and pants as her vision goes hazy and pink.

“W-what do I call you?” She asks, taking in his messy curls and kiss-swollen mouth. Blood stains his lips and a curl of want pulses south at the sight, wanting him to push her panties to the side and rub directly against her, the pressure so distracting she almost rolls her hips automatically, chasing the feeling of him.

He cocks a brow, inhaling deeply before a delicate smile crosses his face. His tail winds around her leg and she laughs in spite of herself, enjoying the way the tip rubs soft circles into the inside of her thigh.

“Astarion,” He murmurs, and she lowers her hands from his horns, eyes darting to his groin.

“Astarion…” She rolls his name around on her tongue, the subtle shiver that shifts through him not going unnoticed. “Mine’s Ofelia,” She mumbles and he strokes her cheek.

“Ofelia,” She preens at how he says it, a flush spreading over her cheeks in response. Her fingers push into the cloth at his hips, a silent question hanging in the air as she gently tugs on it. He nods and she fiddles with the clasp at the side of his hip before it falls and flutters away, leaving him exposed.

She isn’t sure if it’s the side effects of the spell or simply her own desire, but nothing could have prepared her for the sight of him.

“Oh.” Is all she says, like an idiot. Her eyes admire the girth- thick veins spreading over the shaft. He’s nearly purple at the tip, leaking onto her underwear, and she shifts restlessly at the sight as her mouth floods with saliva and her clit aches as he nudges against it.

“I see I’m going to have to do all the sweet-talking, pet.” She shudders as his hands brush along her trembling stomach muscles, down to her thighs, before guiding her underwear down and off. They run back up the length of her torso, softly squeezing and kneading at the soft flesh of her breasts as his lips catch on one of her nipples. She whimpers at the sensations building inside, chasing his touches with her fingers, craving more contact with an almost crazed fervor. She’s still hypnotized by the length of him as he gently rubs his cock between her puffy folds and she swallows, strangled moans caught in her throat. The hard ridge along his tip drags over her swollen clit and in addition to the lightning bolt of pleasure that coaxes more juices to spill from her, the urge to taste him is so intense that it feels like it’s written on her bones.

“I… I want you here.” She mumbles, fingers tracing her face, and he laughs.

“You want to see… if you can take me… in your pretty mouth…?” He whispers, thumb brushing over her lower lip. She nods desperately, parting them to suck him in as her body trembles in anticipation. His jaw tightens as he watches, her tongue swirling around his warm skin, fierce with desire. She hums when his cock twitches, softly bumping her stomach when he moves as a quiet sound vibrates in his chest. He watches her a moment more, eyes burning, before he shifts to the side and drags her off the bed, onto the floor.

She sits obediently on her knees, closing her eyes as his fingers thread into her hair. His touch is soft, and her face warms as she realizes what he’s doing, but embarrassment has long since receded into the recesses of her mind. He gathers the strands at the back of her head before tugging gently- just the way she likes. She sighs, opening her eyes to shamelessly stare at him, yearning to lick the pearl of glistening pre-cum off his flushed tip. She flicks her eyes up to his and the desire she sees there lights a fire in her belly that spurs her forward, hands resting over his hips as she sets her sights and dives in.

Astarion hisses when she kisses the base of him, bathing him in her attention and affectionate nips. Her thighs shiver as she continues her trail of teasing, his grip on her scalp growing tighter. She flashes him a soft smile before kissing down the weighty length of him, lips parting when she pulls away to watch him leak a silvery strand down to her breasts. She swallows a breathy whine before eagerly lapping it up, her ears ringing from the sharp inhale and throaty groan he gives her when she finally sucks the tip inside.

He fills her entire mouth before she can draw him in further and her cunt clenches with jealousy imagining him pushing inside, on her back, a bruising grip on her hips… Her fantasies play behind her closed lids as she hollows her cheeks and relaxes her jaw to swallow more, moaning lightly as he nudges the back of her throat.

Tears form in her eyes as she blinks up at him, her hips restless as he tugs on her hair and pulls out of her mouth before slowly thrusting inside. The fingers of her free hand trail down her body, pinching at the pebbled flesh on her breasts before dipping lower to alleviate some of the tension winding around her belly. She spreads the slick gathering at her entrance, circling her aching clit, and her eyes squint shut, sobbing at the spark of pleasure that flashes up her body, his cock twitching in her mouth.

“Hells…” He whispers, her mind slowly melting the longer he fucks her mouth. Her entire body aches for him, for this pleasure- she squirms and whimpers, letting him set the pace as she rocks against her hand. He’s considerate of her adjustment period until a glimmering sweat breaks out on his chest and her eyes track a drop as it follows the curve of his pelvic bone. When it meets his shaft a switch flips and she abandons all rational thought for the need to please.

She struggles to take him fully, but every time he needly ruts into her and her lips meet his hips he grunts- a gravelly, greedy thing that stokes the heat in her belly until she’s whimpering and shivering for more. He’s making a mess out of her, and she increases the pace, removing her hand from its previous position to pull his hips in each time they snap forward hungrily. He smears spit and slick over her chin each time he slips out until it's dripping over her breasts and fingers, her thumbs swirl the fluid over the stiff peaks of her nipples as waves of pleasure rumble through her- just as strong as it had been in the shower, perhaps even more.

They lock eyes as he angles her chin to take more of him, electricity shooting through her as her tongue swirls around before lingering on the sensitive underside of his head. He yanks her hair and hisses, in one fluid motion pistoning inside and she moans on his cock. Her mind is blissfully blank as he pins her against the side of the bed, reveling in the way he twitches and cups her cheek as he drives in and out, in and out at a languid pace. The blunt head of his cock kisses the back of her throat again, his stomach muscles tightening, and her fingers brush over the seam of his balls until his hips stutter and a raspy moan pours from his mouth. She holds his gaze, taking him impossibly deeper, and she whines in disapproval when he slips out with a lewd pop.

“Can’t have you driving the whole time, darling,” He murmurs, and she gasps when he leans down to meld their lips together in a bruising kiss. The enthusiasm behind his touches makes her hum happily and he places a hand over her throat before squeezing and forcing her to stand. His tight grip makes her dizzy and she sways on her feet, mind blank, as he chuckles and presses them tightly together.

“Like that, do you?” He murmurs in her ear and she nods, wrapping her arms around his waist as his sharp canines brush against her skin.

“Do you… drink the blood?” She whispers, brief flashes of curiosity drifting through her lust-clouded mind.

“Hmm?” She draws back so their lips brush, the striking scarlet of his eyes inquisitive and rapt.

“You had blood on your lips earlier, when you bit me…” She whispers, watching his face shift in recognition.

“Ahh… that.” He grins, a fang peeking out from under his top lip and it’s the cutest thing she’s ever seen. “It’s common for us to partake- the magic in your blood increases your sense of touch and your blood in turn does for us as well. It’s why you needed to sacrifice it for the spell.” His smile twists into something sinful, her legs pressing together. “Somehow, I hardly need the encouragement...” He whispers as his hands softly squeeze her ass. She smiles in reply, eyes lingering on his teeth and she hesitantly presses a kiss to his jaw. More follow, light and sweet as his grip fluctuates from gentle to rough when her lips brush over his neck.

“Can I…?” She asks and he nods at her testing teeth before she sinks her own into his skin. He sighs into her ear, his hands caressing her back as his sharp nails lightly scratch over her skin. She whimpers into the marks she leaves him with, nipping up to his earlobe before teasing the skin between her teeth. He stills and groans, grinding his stiff length against her hip and she licks up to the pointed tip before sucking it lightly into her mouth.

“Ofelia…” Her name rumbling in his chest makes her dizzy and she moves her left hand up to tickle the other ear until he’s driving them forward. The back of her knees connect with the mattress and she yelps, falling flat on her back as he stands between her parted thighs. His eyes are dark- the red eclipsed by his blown wide pupils, and her body shivers in fear. She feels hunted, prey beneath a ravenous lion, and the feeling twists her insides as he drops to a crouch and lifts her legs until they’re resting over his shoulders. She almost moans at the sight…

“I can’t leave until you’re satisfied…” He murmurs, nipping at the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh. His fangs graze the skin before he sinks them in and that rosy haze covers her vision again, her mind numb to the rest of the world as she focuses on what his mouth is doing. He’d been right about whatever’s in his saliva or bite as electricity tingles beneath her skin, every one of his touches sending sparks down the length of her body.

“God… I don’t know if I’ll ever get enough of this.” She mumbles, forehead creasing in an effort to concentrate on him. He chuckles darkly, his burning gaze intertwined with hers and as she watches her blood drip from the corner of his lips her body twitches in response. It’s the most erotic thing she’s ever seen, almost hotter than when she’d peeled off the cloth, and she whines under his smug smile.

“Don’t go saying that now…” He whispers as he presses soft kisses up, closer to where she needs him most. “Or I’ll be tempted to show you which page the binding spell is on.” She gasps, not having time to process his words as his tongue darts out to swipe up the seam of her before languidly running back down. Her vision whites, a high-pitched cry tearing from her throat as he circles her clit. The fork in his tongue adds an extra sensation that makes fireworks explode behind her eyes, her hips lifting off the bed as he lightly flicks and dips it lower, embarrassing noises spilling from her lips as she drags her fingers through his hair.

When he circles her entrance, lapping at the slick that’s been dripping down her thighs, she throws her head back and begs, pleading on deaf ears for him to plunge in, his nose pressing into the aching swell of her and it’s just the right amount of pressure-

“Fuck!” She sobs, back arching off the bed as his long fingers push inside in place of his tongue. He licks softly at her clit, pushing the hood back gently and when he sucks she nearly blacks out. His fingers are thick, so warm… he starts with two, working her open, curling in until he nudges the place inside she’s lucky to reach on a good day. It makes her entire body convulse as she clamps her thighs around him, fingers twisting in the sheets as his name tumbles from her lips over and over again like a prayer.

“Another, sweet girl?” The lilt to his voice is so innocent, but the words are pure sin and a shiver runs from the base of her skull to the tip of her spine in response, her babbling incoherent. Instead, she nods, trying to keep her eyes open, focusing on the little vent on her ceiling, anything- god he’s too good…

When he adds another digit she almost comes undone, but he shushes her with a kiss on the inside of her thigh, halting his movements. She’s allowed a few seconds to breathe, gasping for air, propping herself up on her elbows to look at him. His hair is falling from its perfect swoop atop his head, dusting his eyes. He’s so handsome she almost can’t believe this is real, so focused on how hot he looks eating her out that she doesn’t see his arm coiling before he sets the pace again.

Her eyes fly shut and her head falls back, wanton cries filling the air- so loud she’s certain there will be a noise complaint in her mailbox in the morning.

His thumb strokes over her swollen nub as he pushes inside and she’s gone.

Her ankles lock around his head, pulling him deeper as she comes on his tongue and his name leaves her lips over and over, chest heaving as tears pool and spill out of the corners of her eyes. Her hips leave the mattress, her mind unaware how, hands anchored to his horns to keep him there all while his tongue massages her inner walls and draws her pleasure out with every stroke. It’s never been like this- completely blank, delirious, incoherent. It feels like someone’s holding her over a flame and she’s burning, burning, stroking her fingers over the ridges of his horns as he shivers and runs his tongue up over her sensitive clit, making her wail at the overstimulation. Her hips finally meet the mattress again as she dissolves over the messy blanket, realizing his nails had pressed stinging cuts to her buttocks as he’d dragged her over the edge.

“Satisfied?” He whispers, his face hovering over hers. She hadn’t noticed he’d shifted and her hands had fallen, her stare empty and tracking dust motes floating through the beams of moonlight. She focuses on his pretty lips, glistening from his previous ministrations, and she reaches up to pull him into a deep kiss as he stumbles and falls over her, his chuckle stroking some deeply seated, violent thing inside her. He tastes like her, the two of them mixed and she’s tingling from head to toe, so consumed by touching every part of him as her hands explore and roam. They find his neglected length and she softly strokes him with one as the other rests over the nape of his neck to continue sliding their lips together.

“Not yet…” She finally answers him after pulling away to gasp for air, voice ragged. She smiles sweetly, lashes dipped low, wanting him closer. Something about him just burrows inside, familiar and calming. She hadn’t noticed it before, too buried beneath the overpowering magic thrumming through her veins. She’s glad that he’s the one that showed up.

She nuzzles her nose into his hair, the faintest hint of brimstone and ash dusting his white locks. He stutters out a low, breathy moan as she continues to slowly stroke him and in her trance she pulls back to bare her throat for him. She quickens her pace as his teeth sink in once more, drawing filthy moans from her lips as heat coils in her belly. It’s addicting, the pain and pleasure of his sharp teeth. She offers up more of herself to him and her hips snap up into his when his mouth closes around one nipple to puncture the sensitive skin before greedily suckling on it.

“Nnng… ‘starion…” She mumbles, a strangled cry leaving her lips as she spreads the pre-cum weeping from his cock down his shaft, his mouth going rough as he groans in reply. “Need you…” She murmurs and he sucks harder before leaving bleeding crescents over her other breast.

“You taste so good…” He whispers, the soft snap of his fingers wrenching her hands from her control as they come up, above her head, wrists glowing as if he’s holding them himself. The loss of control is staggering, but as he rises, eyes glowing, blood coating his lips, she feels a fierce craving spread low in her body before she’s aching for him and his tongue and fingers won’t suffice this time. She wants the real thing.

“Please…” She whines, straining against her invisible bonds as he presses himself against her slit to coat himself in the wetness there. Slippery, obscene sounds fill the room and the way he slides and catches on her entrance before gliding over her throbbing clit coax her heart to pound harder, a shock sparking between her legs at his low lurching moan.

“Please-!” She repeats, thrashing as he continues, every touch and throb of his cock pure torture. His claws dig into her hips, her mouth spilling every curse and prayer she knows as he prods at her entrance.

“My turn,” He growls, stilling her rocking hips. Her eyes slam closed as she shudders around him, the pain a dull echo as he gradually sinks into her waiting heat. He almost doesn’t fit, eyes latched onto the place he’s desperately trying to defile, and she watches him tremble under the effort of restraint when he finally slips inside. He draws a muffled wail from her as he pushes past her entrance, an iron grip holding her in place as she twists her arms above her, panting and clenching around him as she adjusts to the stretch. She finally relaxes as his hands caress her shivering thighs, letting him gently soothe her tense muscles so he can fully sheath within her.

The feeling of fullness is like nothing else- he occupies every inch as his hips finally meet hers and her breath rushes out of her as if he’s taking up every spare bit of room inside her body. He waits, lower lip anchored beneath twin fangs, and she holds him in her blurring gaze. She can’t breathe, chest tight, the soft sounds building in her chest climbing into a litany of pleading and praise.

“So… much… please move,” She gasps as he reaches up to grab her hands and the bonds vanish, guiding them down to the mattress on either side of her head as their fingers intertwine. He’s close, so close she can see every detail on his face, can see the way his brow tenses and sweat gathers over the creasing flesh. Her thighs press against her chest as he folds her legs back, ankles dangling over his shoulders, and she screws her eyes shut as he dips impossibly deeper inside. The whine that slips out of her gritted teeth as he slowly drags out is nothing compared to the sharp, wailing cry when he pistons back into her. It dwarfs any sound she’s ever made; despite the circumstances, her cheeks burn in reply.

“Astarion!” She sobs, holding on to him for dear life. He sets a slow pace at first and she cries with each movement, repeating his name and twisting her head from side to side. He abandons his restraining grip on one of her hands to press one to her throat, stilling her writhing, lips pulled into a fangy grin.

“Eyes on me, pet.” He whispers. She gasps, clenching at the sound of his voice and the tight clutch over her neck. “I’m going to fill you… over… and over… and over…” Her eyes fly shut and she arches into him, mind fogging as he continues to thrust with rough, slow snaps of his hips. “Hells… barely been inside you for a minute… and you’re already brainless.”

“Fuck you,” She gasps when his hand disappears from her neck, a finger pad pressing to her clit to rub soft circles against it.

“That’s the idea,” He chuckles, dropping his lips to kiss her, scattering them over her jaw, neck, and chest. His hot tongue swirls over one nipple, then the other, the pressure building in her lower stomach faster than the first time. Whatever magic flows through her veins, it’s causing her vision to blur, her chest to feel light and her heart to crash against her ribs. Every drag of his cock steals her breath, every whispered word makes her impossibly wetter- afraid to look at the mess in the morning. He squeezes her breasts and her eyes flutter closed, the sensation of stroking on her bundle of nerves making her jump-

“Is that…?” She doesn’t finish, watching his tail flick in the air with a smirk before he descends on her again. “I… I don’t know how much longer-”

“Let go,” He interrupts, tongue flicking over the peaks of her breasts before he locks their gazes once more. She whines, lost in the tide of his thrusts and the way he feels inside her. He so big… so full… she can’t help the way she squeezes and pulls him in each time he pounds back inside, drawing guttural growls from his throat as obscenely wet sounds fill the room. “You’re so good, Ofelia…” He murmurs, fingernails digging into the plump flesh of her thighs as his voice pulls the coil tighter. “Creaming all over my cock.” She bites her lip, his tail rubbing and stroking and pushing her closer and closer and-

“Astarion!” She sobs, every thread unraveling and burning out. There’s an entire night sky sprawled out before her closed eyelids as he fucks her through her climax, every sound he makes sending shockwaves through her after the initial crest and fall. When she finally looks at him, his cheeks are flushed and his eyes are nearly black, his cock twitching inside her.

“So… tight…” He mumbles, hands resting over her hips as his thrusts become more erratic. He’s pulsing, growing hotter, filling her more until she feels like she’s going to shatter around him, dragging against the spot inside her that leaves her breathless and panting for more and she’s afraid it’ll never be enough. He rests a hand over the bulge in her stomach, over the shape of him, and the pressure makes her gush around his twitching cock.

“Please…” She whimpers, vision hazy around the edges. She isn’t sure what she’s begging for, but he seems to understand. He presses a kiss to her lips as her pounding heart fills the silent air, hands coming up to scratch at his back and cry his name, his cock pulsing and-

Hot and powerful, he spills inside her with a strangled cry. She's almost afraid he'll never stop, filling her until she’s sure she can't hold anymore. Watching his face twist in pleasure as his hips still, gripping her waist to the point she’ll see marks in the morning, she whimpers and pulls him in for another bruising kiss. He plunges into her mouth like a starving man and she greedily matches his fervor, stroking his sides, pressing her palms against his chest, and running her fingers through his hair.

Her belly feels warm, full of his come, and his gaze darkens as he strokes the swell of flesh below her navel before flicking back up to her face. Trailing wisps of coherent thought dissolve into the recesses of her brain as his softening length begins to stiffen again, a soft growl slipping out of his mouth as his body jerks forward and he slides easily back inside. She chokes on a sound, the feeling lighting her up all over again as she struggles to accommodate him at full strength. She turns to look at the clock, registering the digital numbers turning to three am- they’d been at it for almost two hours.

“When you say you won’t leave until I’m satisfied… is that something you’ll just know? Or do I have to tell you?” He looks at her as he gently rolls his hips and her breath hitches as his tip brushes against her cervix.

“The tattoo on your neck will break,” He explains through his teeth, hands running over her body to gently squeeze her breasts and she moans softly as he rolls into her again.

“Is it still there?” She mumbles, wishing she could see into the mirror, but it’s behind him. He nods, dropping to his elbows to mouth at it, presumably. She floods his ears with delicate sighs, fingers splaying over his ribs as she traces his sides, eyes fluttering shut at the beautiful way his mouth moves-

“Ahh!” She yelps when he yanks her up off the mattress and pulls her into his arms, carried in the air. Her legs wind around him on instinct, clinging to his shoulders to not fall as he carries her into the living room. As she glances around the space, for some strange reason she feels off- almost as if a spell has been broken. Here he is, in another room of her apartment, and the strangeness she feels is entirely ridiculous. But he’s real, he’s real and standing in front of her tiny kitchen bar, eyes boring into her own, mischievous smile painted over his face. She traces his lips with her forefinger, smirk reflecting his, and he’s draping her over the counter to have her again.

She loses count of how many times he does- in the kitchen, over the couch, against the door. He shows no signs of tiring, cock hard and always pumping her full. She can’t remember a moment where she isn’t tumbling over the edge, thoughts useless, head empty as his red eyes sparkle in the dark, intent on burrowing into her chest.

There’s a brief period where she’s under the stream from the shower, unsure how she got there and still cradled in his arms. Her mind is weak like trailing threads, too distracted by the almost numbing tingles spreading through her body as she smiles at him. He’s still fully sheathed inside her- she’s almost certain he hasn't pulled out since they left the bedroom- and his impossibly strong arms rest below the swell of her ass as he presses her against the shower wall and kisses her, water mixing on their tongues.

“Is the mark still there?” She whispers, vaguely curious as the hot water flushes her body a light pink. He pulls away, eyes hazy and clouded over with pleasure, before lifting her hips and pulling her back down onto his cock.

“Still… there…” He huffs, brows drawn down in concentration. “I may not be able to keep up, soon.” She giggles, holding tight as he finishes their shower and brings her back to bed. Why he’d even bothered trying to clean them up, she isn’t sure.

On her hands and knees she takes him, and when her arms begin to tire she lies on her stomach, cheek against the mattress while his hands hold her hips up and he groans and fills her again. She shivers as his feverish hands stroke over her thighs, down her back, and to her scalp, caressing her hair softly. Her eyes flutter shut as he rocks them back and forth, the tenderness of his actions making her stutter out a long, breathless sigh.

Hazily she registers him lying her on her side, still joined, strong grip on the back of her knee as he lightly draws another orgasm out of her, fingers deftly working at her clit until she comes with a broken sob and milks him for what she considers the rest of what he’s got. As he pants into her ear the horizon turns a faint purple beyond her window and she collapses against his chest, pressing kisses to the underside of his jaw.

While they catch their breath, she feels her skin chill and an almost imperceptible pressure vanish from around her neck. Her fingers come up to touch her throat, groaning at the exhaustion weighing her limbs down and the sudden ache spreading over every muscle. He strokes her stomach, peering down at her, and she can see that the band is gone through her reflection in his eyes, her arms and legs finally clear of it.

“Oh no, it’s over?” She mumbles listlessly, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyelids as she starts to come back to herself. A light chuckle from beside her draws her out of the odd feelings of disappointment and longing as she gazes up at him, early morning sun passing through his hair to turn it bright and golden. He looks more like an angel than any devil she’s ever pictured.

“You’re satisfied,” He smiles, faint and soft. It makes her heart twist uncomfortably as he reaches down and finally slips out of her. A flush burns her cheeks at the slickness that drips down and pools between her legs over the sheets.

“Hmm,” She crosses her arms over her chest, pouting to the ceiling and leveling a hateful glare over the vent that she’d previously latched on to when she needed to ground herself. “Doesn’t feel like it.” He covers her vision, looking pleased with himself, and she feels a pang of sadness knowing he’ll have to leave.

“My contract’s fulfilled, Ofelia.” She nods, patting his arm, and when he moves from behind her to stand in her bedroom, gloriously naked and back to her, she admires him like he’s a distant statue up high on a pedestal. Out of reach.

“Umm… do I say ‘It’s been fun!’ or ‘Thank you!’?” She asks, wincing as he turns to look at her over his shoulder. His amused smile makes her feel less awkward, and she jolts in surprise when he stoops down to press a kiss to her lips.

“It’s been fun, thank you,” He grins, all sharp teeth and cocky glint in his eyes. She stares, then smiles softly as he rises to his full height, and those elusive wings that had vanished before stretch out behind him to cover the length of her room. The next time she blinks, he’s gone, and she looks around the room in alarm before stilling.

It’s silent as death.

She lies back, staring back up at that vent, every part of her arching and sore, far too stiff to think about moving let alone changing her sheets. She closes her eyes, fierce loneliness prodding at her chest.

***

“Earth plane’s portal is ringing again,” The droning voice of Raphael calls out over the tops of the rows of desks, his tone growing more tired by the hour. No one answers, scrolls and papers flying about as the demons sitting behind their quills carry on cataloging and documenting contracts and summons.

“Did you not hear me?” Raphael sounds more on edge and Astarion flicks his tail in amusement, glancing across the desk at his chattiest coworker.

“Think Haarlep’s still booked?” Karlach grins, jotting something on her scroll before she flicks it behind her right shoulder and it hits a lowly imp in the head.

“Must be. Wonder if he’ll call me again,” Astarion sighs, idly flicking the quill pen in his hand around his fingers. He remembers his outing and smirks. He wouldn’t mind if it were her again. If only he could be so lucky.

“Astarion!”

“There it is- good luck, soldier,” Karlach whispers before grabbing her beverage to dart for the breakroom.

“Yes, sir?” Astarion sagely dips his head in a formal bow as he watches Raphael massage his temples.

“Please cover for Haarlep again,”

“Of course, sir.” Filling in for an incubus isn’t the job he’d thought he’d be doing while slaving away for an archdevil, but its excellent overtime and exceptional pay convince him to fill out the request sheet every once in a while. When he steps through the portal he’s met with familiar darkened windows and the scent of vanilla, votives burning on every shelf and surface.

“Hope you weren’t busy?” He turns to see her standing in the middle of her little summoning circle, far too overdressed for his tastes, and smile bright and shining in the dim room.

“Ofelia,” He smirks, catching the spellbook when she tosses it at him.

“It’s already bookmarked, at least…” She walks closer, brown eyes flashing playfully as her long dark hair falls over her shoulder. “That’s if I read the fine print correctly.” He glances at the page, hellish heart flaring with warmth at the infernal word for binding. He grins.

“Cheeky pup,”

[sanjoongie]

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝔽𝕚𝕧𝕖: 𝔻𝕒𝕔𝕣𝕪𝕡𝕙𝕚𝕝𝕚𝕒

🥀Pairing: Golden Retriever! Yunho x Owner! Reader (f)

🥀Genre: Smut

🥀Rating: 18+, Minors Do not Interact 

🥀Au: hybrid au

🥀Trope: established relationship

🥀Summary: you guide your golden retriever hybrid boyfriend through his first time and you discover you have an affinity for his pretty face when he cries

🥀Kinks: dacryphilia, collar & leash, sub! yunho, soft dom! reader, first time! yunho, corruption kink, begging, yunho gets dumb when he fucks its okay we forgive him

🥀Word Count: 1,161

🥀Betas: @mejuii (for your good behavior 😏)@flurrys-creativity @downtoamagicalland

🥀network tag: @monsterfvckersunited

🥀Day Four: Public Sex 🥀Mini Masterlist 🥀Day Six: Auralism/ Sensory Deprivation

“You ready, Pup?” Your raised lower half was posed above Yunho’s cock that was dripping precum from its slit. You had it twitching in your hand, angled to penetrate you. You just needed the go ahead.

Yunho nodded, a slight pout pushing his lower lip out. 

“Yunho,” You said his name in a singsong voice, “You gotta use your words for me.”

Yunho’s ears were already rosy red which you found adorable, but he simply could not get his embarrassment under control, it seemed. “Please, I want it,” Yunho mumbled.

You chucked Yunho’s chin to make him meet your eyes. “You can do better,” You gently scolded him.

Yunho whined, “Please be my first time. Please, put my big dick inside of you. Please, please please.”

You squeezed the base of his cock in encouragement, making Yunho buck his hips with a low grunt. “Good job, Pup.”

You rubbed the head of his dick against your folds before slowly but surely taking him inside of you. You keep an eye on your golden retriever hybrid to make sure he’s good. His eyebrows are furrowed and his eyes are squeezed shut. His hands wander along his bed, no idea where he should be putting them. You laugh lightly under your breath and grab his hands and put them on your hips. 

Once he’s fully seated in you and he opens his eyes, you get to see just how wet his eyes are and you can’t help but coo. “Okay?” You check in with him.

“Okay,” Yunho echoed back. 

“I’m gonna start moving, okay?”

Yunho nodded and then his eyes widened when he realized he wasn’t being verbal like you instructed him. “I can handle it.”

The minute you started to move up and down on Yunho was when the waterworks started. Slowly tears started to stream down his face and your heart caught in the back of your throat. 

“Pup…it doesn’t hurt, does it?” You paused your motions to check in once more. Anything to maintain Yunho’s comfortability.

“N-no,” Yunho stuttered, “Just… a lot at once.”

“Do you need me to stop?” 

Yunho shook his head vehemently. “No,” He let out a low whine, “Keep going. Please.”

He looked so fucking pretty, crying at how good you felt around him. You had to hold yourself back from fucking him into oblivion, the need to make him cry harder smacking you hard. 

“You’re doing so good, Yunnie,” You encouraged him instead. You rocked your hips against him, lovingly pushing his hair out of his way. 

“Please,” Yunho’s voice wavered between low when he spoke and high when he let out his whines. His tail thumped softly against the bed. “Feels so good. So good. Please.”

His sentences did make any rhyme or reason but at least he was sending out the message that he was enjoying himself. 

“I--” Yunho licked his lips, “I need--it’s hot--so hot!”

You moved your hands to scratch behind his ears, knowing it would give him more things to feel good with, but that only made him cry harder. Fuck, he was so pretty like this, with both his voice and his lower lip trembling. “What’s hot, Pup,  are you sure you don’t want me to stop?”

“No!” Yunho shouted and then lowered his tone. “Don’t stop, I just--it’s a lot but it’s good but also I feel--” His whines got caught in the back of his throat again, lost to the pleasure of his cock sheathed between your legs. 

“Let’s go faster,” You suggested. You grabbed the leash that was attached to his collar and wrapped it around your hand, winding it tighter and tighter, leaving barely any room between you and Yunho.

Yunho’s eyes became shaky, his eyes still blurry with lust but suddenly alarmed. “Faster?”

You captured Yunho’s lips and fed on his whimpers and tasted his tears as you bounced on his cock. His noises were like music to your ears, as they became more high pitched and grew into a crescendo. 

When you released him in the kiss, Yunho started to babble again. “So good, you feel so good, this is--I love it, I love being inside of you, please, I wanna, can I--” He swallowed again and again, making his collar bob with his Adam’s apple. 

“You wanna come, pup? You want to paint my insides with your hot cum, hmm? You wanna fill me up, sweet Yunho?” You prompted him.

Yunho nodded, almost choking himself with how tight you were holding his leash. 

He almost manically agreed. “Yes. Mhmm. Yes, please, I wanna cum. Can I cum? Please? Oh please please please!”

The tears were a never ending stream down his face and you promised yourself internally that you would get Yunho a warm cloth and wipe away all his sweat and tears for being so good for you during his first time. 

“Go on, Pup, you earned it. Be a good boy and cum for me.”

The quiet thumps of his tail became faster and harder smacks against the bed as his climax built and hit him with full force. His desperate whines were only underlined by the way his fingers dug into your hips, not looking to control but simply to release how he was feeling during his first climax inside someone. His ears laid back on his head as he came down from his high, whimpers slowly panning out into small, satisfied noises. 

You pushed the temptation of over stimming him away; that could be for another time. Instead, you cleaned him up and Yunho sent you a watery smile in thanks. Until you washed his face and he realized he had cried the entire time.

Yunho cast an embarrassed arm over his face and started to whine again. “I can’t believe I cried!” He lamented.

“It’s okay, pup!” You kissed his nose and he grew adorably cross-eyed when you did so. “I liked it.”

Yunho sent you a look of disbelief. “What?”

You shrugged. “I liked it.” 

“How?!” He demanded.

You crawled along the bed until you could straddle Yunho’s head, a knee on each side of his broad shoulders. “Doesn’t matter,” You dismissed him, “Now let’s put your lessons to good work.” 

Yunho watched with big eyes as you spread your pussy lips for him. “Lick me good, Yuyu, like I know you can, hmmm? You do so well for a pup. Then we can talk about how cute you were for me, crying while I bounced on your big dick,” You teased him with a smile.

Yunho frowned, clear shots fired at his ego. “But--”

You found his leash and tugged it, a warning in of itself. “Are you a good boy?” You lifted an eyebrow at him.

“I’m a good boy,” Yunho replied, deflated instantly. He did perk up looking directly at your pretty pussy on display for him, however. He loved giving you pleasure. But he definitely loved being called a good boy more.

🥀Day Four: Public Sex 🥀Mini Masterlist 🥀Day Six: Auralism/ Sensory Deprivation

[bridgetotheskyyy]

Daddy - Suguru

Kinktober Masterlist

Warnings: 18+, daddy kink, breeding kink, BEGGING kink, praise kink (we makin it out the hood with this one y'all 🤣), pet names

A/n: Day 29: Daddy kink! The month's almost done how did that happen. Written very fast, so please forgive errors.

Word count: 1.0k

Read on ao3

Against all odds, the man was a good father. 

Or father figure. Or whatever Nanako and Mimiko wanted to call Suguru. You watched as he tended to them, made sure their needs were met, and in return they doted on him in ways that reminded you of old, cheesy Christmas commercials. Let’s all huddle around daddy! Kiss the chef! He was a completely different person with them. The great deal of darkness lurking within your man found itself under lock and key when dealing with his precious girls. 

“If I’m their father, doesn’t that mean you’re their mother?” Suguru said once. He had winked at you as you blushed at the insinuation. But something heated had lurked in his expression, and a silence, just as heated, had followed until the curses came to interrupt the loaded silence. 

Maybe it was the profound absence of father figures in your own life, maybe you were psychologically unsound in some way, but god, did seeing this side of Suguru make you want him more.

And … And he seemed to know, seemed to double down with the innuendo lingering always whenever he was called to fulfill that patriarchal role for his sweet orphans.

“You know I take care of all of my girls,” Suguru said once, breath hot on your throat before he kissed you there. 

You hadn’t even meant to say it — just a vocal response to a sudden reaction — but it had sealed your fate all the same. 

Geto quirked an eyebrow at you, a hand choking you from behind. “So I’m daddy now, is that it?” He purred in your ear. 

You parted lips to correct your mistake — only to moan as his hand came down hard on your ass. 

“No,” You moaned. “No, I mean —”

“You’re filthy, (Y/n),” he muttered. Nevermind the fact he was the one who had you on all fours, fully nude while only his cock lay bare. It twitched against your thigh while his hand cupped and caressed your ass cheek. “You know that?”

Fuckfuckfuck. You bit your lip as Suguru chucked above you, his hand abandoning your throat to wander the planes of your back.

“It was an accident —”

“No, it really wasn’t.” His voice was low, conspiratorial. He took so much pleasure in this secret the two of you now shared. “Y’know …” Suguru’s curious hand traveled lower, a finger grazing into the small of your naked back. “I kinda like it when you call me that.”

“Suguru —“

“I’ve been thinking about filling you up,” Suguru went on, a finger brushing over your clit in what could be no accident. “Your belly all round with my baby. Is that what you want, (Y/n)?”

“Don’t be silly,” You breathed out. “Just — Just put it back in and we’ll pretend this never —“

“Say it again.”

“What?” You made to turn, but Suguru was on you — his hand at your throat returned, along with his body weight keeping you on your knees. “Aah!”

“Say it again, and I’ll keep fucking you.”

No mistake; his cockhead brushed your slick slit. The memory of his cock splitting you open sent your insides fluttering, clenching, needing.

You abused your lip with your teeth. “Daddy, please —“

His cockhead caught on your entrance and you hitched your breath, flinching at the exquisite contact.

“Good girl.” Suguru applied more pressure to your throat. “Say it again.”

You clenched your hands against the wood of the veranda. “Make me cum … Please, daddy, I was so close last time. Please!”

Suguru chuckled from behind you. He slapped his cock against your slit.

“Again.”

“Daddy, please fuck me, make me cum, cu — Please! Pleasepleaseplease —“

You could see his devilish smile, feel it as Suguru leaned forward to kiss one of your ass cheeks. 

“Okay.”

His hand traveled from your throat to your mouth, muffling your scream as he slid himself back into you. His weight came over you again, his lips at your ear so you could hear his growl —

“Such a good girl, leaving a nice, wet cunt for daddy to slip his cock into.”

Your head fell forward, forehead thudding against the wood as Suguru claimed his prize. Your man fucked you, void of mercy for your aching knees and screaming elbows. His hand reclaimed your throat. He planted his lips into the hornet’s nest of your hair. 

“It’s good everything’s out in the open,” Suguru said, slapping his pelvis into your rippling ass. “I don’t like it when you — hah — lie to yourself, (Y/n).”

“Fuck!” You quivered underneath him, your nails clawing at the wood. “Sug —“

“No.” He slapped your ass with his free hand. “You know what you have to call me now. Beg. Beg for Daddy to let you cum. Beg for him to put a baby in you.”

“Daddy — oh my — Please! Please let me cum around Daddy’s cock! Be this pussy’s daddy, oh, fuck —!”

“So well-behaved …!” The pressure at the back of your head transferred to your ear so Suguru could give you his order: “Cum.”

Not needing to be told twice, you clenched around your man, refusing to let him pull out with the way your slutty cunt milked him. You cried out, and this time he let you. Suguru was next. You could tell from his grunts alone he was cumming, the realization only compounding your endless pleasure. Suguru fell apart around you, leaving imprints on your hips as he pressed fingers into your sides. Beautiful black hair curtained your periphery. 

Suguru caught you by the waist before you could collapse. He laid you on your side, falling beside you also. Still buried inside you, he held you to him. 

“We should go inside,” You said between pants. You hummed as Suguru gingerly wiped sweat from your forehead. “You have no shame.”

“Neither do you,” Suguru whispered into your ear, the sensation sending you shivering. “You didn’t have to agree to come out to the veranda with me, remember? My love, my life.” He snickered. “Mommy.”

[tomssexdoll]

hey boobie toobie

so, you and bill are in an argument. a nasty one. in a hotel of all places. he’s been texting you he’d return to the hotel early all week but getting there at 3am which obviously raises suspicion. you accuse him that he might be cheating or doing something dangerous. after a few insults are thrown from both ends, he mentions your eating disorder. a sensitive place you both swore to never mention. “well at least i can fucking eat,” you felt your heart break. there was a moment of silence as you registered what he said. “fuck- liebe im sorry” he tried apologizing, but you didn’t wanna hear it. “no, get the **fuck** away from me, bill-“ you snapped. you slapped his hands as they tried to comfort you. you grabbed your things and stormed out of the hotel room. you had nowhere to go. all of your friends were hours away since you followed bill on tour. your first thought was gustav, he was so sweet and could definitely cheer you up. he was your closest friend in the band. it would usually be bill, but for obvious reasons not today. you stumbled to gustav’s hotel room and knocked gently but eagerly. he swung open the door, confused expression. “c-can i come in?” as gustav lets you in, you start rambling about what happened. you even began to cry. gustav succeeds in calming you down and eventually bill knocks on the door. gustav answers and sees you on his bed looking a mess. “y/n!” he exclaims and pushed past gustav to get to you. “i don’t wanna see you,” you mumble. “schatz, please? i’ll make it up to you” he pleads. you finally agree and bill leads you out of the hotel and into your favorite nearby restaurant where at your table, he apologizes about everything and you forgive him :)

omg yes ily

How could you?

PAIRINGS: Bill 2010 x Female reader

CONTENT: SMUT

SYPNOSIS: Bill and Y/N get in a heated argument after he yet again returns home late, he mentions something they both agreed they'd never bring up ever, going to Gustav for comfort.

A/N: hi

WARNINGS: yelling, arguing, mentions of eating disorder

Bill has been acting weird lately. We were on a tour for his band and stayed at a hotel in Paris. He'd been texting me all week that he'd be home early but would always manage to come around 3am, rough looking.

It really hurt me seeing him do this, he never really acted like this in the past so I never understood what provoked it. Was he cheating? Or worse, doing something illegal or dangerous? It was a foreign country and he could get killed.

Every night my heart filled with worry, tears falling down my cheeks at the minutes going by where he still wasn't home. Tonight he came home late again, the clock read 3:04am. He bursted in, chucking himself on the bed in hopes to go to bed and prevent my yelling. But I had enough of his bullshit.

"Don't try and sleep your way out of this, get the fuck up," I raised my voice, "where have you been all night? You texted me 5 hours ago and said you'd be home" I sighed.

He just rolled his eyes, slowly getting up, "I don't want to hear it y/n, I'm fucking tired" he groaned deeply, walking towards me. "I don't care if you're tired, clearly you're not tired enough to go out every night and do god knows what" I spat, crossing my arms.

"Oh shut up, you're always worrying about stupid things" "stupid things? For all I know you could be cheating, is that what you're doing? Because if you are it's not very discreet" I glared at him, testing his patience.

"Oh my god, of course I'm not cheating" he grunted, looking down at me intensely, his eyes piercing through mine. "Then what are you doing? Doing illegal things? Drugs? Stealing things? Hm?" I spoke to him like I was his mother, lecturing him on his whereabouts.

"No! For fuck sakes you're so controlling! Always telling me what to do, you're psycho!" he raised his voice, grabbing my arm. I slapped his hand away as soon as it got into contact with my skin, "how dare you? You fucking pig!" I yelled.

Great, we were arguing once again. In a fucking hotel of all places.

He got visibly more angry, his eyes narrowing at me "don't fucking call me that, you're a fucking bitch" he growled, "always complaining, bitching and moaning, I should've just left you at home for fuck sakes" rubbing his temples in frustation.

"Oh great, thanks, that makes me feel wonderful," I rolled my eyes, turning away from him and sitting down onto the bed. "Now you're the one walking away, I thought we were going to talk about it schatz?" he taunted, "oh don't even Bill, you're so fucking selfish," I scoffed.

"Selfish? Yet I'm the one who provides you with fucking everything, I spoil you all the time with gifts," a scowl appearing on his face. "It's not about the money Bill, it's about quality time and love, it seems you can't even do that properly," I sighed.

"Can't do it properly?" he chuckled, "let's talk about what you can't do properly, at least I can fucking eat properly, can you say the same?" he spat out, his words bitter and cruel.

My heart just broke at his words, my mouth slightly agape. He knew that I struggled with an eating disorder, a place we both swore never to mention.

There was an awkward silence before what he said registered in his head, his expression going from anger to guilt, his eyes softening. "Oh fuck...liebe I'm so so sorry," he rushed towards me, trying to apologise but it went through one ear and out the other.

His hands came towards to waist, trying to pull me close and get away with such a horrible comment. "No! Get the fuck away from me Bill," I snapped, slapping his hands away from me. I got up and started to pack my things, ignoring his cries for me.

I stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind me, trying to figure out where I should go. I wasn't close enough with Tom or Georg..my friends were hours away. Then I realized Gustav would welcome me with open arms, I rushed over to his room and knocked gently on the door, urgent to go in so Bill wouldn't drag me back to our room.

After a moment he swung the door open, confused to see me standing there with my things, "what's wrong Y/N?" he frowned, glancing from my face to my bags.

"C-can I come in.." I bit my lip, trying to stop tears from pouring out of my eyes, voice slightly shaky. He nodded quickly and let me in, closing the door softly behind me and leading me to his bed.

"So what happened, was it Bill?" he sighed, running his thumb over my hand, a friendly gesture he'd usually do if I was upset. I nodded, "he..he brought up my eating disorder in a fight.." I burst into tears, Gustav immediately wrapping his arms around me, "I'm sorry y/n..that's such a shitty thing for him to do.." he sighed, comforting me.

I nodded and kept rambling about everything he was doing, staying out late and not telling me, lying and telling me how he would be home early. Gustav just listened to me, giving little comments here and there, rubbing my back soothingly.

I eventually calmed down, Gustavs calming voice making me feel better. He let go of me, running his thumb over my hand again, "I'm always here if you need someone to talk to, I know how mean he can get when he's tired" he smiled softly, I nodded and thanked him, he was an angel.

We kept on talking, discussing what I should do when I heard a soft knock, Gustav thought it might of been Georg or Tom or even room service so he got up, slowly approaching the door and opening it, Bills tall figure appearing in the doorway.

Bills eyes light up when he sees me, sitting on Gustavs bed, looking like a complete mess, my mascara smudged on my cheeks. He pushed past Gustav, running to me. I didn't even look up at him, not bearing to see his face after the words he said to me, "I don't want to see you.." I mumbled, he sighed deeply "schatz, please? I'll make it up to you," he pleads, leaning down to my level and holding my hands.

I turned to look at him, I sighed and agreed. I knew it was stupid but the look in his eyes just made me cave in, the way he could so easily woo me was dangerous.

"Thanks Gustav.." I smiled and hugged him, waving goodbye as we walked out of his room. Bill didn't speak, just held my hand and lead me downstairs into the lobby, walking out of the hotel and onto the streets.

Eventually we stood outside of my favourite resturant, Bill had called in a favour and they quickly opened at such a late hour, preparing for us. I smiled softly, trying to hide it from him.

"Cmon honey, let's go inside" he kissed my cheek softly, walking inside with me and sitting at our booth, a beautiful view of the city right next to us.

"I'm so sorry for what I said y/n..you know I didn't mean it, it was just the first thing that came to my head and I hadn't even fully processed it, I love you so much" he frowned, reaching over the table and taking my hands in his.

I sighed, "I know baby, I know you didn't mean for it to hurt me but..it really did" he nodded sympathetically, letting me vent my frustations out. "I still love you though, I'm willing to forgive you but if you bring it up again it won't be so easy to trust you again" I sighed, "I promise I won't bring it up, ever again" I smiled and brought his hands to my lips, kissing them softly.

"What were you even doing out so late?" I giggled, "honestly..I was literally just out at bars to destress from the concerts, sometimes I just went on walks that lasted hours, I'm sorry for lying and not telling you where I was, you're not controlling at all you just love and worry about me.." he sighed, embarrassed by his shitty actions.

"It's fine baby..you can just come to me for comfort, you know I'm always here" he nodded, grateful for the suggestion, "thanks baby, I love you so much, I'm so glad I have such a wonderful girl in my life, I don't know what I'd do without you.." he leaned across the table, kissing my lips softly.

tags: @itsmealaiah @itsangelll @kaulitzsbabyy @ballhair @estxkios @bkaulitzlover @charliesgoodboy @tomsonlyslut @ge-billsgf

[kairiscorner]

thinking of building a snowman with gojo and him blushing and all because he’s so full of love and he want to give it to reader ☃️❤️‍🔥

was just thinking of romantic gojo nowadays 😍

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ holiday headcanons event !!

day 5.4: building a snowman with gojo ☃️

🍰 genre: fluff !! ✒️ word count: 683 💭 summary: building a snowman with gojo☃️ 📣 thanks for requesting anon! if you'd like to request any other prompt for any other character, please refer to my holiday headcanons event and send me an ask!

gojo, ever the little shit that he was, laughed aloud when the head of the snowman you two were working on fell on your head after you skidded off the slippery ground and fell on your butt. he captured numerous photos of you, filming him laughing aloud as you scooped bits of snow off your face, your eyebrows furrowed at him. "aww... is shorty angry?" he asked you in a mocking tone as you threw a snow ball at him.

every snow ball you threw at gojo never hit him, his damned limitless technique was a pain in your neck for this very reason. he stuck his tongue out at you playfully, from underneath his dark shades, he pulled on his lower eyelid, taunting you. you huffed and tried to roll up another head for the snowman you two were working on in defeat.

gojo hated it whenever you'd go silent when he teases you, he misses the fiery side of you that'd snap back at him and give him a taste of his own bullshit. he decided to tone things down a bit and help you, such a little thing like you in his eyes wouldn't be able to do this all alone, right?

"hey," he murmured, pressing his forehead against yours, smiling like a doofus. his cyan blue eyes gazing at you from underneath his sunglasses, they didn't carry an ounce of apology or guilt, they did carry in them, however, a load of admiration. "lemme help you rebuild frosty over here, he's ours," he insists as he helps you roll up a sizeable head for the snowman.

after the head was of a decent size, he helped you carry it up on its body and stabilize it. you still weren't forgiving him, though, so you gave him the silent treatment. gojo noticed this and yawned loudly, grabbing your attention, even for a split second. "geez, you're boring like this..." he muttered, picking up the small pebbles and the carrot nose that was on the snowman's old head.

he placed the pebbles where its eyes should be, and with such force, he thrusted the carrot right in between its eyes, chuckling. "it looks funny like this, right?" he asked you with a childish grin, pointing at it and looking at you with expectant eyes. though, you weren't looking at him, you were busy playing with the snow next to the snowman, ticking gojo off a bit.

he slowly placed a hand on your shoulder, shaking you a little, trying to get your attention once more. "hey... hey, you can't seriously still be mad at me for earlier, are ya?" he asked you, looking a bit incredulous at you. yet again, you said nothing, making gojo sigh dramatically; he only ever did this for you, nobody else—he clasped his hands together while kneeling before you, and with a grand bow, he exclaimed, "oh, my dear, please forgive me! i am but a bumbling fool! forgive me for my stupidity, even though it was the funniest thing to ever happen today, please, be merciful on me, my sweet!"

your response was nothing like he imagined, but wholly welcomed; you responded with... a successful hit to his face with a snowball. gojo's sunglasses were now coated in some snow, which he smirked at, seeing you smile slightly before turning away from him. he chuckled as he took his sunglasses off, wiping the bits of snow from his face. "oh, we're gonna start playing like that now, huh?" he asked you in a challenging voice, picking up some snow and shaping it into a crude sphere, chucking it at you, making you giggle.

you fired back and threw a snowball of your own at him again, while gojo did the same, not backing down and throwing snowballs at you in retaliation. you could never be mad at gojo for that long, not with him being your snow child's father, of course you could never be mad; but you could always give him a taste of his own bullshit to make it even with him.

[alittlebitofloveliness]

can you pls write something with purly where curly hurts pony’s feelings and they argue but then curly tries everything to get pony to forgive him :))) basically super angsty with a happy ending

Hi anon! Sorry this took so long but it's also way longer than I anticipated so I hope it lives up to expectations. It's also not edited so please excuse any typos. Please lmk what you think xx

****************

“Fuck off, Curly!”

Curly has been told to fuck off a lot in his life. In fact, he’d even say he’s been told to fuck off by Ponyboy a lot in his life- but until now Ponyboy’s never meant it. Not really.

Now though, with his dreamy eyes blazing and his hands curled into fists it’s clear that Pony means it and Curly has well and truly fucked everything up. Tim was right- he really does ruin everything.

“Pony-”

He’s cut off when Pony takes a swing at him, and just barely manages to duck out of the way. It’s a testament to how much he likes Ponyboy and how sorry he is that he doesn't swing back. Restraint is not something he was raised with in the house where he learned to meet violence with violence because it’s better to leave a mark on someone else than to take all that hurt without dishing out your own.

Still. It doesn’t mean he’s not angry.

“Can you just fucking talk to me? I said I was sorry!”

“And I told you to fuck off, so fuck off!” Pony rages back, “You come anywhere near my house an’ I’ll set Darry after ya with a baseball bat! Me’n you are done Curly Shepard! Done!”

He storms off and Curly lets him because he’s lost a lot of people in his fifteen years and knows the look Pony just gave him is as final as any coffin being lowered into the ground or any car disappearing around a street corner.

Suddenly, he has the horrible urge to cry. Instead, he bites the inside of his cheek hard until it floods with the taste of iron and makes his way to the liquor store, eager to forget everything that’s just happened and everything he’s just lost.

The broad behind the counter doesn’t seem to get the hint untill he pulls out his switchblade and makes it clear he isn’t asking to leave with the whiskey, he’s telling her he is. She yells after him, something about cops and trouble and Curly doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about anything. 

Tim finds him when he’s drank at least a third of the bottle, chucking rocks at passing trains and spoiling for a fight. He’s close enough to Brumly territory it won’t be hard to find one if he really goes looking, and Marshall Decicio and him tussle often enough all he’d have to do is look at him wrong, but apparently Tim isn’t in the mood to have to drag him off of someone or out of a bar tonight because he pulls up in the beat up old pickup truck and tells him to get in.

For a second he thinks about refusing, about pissing Tim off too so he’d leave him alone like he deserves, but Tim is not the sort to take no for an answer and Curly wants to fight but doesn’t want to fight him, so he relents and gets in. Tim doesn’t say much, but Curly can tell that he knows, and the shame that bubbles up in him makes it so he can’t even look at him.

Ma is holding court in the living room when they get home, high as a kite at three in the afternoon, her buddies all in a similar state. She’s got some of the good stuff out on the table and for a second Curly considers reaching for it, considers taking something that will grant him a far better oblivion than the one his bottle has yet to offer, despite the fact it’s now almost half empty. 

Tim yanks him away before he can.

“I know you love him,” he says, and Curly’s heart fucking sinks because he does, even if he couldn’t say it, and now Ponyboy wants nothing to do with him ever again, “but don’t go down a road you can’t come back from just ‘cause you don’t wanna feel it right now.”

“But-”

“No.” He can’t quite decipher the look in Tim’s eyes through his boozed up haze, “You’re not Ma, Curly. Don’t let yourself be.”

He half tosses half drags Curly to his room then, and Curly considers climbing out the window just to be a shit, but it’s warm in here, and Angel isn’t home right now so for once he has the room to himself. Him’n Pony could’ve been hanging out here, if Curly hadn’t been such a monumental asshole.

Hours later, when Angela gets back she finds him on the floor, lighting match after match just to blow them out again, his whiskey near empty at his feet. He’d thrown most of it up around the same time he choked a lot of it down, and while it hasn’t done much to get Ponyboy out of his head it sure has dulled any plans to go out again and do something stupid. He’d tried standing a little while ago and discovered he couldn’t seem to walk right. 

“Idiot,” Angel says when she sees him, but it lacks any of her usual scorn, and not for the first time Curly thanks his unlucky stars that Angel- who isn’t soft for anyone- can sometimes be soft for him. When he needs her, and sometimes even when he doesn’t.

She grabs his latest lit match and uses it to light herself a cigarette, before hauling him to his feet and dumping him on his mattress. 

“You ain’t gonna puke are you?”

“Already did,” Curly mumbles, suddenly feeling more sick than he has in a while and Angel just nods, sitting next to him and pulling her knees to her chest.

She’s small, like him, always has been but she makes up for it by having a big attitude and a big temper, and right now, a big protective streak. 

“You okay?”

And, no, Curly thinks it’s pretty obvious he isn’t.

Angela nods. “I uh, I heard what happened.”

A fresh wave of guilt claws its way up Curly’s throat. 

“It’s stupid,” Angela continues, and Curly snaps his head up to stare at her. He’d made fun of Pony’s dead best friend. It was cruel was what it was, and Curly has never known how not to be cruel, but there's no one he’d tried not to hurt as much as Ponyboy and then he’d gone and hurt him anyway. 

You ruin everything. Tim’s words from a week ago echo in his head again and he bites his cheek again to stave off the tears. 

“Stupid or not,” Curly hears his breath hitch, “he ain’t ever gonna speak to me again.” 

Angela fixes him with a glare. She’s good at that. 

“Make him.”

“Angel-”

“Are you a Shepard or not? You know well as I do that if you want something you have to take it.”

“Oh sure,” he rolls his eyes but stops immediately when it makes his brain hurt, “I’ll just go over to the Curtis place and start chattin’ while Darrel Curtis beats my head in.”

“Jesus, quit bein’ a drama queen, that's Ponyboy's job. Yours is to fix this.” She rolls her eyes, “Or don’t. Go ahead and rot for all I care.” 

She climbs to her feet, scrubbing a hand through his hair before she leaves, muttering under her breath about how this is the last time she tries to help him with anything.

Curly grins. He’d never admit it, but Angel really is his best friend in the whole damn world, for all she’s a bitch of the highest degree. She knows the score. 

Suddenly, it’s easy to fall into a dreamless sleep.

When Curly wakes the next morning, head pounding and mouth drier than Tim’s sort of humour, he’s ready. It’s time to put his plan into action. 

If getting out of bed was torture, walking into WIll Rodger’s high school has to be his own personal hell. He can already barely stand this place when he isn’t violently hungover, but Ponyboy will be here and Curly only ever wants to be where he is, even if they aren’t speaking right now.

They only have two classes together- spanish, where Curly usually sits beside him and whispers dirty things in his ear Pony has long since learned not to ask the teacher to translate for him- and phys ed. Pony’s too smart for them to be in anything else together, and PE isn’t until the end of the day. No way is Curly sticking around that long.

So spanish it is.

He’s fifteen minutes late when he walks into the class but the teacher just sighs and tells him to take a seat. Honestly, Curly thinks the old guy’s got a soft spot for him. He used to think it was because he speaks spanish already so the teacher didn’t much have to worry about trying to teach him, but Angel speaks it too and Mr. Dimirend can’t stand her so Curly doesn’t know. Must be his irresistible charm.

His usual seat is taken by a blond haired soc Curly decides is his new enemy number one, so he takes an empty seat at the back of the class and gets to work making spitballs.

The first is a direct hit, landing in Pony’s slicked back hair and sticking there, but the guy’s got a mop that could rival Curly’s own and he doesn’t seem to feel it. Spitball two goes wide, then Mr.Dimirend sets them a speaking task and everyone turns to their seat partner and starts talking in a horrible bastardization of Curly’s beloved native tongue, so he gets distracted by sending spitballs at the worst of them. Honestly, this is supposed to be an AP class. You’d think they’d at least try and roll their ‘r’s. 

Socy Blond McFuckface is trying and failing to ask Ponyboy what his favourite colour is when Curly’s spitball lands right in his wide open mouth and the kid gags, immediately spitting and starting to choke. Curly rolls his eyes. it’s not like he’s gonna die from a spitball.

Of course the whole thing kind of becomes a deal, and Mr.Dimirend looks kind of concerned, but Ponyboy is stifling laughter so the whole thing is kind of worth it, even when he gets detention- at least, it’s worth it until he tries to meet Pony’s gaze and share the joke and Pony pointedly refuses to look at him, jaw tightening as he turns back to the front. 

Curly gets up and walks out of class, deaf to Mr. Dimirend yelling after him. What does it even matter? It’s not like he doesn’t already know how to conjugate verbs in the conditional future tense.

Besides, he’s got a more important conditional future to worry about right now.

Phys ed isn’t until the end of the day, but Tim isn’t here to make him go to his other classes so Curly sure as hell isn’t gonna. He thinks maybe he might go key some socs car in the lot just to feel something. Or maybe he’ll try and find Bryon Douglas so he can beat the shit out of him.

“Curly Shepard I know that’s not you skippin’ your english class right now.”

Despite himself, Curly grins.

 “Me? Skip class? C’mon Miss D, you know I’d never,” he drawls, giving his best impression of Angel’s wide eyed innocent look, “I gotta keep all them dirty hoods in line.”

The lunch lady shakes her head, giving him her best unimpressed look even as her black eyes twinkle. Curly doesn’t respect pretty much any adult figure, but he can’t help but like Miss D. She reminds him a bit of how abuela used to be whenever she was sober and before she went senile. Except she’s a lot smaller than abuela ever was, and her skin is a few shades darker than abuela’s, closer to his own shade than to Tim or Ma’s. 

Miss D tilts her head, sizing him up. He fully expects her to frog march him to his english class, scolding him all the while in her native Tamil that he wouldn’t comprehend but would understand just the same. 

“Come with me,” she says instead, tuning on her heel, and Curly knows better than to argue. Usually with the aunties or grandmothers it’s best to do as he’s told.

Miss D leads him through the back door of the cafeteria and through the kitchen, all the way to a tiny back room that’s probably used for prep if the walk in fridge and counter space is any indication. She pulls down a cutting board and parks him in front of it, dropping a pile of tomatoes beside him.

“Here.” She passes him a knife (and isn’t that a bold choice), “Slice them into circles for me.”

“If I’d known you was gonna set me to work I mighta taken my chances with the english class.” 

He wouldn’t and Miss D knows it, because she simply raises an eyebrow at him. Curly picks up a tomato and starts chopping.

Miss D. gets her own cutting board set up, her slices a lot faster and more even than Curly’s, before she speaks.

“You are upset.” She’s not asking, and for the millionth time Curly wonders how she seems to always know everything, “Why? What did you do?”

Curly glares down at the cutting board and slices a tomato a tad harder than is probably necessary. 

“Nothing.”

“Do not lie to me, boy.”

The words are severe but her tone is kind. He’s always been comforted by her accent, a remnant of her life back in Ceylon, so different from abuela’s but alike in how different is it from the drawl of everyone else in the american south. Maybe that’s why she can always manage to get him to spill his guts, even when he doesn’t really want to. Abuela used to be able to make him do the same.

“My best buddy is mad at me,” he admits, and it sounds stupid but it isn’t because Pony is his best buddy but he is also more than that, so much more, and he can’t lose the only person who seems to like him no matter how stupid or reckless or strange he is. He can’t. 

Miss D hums. “And why is he mad?”

“I did something stupid,” Curly admits, the shame welling in his chest along with the urge to go and do something dumb to forget about it, “we were arguing and I said something mean. Like, horribly mean. I forgot that he ain’t Angel or Tim, that it wasn’t like at home where it’s no holds barred and we just move on, yknow? I forgot he wouldn’t realize I didn’t mean it, not really. His house-” he hesitates, struggling to put stuff into words. Feelings have never made sense to him, and now is no exception, “his house ain’t like mine, y’know? Every fight in his family ain’t a fight for survival so he don’t ever say stuff like what I said to him, and I-I ruined it. He’s the best buddy I ever had and I ruined it, the way I ruin everything.”

“I see,” Miss D says, scooping his chopped tomatoes into a bin, and waving him to follow her into the kitchen, “that seems like a difficult situation.”

“Whatever.” Curly says, sick and tired of being vulnerable and mad Pony makes him this way, “I don’t care.”

“Now you aren’t just lying to me, you’re lying to yourself.” 

“It ain’t a lie.” Curly lies.

Miss D shakes her head as she drops a basket of fries into the fryer, the tomatoes waiting on the counter. Must be burger day then- for anyone who can aofford it that is. 

“We were having such a good chat. Don’t run away from me now.”

Curly shakes his head, refusing to meet her eyes.

“Curly Shepard,” suddenly she’s in front of him, her twinkly dark eyes staring into his own blue ones, “you listen to me now, and you listen good. You do not ruin everything. Some things, yes. You are not always a good boy. But I have yet to hear of an instance where Ponyboy Curtis has not forgiven someone he cares about.”

Curly’s eyes widen, “how did you-”

“I hear much of the school gossip,” Miss D dismisses, waving a hand, “I work in the cafeteria. And you do not have many friends. It was not hard to guess.”

Geez. He really is pathetic when it comes to Ponyboy if even Miss D knows they’re buddies. No wonder Angel rags on him for it. 

“Now,” Miss D. continues, “did you apologize to him?”

“Yes! I said I was sorry.”

“That is not always the same thing.”

Curly thinks back to their argument, to the way Pony’s eyes had darkened, hurt and anger flashing across his face, thinks of the moment he realized he might lose him, of his own desperate pleas, of ‘please, I’m sorry, I swear I didn’t mean it’, of ‘Pony c’mon’ of ‘I said I was sorry’. Maybe Miss D is right. Maybe he didn’t mean it, not like he should have. He said it because he regretted it yes, but he said it for himself, because he was afraid to lose Pony, not because Pony deserved to hear it.

“Here,” Miss D hands him a plate of fries, “youve got ten minutes to eat these before your next class, and you’d better not be late.”

“Thanks Miss D.” He doesn’t just mean for the food. Evidently she understands because she gives him a small, warm smile and ruffles his hair before getting back to work. 

Curly eats his fries and goes to class.

Geography is a bullshit course at the best of times, but at least it gives Curly time to think. The thing is, he’s not sure he’s ever properly apologized for anything in his life. He’s not really sure how to do it. For one thing, he’s rarely sorry for anything he does. For another, remorse in the Shepard house consists of stealing each other stuff until forgiveness is granted with a pat on the back or the ruffling of hair. They don’t really do the whole ‘talking things out’ thing. But the Curtis’ do. Ponyboy does. So Curly figures he better figure it out, and quick.

He scrawls some stuff down while the teacher drones on about continents and whatnot, but nothing sees good enough and after his fourth attempt he gives up and starts entertaining himself by pinning the braid of the soc girl in front of him to his desk with his switchblade. She squeals like a piglet and gets yanked back into her seat when she tries to stand up and Curly laughs so hard he almost forgets his knife when he beats it outta there. The girl’s preppy looking soc boyfriend tries to chase him but Curly’s gone before the guy even makes it to the door, melting easily into the crowd in the hallway. 

He skips chemistry in favour of dicking around and smoking with some of the guys he knows from the drag race scene, since Mrs. Costen still hasn’t really forgiven him for pulling the chemical shower last week. The hour passes far too quickly and suddenly he’s in the changeroom, getting ready for PE, and focusing very hard on not sneaking glances at where Pony is lounging about shirtless and chatting with one of the guys from the track team.

Curly kind of wants to throw something. It has absolutely nothing to do with the way Ponyboy’s bare shoulders look or the way he tilts his head when he laughs.

Jesus, it’s goddamn indecent. He should put a shirt on.

Curly changes quickly and leaves before he does or says something else he’ll regret. If he sneaks one more look as he goes at the way Ponyboy’s back muscles flex as he pulls a t-shirt over his head, well, thats no ones business but his own.

Mr.Harris, the gym teacher, is smart for all he is the most annoying fucking teacher Curly has ever had the misfortune of having- and that includes the bitch back in fifth grade who tried to tape his hands to the desk after he put a frog down Carmen Sanchez’ shirt during reading time.

However, Mr.Harris is also apparently going to be his saving grace today, because after he reminds them that they’re doing their wrestling unit (which is dumb, because ground fighting ends a lot easier when you can punch, kick, and aim for the balls) he very carefully goes through the class and paires up people who are unlikedly to actually take it too seriously- that is to say, socs get paired with other socs, and greasers get paired with other greasers.

“Curtis,” Mr.Harris says, “you’re with Shepard. Make sure to show him what we went over since Monday, I don’t have time to reteach those who think chronic absences are some sort of joke.”

“Actually sir-” Pony starts to protest, but Harris moves on, completely ignoring him. Which, hey, no one- especially not judgy old Mr. Harris- gets to ignore his Ponybabe, which Curly would be more than willing to tell him if he wasn’t a hundred percent sure Pony was about to ask him to switch partners. 

“Ponyboy-”

“Don’t.”

“Pony-”

The next thing Curly knows he’s flat on his back on the mat, the wind knocked out of him, and Pony is on top of him, twisting him into a pretzel and not in a fun way.

“That’s called a double leg takedown.” Pony says, breath hot on Curly’s cheek, his eyes hard as emeralds and Curly has never been so simultaneously confused and remorseful and turned on in his life.

They get to their feet. 

“Pony please-” Curly tries, and he’s back on the mat again. Shit he can’t be doing this, rough housing with Pony does things to him, always has, even if Pony’s being more rough than playful. Scratch that maybe especially then.

He should not be thinking about this right now. He’s supposed to be apologizing.

“That’s a single leg takedown.”

Pony’s breath ghosts over hi ear and he shivers.

They set up again. This time Curly is ready, if not prepared. Pony lunges in, and Curly grabs for him but not before Pony sidesteps and throws him down sideways, hastily pinning him before Curly can sit up.

“That’s a hip toss.”

“Jesus,” Curly wheezes, “I get it, you can thow me around with your fancy wrestlin’ moves. You gonna talk to me yet?”

Ponyboy responds by tackling him again.

Fine. So that’s how it’s gonna be. Pony tosses him twice more, once with what Curly is calling a lucky hit and once with some move called a fireman carry that might be the hottest thing Curly’s ever seen. The next time, Curly manages to grab Pony’s leg and hold on tight, driving into him with his shoulder until Pony trips back and they crash together onto the mat, rolling until Curly’s half sitting on top of him, holding Pony’s wrists so he can’t shove him off.

“Please will you just talk to me?”

Pony glares and then turns his head away pointedly ignoring him.

“Please,” Shepards don’t beg but Curly’s begging now, “please, just hear me out. I’m real sorry, I swear it. I owe you a proper apology, I know it. Just give me a chance.”

Green eyes meet blue, softening just a bit, and Curly thanks his unlucky stars that Ponyboy Curtis is ten times the man he will ever be.

“Fine. After class.”

Curly doesn’t care that he gets tackled for the rest of class. It feels like he’s winning anyway.

The bell rings and Curly follows Ponyboy to the changeroom, sneaks a glance at the guy’s collarbone, and prepares himself for the most important conversation of his life.

“Well?” Pony says, once they’ve both lit a cigarette, his free hand shoved deep in the pocket on his blue jeans.

“I”m sorry,” Curly starts,taking a deep drag and looking anywhere but at him, “I didn’t mean what I said but I still shouldna said it in the first place. It was shitty an’ it was meant to hurt you and I swear if you’ll give me another chance I’ll never try and hurt you again. I mean it. I can’t promise I won’t hurt you by accident but I’ll never do it on purpose.”

Pony considers him, head tilted like it does whenever he thinks really hard or laughs without thinking. He’s not laughing now though, but his eyes aren’t as murderous as earlier so Curly thinks that’s probably a good sign.

“That it?”

“No,” Curly swallows. He knows how badly this next part could go, how much Pony had cared about Johnny Cade, how bringing him up is still the surest way to get him all riled up, “I, uh, I never told you I’m sorry about what happened to Cade, but I am. He and I never got along but I know he was your best friend and I’ve been thinkin’ about it since yesterday and if I ever lost my best friend,” he gives Pony a significant look and Pony rolls his eyes, “I don’t think I could stand it. I swear i’ll never say anything like what I said again.”

“That’s right you won’t.” Pony says, and there’s a dark promise in those words, “I appreciate you sayin’ what you said just now, but you don’t get to talk about him. Never again, savvy? You hated him and he hated you. I know it, Soda knows it, hell, everyone does. So you keep his name out of your mouth, alright? I don’t want you in my memories of him, even if you’re gonna be nice about it from now on”

“I savvy.” Curly agrees. It’s true he and Cade couldn’t ever stand each other. Still, they’d both cared for Ponyboy, so Curly will keep his name out of his mouth, for Pony’s sake. “Promise.”

Pony nods and his shoulders relax just a bit. 

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

“So…we’re cool?”

At that Pony laughs outright, and Curly feels the weight that’s been sitting on his chest since yesterday finally lift. His Ponyboy is back. 

“Yeah,” Ponyboy’s smile is soft, “we’re cool. Now let’s get some food. I’m starvin’ and you owe me a milkshake.”

Curly grins and follows him, not caring where they’re going. As long as he’s with Ponyboy he’s exactly where he wants to be.

[jo-harrington]

Chuck (Eddie Munson)

Summary: It's just a regular closing shift at Benny's. Easy peasy. Nothing bad could possibly happen.

Word Count: 3.5k

Characters: Eddie, Jeff, Benny Hammond

Themes/Warnings: Boys will be boys, friendship, smutty intrusive thoughts, Masturbation(?), Food Fucking, Eddie has an unspecified romantic partner (could be Steve, could be Reader, could be anyone that's not what this story is about), Song Fic, What's a Little Psychological Torture Between Friends…

Note: You know what? In true unhinged fashion, I had to write this for @courtingchaos on her birthday and not only that but give her some credit here. This was born from us being stuck in a car on Lake Shore Drive, hangry and a little slap happy, on the way to Navy Pier after I witnessed something that was probably very similar (in the most innocuous way) at a suburban Burger King.

Meg, you are my life. My world. You are my Cheese. Burger. And this one's for you. Happy Birthday.

Thank you AGAIN to @dr-aculaaa for the beta and @deathbecomesthem for some of the diner lingo. Disclaimer that I never worked at a diner so this is probably horribly inaccurate...but just suspend your sense of disbelief if you have.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

If anyone wants to get the full effect of this fic, you need to put Mr. Roboto on repeat for the duration of your time reading.

---

5:55PM

Jeff stared at the clock as he wiped down the counter.

Every tick of the second hand had him gritting his teeth a little more, enough where he should probably worry that he was gonna crack a tooth. All because Eddie was late for his closing shift.

Their closing shift.

And not just late, late again. For the third time in as many days they worked together.

If he even showed up.

Now Jeff wasn't one to complain. Shit, Eddie was the one to suggest that he apply at Benny's in the first place and put a good word in for his best friend.

Ben was getting a little older and wanted to enjoy what was left of his youth while he still had it, instead of solely being stuck behind his grill for the rest of his life. An extra waitress on the weekends, an extra line cook during the week, and the business ran smoothly, even when he decided to take a day off.

And Eddie was pretty much employee of the month, knowing all of the regulars orders like the back of his hand.

Until Jeff started getting scheduled alongside him.

Until Eddie started going on dates, and started "going steady" with someone.

Until Eddie started playing hooky to go and suck face and god knows what else while parked up at the quarry.

Jeff let his fist slam against the counter as another minute ticked away, only for the bell of the door to chime and Eddie walk in, shrugging his apron on and shedding his leather jacket in a flustered rush.

"Sorry I'm late," he said with an easy smile on kiss-swollen lips. Jeff rolled his eyes at the sight and at the apology. "Oh come on, I promise I'll be on time tomorrow. Scout's honor." Eddie crossed his finger over his heart.

"You weren't a scout," Jeff retorted.

"Hey now," Eddie teased, starting in on one of his typical Munson-isms that usually ended up in forgiveness or forgetfulness. "I actually was. For one day before some snot-nosed kid pushed me over and I accidentally said fuck. Then they asked me to leave. But once a scout, always a scout."

Jeff hummed and turned on his heel to push back into the kitchen and start prepping for the dinner rush.

The thing was...they worked really well together. They had a good routine of noting what tasks needed to be done throughout the night. It's not like the diner was ever that busy on weeknights and Benny had been doing it alone for years, but it was nice to have someone you got along with at work.

Well it was nice...when they were there. It was nice when your work buddy was actually reliable and helped you out, which made Jeff feel bad because Eddie was his friend, his best friend. But Jeff could let Eddie's luck and charisma let him slide through his responsibilities.

So Eddie was about to find out what kind of hell it was when you were in the weeds alone.

---

Jeff had gone out to take an order when the phone rang.

Eddie grabbed the receiver with a quick "yello'" only to get a familiar voice rasping on the other end.

"Can I speak to Jeffrey please?" came the reply from someone dramatically sounding like Edith Bunker.

Eddie rolled his eyes. "Gareth, I know it's you," he sighed.

"No, this is Jeff's grandma," the younger boy kept up the ruse, snickering a little at the end. "I need to talk to him."

Eddie let his head roll back on his shoulders as he heard the stifled giggling of his friend over the line, and then he peeked his head out of the passthrough.

"Jeff!" he called out. "Your grandma's calling."

Jeff donned an exaggerated and fake look of concern; he jogged across the diner and grabbed the receiver from Eddie's hand.

"Hello?" he answered and Eddie watched as his expressions got more animated, as did his voice. "Grandma? Oh no, what happened...an accident? You need help? You need me to leave work and come home right away?"

"What?!" Eddie shrieked and reached out to snatch the receiver back from Jeff's hand. He placed it against his ear but only heard Gareth laughing and then the ring tone. He was about to ask Jeff what the hell was going on, only to find him pulling his apron over his head. "Come on now, where do you think you're going?"

"I've gotta leave," Jeff shook his head frantically. "It's my grandma, she's in the hospital, I've gotta go."

"Jeff, come on."

"There's no one else to take care of her."

"Seriously. Quit it."

"You'll be ok by yourself tonight right?" Jeff ignored everything Eddie said and looked at him expectantly as he dug his hand in his pockets for his car keys.

For a moment, Eddie felt the panic rise within him; he figured Jeff was a little upset that he bailed the past few nights but...seriously it wasn't anything that Jeff couldn't handle.

Was his friend really that mad?

"Listen I'm sorry I bailed on work a few times this week," he apologized, but Jeff just shook his head and pulled out a roll of quarters.

Then another.

Then another.

And the panic Eddie had faded into curiosity, then realization.

No, Jeff wasn't mad; he was annoyed.

"Hey listen, it's just for tonight so I can check on my grandma, you'll be ok," Jeff explained as he walked over to the old jukebox in the corner of the dining room. He began loading the old machine up with quarters and punching buttons in rapid succession. "I'll even make it up to you. You can have all the tips in the tip jar from before you got here earlier and I'll put on some music that you'll like. Hey look, Ben took your advice and updated this a little.

"He even has your favorite Ed," Jeff glanced over his shoulder. "Styx."

Eddie groaned in loathing this time, thinking of the power ballads and synthesizer nightmares he was about to endure because his friend was gonna get back at him.

The Grand Illusion. Or worse Paradise Theater.

The records inside of the machine shifted as they queued up tracks for the next however-long Jeff had paid for.

"Don't do this Jeff," Eddie pleaded as his friend grabbed his jacket from the coatrack by the door. "I'll never skip work again. I promise. Just stay."

"But my grandma needs me Eddie..." he whined and then winked at Eddie before running out the door. "Have fun."

Eddie sighed and accepted defeat as the door shut and Jeff was gone, all while the sparkly synthesized voice began amidst electronic fanfare...

Domo Arigato Mr. Roboto...

---

7PM

You know what? It didn't start out that bad.

"You're wondering who I am," Eddie sang along and bopped to the beat as he flipped burgers on the flat top. "Secret, secret, I've got a secret."

He had food to cook and orders to take and he fell right back into the routine of those short staffed nights when Benny started to realize how much he valued his personal time, but right before Jeff was hired.

It would be fine.

And there was a little musical accompaniment? Even better.

He figured that he might start loading the machine up with quarters before his shifts from now on, instead leaving it up to the chance of the customers.

"Machine or Mannequin?" He did a little spin. "Secret secret, I've got a secret."

Eddie hadn't even realized that the song that started out the night--Mr. Roboto--repeated itself until he got back to the kitchen, and then it repeated again.

And again.

He had to admit it was growing on him though. Like a cancer, but still growing. So he either needed to adapt or it would kill him. The lyrics were catchy, he could dance to it a little, and there was a good beat that he could almost headbang to if he tried.

It wasn't even that he hated Styx, he just hated what Styx stood for. Mainstream popular music. It was commercial and sanitized. Yeah Babe wasn't that bad of a song. And neither was this one. Shit...if he really thought about it, was the band even really that popular? They were underdogs, and he always rooted for an underdog.

"With parts made in Japan," he sang into his spatula and slapped slices of cheese onto his patties for dramatic effect. "I am thee modern man!"

---

8PM

So if you see me, acting strangely, don't be surprised.

There was a little bell at the pass that got hit whenever an order was up.

Of course, with Eddie being the only one working it didn’t need to get hit.

Still, every time Eddie passed it, he just had to tap his hand on the bell along with whatever verse or instrumental was playing.

I’m a man who needed someone and somewhere to hide.

It wasn’t getting to him.

No. Not at all.

It was just a graduation from him playing air guitar with a broom and drumming on the counter with spoons.

Ding ding ding ding ding, ding ding ding ding ding.

Eddie tapped at the bell with both hands at the crescendo and then went to the walk-in to scream.

Nothing to worry about.

---

9PM

I’ve come to help you with your problems, so we can be free.

“Hey can you change the song at all? This one’s been repeating for a while.”

Eddie smiled tightly at the guy at the head of the long rectangular table and then dropped the blue plate special down in front of him with a clatter.

“It’s broken,” he explained, not wanting to get into it.

Several customers had asked already; it was getting as annoying as people who said they were tipping with kindness. Obviously if he could get another song on the jukebox, he would.

How many fucking quarters had Jeff put in there?

“Could you unplug it? Plug it back in again?”

He’d thought of that too.

But wasn’t it just his luck that they lived in the do-it-yourself amateur handyman Midwest…and the damn thing was wired into the wall itself.

And he really didn’t want to cut the line and have to explain to Benny how an electrical fire burnt down his diner.

“You know what?” Eddie took a slow, calming breath. “This is actually…my favorite song." There was a disbelieving blink. "A-and it’s my birthday.”

The withering look he received made him second guess burning down the place; it actually didn’t seem so bad after all. He could deal with Benny.

I’m just a man whose circumstances went beyond his control. Beyond my control. We all need control.

---

10PM

I am the modern man, who hides behind a mask…

Eddie wore his Freak label proudly.

He accepted it, everyone else accepted it.

But maybe this music was getting to him a little bit as he started noticing of the different inanimate objects around Benny’s that he could potentially fuck.

That was a level of Freak that he really hadn’t embraced yet.

So no one else can see my true identity!

Well, it was sort of always there simmering beneath the surface. He had been a horny teenager and was now a horny young man. There was always a question about what objects he could stick his dick into.

But he’d tried to curb that curiosity after the pool noodle incident.

Now though…he was far enough gone that things were starting to appeal to him again. And it scared him a little bit for those thoughts to pop up during work.

Not enough to stop though.

Domo Arigato Mr. Roboto. Domo. Domo.

First it was a bagel with the perfect hole.

Actually, was it even the music causing this? How dare that bagel look so damn fuckable. Cream cheese wouldn’t be the best lube, he had to admit. But he didn’t mind trying. Unfortunately that bagel was needed for someone’s sober-up sandwich.

Then there was a hole in the vinyl of one of the booths. He stared at it every time he brought out an order or bussed a table. Eventually he couldn’t help himself and he lightly ran two fingers over it and then plunged them inside the hole, like a lover would, only to find the edges were jagged and rough…and he was disappointed that it wouldn’t be the most pleasurable experience.

He wasn’t one to say no to a little bit of teeth when getting his dick sucked but that wasn’t what he was looking for right now.

At one point he even considered fucking the jukebox itself. Get it to shut up once and for all.

The logistics weren’t right.

Where would he even put his cock? Just rub the head of him along the coin slot while he jerked off? Pass.

His depravity needed to be put on hold though, because as he was in the walk-in trying to cut a channel into a head of iceberg that might be the perfect fit for him, he spotted a tub of hamburger with a label in Benny’s chicken scratch saying “discard” with the date.

He froze and let his thoughts swirl before he shook his head and put the iceberg down. He slammed his hand against his forehead as though that would make his internal monologue right itself.

Because what the hell was he doing?

Regardless of the absolute torture he was enduring, he was still at work and had a job to do.

Why was he trying to fuck a head of lettuce? Or fingering a hole in a booth. No, he was absolutely losing his mind, he needed to control himself, he needed to get back to work.

He was about to exit the walk-in when he glanced back at the tub.

“Can't forget that tonight,” he muttered to himself as a reminder.

Then back into the kitchen he went.

Domo Arigato Mr. Roboto. Domo. Domo.

---

11PM

“Thank you very much Mr. Roboto,” Eddie muttered as he dropped maraschino cherries into milkshakes. His voice was ragged, desperate. Pleading. “For doing the job nobody wants to.”

“Thank you very much Mr. Roboto,” he deadpanned as he numbly swept the floor. “For helping me escape when I needed to.”

Thank you.

Thank you.

I wanna thank you.

Please thank you.

Thank you thank you.

Thank you thank you.

“Thank you,” Eddie smiled, as the joy finally die inside of his body as he rang out the last customers. But it was rapidly born once again as he waved goodbye. “Thank you thank you!”

---

12AM

The doors were locked, the lights in the dining room closed.

And Eddie stood in the kitchen with a lit cigarette in his mouth as he concentrated on the task at hand.

The problem was plain to see. Too much technology. The jukebox still played out on the floor.

Machines to save our lives? No. Machines dehumanize.

He shouldn’t be fucking the jukebox or a head of lettuce or a bagel. No. He needed something warm and malleable.

Living.

Or well…close enough.

It was the perfect idea! Instead of taking it right to the dumpster, he’d taken the tub of ground chuck out of the walk-in and let it get to room temp at the end of his shift, and now he was standing there molding it into the right shape.

He was ready and aching after palming himself in anticipation. He’d meticulously wrapped his hard cock in plastic wrap, for lack of a better option. He needed this.

He deserved this.

Why hadn’t he ever thought of this before?

The time has come at last…

He put out the cigarette in the meat then lined up with the channel he'd crafted. He hissed as he sunk in—synthesized angels sung all around him, guitars strumming in harmony—and finally felt relief for the first time all night.

Secret, secret, I’ve got a secret.

His hips rocked in time with the beat, driving deeper and deeper. He felt the slightest bit of cold when he finally bottomed out, the center of the Chuck not entirely at room temp yet. It was an unexpected thrill and he shuddered as pleasure shot through him.

He let his head fall back and he laughed with the feeling, laughed uncontrollably, and the sound echoed through the diner, forever scarring the walls with wicked glee.

To throw away this mask.

It was strange, fucking what was essentially a mass of viscous sludge. Not bad, just strange. Not entirely wet but not dry either. Maybe it was perfect actually, something he never knew he needed. Just for him. A little slice of cheese...er, heaven...just for him.

Especially when he formed meat to suit his desires as it shifted.

That feral grin stayed on his lips as he worked himself to completion, as he pumped mercilessly.

Secret, secret, I’ve got a secret.

And somewhere in all of the hubbub, Eddie came to the conclusion that although it wasn’t perfect, he could get used to it if he had to.

Because he had to.

He'd be stuck here forever, lost in Dennis DeYoung's vocal prison until the end of time.

Now everyone can see my true identity.

He thrust harder and faster, panting and kneading and clenching until all he knew was the meat and secret secrets and his own depravity as he spiraled downwards further into insanity.

I'm Kilroy.

He felt it coming.

Kilroy.

Cumming.

Kilroy.

It exploded out of him with those last few emphasized beats of the synthesizer. He felt the cling wrap bulge with his spend, felt the tingles along his spine and through his limbs as his orgasm shot through his body.

He leaned over, satiated, until his nose brushed the meat in sensuous exhaustion.

Kilroy.

He could hear his pulse in his ears, along with a buzzing din of tinnitus, and the ticking of a clock out in the dining room.

But where he expected the beginning of the next round of torture, Eddie only heard silence.

He breathed heavy, broken breaths. Gulps of air that felt like too much oxygen and not enough at the same time. He felt lightheaded.

It was over.

His punishment finally over.

He closed his eyes and thanked whatever God or Demon gifted him with this boon, and then his eyes shot open and he stood straight up as he stared at the mess he made.

"Fuck."

---

The Next Day, 5PM

Jeff felt like the cat that ate the cream when he drove to work the following day.

He felt a little bad about what he’d done to Eddie, and he had all the intention to make it back to Benny’s around 7 or 8, but Gareth had convinced him not to.

“Come on,” he’d told Jeff. “You know Eddie’s gonna get a good laugh out of it.”

“Yeah! Besides,” Dave interjected. “Shame on him for leaving you up shit’s creek so much. Hopefully this’ll teach him a lesson.”

And Jeff agreed with them.

He and Eddie were friends but that didn’t mean Eddie could walk all over him.

He was glad to see the van parked in Benny’s lot when he arrived for his shift, and as far as he could tell, everything was normal when he walked in.

Ben was at the grill and Eddie at the counter.

Actually, everything looked better than normal. Everything in the diner looked squeaky clean and under the smells of cooked food, there was a tinge of the disinfectant they used to deep clean.

“You must’ve had the slowest night ever if you did a deep clean of the place,” Jeff clapped a hand on Eddie’s back and noticed that Eddie stiffened under his touch. “What time did all those quarters run out?”

Eddie laughed nervously and scratched the back of his neck.

“Little after midnight,” he chuckled. “And it was fine. But, uh, now I know better than to fuck with you again.”

“Yeah you’re on time today, you beat me here!”

Eddie grabbed his arm as he passed and then leaned in close, voice pleading and desperate.

“I’ll never be late again, won’t be a no show, but please…don’t ever subject me to that hell again. Please.”

"Scout's honor," Jeff cackled.

Upon Eddie’s look of relief, Jeff headed back to get himself settled.

He chatted with Benny for a second before the older man left for the night. But as he went to the walk-in to get more onions to chop, he noticed something.

“Hey Ed!” He called out through the pass and Eddie turned. “Thanks for tossing that ground chuck! Or…Domo arigato I guess heh.”

He turned back to the task at hand, so he didn’t notice all the color drain from Eddie’s face.

[tetsuooooooooooo]

ok im watching act 3 again to write down my questions and see if anything makes sense this time

edit im 2 eps in this got long as FUCK kjchgxhi come talk to me!!!!! im screeching into the void!!!!!!! americans wake up look at my post!!!!!!!! say everything to me!!!!!!!!!

why are we introducing time travel alternate universes into this story

where did the other ekko go, was he in Our ekkos universe/body or just out of commission, bc that makes no sense i think, if they didnt switch then wheres the ✨symmetry✨

do you think that skye had anything to do with them figuring out the cleaning flowers thing in the AU? and is viktor dead? and jayce in jail? banished? i wonder where skye went here i hope shes living her best not in love with a gay guy life

where the FUCK was the Original-AU heimerdonger when he got bodysnatched by the Our version? they do still call him professor but in Our version he just recently got kicked out of the council so would he still be just freeloadin around zaun at that point in the AU? was he ever councilor?

can everyone on my screen Please stop hurling their guts out from timetraveldisease

if theres no hextech and no anomaly in the AU reality then how did it throw them in it in the first place

ekko is smart but if he was smarter hed stay around to research what needed to happen to make zaun work in this version and save himself time figuring it out from the groundup back home, i think

but also what the fuck COULD have possibly happened to make it so different CUZ LIKE- ok the little flashback bit with vi dying in jayces house- the gang is wearing the same clothes as in Our version, so that would probably indicate that THAT zaun was also in the same state as Our ""original"" version too? right? no? i mean i would say they did put emphasis on clag n mylos clothes being different and more piltovian or whatever idk maybe im onto nothing WAIT NO BECAUSE CLAGGOR WAS MAKING THE DAMN FLOWER TO CLEAN THE POLLUTION SO IF THATS STILL THERE THEN IT COULDNT HAVE BEEN RESOLVED THAT MUCH EARLIER HERE RIGHT

also what the fuck had to be different exactly for enforcers to bust the kids after blowing up a building and not chuck them all in stillwater this time around? did they really care that much about vi dying? was that really the inciting incident for zauns inclusion? marcus? fucking MARCUS marcus? marcus "im gonna bury the lot of you" "deals with the devil to get a 14 yearold put in jail for life"* marcus sees a zaunite girl dead (after breaking into a piltover home and wrecking it) and just goes "aw :c" ? the council of rich businessfucks like salo whod do everything they can to maintain the status quo? is One Dead Kid (still the name of my nonexistent band) really all it takes this time? am i too tough on these people am i dumb if id like some elaboration on how that whole story went or

*to be honest i. dont really get what that Deal thing with silco was about in the first place

wheres Scar aaaat show me my guyy whERES VIKAAA

how did the shimmer story end up in the AU because IF the main change here is vis death then i could believe that silco WAS still already on track with beginning the production at that point if of course singed is also in the same position as Originally

is there a universe where that hammer lands on jayjays head and ends him right there

did silco forgive vanvan before or after zaun gets their "win" in the AU? because my bet is DEFINITELY after

ALSO how the fuck in a city like piltover did they not renovate jayces blown up flat after fuck knows how many years, at LEAST 3 (id wager at least 7 but thats just me so whatever) like city of progress who?? is it just there as like a cautionary tale??? did they put up a lil plaque for jayce after he kild himself?? they just boarded that shit up tho there was nobody there?? why did they leave it like that idk

WHY did heimerdeimer die???? DID he die?? why did he DIE?????? what happens to the AU-Original hongerdonger??? you couldnt have just waited 10 minutes and have powder do allat?? she trusted us right? maybe not

why WAS bonking viktor in the head with the zdrive the answer to our problems

powder knew what she was doing with that innovators cum petition sign right

WHAT the FUCK was that mylo claggor moment like am i inSANE OR WAS THIS SUS AS HELL also (man rapping) put some FUCKING RESPECT on stromaes name

how DID rizzard viktor stop being purple actually. god i still hate that reveal im not smart but i refuse to believe that was good writing

what happened to put that rock in jayces wrist? it wasnt a process it was viktor doing it in a split second why did that need to happen? so he wouldnt lose it? hunh?

no because WHAT IS AMBESSAS FUCKING GOAL HERE IN THE END

does she want kino back? whAT DO YOU WANT WOMANNNN

did that princess girl that got her head sliced off by bessa in the first season actually have anything to do with anything in the end or not cuz im just confuzzled

how does he know that

what does that mean

how does SHE know THAT

what does THAT mean

does loris have the same accent as vik??????

where the fuck did that ginger binch come from in the first place is she from piltover or noxus if shes from piltover what did ambessa give her and when

Neither of them would say ANY of this shit

wonder what vi would say if she saw this conversation before her and cait decided to pork

im just gonna choose to believe she was in there for like 5 hours so her labrador attention span just reset and she chilled out about jinx (actually ykw i guess im willing to believe at this point she doesnt really care that much if jinky offs herself or not)

what the FUCK ARE these goddamn doll puppet thingies viktor makes why are they LIKE that why is THIS the theme here (because orianna and Plot) (but like dyouknow what i mean)

what the fuck was the point of Skye Young as a character in this entire story other than a Gaydar Jammer. with all respect to skyvik stans but like. what is it.

lmao you abandoned them much before that guys

we stan a I Gave You Food And A Roof Why Are You Sad You Ungrateful Ingrate queen

it REALLY DOESNT DOES IT JGHCCGHIBC

why DID skye die again? they wouldnt have just? integrated? again? or smthn? why is this a one-passenger ride all of a sudden? we already got a hivemind thing goin? whatsup?

[alittlerobin]

Elbert/Kate/Alfons

tags: nsfw; threesomes; double penetration word count: 2.8k

“Ahh, nghh…” Kate buried her face in Elbert’s neck, muffling her moans against his fair skin. It was well past dawn, the sun casting light through the blue curtains of his room. Normally, they would’ve already left the castle, but how was she meant to do anything else when she awoke next to him? That fine blond hair that never looked out of place now messed with sleep, his long lashes blinking slowly over well-rested eyes, and the sweet, minimalistic smile that graced his lips as he greeted her. 

It was only meant to be a good morning kiss, light and sweet, and yet… Her nightgown was gone, discarded somewhere on the floor, perhaps alongside the shirt she’d nearly torn off him in her haste.

She straddled his lap, knees flush against his hips as she rode his cock, her fingers tangled in his hair as she took pleasure in messing it up further. 

“Kate… look at me.” 

As if she could ever say no. She tipped her face up, and then her heart was in her throat, her whole body shivering with the vision before her. A flush painted his face, from the bridge of his nose to the tips of his ears, pink and delicate. His lips were kiss-swollen and parted, his breathing heavy as he groaned her name like he owned it. “You’re so beautiful…”

That compliment could still make her laugh. He always said it so sincerely, as if offering a prayer, even though he was the one who caused crowds to gather with his mere presence. How many men and women literally tripped over their own feet for just a glimpse of him, and yet somehow she was the one lucky enough to drown under the weight of his obsessive love?

She crashed her lips against his, drinking in the heat of his tongue and moaning again when his fingers curled over her thighs. He pulled her down onto him as he thrust up, pushing himself further inside, trying to get himself deeper, always deeper, like it was never enough.    

She was so close, thighs quivering as she ground against him, muttering soft pleas against his lips to fill her up and make her his, please, just a little more until—

The latch on the door clicked.  

Kate snapped her head around to look. Elbert’s dark blue gaze cast in the same direction, both staring at the figure that’d just invited himself inside.

"My, my, you both are so very good at staying quiet, I had no idea I’d be interrupting. But I suppose I'd have to ask Roger to verify for me, if I were so inclined.”

The heat coursing through her body flared. She snatched up the bedsheet, bunching it against her bare chest because there was nothing in reach she could chuck at him. "You could've knocked!"

"I did, I assure you.” Alfons smirked, leaning back against the door after shutting it behind him. “Or so I seem to recall. You’ll have to forgive me if I’m mistaken. You two were very late for breakfast and I just wanted to make sure Elbie wasn't forgetting to feed himself yet again. But it seems that he's making more than a meal out of you, my dear."

"...Al." Elbert’s tone was a strained one. Not of malice or anger, but more of conflict. He shifted beneath her and Kate had to bite back a whimper, clenching her walls around his twitching cock.

“Yes, may I be of some assistance?” Alfons’s voice carried all of his usual amusement—with a touch of something more. “You know that I’m always happy to offer a hand, or anything else for that matter, should either of you need.”

No doubt if it were anyone else, Elbert would've covered her up already. And then gently laid her down while he went to gouge their eyes out. But even as Alfons stared at both of them, Elbert only tightened his grip on her thighs, his neatly trimmed nails digging in to leave marks on her skin. His oceanic eyes were dark, the depth in them unwavering. 

She knew that look. That was the look he got when he wanted something. 

From the day she'd met them, it was clear their relationship wasn't normal. And then came every interaction between them, every word exchanged, every gaze, every dangerous game and lingering touch… It wasn’t the relationship of a master and servant, nor one of close friends who’d known each other for years. She’d even wondered if, perhaps years ago, Alfons had insisted to Elbert that he wasn’t beautiful, simply to maintain their balance. Because without Alfons by his side, Elbert would have surely already met his ruin. 

For a while, she'd thought the emotion it stirred inside her was jealousy. But that wasn't quite right. It wasn't a worry of being replaced, of being betrayed, of being cheated. It was a desire for something she didn’t have, for everything that existed between the two of them that she could never replace and would never want to. 

It wasn’t jealousy; it was envy. 

But envy was an emotion more easily alleviated. 

She released the bedsheet and slid her hands up, cradling Elbert’s face to draw his attention back to her. She understood him better now, his wants, his needs, his curse and the darkness that came with it. Not perfectly, and certainly not as well as Alfons, but she was learning… through them both. "Can you be honest with me?"

"Always."

That response, a far cry from her first few weeks at the castle, made her heart flip.

Alfons was a walking temptation, a dangerous idea wrapped in an illusion. There was almost no doubt in her mind that he’d tempted Elbert before, even if she’d yet to gather the courage to ask exactly how far or how often. And then when it came to her, every time Alfons whispered in her ear or swept his fingertips across the nape of her neck, the heat that burned in her belly screamed to be sated. If it weren’t for Elbert, she would’ve already given in. But given that Alfons’s love of Elbert rivaled her own, he would never actually try to steal her away… 

Which made for a simple solution. 

 "You don't want Al to leave, do you?"

“No…” Elbert spoke softly, as if admitting something he felt he shouldn’t. "...I'm greedy."

"I know."

"You're beautiful, Kate. The most beautiful thing in the world. But..."

She smiled, nodding. "So is he."

"Yes. And sometimes I think, if I had you both… maybe I could finally be satisfied."

That wasn’t true. He would never be satisfied, never fulfill the gaping wound left by his curse. But Alfons had never stopped him from trying and, if she wanted him to be happy, neither would she. “I don’t mind.”

From across the room, Alfons cleared his throat. “Excuse me, but am I not invited to this round of negotiations? Is anyone planning to ask me how I feel?”

Elbert frowned, his brows furrowing cutely, but Kate cast Alfons a smile over her shoulder, as sweet as she could manage. “You can always leave.”

“And what fun would that be?”

Alfons crossed the room with the practiced stride of a man who’d done so countless times, and yet when he reached the edge of the bed, he hesitated. 

There was a line there, invisible yet blaring, that would shatter once crossed. Just like dropping a mirror. 

But Elbert was never good at waiting for something he wanted. His fingers hooked into the hem of Alfons’s jacket sleeve, the pad of his thumb brushing against a polished cufflink. “Al…”

“Now, Elbie, we both know you’re not very good at sharing. So what on earth makes you think you can share between two?”

“Because I… I don’t mind sharing with you.”

The triumphant smirk painting Alfons’s handsome face faded for a brief moment, transforming into a soft fondness like that of a slow-blinking kitten, and then he joined them on the bed—a gloved hand taking hold of Kate’s chin and turning her face toward his. 

She’d kissed him before, but not like this, not like—god. His mouth was different from Elbert’s, lips thinner and firmer, but then he sucked on her tongue as his fingers rolled over her breast and she melted all the same. 

Between the three of them, they managed to strip Alfons off his jacket and shirt, his belt buckle clinking against the side of the bed as it fell. Kate hesitated only on his gloves, but then he pressed his mouth to her ear to purr, “Don’t worry, this is already all the fun we can handle,” and stripped those off too. 

Elbert’s hands returned to her thighs, spreading her legs wider as he rocked up, sending spasms through her. A moment later and Alfons’s chest pressed against her back, one of his arms snaking around her waist while his other hand slipped down to find the wetness between her legs, fingertips circling her clit. 

Kate quieted a whimper, throwing her head back against his shoulder. A memory flashed through her mind, of a room and a bed back at the palace, where Alfons had first teased this ill-advised proposal only for her to hastily dismiss it in a fluster. Saying no then had been the right thing to do, mid-mission with her still wearing the queen’s borrowed clothing, but now…? 

His fingers slipped lower, reaching where Elbert’s cock sheathed inside her and stroking against them both. Elbert shuddered under her, his long lashes fluttering as the pretty pink blush coloring his fair skin turned a shade darker. “Kate, I want… kiss me.”

Her eyes flickered momentarily back to Alfons before she leaned her body forward, her chest flush with Elbert’s as she settled her hands on his shoulders and kissed him. It was sweet and unrushed, a maddening contrast to the way he then snapped his hips to plunge deep inside her. She moaned on his tongue and rocked back, startling slightly when she felt a sensation like hard velvet brushing against her lower back. 

Elbert’s hands slid from her thighs to her rear, squeezing her buttocks before spreading them. “Al, come. Join me… Please, she’s greedy here too…” She gasped when he slipped two fingers inside alongside himself, stretching her further. 

“Can the dear little robin handle that much? Normally, you treat her like she’s so fragile.”

The half-sweet, half-mocking of Alfons’s unfairly low voice had her wanting to beg him and slap him at the same time. But then that wicked mouth touched the center of her spine, raining kisses up each vertebrae until he bit a mark into the nape of her neck and pushed the head of his cock inside her while having the gall to mutter, “Pardon my intrusion.”

It was slow, thankfully, or else she might just break between them. Elbert’s nails dug crescents into her skin, keeping her grounded as Alfons sank himself deeper, bit by bit. She moaned, trembling, her eyes shut as ripples of pleasure raced through her. So full, so much fuller than when Elbert fucked her roughly and pushed his fingers inside her alongside his cock, as if he could satisfy his own ravenous desire through her. 

Then, Alfons wrapped his arms around her waist, touching a kiss to the curve of her neck as a soft groan escaped him. “No wonder he’s absolutely obsessed with you.”

She wasn’t any better. If she were, maybe she would’ve had enough sense to object to this, but instead she was dripping wet and unable to stop the moans from spilling out when they both moved inside her. Alfons set the pace for them all and she could feel him smiling each time he kissed her neck and the backs of her shoulders, his slick-soaked fingers rubbing at her clit as if everything else wasn’t already more than enough.

She clung to Elbert, her breaths heavy against his skin, all of her words senseless but pleading. And Elbert, her darling, her beloved—normally so quiet—was panting and groaning along with her. Each push of Alfons’s cock sent her alight and clearly did the same for Elbert, with the way that he arched and tried to seek out more of them both. Greed had never looked more beautiful.  

“Al…”

Elbert reached a hand out for Alfons and Kate saw him take it, pressing his lips to Elbert’s fingertips and then his palm, like a proper servant in reverence of his master. It was so foreign, so out-of-place, and yet so fitting. Like Alfons had finally found something he’d wanted. Kate bit the insides of her cheeks, forcing herself to hold back a laugh. That was certainly something she’d never be able to forget, but she could humor him with that assertion later. 

Instead, she pressed her lips first to Elbert’s, then twisted to kiss Alfons. And when she pulled back, barely breathing, she saw a deep heat swimming in Elbert’s gaze. 

Oh… 

Sometimes, the ferocity with which he wanted things was frightening. Like the first time she’d seen him stride across a room, not caring for the agony his footsteps left in his determined wake, simply to acquire something he’d later carelessly discard. This was… different. This was more. This was how he’d looked at her when he’d gripped her hands and asked how it was he could make her his.  

But this time, his gaze wasn’t trained on her. 

“Al, I want…” He didn’t need to say anymore than that. 

Kate shifted as Alfons leaned in over her shoulder, his lips quirked at the corners.

“Oh? Then show me.” 

Alfons drew nearer to his charge, hovering but a breath away. And Elbert, as he always did, claimed what he wanted. He caught Alfons’s mouth with his own, the kiss demanding, hungry—and gorgeous. She saw the slip of pink tongues and the pull of teeth, and shuddered, biting down onto her lower lip as she came, clenching around both their cocks.

“My, my, is that what you’re into?”

“Don’t,” she gasped, the warning in her tone less effective as her entire body trembled with the pleasure ripping through her, her skin burning red. 

“Why not, if we all enjoy it?” Alfons’s teeth scraped against her ear, his exhales hot and not nearly as even as he likely wanted them to seem. “Will you kiss our dear Elbie for me? Please?”

She did, crying out against his mouth when Alfons thrust with purpose into her over-stimulated body. Elbert took hold of her waist, guiding her movements back on them both, and her moans built, needy and unrestrained, no longer trying nor caring to keep them quiet. The second wave washed over her in minutes and she slumped, no longer sure which name to call out. She heard Alfons swear, pulling out to paint her back while Elbert came in thick spurts across her stomach. 

What a blissful mess…

Her nerves buzzed as she sought a kiss from Elbert’s lips, bubbling when he smiled into it and pulled her closer, wrapping her in his embrace. 

Alfons, however, slipped off the bed away from them. They both watched him vanish into the adjoining bathroom, returning only moments later with a soft, damp, warm cloth to clean their skin of the mess left behind. Then, barely a minute later, he was redressed and presenting the form of a proper attendant, with not a raven-colored lock out of place. 

Kate blinked at him, not out of surprise, but curiosity. “I don’t think either of us would mind if you stayed.” It would take some time and some struggle figuring out, surely, but everything about life in the castle came with complications. And they hadn’t given up yet. 

“Surely, Earl Greetia and his dear robin will be famished. And the food prepared earlier will be cold. I trust the two of you can put yourselves together without getting too off track? Or should I send up one of the maids to ensure no further shenanigans?”

Elbert said nothing, his arms winding tighter around Kate’s waist, like he was making up for the loss of one companion by clinging to the other. He and Alfons were day and night, light and dark, but somehow she could figure out how to be the horizon to bridge them together. 

She laced the fingers of her hands through Elbert’s and offered a smile to the man standing over them both. “Breakfast sounds wonderful. And you’ll join us?”

“Of course. For as long as you’d have me, my dears.”