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mv1simp · 28 days

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inspired by my fav @piastrification thank you for being in my walls 🫶🫶 hope you enjoy!!

Streets ♥️

Max Verstappen x PR Manager!Reader

we play our fantasies out in real life ways, and no final fantasy, can we end these games, though?

6 months ago, F1 champion Max Verstappen traded in his status as "serious cat dad with road rage issues" for "Genius. Playboy. Millionaire. Philanthropist". Since then you've been fighting absolute demons as his PR manager to keep his reputation clean in the media. After you tell him you've had enough, he proposes a very interactive solution to your problem.

Content includes: Humour, crackfic, fluff, so much sexual tension, 18+ MDNI, smut, playboy!max, exasperated manager! reader, a very well rounded fic for once?! 4.7k WC

If someone asked you where it’d all gone downhill, you’d have to say it started because of that greedy paparrazi rat Henri - photographer at the MonacoDaily, otherwise known as every PR manager’s sleep paralysis demon. Because this particular paparazzo had a nasty knack for capturing celebrities just as they made the most atrocious decisions known to mankind. And he had an even nastier knack for threatening to sell said photos to the highest bidder. Truly, it was a dark day for any media team when they were forced to bargain with such a foul demon, who’d be able to go toe to toe with the likes of Satan himself.

So when your phone dinged at 5am on a peaceful Sunday morning, only to reveal the 7th (7th!!) message this month from the very same greedy little rat, you threw it across the room. Only to then remember you devastatingly had not been born into a Dubai oil family and you needed this job to pay Monaco rent. The text turns out to be a photo of your aggravating client - Max Verstappen, F1 champion driver, loving father to two cats, and more recently, certified manwhoreTM. He’s living upto your nickname for him, pictured in some nightclub with a half naked blonde sitting on his lap. Alright, alright, not as bad as you were expecting, you could even photoshop the girl’s hair colour to match his current girlfriend’s one maybe? Well, except the brunette woman glaring behind him is his current model girlfriend of the month. You hear a ding, another text from Henri - this time with just a 😈 and 💸👀. You throw the phone back against wall.

Three hours later you’ve cleaned up the PR nightmare and are banging on Max’s apartment door. He blearily lets you in, shirtless and still looking half drunk, but you don’t hesitate to yank him by his beltloops and drag him to the dining table (after quickly checking out that broad chest of his, though, cause goddamn. You’re just a girl.)

Ow, ow, what the hell, Max groans as he’s shoved into a chair. Please. As if you could do any real damage in your 5 foot frame to the 6 foot driver. Slamming your hands on the table for some dramatic flourish (you’re never beating the theatre kid allegations) you give the Dutchman a piece of your mind, demanding to know what his problem is, does he know how many people you’ve had to bribe this month to stop #SluttyMaxEra trending on twitter?? And yes, you know he broke up with Kelly 10 months ago but can’t he just process this healthily and go to therapy instead of having a hoe phase and hooking up with every third woman in Monaco?

Max looks insulted at this slight to his honor. He retaliates by accusing you of buying into the patriarchy and slut shaming him (-That’s not how that works but pop off king, is your deadpan response), and telling you he’s very much over Kelly, okay, it was an amicable breakup (-Sure, Verstappen, that’s why you’d only played Lana Del Ray for a whole month afterwards, huh?) and well, what’s the issue, he’s a hot and rich guy in Monaco, it’s not his fault women just want him? Would it not be #misogynistic of him to deny women the opportunity to explore their sexuality?! He smirks, pleased with his defence.

You groan, slumping down on a chair and burying your face in your hands, muffling your groan of wholesome cat dad Max comeback whennn. Max rolls his eyes at your theatrics, asking if you’d finally lost the plot.

You try cleaning up the PR messes you’ve been making, Max Emilian, you hiss furiously, remember Ibiza? Santorini? The goddamn yacht party over summer break when he got with the captain and her deputy?! (Even now, thinking of that leaking online gives you heartburn.)

Which yacht, Max says cockily, the one where he got with them one after another or at the same time?

Your jaw drops. You hadn’t even known about the threesome, so you suppose you should be grateful that wasn’t another mess to clean up. But a deeper, insecure part of you can’t help but wonder why the only woman Max doesn’t seem to want is you.

And sometimes you can’t help but wonder what it’d be like to be one of his girls, under his strong body for once instead of on the other side of his hotel wall, having to drown out the very satisfied female moans and headboard bangs with noise cancelling headphones. Like always, you push that thought down quickly.

You, good sir, are for the streets, you announce, standing up and deciding it was time to leave before your delulu, jealous thoughts decided to resurface. Seriously, you mutter under your breath, you didn’t care if his current side quest was to fuck 10 times a week, but could he at least stick to one person for a bit and not make more work for you-

Max’s hand slams the front door back closed as you started to open it. You freeze, turning back to look at him smirking down at you. You hadn’t expected him to follow you down the hallway and you gulp nervously for the safety of your job - you might have taken the roasting a bit too far.

Instead, you get a sly, Oh, so I can do whatever I want, wherever I want, just with one person?

At your awkward nod, because yes, that would significantly ease your workload, he continues, enjoying teasing his uptight, pretty manager - then were you gonna offer yourself up? After all, there’s no PR messes to find out about if it’s you, right?

You blink at Max, completely stunned by the 180 this conversation has taken. Your expression is so adorable that he couldn’t resist a you’re so cute when you’re acting all jealous, you could’ve just asked if you wanted him to fuck you, ya know?

That promptly reminds you you’re dealing with an an absolute manwhore. RIP celibacy era Max, you’ll always be famous.

Um, absolutely fucking not, keep your STDs to yourself, you hiss, flushing head to toe, and furious at the desire in you to give into the devilish proposal. He encourages you to think about it, still smirking, relaxing his grip so you can mercifully flee far away from his intense gaze. Jesus, when did he learn to rizz a girl up like that?!

You don’t take his proposal seriously at all, ignoring his cocky looks at you over meetings all week (also, he’d texted you his clean STD result to assure you he was a #SafeSexKing.) But that weekend, your refusal comes back to haunt you when you’re on a well deserved night out with your girlfriends and your PR manager senses start going off. You narrow your eyes as you spot Max in the dark corner of the nightclub, hands all over a mystery redhead. She’s not going to be a mystery much longer though - if you’d spotted them it was a matter of time before fan’s phones did and then you’d wake up to another goddamn text from your sleep paralysis demon, Henri.

You don’t even have to think about it twice. Saying goodbye to your friends, you’re at Max’s side at a very impressive speed given your 6 inch stilettos and tight sparkly minidress, and once again dragging him off by the beltloops and into an open bathroom.

He lets you yank him away, smirking when he sees you lock the door for good measure. Sweetheart, he greets. So good to see you. Finally realised you couldn’t resist me?

You practically climb him like a tree while telling him to shut the fuck up and pay attention at media training day next time, because what kind of PR crisis did he have unfolding out there? And just this once you’ll help him out, you say breathlessly in between deep kisses, but this isn’t a regular thing -

There’s not much more talking from you because he has you moaning up against the wall next, fingers buried inside your tight little pussy as he talks you through an orgasm, and then another when he splits you in half on his cock. (Once again, manwhore, who carries a condom in their jean pockets?!)

Unfortunately for your self control but very fortunately for your sex life, it is not in fact, a “one time thing”. Your trusty rose vibrator is glad for the break as you’d been taking your year long frustrations at your dry spell out on her. Especially when coming home after staying in hotels where you’d had to book out rooms neighbouring Max’s, so no one else overheard the raunchy vocals of different women every night.

Like Max said, with you, there were no more illicit PR messes to find out about in the middle of the night. You’d redirect him everytime he gave you bedroom eyes (At the pre race debrief. Post race debrief. Weekly team plan meeting. Over zoom calls? Seriously?) - gently taking his large hand and guiding him to a much more hidden, PR crisis-friendly area. To your surprise, Max actually sticks to his word and only hooks up with you - admittedly, multiple times a week (Not that you’re complaining. Turns out he was just as good in bed as he was on the track. Except this time he was definitely not finishing first...)

And for a while, everything is going well. There are no more weekly scandals scattered across trashy celeb magazines about Max. Your boss is gushing with praise, so impressed that you’ve finally managed to talk some sense into Redbull’s problem child (ah, if only she knew, but she never would, because the goddamn CIA couldn’t torture this info out of you) and best of all, you haven’t gotten a text from papparazzi rat Henri in weeks!

So of course, Max Verstappen decides that things are getting just a little bit too quiet for his liking, you had to earn your generous PR manager salary, that he paid for, right? His new, numerous tactics to stir the pot had included:

Going to clubs with no private bathrooms so you’d had to sit on his lap in the VIP lounge as he pulled your panties to the side to slide into you, barely hidden under your flimsy dress. You’d held back your moans and prayed the bass was too loud for anyone to hear

Sitting right next to you at every team dinner or business meeting so that he could sneak a large hand up your thigh and tease your pussy for fucking hours, often just as you were about to speak. And when you’re clenching the table so hard your fingers were white, he’s bending under the table to pick up a pen or something but instead left teasing licks and kisses on your aching core. You'd learnt very quickly not to wear a skirt.

Picking you up in his 2 seater Aston Martin instead of the much more appropriate discreet, spacious, 5 seater Audi he owned - so when he was too pent up after a bad practise session to wait till he got home, he'd get you to go down on him right there in the car, sometimes even as he drove, instead of parking in some hidden backstreet. It was so dirty, that he needed you so desperately that he didn't care about being caught by anyone peeking in through the half tinted windows. Because if they did look, they’d find his head thrown back in pleasure as he moans, his fingers tangled in your curls as he moved your drooling, pink lips up and down his wide cock-

Anyways, you get the picture. And he’d escalated this all the way to the paddock, which was insane because there were always multiple cameras trained on the current F1 champion. It’s the one place you two couldn’t sneak off without a very high risk of being caught, as evidenced by the one and only time he'd managed to get under your skin in the garage. He'd had you pinned up against the wall in some narrow side hallway as he whispered how fucking sexy you’d looked today, wearing his hoodie to cover up the hickies you hadn’t realized you’d woken up with and paired with some tiny denim shorts. Having the 6 foot champion huskily groan that he couldn’t focus on his free practise everytime you bent over to pet a passing dog, or when you innocently sucked on the Redbull flavoured lollipops and then the goddamn ice cream from the truck they’d brought in - was quite the power trip, you admit. So you guided his lips from your neck as he tries to add to the growing bruises on your neck and redirected him to your waiting lips instead, steamily making out as his large hands squeezed your thick ass like he’d been thinking about all day-

Max?!?

You instantly pull back from the driver and turned to see a flabbergasted looking GP - Max’s race engineer. His jaw is wide open as he looked at you two with round eyes. You’re fumbling to explain, trying and failing to push Max back - who looks rather annoyed at the intrusion and semi-glares at GP with narrow eyes. You hiss at the younger man to stop being rude and slip underneath his arms, going over to guiltily apologise to GP only to be met with You too?! How did he get you in his bed, you hated how much of a slut he was! Seriously, does he have a magical dick? Now you stare at GP in shock, unsure of how to respond to his question while Max starts laughing behind you. You make him join you as you promise to GP that he will never have to witness this again, because there will be no unprofessional behaviour of any sort on the paddock after "BootyShorts Gate" as you thereafter dub the incident. Regardless, GP still shoots you both wary glances and begins the habit of announcing his arrival and waiting 10 seconds before turning a corner in the garage, earning him many an odd look. Dramatic, really, was this where Max gets it from?

Max, of course, was very displeased with this new “professionalism” rule you'd set down - on the paddock was when he'd get the most tense, the most horny and desperate to have you underneath him, after all - and he made sure you knew it. You deliberately ignored his heated gaze on you as you interviewed him, or his lingering touches when he helped you hold your microphone up to his much taller frame, large hand wrapped around your small ones clutching the mic. Or his recent favourite, which involved standing next to you to help pick out the insta pics post-race (something he'd notoriously always hated to do) - except now, he conveniently happened to be shirtless, his toned abs and broad shoulders on display, running a hand through his sweaty tousled hair.

This last seduction tactic had sent you fleeing to Checo's garage to seek out the other Redbull driver's PR manager and beg on your knees for a client swap, surely, the sponsor benefits are legendary for whoever Max's PR manager is -

Nope. Nuh uh, no way, Checo is the breeziest driver ever to look after. The other manager pauses. Well, except for the occasional political military coup scandal in Mexico. But still, I'd take that any day over El Manwhore.

You wailed at whatever Gods had decided to curse you and took matters into your own hands, furiously plotting up social media campaign idea after idea that were exactly the kind of thing Max hated with a burning passion - hoping it would get him to back off on his tactics and wave a white flag. From viral TikTok challenges, to making him read all his cringe 2008 tweets, and even making him play fuck, marry, kill with the drivers of the grid. You'd admit, that last one had been rather funny to watch, making you chuckle as you scrolled through the comments, liking "Can't believe we got Max Verstappen saying he would fuck Lewis, kill Pierre and marry Charles before GTA 6" and "does Redbull admin know she posted this on main?!"

But despite your best efforts, it didn't seem to deter Max. If anything, he'd begrudgingly do the task and end up laughing excitedly at you - who was holding the camera - about some joke or the other and make your stupid heart flutter. You knew you definitely should not be catching feelings for your client - who'd made it very clear his interest in you was only physical. But no one needed to know that sometimes you’d log into your fake account to like the "Who got max giggling and kickin his feet and shii?" comments.

Meanwhile, Max had caught wind of your desperation for an escape attempt with Checo’s manager and had upped the ante. He slyly mentioning to Christian Horner than you were doing such a great job as his PR manager, could he pretty please have you promoted to his general manager for his non racing publicity too?

And that's how you found yourself at a Dior Sauvage photoshoot, despite your adamant protests to Horner. You were putting your Masters of Business Adminstration, first class honours, to fantastic use by babysitting a 26 year old child who liked fast cars that went vroom vroom. The only redeeming factor is that you can leave the unflattering Redbull shirt at home since this wasn't for F1 publicity and instead wear a nice outfit for once. Still, you thought it was odd that Max had so easily accepted this campaign, as he wasn't normally one to enjoy doing PR.

A few minutes later you've figured out exactly why your favourite manwhore had agreed to this campaign, because he's grinning at you while posed shirtless, toned abs and broad shoulders all on display as some pretty, busty model is draped over him. The photographer is making this even more painful for you by dragging out the shoot, making Max and the model reposition herself multiple times. You roll your eyes at the scene, because obviously they're two very attractive people who will look good together no matter what, did the photographer really need to be so extra? You stalk off at some point to make yourself a hot chocolate in the hopes it'll sooth the flames of jealousy that are threatening to consume you right now. Max approaches you when a break is called, running a teasing hand along your waist from the back and whispering you looked so fucking hot in this tight maxi dress, making you nervously look around to see if anyone noticed. Luckily, all the staff appeared busy and didn’t look in the dim corner you'd settled into to do paperwork. You hiss at him to keep your hands to yourself, Verstappen making him grin and inform you that's not what you’d said last night, in fact, you were practically begging for him to do the exact opposite-

You're glaring up at him, seriously contemplating if it’s worth breaking your contract clause to "act in the client's best interests" and mauling him with your laptop when the photographer comes up to you both with narrowed eyes. You guiltily step back, thinking he overhead Max's suggestive comments, but instead he just looks back and forth between you two contemplatively. Then, just as you were about to ask him what the issue was, he announces that you'd be replacing the model as the female for the shoot. No questions asked! he announces as you try to protest and snaps his fingers at the makeup and wardrobe artists to demand they sort you out (he gestures rather dramatically to your whole figure when he says this, making you scowl).

So that's how you find yourself dressed in a silky gold minidress with a sultry eye look, pressed up against Max's broad chest and trying not to focus on the intimate position you two are in. Max, however, has no such qualms about the position, using it to tease you further. You've been looking extra tense lately, sweetheart, he breathes, those devilish lips brushing past your ear. I know a great way to make you relax? You growl at him to shut the fuck up because oh my god, did he know how many cameras are pointed at you both right now? Besides, you mutter under your breath, it seemed like he was very interested in relaxing with that blonde model earlier.

Fighting to keep the smug look of his face, Max whispers back that there was No need to be jealous, schatje, you were the only one getting access to his magical dick. So caught up in the game you two are playing, you don't even register the photographer excitedly snapping up pictures, proclaiming that he knew it, the chemistry between these two is unbelievable!

Afterwards, as you're walking off the photoshoot, feeling all hot and bothered from Max's hands running across your exposed skin, shamelessly looking you up and down, the blonde Dutchman catches up to you. He teases you that you were going to get wrinkles at 25 if you didn't stop scowling all the time. I'm older than you, you scoff back, by a whole 6 months, in fact, so maybe you should actually listen to me for once instead of pissing me off? No problem, Max agrees, after all, he's always had a thing for MILFs. You can't help snort at his retort and then start laughing when he tries to maintain an innocent look. At least you were away from the cameras in case someone heard this, you mused.

Unfortunately, you both don't notice MonacoDaily's ratbag paparrazo, Henri, hiding in nearby shrubbery with his camera. It had been far too long without a Verstappen news scandal, he thought with a satisfied smirk as he clicked away.

And later than night, after you'd eaten the chicken stir fry he'd cooked and rewatched Cars 2 (a surpassingly more regular occurrence, these days, to unwind with him at the end of the day instead of immediately being mauled the second you stepped foot in his apartment) you made sure he followed your orders for once. Sitting him back, telling him just how bad he'd been today with all his teasing (-well, it worked, didn't it, sweetheart?) you showed him just how good you were at playing the game, too. And soon, he was breathlessly moaning underneath you as you rode him for the first time, gripping his cock like you were going to milk every last drop, teasing him with just enough pace to get him worked up but not enough to send him over the edge. And you only let him cum inside you when he begged you sweetly, making you go fuzzy at the sight of the infamous Redbull playboy being so desperate for you, and only you.

Afterwards, once you've shampooed each other's hair in the shower while gossiping about how catty that makeup artist had been, really, to imply that your pretty curls had been the problem and not her shitty styling? and Max has got you spooned against him, warm in an old hoodie of his, pressing a goodnight kiss to your forehead, you can't control the warmth blossoming in your chest any longer. And as a content sleep takes a hold of you, you can't help but wonder if Max's affections went beyond physical attraction, just like yours’ were now doing.

It turned out the opportunity to find out this answer would come the very next day, when the ding of your phone wakes you up in the early hours of the morning. It’s a very specific sound that you've set for a certain ratbag - and you get war flashbacks, hearing it now after so long. Scrambling off the bed, ignoring Max's muffled groans as you shove his heavy arm of you, you unlock your phone and gasp in horror as your suspicions are confirmed. Henri has arisen from the ashes and this time it's to deliver his sauciest scandal yet. Because a picture tells a 1000 words, sure, but he has the two of you on a goddamn video, flirting and giggling at each other as you exited the studio yesterday. There's no chance of you talking your way out of this one, as Max's large palm wanders to give your thick ass a firm squeeze as he guides you into his passenger seat. Goddamn, you knew you shouldn't have worn that tempting skims maxi dress - Max was an ass (and tits) man who couldn't be trusted to control himself in public. BTW already sold this 🥸 Henri texts. Just a courtesy FYI cuz I brought a boat with the bag from this one ✌️

You contemplate if it would be better to disappear off the face of the planet, or get plastic surgery to become unrecognisable as you chug your morning Redbull while moodily looking over the Monaco sunrise. Max joins you after a few minutes, looking extremely cute as he rubs the sleep out of his baby blue eyes and asks you what's wrong, schatje.

Taking a deep sigh (like you said, #DramaKid), you break the news. I’m going to hold your hand while I say this (- that’s really not necessary, Max interrupts) - but you know celibacy exists, right? As does having sex in a private location without the risk of being arrested for public indecency?

True, Max agrees, but what was the fun in that? Besides, you were just too hot to resist. Ignoring the butterflies at his cheesy flirting, you hold up the incriminating video on your phone as proof that it was not all fun and games, as Henri had already sold this to multiple news outlets this morning, you inform glumly. Max is strangely silent, looking intently at the video and even replaying it a few times, his eyes crinkling as a soft smile appears on his face when he hears the sound of you two laughing. Then - in a truly unbelievable redemption arc plotline from the Monaco playboy - he asks if it would be so terrible, to have this made public, to let the world know that you were together?

Well, I - you stumble over your words, - I dunno, I thought you liked that? Keeping it secret cause you just wanted a convenient hook up?

Max is silent again. Then, looking uncharacteristically nervous, he says that's not what he wants, not really, not anymore - not since he'd fallen in love with you, somewhere along the 3 months of the friends with benefits/PR manager and her problematic client situationship you’d had. And like at the very start, you don’t even need to think about it twice. This time when you shyly smile and kiss him, you make sure he can feel your love through it and know that you wanted more, too.

So you walk into work that morning, holding hands in open defiance, ready for the world to see. You’re rather confused when no one seems to be paying much attention, instead frantically trying to get the set up ready for the pre race testing. Maybe you two had not been as indiscreet as you thought and people already suspected? Or maybe you both had a penchant for drama and thought you were the main characters when you clearly were not?

You look at each other, shrug, and you give him a kiss on the cheek and tell him you’ll see him for lunch at the kebab shop on the corner, before he wanders off to the garage. Maybe Henri had a change of heart and decided not to exploit innocents for fame and money, you ponder hopefully. Maybe there truly was good in the world, after all.

And then you hear your name being called and turn to see your boss standing behind you menacingly, hands on hips. Care to explain why #MaxLovesMILFS is trending right now?

Somewhere along the Monaco waterfront, a paparazzi rat skulking in the bushes sneezes.

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A/N: again thank you so much to @piastrification for inspiring this piece!! So sorry for the delay and I hope you enjoy my attempt at branching out to other fics xx tysm to you all for the requests, I am working them into my upcoming fics!! 💖

#max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen #max verstappen smut #max verstappen x you #f1 smut #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula 1 #f1 x reader #crack fic #manager!reader #f1 fic

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hinterlandz · 1 year

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I feel like this is serious, I don’t need anyone knowing what’s going on inside MY brain.

This isn’t really radfem based but nobody deserves to live in a world like this. (Maybe males should be monitored...)

#radfeminism #radfem safe #radical feminists please interact #my mum believes its satan #uh okay

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wanderingguest · 2 years

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+ open

Fingers twitch, almost imperceptibly, moving like they want to form a fist. Maybe they do. Or maybe it’s the fuzzy edge of withdrawals starting to seep in. Pain won’t be too far behind if something doesn’t change quick. That pain is something part of Johnny wants desperately. If he can just get through that, get on the other side of it, he can move forward. Stop the downward spiral before it kills him and everyone around him.

Thing is, the devil is always there. The one he said yes to. The one they all said yes to. Now he’s the one burning, all the way through his veins. He needs that next hit, but he knows that look he’s getting right now. “I’m fine,” a twitch, this time more visible, “You know how it is, have to be up for the show. One hit and I’ll be ready to take on the world. When it’s over tonight, I’ll--you know---I’ll quit, okay?”

#( .open )#( .open starter )#( v. the devil awaits )#( .american satan verse )#( .jfv1 )#( c. johnny faust )#(please love my drug addicted rock star who made a deal with the devil?)#(he's a wreck of a human being)#(who wants to be better)#(but doesn't know how)#( .ic interactions )#drug use tw #drug abuse tw

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shellshocklove · 1 month

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brat two: i might say something stupid | joel miller

pairing/AU: joel miller x brat!female!reader – no outbreak

summary: joel is continuing to have a brat summer.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! age gap, enemies to lovers vibes? swearing, use of pet names, smut, brat taming?, dom!joel, some daddy!joel, manhandling, some light bondage, a little exhibitionism? a little dacryphilia, praise, degradation (whore, slut), some sub space territory, edging, creampie, unprotected sex (don’t do it!!), no use of y/n

a/n: ok, so a part two to this!! i’m giving reader a backstory in this so if that’s not your cup of tea and prefer the reader to be a blank slate, then maybe this isn’t for you. as always i wanna give a little shout out to @dustydaddyyy for always helping me when i'm stuck! <3 i know it's demure fall soon, but there's still some brat summer left, so happy reading! 💚

main masterlist / series masterlist / ao3

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 this account stands with palestine. the creator of tlou is a zionist, and the second game is largly based on israel/palestine. please, everyone who interacts, educate yourself about the genocide happening right now, and support/donate.

Joel.

Joel. Joel. Joel.

Joel Miller.

Miller. Miller. Miller.

The cicadas rattled in the breeze coming through the window of your childhood bedroom. It was hotter than Satan’s ass crack, and sleep couldn’t pull you under. The hem seam of your ratty sleep shirt was fraying, and you couldn’t keep yourself from picking at it – pulling at the threat.

Pull, pull, pull.

Joel Miller. That was his name on the mailbox, but he’d only told you Joel. Just Joel.

Yes, sir. Please, Daddy. Bye, Joel.

With a huff you sat up, your back resting against the headboard as your eyes rolled over the darkened room. The shadows shapeshifted before your eyes like ghosts, and you wondered if you deserved to be haunted.

It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours.

You could still feel the phantom stretch of his cock inside you, and your cheeks were sore from his spanking, but it was nothing compared to your thoughts plagued by him.

God, you felt crazy, like a little girl with a school crush on the teacher.

Except, you didn’t have crushes, didn’t like, or fall in love, with anyone. People had a crush on you, people fell in love with you, people liked you.

Biting down on the soft skin of the inside of your cheek, you ripped away the thin blanket covering your bottom half as your feet touched the cold hardwood floor.

The switch on your bedside lamp clicked as the warm glow seemed to scare the ghosts away. The ratty shirt fell over your knees as you walked across the room and flung open the door. A triangle of light cut the hardwood floor in two as you made your way down the hall and stairs. The slapping of bare feet against wood echoed against the tall ceiling, and eyes followed you from the faces on the wall.

Stepping into the kitchen, you were alone. Pierre had left right after dinner, and Eva had left early with her daughter. You didn’t like to keep them longer than needed, especially on weekends. Your father would pay them the same, anyway – and it was just you here.

You hated the other house. It was no place to live, it was a place of business, for politics. You hated this house too, but for other reasons – too many memories, plastered on smiles and lies. The dentist had told you to start wearing a night guard when they divorced, but you’d stopped wearing it when you went to college.

Grabbing a glass from the cupboard, you made your way over to the fridge. Your whole body felt heavy, your head rolling off your shoulder when something caught your eye in the backyard.

It was gone.

“Shit.”

An ice cube escaped the rim of your glass and split into a thousand pieces on the tiled floor. You pulled your glass from the dispenser in the fridge, and hunkered down, ice melting between your fingers.

With a sigh you watched the splintered ice vanish, dripping in an erratic rhythm that added to the small puddle on the floor. You didn’t want to feel like this. Why were you feeling like this?

You left the glass of ice on the counter– let the ice melt on the floor and escaped through the sliding doors into the backyard. The sky was bright with light pollution over the trees, and everywhere the buzzing of cicadas filled your ears. With a sigh, you fell into one of the chairs, the cushion stiff against your back as your eyes landed on the large oak. You trailed your eyes over the branches, the one’s you’d known every crook and cranny of when you were a child.

It was gone.

The small crooked, and probably dangerous, treehouse where you’d spent so many hours hiding away as a child. Not that they ever noticed, your parents, too busy yelling at each other to see where their daughter had vanished.

Of course it was gone.

Gone, like the happy little girl you’d used to be. And what had taken her place? A party girl? A mess of a woman hiding behind the disguise of a sharp tongue?

Jesus Christ, you needed to get your shit together. Distract yourself– pull yourself away from all the feelings you couldn’t control.

Shifting uncomfortably, you fished your phone from where it had drowned in the cushions. The bright blue light burned your eyes as you scrolled, pulling you from everything real to unreality. Plastered on smiles and perfect bodies, sunny beaches, and aesthetic photos. You handed out hearts like they cost nothing, and pretended you hadn’t seen your DMs.

Still, you couldn’t shake the thought of him. The way the weight of him had felt over you, how he’d spoken, voice rough and commanding, but still playful. It was like you were guided by a puppeteer when your thumb hovered over the google search.

Joel Miller.

You didn’t know what you’d expected – Joel Miller wasn’t a one in a million name, and now you were scrolling through every Joel Miller famous enough to throne at the top of a google search. But, you weren’t going to give up that easily. You moved on to Facebook. He was old, he’d have to have one.

Bingo.

There he was. A few years younger, his hair a little messy, smiling bright. His profile was private, and you sure as hell weren’t sending him a friend request, but something inside you screamed to know more about the man you’d let come inside you less than twenty-four hours ago.

You tried to click your way through his pictures, but there was nothing to see. Next, you tried the about page: Lives in Austin, Texas (this you obviously already knew)… born September 26th… Male… Single… You felt a smile tug at the corners of your mouth, as you continued to scroll... Works for Miller Contracting… And finally, his family: Tommy Miller.

His brother’s profile needed a lesson in internet safety. This man shared everything and all for strangers to see. You flicked through photos of neighborhood cookouts, date nights with his soon to be wife, the same graduation pictures of a girl you’d seen hanging on Joel’s wall.

‘Proudest uncle in the world! Congratulations, Sarah Miller! 😄❤️ The smartest and most talented Miller! 🙌’

Your finger hovered over his daughter’s name, curiosity gnawing at your insides. Shaking your head, you clicked away. You could own up to stalking his Facebook, and his brother had basically invited you to stalk, but his daughter? It felt like crossing a line you couldn’t come back from. Back on Tommy’s profile you noticed he also worked for Miller Contracting.

A family business.

Continuing your research, you clicked through to the business’ profile. The profile looked to be run by Tommy, with frequent updates on projects they’d worked on, from renovations to outdoor landscaping, to new condos, Miller Contracting had a broad resume, but the contact person was set to one Joel Miller.

A thought tickled at the back of your brain then, and your gaze flicked from your phone to the low-lit backyard. A smile you couldn’t fight back pulled at your lips.

The sun beat down on the men as they worked. A bright yellow dot in the clear blue sky. From your bedroom window you watched them, how they’d turned the previous green patch of grass into a deep moldy hole.

Convincing your father had been easy enough; he’d shrugged, and given his default answer to pretty much any request you had, which was a bored ‘Yes, sweetie.’ For years now, the rule of thumb with your dad had been: as long as you didn’t bother him and his busy schedule, he didn’t care what you did.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. As long as nothing you did reflected badly on him, and especially on the carefully curated image of ‘loving family man’ his constituents seemed to love so much, he didn’t care. The Governor of Texas couldn’t have his daughter’s bad decisions cost him votes, after all.

Your mother had always said it, always complained over her extra dry martinis, that your father only cared about one thing in his life, and it wasn’t his family. Your face soured as you thought about it.

Votes.

Your mother hadn’t been right about a lot of things in your life, but she had been right about this. Votes, and power. That’s all he’d ever cared about. It had been like that ever since you were a child, and over time, you’d learned to exploit that fact like you would a weakness, holding it as leverage over his head if he ever told you no, which he naturally never did. The agreement was silent, but clear as day; as long as you got your way, you would cater to his image, and behave.

And you did; showed up when needed with a smile that hurt your cheeks, kept up his image, and in turn you got your way.

The swimming pool was just another ask in a long line of wishes. He’d questioned you at first, ‘You want to build a pool in the middle of summer?’ The pool you didn’t care for, it was the men who’d build it. You’d given your father your look, the one where you tipped your head down slightly, bit your bottom lip and looked at him with doe-y eyes. He’d had a landscape architect draw up something for you by the end of the week, and by Monday he’d had the city approve the changes to the premises. He’d given you a rise of his eyebrow when you’d pitched the contractors you wanted for the job, but nevertheless, he’d put his assistant on the job right away.

They’d arrived bright and early this morning, their shouts over loud machines pulling you from your slumber. You’d pulled your pillow over your head, dying to catch some more Z’s, it was summer break after all, but the pull of seeing him again was too strong. The excitement bubbled in your chest, and a satisfied grin spread across your face when you’d realized your plan had worked.

Joel Miller was in your backyard, standing under the oak tree with his hands on his hip, as he carefully watched over his crew. His work clothes fit him just as well as the t-shirt and jeans he’d worn at the club, but he looked less polished– his hair messier with a carpenter’s pencil tucked behind his hair. Your eyes trailed over him from where you watched from the house, how he moved about the site, helped his men when needed, evaluating every step, studying the drawings carefully as he ordered his men around with the same authority you’d come to know him for after the night you’d spent together.

If all of this went well, you’d have him again.

“Looking good, guys! But it’s a bit loud,” you shouted over the excavator, one arm raised to shade your eyes from the sun from where you stood at the edge of the veranda.

You watched how the men milled about, squinting up from their work at you. Their gazes lingered over your body, they weren’t subtle about it, and the little outfit you’d thrown together seemed to do its job, a short summer skirt with a matching top– it was hot out in the Texan sun, and you wanted to make it hotter.

“We’ve been disturbin’ your beauty sleep, princess?” One of the men spoke up, and your eyes narrowed at his use of the pet name. His grin was too confident, hiding his laugh between his teeth. You set your eyes on him and gave him a pitying look.

“Yes, actually! It’s hard work looking this good, but you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” you snapped back. A sound of snickering laughs from the men at their coworker’s expense could be heard through the yard, and you felt a saccharine smile cover your face.

“So, who’s in charge of all this noise anyway?” you asked, voice bored, when the laughter had died.

“You gotta take that up with Miller,” another one of the men replied, your first victim quickly forced into silence.

“And who’s that?”

The man nodded his head in the direction of the man you’d weaved into your web. He didn’t look impressed where he stood under the shade of the oak tree watching you. He had his arms crossed over his broad chest, the fabric stretching around his biceps, as he shook his head at you as you walked closer.

“Mr. Miller.” You couldn’t help the pleased smile spreading across your face.

Clasping your hands loosely behind your back as you pushed your chest out innocently, you slowly stepped closer, his jaw clenching tighter with each of your careful steps through the grass.

“We’ll try ‘nd keep the noise down f’ya until nine am, Miss, but after that we’ll need to use our bigger tools if ya want this done before the summer ends.” He kept his voice steady and professional, his southern drawl like soft silk in your ears. His eyes never left your face once, even with the deep neckline of your top.

Standing a little too close to him, to be considered appropriate for someone who you’d just met, your teeth caught on your bottom lip coquettishly. “Oh, I want you to use your big tool that’s for sure.” It sounded ridiculous, and you had to bite down harder to keep from bursting out laughing.

Joel didn’t seem to think it was funny. Something flickered in his gaze, before it hardened, eyes boring into yours as he asked you through his teeth, “Whatchu think your doin’, huh?”

You shrugged playfully with an exaggerated sigh, “I don’t know, Mr. Miller, isn’t it obvious?”

“Oh, ‘s obvious alright.” He shook his head in disbelief, and looked away for a beat, before his eyes found yours again.

“It’s so hot out this summer,” you continued your jest with a hooked finger along the hem of your shirt, tugging at it, “I just wanted something to cool down.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, “‘m sure you did.”

Continuing your game, you widened your eyes in an attempt at feigning innocence, “But I don’t mind breaking a sweat if need be.”

“’nd how do you like to break a sweat, princess?” he asked, putting pressure on the nick name his men had given you.

“Oh, I think you already know that, Mr. Miller.”

Joel’s eyes hardened as the flirty words fell from your lips. Shifting his weight from one leg to the other he raised a finger at you. “Listen’ up, brat,” he told you in a lowered voice, “Ain’t nothin’ more happenin’ between us, you understand? It’s inappropriate– you’re my employer and I don’t do that shit.”

It was almost too easy. Biting back a smile, your thoughts wandered back to the last time you’d had him like this; riled up, and willing to put you in your place. A slick wetness coated the gusset of your panties, already, at the thought.

“I understand, Daddy.”

With a sigh Joel turned away from you with a shake of his head, muttering under his breath, “You’re ridiculous.”

You were, he was right. But it was so fun.

A smirk tugged at your lips when he turned back to look at you. He wanted to say something, you could see it in the way he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his hands fidgeting on his hip, but he changed his mind as he shook his head again.

Victory had never tasted so sweet.

All week you’d played a game of cat and mouse with Joel. One day you’d ignored him completely as you flirted with the crew, exaggerating your laugh at jokes that weren’t even close to being funny, and touching too many sweaty biceps to count. Then the next you never left him alone, buzzing like a mosquito in his ear asking all kinds of silly questions, slipping in an innuendo or two, and teasing him for a reaction other than an annoyed grunt.

He’d have to break at some point. You could see it in his eyes. He might play the annoyance up, but there was a softness to the way he looked at you. It was there– you weren’t making that up!

The sound of the juicer buzzed in your ear as you chewed on your lip. Your hand rested lazily on the kitchen counter as you stole glances out the window as you waited. Pierre was quiet as he worked, only throwing a curious glance your way every once in a while, as he mixed together the jug of lemonade you’d requested.

The day had scorched since early morning, and you’d had no choice but to throw on your skimpiest bikini. A smile tugged at the corner of your mouth at the thought – well, there was more appropriate outfits for this heat, but you didn’t want that.

What you wanted, was to get your brains fucked out.

You’d played all your cards right, but nothing had seemed to make Joel simmer over with a need to put you in your place again. In the need for a new plan, you hoped showing off your body to all his men while serving them a nice cold glass of lemonade would do the trick, hoping he’d get jealous. The pool had already started to take shape, and your time was starting to run out.

“Here you go, ma belle,” Pierre slid a newly filled jug of ice-cold lemonade down towards you over the marble, “let me know if you need anything else, yes?”

Nodding your head in gratitude, you lifted the jug onto the tray you’d prepared, “Merci, Pierre.”

Slipping carefully through the sliding doors you made your way across the veranda to place the tray on the outdoor dining table. The tray was heavy, and you moved fast to make sure you didn’t spill the lemonade all over yourself.

“HEY BOYS!” you shouted over the sound of the heavy machinery, waving a lazy hand at them, beckoning them closer like a siren. “I hope you’re thirsty,” you laughed.

A low whistle could be heard as they came closer. Eyes lingering on your skin, trailing over your body as they gathered around the table, helping themselves to the citrus-y delight.

“If this ain’t the sweetest thing I think a client has ever done for us,” Tommy smiled as he helped himself to a glass, “You mind if I take a picture of this setup? To post on our Facebook page.”

You shook your head, “Take as many pictures as you like,” you told him, but your eyes wandered.

Joel had hung back, walking slower behind the rest of his crew, and was finally walking up the couple steps to the veranda. His work boots echoed over the planks as he walked closer. He didn’t seem happy as he locked eyes with you, his eyes quickly rolling over your almost naked body.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, you poured him a glass; the ice cubes splashing as you poured, cold drops splashing and coating the skin of your exposed chest. Joel pretended he didn’t notice, but you saw the way he looked at you. You’d seen that look so many times, eyes hungry and desperate for something they knew they couldn’t have, shouldn’t have. The only difference this time was that you’d let Joel do whatever he wanted to you.

“Here, Mr. Miller–”

Your voice was cut off by the sound of a phone ringing at the loudest volume. The suddenness of the sound made you jump, spilling the glass of Joel’s lemonade all down your hand and chest.

“Yellow,” you heard Tommy shout into his phone.

“Oh, oops,” you said, your voice laced in an innocent laugh. Drops of sticky lemonade ran down your body, darkening the fabric of your bikini, and making your skin shine with wetness under the Austin sun.

Looking up from your body at Joel, your teeth caught on your bottom lip at the way his jaw clenched, his eyes running down your body like they were drops of lemonade. You laughed again, sugary sweet as you made a show of placing the glass on the table, spreading your arms like you didn’t know what to do.

“Y’need to be more careful, sweetheart,” Joel mumbled as he fumbled for some napkins from your tray.

You shook your head at him when he handed them to you, instead you ran a finger up your chest, catching the drops and sucking the cool drink from your fingers, slowly, licking up every drop. It was bold, and you couldn’t contain your giggle when Joel’s eyes widened at you. It was quick, the wave of shock at how blatantly you’d flirt with him like this, before it crashed into the shore with a stern look. The other men had to be looking too, you could feel the way their eyes burned your skin, but you only cared about one man’s warm eyes on your body.

“That was so clumsy of me,” you giggled, the laugh forced and too sweet, but it didn’t matter, Joel didn’t buy it either way.

“’m sorry ‘bout that,” Tommy’s voice boomed, as he hung up the phone, “It was the missus– or soon to be missus.”

“Oh, you’re getting married?” you queried, the lemonade soaking you forgotten now that the moment had been ruined. Beside you, Joel picked up the glass you’d tried to hand him, drying the sides with the superfluous napkins.

“Yes, ma’am,” Tommy beamed, “tyin’ the knot this Saturday in fact.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” you smiled, an idea popping up in the back of your head, “Congratulations!”

“Thank you, thank you,” he beamed, taking a big gulp of the lemonade.

“So…” You stepped closer to Tommy, leaning your hand against the table. Joel’s eyes followed you, you could feel it, so you sneakily popped your hips out, giving him a nice view of your ass. “What’s the plan? Big church wedding?”

Tommy laughed, “Don’t know ‘bout big– we’re doin’ one of those barn weddings, you know? Out on a ranch and everythin’, they got it all on those big ranches nowadays.”

“Really?” you smiled, “Which ranch?”

“Oh, it ain’t far! Only ‘bout a fifteen-twenty minutes’ drive from downtown. Pecan Grove Ranch it’s called. They even got these nice cabins on site, for accommodation– which is nice for close family and those who’ve traveled far. You know, Maria’s family ain’t from Texas, so we got lots of folks flyin’ in.”

“Is that her name? Maria?” you asked. The way Tommy’s face lit up when you mentioned her name made your heart squeeze.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “love of my life she is!”

“I need to talk to you.” Joel cut your conversation off while his hand snaked its way around your upper arm, tugging you lightly towards him. When you turned your head to look at him, one eyebrow raised, his face shifted into a deep frown. “’s ‘bout the tiles,” he grumbled.

A smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. Finally.

You excused yourself to Tommy, and let Joel drag you with him. Throwing your head back you watched how the rest of the crew enjoyed their small break in the shade sipping on Pierre’s lemonade.

Joel crossed the yard in big steps, making a beeline for the shed tucked away in the back corner of the yard. He pulled at the door harshly, like it couldn’t happen fast enough, and pushed you inside. The door to the shed slammed shut behind him and covered you both in a cool darkness. Your eyes relaxed as you adjusted from the bright daylight to the dim lighting – the only light coming through a small window almost completely overgrown with climbing vines. Joel’s grip around your arm loosened as he pushed you deeper inside.

Taking small steps, you looked around, eyes scanning over the room as a thought of how you couldn’t remember the last time you’d stepped a foot inside the shed crossed your mind. It was hidden away in the corner of the garden, overgrown in a tasteful way, like how you’d see in garden magazines. These days the only person who used it was the gardener, if the miscellaneous tools and garden machines were to be believed.

“Put your hands on the table,” Joel ordered, his voice a low hum.

Outside you could still hear the shouts of his men, laughter, as they lounged about on their break. Every one of his men had seen you step into the shed together, and the thought sent an electric bubbling feeling straight to your cunt.

“Y'got cotton in those ears, girl? Put your hands on the table.”

A shiver traveled through your body, and you had to bite down on your lip to hold back your smile. Finally, finally, finally. With your back turned to him, you shook your head slowly, daring him to put you in your place again.

And Joel took the bait.

His rough hand slid over your waist as he stepped closer. He let it glide across your exposed skin, the dried lemonade sticky as he teased you. His rough hand slid upwards, hooking a finger under your bikini strap, slowly, pulling at it before he unhooked it, letting it fall to the concrete floor.

“Aren’t you gonna behave, princess?” he spat out the new nickname. “Didn’t I teach ya last time what happens when you ain’t a good girl f’me?” The low bass of his voice ghosted over your ear and had your blood buzzing under your skin.

His rough hands continued to explore you, gentle touches over your skin, getting you worked up, but never where you wanted his hands the most. When he pressed himself against you, letting you feel the hard shape of him through his work pants, you let your head fall against his shoulder with a content sigh.

“No, Daddy,” you shook your head.

Joel couldn’t hold back his groan at that word. The gentle hands who’d explored your body, tightened across your chest, pressing you tight into his chest as he bucked his hips harshly into your ass.

“I think I did,” he spoke into your ear, “broke that pretty brain on my cock, didn’t I, and now that greedy cunt wants more, ain’t that right? Can’t get enough of this big cock?”

A breathy gasp escaped you when he bucked his hips against you again, and you shook your head.

“That’s what I thought.”

The speed at which he moved almost gave you a whiplash. He pushed you against the table along the wall, your hands coming down to brace yourself as he pressed your chest down and put your ass, covered only by your skimpy bikini bottoms, on display for him.

“Such a slut for cock she can’t be a big girl and ask for it– no, princess, you’re so desperate for it, you make me come all the way to your rich daddy’s house, bring my crew and everythin’ just so I’ll fuck you again.”

Joel laughed and you couldn’t help but squeeze your thighs together. “That’s ‘nother level of desperate, ain’t it?”

You felt a heat spread across your face at his degradation, but it just turned you on more, and Joel knew it. He trailed a finger down between your cheeks, pressing down to feel how you’d soiled your bikini bottoms in your arousal.

“But that’s just what you are, aren’t you? A desperate whore dyin’ to get fucked?”

The hand between your legs vanished, and you braced yourself for a spanking, holding your breath as the excitement grew, but the slap of his rough hand never came. Instead, he unhooked a rope off the peg board in front of you.

You resisted a little when he grabbed your hands, slipping your hands from his grip playfully, your face turned to watch how his face grew sterner. The tired, disappointed sigh it earned you made you smile.

Gripping both your hands tightly, he crossed one wrist over the other before he tied them together at the small of your back, and you let it happen. Under your skin, the anticipation buzzed. With nothing to help you brace yourself, the hard surface of the table pressed harshly against your naked skin.

“Hey,” Joel’s voice was suddenly gentle as he cupped your face and turned you to face him, “you remember our rules?”

A small ache stung in your heart. Our.

You nodded, “I say ‘red’ or pinch you if I want you to stop.”

A pleased grin spread across his face as he tapped at your cheek gently, “That’s a good girl, baby.”

His hand slid down your body, from your face down your neck, from your neck over your shoulder, and then from your shoulder down your naked back. “How’s this?” he asked, hooking a finger under the rope, “Not too tight?”

You shook your head, or tried to, with the way your cheek was mushed against the table.

“Words, princess, need to hear ya say it f’me.”

The softness in his voice when the pet name left his lips, made a fluttering feeling bubble in your core, and it was hard to fight the grin from pulling at your lips.

“Am I your princess now?” you asked with fluttering eyelashes, “I thought I was your desperate slut?”

Behind you, you could hear Joel let out a deep sigh. A finger traced small circles over your ass, making goosebumps blossom over your skin, before it hooked into the band of your bikini bottoms, tugging them slowly down and exposing your wet cunt to him.

“You know,” Joel sighed again, pausing to let the sound of his fly being undone fill the space between you. You almost moaned at the sound, pushing your ass out, desperate for any kind of friction. “I was plannin’ on bein’ nice t’you, but now…”

The blunt head of him pressed against you, running it up and down your cunt, coating it in your slick arousal, and you almost held your breath. The anticipation like a fist around your chest. Your heart drummed in your chest, almost drowning out the wet slick sound between your legs.

“I don’t want you to be nice,” you almost whispered, your fist tightening around each other at the small of your back.

“I know, princess…” he whispered back, and pushed at your opening, “I know.”

He was too big, the girth of him splitting you in two on his cock. It burned deliciously, and you savored every inch he gave you until he was fully seated inside you. Only then were you able to whimper out a moan, your breath finally released.

His hands gripped your wrists like a handlebar, something to hold on to, something to guide you back and forth on his cock. He pushed himself even deeper, releasing a deep groan in your ear as he leaned over you, the weight of him heavenly as he made room for himself inside you, his heavy balls pressed against you.

This was what you’d wanted. Just to feel him again like this.

“Shit…” you sighed, eyes almost rolling back into your head.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he whispered in your ear, “get a cock in you, and you turn into a good girl f’me.”

You wanted to push back, to give him something to prove him wrong, but you had nothing.

“Please,” you whispered, your eyes squeezed shut tightly.

“Please what, princess?” You could hear the smile in Joel’s low rumbling voice.

“Fuck me, sir,” you pleaded, “Fuck me, Daddy, please.”

“Oh, now she’s askin’ nice.” Joel pulled back and thrusted back inside in one hard thrust, pushing your body against the table, a line surely indented in your skin by now.

A whimper fell from your lips.

Joel started fucking you slowly, but hard, the table rattling with each thrust, one hand wrapped around your wrists to keep his balance. Under him you couldn’t fight back your moans, small content squeaks escaping you when he pressed himself firmly against your ass, burying his cock deeply inside you with every thrust.

“That’s it, slut, that’s a good girl,” Joel praised over you, “takin’ that cock so well, princess.”

The world started blurring around the edges with each thrust, a soft, warm feeling wrapping itself around your heart as he thrusted inside you. You were dying to touch your clit. His cock reached so far, pressing perfectly against your g-spot with each push. You were so close. If you could just touch your clit.

“P-please,” you mumbled lowly, your face scrunched tight as you clenched around his cock.

Joel grunted behind you and stepped away. You could almost cry, and maybe you did because rough pads ran over your cheek as he shushed you.

“No-no-no, it’s okay baby,” he mumbled, “calm down.”

“Please,” you tried again. Please let me come.

“I need you to do somethin’ f’me,” he told you as he guided his cock back to your ruined entrance, slick with want.

“I’ll do anything you ask,” you hurried.

“Anythin’?” Joel rubbed his cock up and down your slit as a slick sound filled the air.

“Anything.”

Behind you, Joel laughed, and pushed inside you again, making a big smile spread across your face.

“Alright, princess,” he said with a hard thrust, “what you’re gonna do f’me is when you feel like you’re close, you’re gonna tell me, tell your Daddy, alright?”

You nodded into the wood, head almost delirious with want, “Okay.”

“You wanna feel my cum inside you, don’t cha, want me to fill y’up to the brim?” His voice was so soft, almost soothing, as he fucked you hard.

“Please, Daddy, want you to come inside me, please.”

A grumbling laugh escaped Joel as he continued his harsh thrust – your skin clap clap clapping together as he hauled you towards the edge of your orgasm. It built deep in your core, coiling in on itself as he brought you closer and closer and closer.

“Joel,” you gasped, “I’m gonna come.”

Quickly, and without warning, Joel pulled out, leaving you trembling, and on the edge.

“No, you ain’t,” he told you sternly, “you’re gonna hold it.”

A rough hand smoothed over your right ass cheek, small taps to your skin reprimanding you as he rubbed his cock over the other, soiling you in your own desperation.

You felt like you were heaving for breath underneath him, eyes squeezed tight as you tried to stave it off.

“That’s it,” he praised, “that’s a good girl. Hold that orgasm f’me.”

Focusing on the way his hand rubbed over your skin, you tried to calm down and steady your breathing. It could’ve taken a minute or an hour, you didn’t know, but the feeling of falling over the edge of bliss fizzled out slowly. Joel leaned over your body, whispering praises into your ear, telling you how good you were for him. When you’d calmed down completely, you lifted your head to look at him, to catch his eyes.

Blown out and big, the warmth of them looked back, a deepness to get lost in. A small smiled tugged at his lips before he leaned down and peppered a soft kiss to your shoulder. It lasted only a second, but it made fluttering wings expand in your tummy.

When he pushed inside you again, your tied hands reached for his. His thrust came quicker than before, sloppier, as he chased his own high, his hand interlaced with yours.

“God fuckin’ slut,” he rambled.

“Takin’ that cock so fuckin’ good.”

“I’m gonna fuckin’ come– gonna fill that cunt up.”

With a hard slam of his hips against your ass, pushing himself as deep as he could, Joel came inside you with a deep grunt. “That’s it– take all that fuckin’ cum inside.” A warmth filled you from the inside as his cock twitch inside you, coating your walls in thick spurts of his cum.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he mumbled, as he thrusted his cum back inside you, making sure he’d emptied himself completely before pulling out, sliding his softening cock from your denied cunt.

“Joel,” you whispered, but he didn’t hear you, too busy with tucking himself back into his work pants, and pulling up your bikini bottoms, soiling them in his cum starting to leak out of you.

“What about me?” you asked, confused, as he undid the rope around your wrists.

“What ‘bout you?” he repeated, helping you up and turning you to face him.

A chuckle rumbled in his chest as he took in your disappointed face, a large hand coming up to cup your chin. “What?” he teased, “don’t like your punishment?” He padded your cheek and pulled away, picking up your bikini top from the floor.

“’f you’re gonna act like a fuckin’ brat– havin’ your daddy hire me to have an excuse for seein’ me again, when you could’ve just called, then you’re gonna get treated like a brat, you understand? You gotta earn your orgasm, and you ain’t earned yourself nothin’ prancing around half naked in your garden while I’m trying to work, princess.”

With that, Joel threw you your bikini top, and you barely managed to catch it between your fingers before you watched him walk out the shed, leaving you half naked, as his cum leaked down the inside of your leg.

part three -> here!

hopefully this was okay? please let me know what you thought of the new part! a comment telling me your favorite part is always welcome, and my ask box is always open to chat <3 and thank you for reading!!

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #the last of us smut #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fanfic #tlou fanfiction #tlou smut #tlou fanfic #pedro pascal

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local-impure-spirt-666 · 2 years

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☆ Christians

☆ Nuns

☆ People who are afraid of Hell

☆ ppl who don't find me attractive

☆ Ppl w morals

☆ ppl who can't handle gore, sex, sin, fire, the concept of eternity

☆ trad wives

☆ Jezebel haters

#parody #satanic #religious imagery #fire #satire #unreality #dark humor #colored text #theses ppl can actually interact this is a joke please injoy my blog

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lou-struck · 2 months

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Made With Love Part 4

OM Brothers & Datables x reader pt.4

Featuring: Diavolo, Barabatos, and Solomon.

MASTERLIST !

Warnings: Love Potion based personality changes, obsessive behaviors, mention of suggestive behavior, lots of teasing, kissing, touching, etc.

A/n: I know it has taken me wayyy too long to post this, but thank you to everyone who has encouraged me to continue this series. I really hope you enjoy this part and chose to come back to read the finale!

The Banquet Hall has exploded into quite the mess. Books and pillows are strewn about the room as Mammon and a still-drying Levi tear through its nooks and crannies with fearful urgency.

"Keep searching," Lucifer orders his younger brothers from his seat. His symptoms have somewhat subsided, but even in this urgent situation, his Pride would never allow him to be seen recklessly tearing through the castle's cupboards like an idiot. "Beel hasn't eaten anything in hours. Once he recovers, he will devour anything he comes across. If he ends up eating another one of those cookies accidentally, Mc will have even more of a mess to clean up than they currently do.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it." Mammon groans. "This would be a lot easier if I had some help." He mutters the second part under his breath while shooting daggers at Satan and Asmodeus.

From the loveseat in the corner, The Avatar of Wrath flinches in pain at the slightest noise as he recovers from the Potion's hangover-esque after-effects. A large pillow rests in front of his face, shielding his eyes from the glare of the moonlight that shines through the windows.

Asmodeus on the other hand, is faring much better than his brother and is just boredly twirling a lock of his champagne colored hair in his fingers. His ability to rally after years of partying has prepared him for this.

Feeling the three pairs of eyes now resting on him, the Avatar of Lust hides a grin and sinks deeper into his cushion with a dramatic groan. "Oh nooo, I feel soooo sick." He lifts an arm and places the back of his hand on his head in a distressed manner.

Not caring for his brother's theatrics, Lucifer rolls his eyes and lets out a deep sigh of disappointment. "Stop complaining, Mammon; we have had time to recuperate, and so shall they. "

Before Mammon can complain further about the other's work ethic, Satan mutters something incomprehensible from under his pillow.

"What was that, Satan?" Lucifer asks, lowering his voice as an act of mercy towards his brother; the Potion affected his head far more than the others, so he cannot help but pity the fourth born for the headache he is feeling.

He removes the pillow to reveal his pained and pale features. "I said Beel is close, and so is Belphie; it seems they are traveling together, so it is safe to say they have both been freed from the love potion."

"Then there is no time to waste," Lucifer declares, crossing his arms. "Double time Mammon. And Leviathan, please stay off the furniture; I'd hate to cause any more damage due to your carelessness."

The Avatar of Envy covers his face in embarrassment as he recalls his earlier interaction with you. And he understands pulling you into the pool with him could've been dangerous, even deadly. His head spins as he tries to think of all the ways he will try and make it up to you.

Mammon drops to a crouch and tears open the cabinet drawers with a start. His worried features brighten into a look of elation as he lunges forward suddenly. "Ah ha, I found 'em." he slides the little plate of sugar cookies out victoriously." That damn Chihuahua must've stashed ‘em here when we were going all crazy for Mc."

"What should we do with them?" Levi asks, "If we throw them away, Beel will just eat them out of the trash."

"We could burn 'em? Ya know? Toss 'em in the fireplace?" Mammon offers, turning his head to the grand fireplace. Enchanted flames dance eagerly within the confines of their stone hearth.

"And make the potion airborne?" Satan questions, narrowing his eyes at the second, and pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Absolutely not. You are such an Idiot."

"Seriously Mammon, you do know that you don't have to choose between being pretty and being smart." Asmo quips, "But it would be a good idea to do at least one of them."

Mammon opens his mouth to make some kind of comeback but is interrupted as Lucifer snatches the plate of tainted sugar cookies from him.

"I will create a temporary solution for these cookies until we have a safe method for disposing of them." He flicks his wrist, and a dark sphere of energy encases the plate as it disappears from view. Mammon lets out an involuntary shudder when he realizes that Lucifer could very well make him disappear like that whenever he feels like it. Maybe he should try and return those records of his he was going to pawn off.

Just as the last of the plate fades away, the Banquet door bursts open, and Beel steps into the room urgently, a napping Belpheghor clinging to his back like a koala.

The Avatar of Gluttony looks famished, there is a ferocious hunger in his eyes that seems to only be searching for sustenance. He doesn't even seem to notice his other brothers are in the room.

"I. Need. Food." he breathes, zeroing in on the full banquet table of treats. The mahogany legs seem to tremble under his hungry gaze as he grabs the nearest platter of sandwiches and begins shoveling them into his mouth.

The room is silent as they watch Beel chow down on a second try of sandwiches. He even eats the little heart-shaped toothpicks that stick out of the top of the mini brioche rolls.

As the sixth-born reaches for another try, his features look much more pleasant. Lucifer clears his throat to get his attention.

"Glad to see you both have returned to your usual selves." He says, "Hopefully, you didn't cause Mc too much trouble."

Beel's face takes on an expression of guilt as he lowers the barely conscious Belphegor onto an open chair.

"I broke a wine bottle, but it's fine. Mc found me and convinced me not to go on a hike." The youngest brother from his seat. He hasn't opened his eyes yet. The pure exhaustion of ignoring his sin and running about the castle has hit him far worse than any symptom would've.

"And why do you look so guilty, Beelzebub?" Satan asks, sitting up a bit straighter in his seat.

"I didn't mean to, but they gave me a piggyback, and I think they overdid it." He says, casting his eyes to the floor. "I'm a lot stronger than they are; I could've really hurt them."

No one has it in them to give Beel a scolding. The kicked-puppy expression on his face says it all.

"So all Mc has to do is find Diavolo, Barbatos, Solomon, and Simeon?" Mammon says, letting out a sigh of relief. "That means this nightmare is almost over."

"While it is true Mc has done a great job finding everyone so far, the others are unpredictable," Lucifer says, crossing his arms. "I hope that they take their time and make sure they are not putting themselves at risk."

"Especially with Simeon," Levi adds with a shiver, "He’s final boss status for sure."

"He was super hot, not gonna lie." Asmo giggles, kicking his feet and tucking his hair behind his ear.

"Oh, come on, it's gotta be in here somewhere." Luke cries as he finishes searching through another stack of books with no luck. It's like the potion book that Solomon used earlier has vanished into thin air.

His little cherub cheeks are red, his hair is disheveled, and he thinks he has caught a head cold from breathing in all this dust.

"I need water." He murmurs weakly. His knees buckle as he drags himself over to the faucet so he can pour himself a quick drink.

He drinks greedily from his little paper cup, downing the cold water in one gulp and immediately reaching to refill it. This little water break does wonders for the Angel, and he takes a deep breath, ready to continue his quest to find the book and make an antidote for his friends.

He sets his little cup down on the countertop to use later, and his eyes rest upon something that makes his heart want to break.

An open recipe book

This cannot be happening…

Luke winces as he timidly lifts the corner of the book to read the cover. Ensure enough, it is the same book he has been searching for for hours.

Instead of being tucked away on some shelf or miscellaneous pile of books, Solomon never actually put this book away, it has been out on the counter in plain sight.

How is it possible that he didn't check here first?

The Angel can feel hot tears of humiliation pulling in his big eyes and he clenches his little fits together so hard he feels like he's about to break the skin.

But he can't cry. How could he?

Back at the castle, you must be subjected to some terrible horrors; he imagines you running through the dark halls of that spooky castle, getting chased until you are out of breath, and then captured by those demons with those creepy heart-shaped eyes.

He flips through the book, reading with a speed that would make even Satan proud as he looks for an antidote.

He finds a recipe and wastes no time pulling each ingredient out of Solomon's storage room. He may not know what half of this stuff does, but what he does know is that when all of the stuff comes together, it will create exactly what he needs to break the spell.

Luke begins mashing some herbs with a mortar and pestle, just the way Solomon taught him to do so. He cannot tell if it is the bitter scent of the herbs upsetting his stomach or his own worries.

If he manages to successfully make the antidote, will the others be mad at him for ruining the day?

What if Mc gets hurt? It would be all his fault.

He pours a bit of devil pine sap into the foggy mixture with a sigh. Whatever punishment he is given, he will accept with open arms.

He will do whatever it takes to make it up to you.

Barbatos~

Now you understand how Theseus felt inside of King Minos's labyrinth. All these dark, winding hallways and flickering shadows that just love to play tricks on you have your poor heart beating anxiously in your chest.

Technically, in Greek mythology terms, you have a one-up on Theseus since you have four Minotaurs to "defeat."

A large cloud covers the moon, sending a shiver down your weary spine as you wonder who you will find next.

The Prince of Hell?

His Trusty Butler, who controls time itself?

The Cunning Human Sorcerer?

Or the Angel the others seem to be very afraid of?

Although you should be scared out of your wits, you are brimming with curiosity as you wonder how your loved ones have changed due to the Love Potions effects.

Your tired feet drag you down another hallway. Like all the others, it is spotless, and every door is darkened and shut. You scan each one carefully, trying to find any sign someone has wandered through them today with little luck.

The next thing you know, your steps are interrupted when you kick into something awkwardly and stumble forward, lurching toward the wall and grabbing onto it for support.

Taking a deep breath, you steady yourself and wearily glance back at whatever it was that you just tripped over.

There, in the middle of the pristine carpet, lies a lone leather shoe. The tense muscles in your back stretch uncomfortably as you crouch down and pick up the obstacle. As you hold it in your hand, you cannot help but notice its style. It's nothing like the shoes you and Asmo see when window shopping down Majolish. It's clearly older but remarkably well-maintained.

Its old leather is polished with an expert hand, and its dark untied laces sit unmarred by a single fray. These can only belong to Barbatos.

Come to think of it, his chambers are fairly close by. Is it possible that he lost his shoe on the way there?

In a castle as ginormous as this, leads are hard to find, so you and the shoe head off in search of its owner as you play out this little Demonic Cinderella Story.

Barbatos' room contains many dangers, so the fact that his door sits ajar makes your skin crawl. You push the door open gently with one hand and spot the demon resting atop his quilt.

His legs hang off the mattress, and aside from the shoe currently in your hand, he is completely dressed. Seeing the usually pristine-looking Butler so out of sorts is unfamiliar. You know he often works himself past the point of exhaustion, but you have never seen him look so open, so unguarded.

Love Potion aside, you know he needs a little bit more rest. A gentle smile tugs at your lips as you start across the room and sit on the edge of the bed. Setting his shoe on the nightstand next to you. The mattress dips slightly, but he continues to sleep. His chest rises and falls steadily, and cute little puffs of air escape his open lips.

His cheeks are flushed a soft baby pink color as his body seems to shift magnetically closer to you. He may not be conscious, but he definitely is aware of your presence.

"Mmnnnm Mc," his sleep-addled voice murmurs as his hand stretches blindly across the mattress to brush yours. The minimal contact is just enough to stir him. His Green eyes blink open sleepily; you see your reflection in his heart-shaped pupils as he intertwines his fingers with yours.

In an instant, he gently tugs you into his chest. It's far warmer than it normally is as he settles you both deeper into the mattress. "Mc," he yawns fondly. "I was just dreaming about you. I knew you would come to see me."

"I hope you don't mind me letting myself in," you say softly, using your unoccupied fingers to busy themselves with fixing his bedhead. "But I believe I found something of yours." You jerk your head toward the shoe you found earlier with a smile.

"Oh, that troublesome thing," he chuckles, his lids growing heavier by the second. "Earlier, I just felt so fatigued I chose to simply kick it off."

"In the middle of the Hallway? That's unlike you."

"It's silly, but~" he yawns and leans into your touch. "I simply do not care for trivial things such as messes and responsibilities. All I need is you. Please come rest with me."

His words seem to form a lasso around your heart; it pulls you towards him instantly. "I suppose a few moments of rest wouldn't hurt." You chuckle, leaning back onto the mattress. Barbatos clings to you eagerly, snuggling into you for warmth. A look of pure contention lies on his face.

Butler's bed is remarkably comfortable. The mattress and quilt are stuffed with some kind of otherworldly feather. Simply laying down upon them is a decadence. You imagine that if you knew you had a bed as heavenly as this to return to at the end of the night, you would work as hard as he does to earn the pleasure.

All of your aches and pains seem to melt away in the butler's arms. With each breath he takes, he seems to bring you closer to him.

He can barely keep his eyes open. Seeing him in a state of exhaustion is fascinating. "You must've been exhausted," you say aloud. "You work way too hard, Barbatos."

"I'm a fool." he yawns. "I have wasted so much of my existence doing chores when all I should've been doing is laying here with you. This blissful feeling is incomparable. We should stay here forever."

"Forever is a long time," you murmur, toying with his gloved fingertips. "You may get tired of laying around all the time."

"Not if I'm with you," he yawns again. The dreamy lift in his voice kinda creeps you out, but the Butler is too enthralled by the spell to notice the shiver that crawls down your spine.

"Let's just lay here and watch the dust float around us as we bask in the pleasure of each other's warmth."

Okay…. That's it.

Although these uncharacteristic words may have escaped his drowsy mouth, that is not the real Barbatos speaking. He may need to rest more, but you know that you have to break this spell on him as soon as possible.

"That sounds amazing," you lie in a soft voice. "If we are to spend forever like this, can I at least have a kiss goodnight?"

The offer of a kiss is enough to get him to pry open his eyes. "Of course, you may. I apologize for not doing so earlier." His movements are slow and perhaps the most uncoordinated yet as he tries to scoot closer to you. Sitting up is a challenge for him, but when he finally succeeds in doing so, he can barely keep his head up. A silly smile rests on his face as he leans in to try and place a kiss on your lips, but thanks to the effects of the Potion, he almost completely misses your mouth, only managing to kiss the corner of your lips.

Like Lucifer, it only takes a few seconds and the briefest contact of lips on the skin to break the spell. His eyes go wide, and his posture returns to perfect as he springs from his bed in alarm.

"My goodness, Mc, what time is it?" he breathes, smoothing out a wrinkle from his quilt and fluffing the pillow anxiously. "I fear I have failed in my duties as a butler, how fares the celebration?"

You look at him nervously, worried that if you say the wrong thing, you'll send him into a heap of distress. He works too hard to plan these parties for them to end up the way they do. "Lucifer and his brothers are back in the banquet hall, recovering from the effects of the spell you were under. Apparently, only I can lift the effects, so I need to find Solomon, Simeon, and Diavolo."

He nods solemnly, "I see, so the young master is still entranced. There is no time to waste if the Devildom were to see him in this…well…. State, It could cause quite the uproar." His cheeks flush a barely noticeable pink color as he recalls his earlier actions before clearing his throat. "The crown should not have to shoulder this sort of embarrassment; allow me to accompany you in retrieving him and the others."

"While I appreciate the offer, I'm afraid I'll have to refuse. Everyone is acting so unpredictably that I'd hate for anything to happen. I promise I have this handled."

His eyes flash with disappointment, but it quickly fades and a smile more genuine than his usual polite one shines at you reassuringly. He takes your hand and gently presses his lips to the back of it. "I understand, if that is your wish, I will do as you say. Please know that I believe in you wholeheartedly."

"Thank you, Barbatos," you say, taking in his slightly paler skin. The after-effects of the Potion must be hitting him about now. "I do have a favor I would like to ask you."

His eyes are full of wisdom and adoration as he looks at you with his usual round pupils. "Of course, what is your request? I would gladly do anything you ask of me."

You smile devilishly, "it would mean a lot to me if you would take some time and rest. You work far too hard, and I can tell that you aren't feeling your best."

He looks shocked, "but the mess."

"Can be taken care of later. But for now, please return to the banquet hall and do something good for yourself."

He takes a deep breath and relents. "If that is what you wish, I suppose I could partake in a little bit of what Asmodeus calls 'self-care.'"

"That's what I like to hear." You grin as he escorts you to the door. Just before you exit, you feel his presence behind you. The gesture is tender. He places a Soft kiss on the top of your head.

"Thank you for always caring about my well-being." He murmurs, "I pride myself in being good at many things, But tending to my own needs has never been one of them. It touches my heart that you continuously take the time to worry about me."

"And it makes me feel good to know that you allow me to care for you," you respond, wrapping your arms around the Butler; you feel him relax in your hold as he lets out a soft chuckle, wondering what this demon did to deserve your love.

Diavolo~

You may not be a world-class detective, but you have a hunch…

If Barbatos ended up returning to his bedroom after getting spelled, maybe someone found their way into Diavolo's quarters.

Surely, someone would want to enjoy the amenities the Prince of Hell's bedroom has to offer, especially if they aren't thinking the clearest at the moment.

You haven't even reached his massive double doors when your suspicions are confirmed. The shuffles of heavy footsteps seem to pace back and forth anxiously. You can tell from the light flickering under the door frame that someone is standing just on the other side of the darkened oak doors.

You hold your breath and curiously press your ear against the wood to try and make out who is waiting for you. But your cheek had barely brushed the surface of the wood when the doors (that may not have been completely shut) swings open, and you tumble forward into the Prince's bedroom, letting loose a surprised screech that surely would put a banshee to shame.

Your limbs are sprawled across the deep red carpet when you make eye contact with the heart-shaped pupils of none other than Lord Diavolo himself. Upon seeing you on the ground, his features twist and worry, and in an instant, he strives over to you.

"MC, you poor thing." he looks so concerned for your well-being that the mighty demon trembles as he looks you over. "Are you hurt?"

"Not at all," you laugh, placing your hands on either side of your body to try and hoist yourself up to a less humiliating seated position but he stops you hurriedly.

"Please, don't move." he pleads, lowering his hand as if he were speaking to an injured animal. "I need to check you for injuries. I once read that humans who are injured can enter a state of shock." His golden gaze scans you worriedly, and you feel your skin growing warm from the attention.

"Dia, it was just a little fall," you say, trying your best to comfort the Prince. "I promise I'm unharmed."

"Are you sure?" he breathes. You may have been the one to take a tumble, but he is the one who looks in pain. His arms are painfully tense at his sides, as if he needs to hold you close, but the potions hold on him is quite different. Instead of smothering you with affection like the others, it seems that he is lovingly devoted to your well-being.

"I promise everything is fine," you say, once again, reassuring the frazzled noble and allow him to help you to your feet. His touch is much warmer than normal, but he handles you as if you are made of glass.

"I see, I am relieved you were not injured." he says seriously, "now tell me, what can I do to assist you?"

"Assist me?" You parrot, unsure of what he means by those words.

"Yes, I wish to assist you in whatever it is you ask of me." He says seriously. His posture is rigid, almost as if he is waiting for something to do. "What have you been doing?"

"Oh, I've just been walking around, you know, trying to find everybody. That's pretty much been my day so far." You chuckle.

When his eyes widen an alarm, you realize that maybe you shouldn't have told him that. in an instant, he scoops you into his arms. "you have been walking for hours? Please, you have been doing too much lately, allow me to take care of you so you can relieve your body of any stress it may be feeling."

He carries you over to his bed and text you gingerly underneath the covers. His brow is furrowed as he fusses over the wrinkles. his voice is too soft for you to make out what he is saying, but you think it's something about how he needs to care for you.

"Diavolo, please, I promise I'm fine. Could you please just sit down with me for a moment." You say, giving him a little pout. "I feel like I haven't gotten to see you all day."

"I'll be just a moment My Love; your voice sounds a little weak; have you had water today? Humans don't drink nearly enough water as they should, and that includes you."

Shit…

Potion or not he's got you there.

You sit back and watch as he stumbles across the room to pour you a cool glass of water. His uncoordinated movements must be due to the potion's effects. As he walks back, he splashes a few drops of water onto the ground but is too focused on you to care about the mess he made.

"Here, drink Love." he says, holding the edge of the half-filled glass to your lips. As you drink, he smiles, feeling accomplished. The water is magically cool and you taste its slight citrus flavor as you gulp it down.

When you finish your glass, he takes it from you and sets it down on the nightstand, you could've done that yourself, but he seems to be enjoying waiting on you like your own personal butler. But as nice as it is to be fussed over sometimes, you hate how worried he is over the smallest things.

You miss the real him.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?" he asks, his little heart eyes shining in admiration as he sits on the edge of the bed.

"Actually, there is something…" you say in the most innocent voice you can muster.

"Of course, whatever it is you want, I will get it to you." he says instantly; there is a hunger in his expression that yearns for a request to leave your cute little mouth.

"Could I please have a kiss?"

"Oh, of course." he says quickly, his eagerness betrays him as he cups your face tenderly "I apologize for my neglectful behavior. It would be my pleasure to steal away your breath."

And that he does. He goes in softly as if he is afraid of his own strength, but his fear leaves him quickly as he comes to his senses, allowing you to drown in the slight honey taste of his lips. The real him knows that you can handle a steamy make-out session or two.

He pulls away and looks remarkably well. His loud laughter fills the room as he pulls you to his chest in a firm hug. "Well, that was certainly an interesting feeling, I apologize if my behavior unsettled you earlier."

Now that he is back to his usual self, you find yourself relaxing immensely. "I am glad you're back to normal, although I did appreciate you taking care of me."

Although his skin doesn't flush in embarrassment you can tell from the way he clears his throat you have flustered him. "Well, if I am being honest, my behavior wasn't completely due to the." he pauses and looks at you questioningly. "spell?

"Love Potion."

"Ahh I see." he smiles knowingly. "I thought so. Anyways there has always been a part of me that has wanted to be seen by you as someone who can take care of you."

"But you do take care of me," you say, placing your hand on top of his. "You do so much for me and make me feel so loved."

"I just feel that I only express my Love for you with grandiose gestures. It's wonderful to show everyone just how much I care for you, but I wish that I could do more of the little things the others do." he frowns "There has always been a part of me that envy's the way the others get to do the little things for you. Such as cooking you your favorite meal from the human world or stopping by the market to pick you up something you forgot to cross from your shopping list. I think that this little desire of mine was twisted beyond recognition when I consumed that love potion earlier. And I apologize If I caused you any trouble."

"It is no trouble at all. "You say suddenly, your heart swelling with admiration and a newfound perspective into the mind and heart of the Prince. "Dia, I love you, and I think you express yourself wonderfully. We may not get to spend as much time together as we wish, but you do plenty for me in those little moments too. The grass isn't always greener on the other side and I'm sure the others envy you as well. After all, you are pretty darn wonderful."

His eyes light up as he absorbs your words; neither of you was anticipating a heart-to-heart today, but there it was. Looking much recovered, he smiles and has a devilish look in his eyes. "Speaking of the others, how many of us have you broken the spell on so far?"

"all except Solomon and Simeon," you reply. "the others are waiting in the banquet hall and recovering from some negative side effects. Are you feeling alright?"

"I am perfectly well. It's strange, but I don't feel fatigued at all. Perhaps this will be the perfect opportunity to observe the others. I recall how Lucifer, in particular, was acting earlier, and I would very much love to tease him about it. Barbatos too."

Laughter spills from your lips until it brings tears to your eyes. "That is all on you, if you wish to tease them I won't stop you but you should know that my lips are sealed. Barbatos and Lucifer can be scary when they are mad, they may decide to get revenge."

In response to your lack of gossip, Diavolo gives you a rather un-princely pout. "I suppose you're right, I must do this part myself. But before I go, will you please indulge me and allow me to kiss you once more?"

His request makes you giggle as your heart flutters. Although you still have a job to do, you find yourself nodding eagerly. A pleased smirk appears on his honey-tasting lips as he strides closer and closer to you. After all, you could never say no to the Prince?

Solomon~

'Two to go! Two to go! Two to go! Let's go!'

You chant this cheerful little mantra softly under your breath as you walk through the halls with a pep in your step. Soon, you will be able to go to the banquet hall, play some party games, and eat some of Barbatos' amazing cooking.

Although today isn't exactly what you hoped it would be, this twisted little scavenger hunt is one you will never forget.

You find yourself down one of the narrower hallways the servants use. Unlike the room meant for entertaining noble demons of all shapes and sizes, these doors are much smaller and closer together. Each one houses items like extra china, party decorations, and cleaning supplies. You recall coming down here with Barbados a few times to grab supplies for one of Diavolo's spur-of-the-moment celebrations.

Although it's faint, you hear a sound that seems to come from somewhere behind you. You spin on a dime and squint your eyes to try and see better, but no one is there.

Curiously you keep your steps light so as to not make a sound and walk past a lonely looking supply closet. You hear the unstable sound of wood against stone and lightly grab the handle. taking a deep breath for courage, you twist the cold metal handle and throw it open.

Solomon sits cross-legged on the ground next to some fallen broom handles. His snow-white hair is unruly, as if he had worriedly ran his hands through it over and over again. Beneath his heavy red blush, his fair skin seems paler than normal as he looks at you, but quickly becomes too shy and covers his eyes before you can see the hearts.

"Sol, what are you doing in here all by yourself?" You ask gently, sweeping aside the hand the wooden handles that had fallen on top of him.

"H-hiding," he murmurs, tucking his knees to his chest.

"Who are you hiding from Sol?"

His response is so soft that if you didn't have all of your attention focused on the man cowering in front of you, you would've missed it. "I'm hiding from you…"

Your heart sinks at his words, and your weary head begins to spin with doubt. What if the feelings you have for him are not reciprocated to the degree required to break the spell? What if he is not truly in love with you? Is there someone else whose image spills from his heart and floods his mind?

All these questions that dizzy your mind compel you to your eloquent response. "Oh. I see." You try your best to hide your emotional turmoil, but you can't help it. You frown and can't bring yourself to look at him. "Is there someone else you want to see instead?"

His eyes go wide, and he leans toward you frantically. If anything, he looks offended that you would even ask that. "No, no, no. I don't want to see anyone else."

"Then why were you hiding from me then?" you ask, crossing your arms.

He casts his eyes to the ground, "I-I just don't deserve to see you right now, not after what I have done."

This is not the Solomon you are used to. The handsome and cunning sorcerer who loves to make your heart race has been tucked away. The man in front of you seems to be aware that he is partially responsible for the current predicament you are in. But the Potion seems to be making him more than a bit timid. You want to make him feel at least a little bit better about himself before you break the spell, but you have to do it carefully.

"Sol, I could never hate you," you say, reaching your hand out to help your fellow human to their feet, but he stubbornly shakes his head and cowers away from you.

"C-can't," he whispers, shaking his head. "I can't do it."

"Sol? What can't you do?" you ask gently. You feel your face scrunching up in confusion as you couch down to his eye level and try to make him look at you.

"I-if I touch you or say your name, I'll go all blank and embarrass myself in front of you, and you'll hate me forever."

"Hate you?" you repeat those words softly. "Solomon, why would I ever hate you? I love you."

Those three little words are tempting enough to compel the human to look at you. Finally, you get a glimpse of those heart shaped pupils that have adjourned everyone else so far, but it breaks your heart to see that his eyes are full of tears.

"B-because I ruined your day…again. I swear it was an accident. I never thought Luke would use a bowl from my lab, but he did, and now all I know is that you're gonna hate me forever, and it breaks my heart because I love you so so so so much," his wails despair bounce off the walls of the tiny closet.

It's strange to see the usually wise and confident sorcerer reduce to an ashamed, blubbering mess, but you can't take it anymore. You launch yourself into his arms and hold him as tight as you can.

He leans into your touch and tightens his grip as if you're about to turn into smoke and disappear. "It's not your fault." you murmur pulling one of your hands free from his hold to gently rub comforting circles into his back. "It's actually not that bad."

"It's not?" he sniffles, meeting your gaze.

"Not at all," you say brightly. "I have found almost everyone and was able to break the spell that was on them. Almost everyone is back in the banquet hall resting up. If anything, you made today unintentionally more memorable. I got to explore more of the castle, spend some time with everyone one-on-one, and got to see some sides of everyone I didn't know existed."

"Is that true?" he asks, visibly relaxing amongst the brooms and buckets. When you nod, he looks like he's about to go over the moon. For the first time since you've seen him, he gives you a little lovesick grin.

His smile warms your heart and eases your conscience, which means it's time to get down to business. "Hey Sol, would it be all right if I gave you a kiss?"

The human opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out; as his brain tries to spill out a response, you wait patiently, enjoying the fact that, for once, you are the one who renders him speechless and not the other way around. Eventually, he decides that nodding would suffice as an appropriate answer, and you give him a little peck. He's already so overwhelmed you wouldn't want to do too much.

Pulling back, you watch his handsome features as he regains his sense of self. After a moment, he blinks away the heart in his eyes and is a bit confused as to why he has tracks running down his face.

"Oh my. Was I crying?" he asks; the look on your face tells all, and he looks a bit embarrassed. "I apologize Mc, I never would want you to see me in such a state of vulnerability, but I fear that this is my punishment for the current predicament we find ourselves in."

He is taking far too much blame, and being one who often finds themselves in an overly apologetic position, you feel for him. "I know you Solomon." You say, "This wasn't your fault, but I know that you want to take more than your fair share of the blame out of guilt. At this point, the only thing we can do is not let this little accident ruin our day and move on."

He smiles, spurred by your kind words. "Once again, you're right. Sometimes, I feel that you are the teacher and I am your student. I find myself learning much about myself in your presence."

"Hmmm, is that all you think of our relationship?" you ask, looking at him coyly. "Student and Teacher?"

Your question brings a smirk to the cunning sorcerer's lips as he grabs your chin, tilting it upwards and leaning in close. His breath fans your skin as his lips ghost over yours. You pout, waiting for his kiss to consume you, but it never comes. "As much as I wish to have you all to myself, there is more work to be done. Isn't there Mc?"

"Work?" you ask, too entranced by the Sorcerer's proximity to think clearly, and you can tell by his wicked smirk that he is loving it. "Oh, right. I have to find Simeon."

At the mention of the lone cursed party guest, you see his posture go rigid. "Is Simeon all you have left?"

"That's right," you should feel proud of yourself, but it's hard to do so when you see the worry in the man's eyes.

"Please be careful, Mc," he warns. "The Potion that I created has never been tested on Angel's before. Although the details are foggy, I recall the drastic change in Simeon's behavior. It could be possible that the Potion had a stronger effect on him than the others."

Your stomach lurches as you take in his grave expression. "So what are you saying?"

"What I am saying is that a kiss may not be enough to cancel out the effects of the potion on Simeon."

Tagging: In the comments because there were wayyy to many of you! Thank you so much!!!

#obey me nightbringer #obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me #Diavolo x reader #Barbatos x reader #Simeon x reader #Solomon x reader #Lucifer x reader #x reader

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shouta-edits · 1 year

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"Hello! May I request Satan from Obey Me Icons with a dark academia aesthetic? " - anon requested

#satan obey me #Obey me #icons #dark academia aesthetic #proship #request fill #antis dni #anti harassment #proship safe #proshippers please interact #hate will be blocked

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onyourowndaisymae · 1 year

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don't mind me... just thinking about the demon brothers slowly dropping the rest of their roster for you as they fall head over heels...

lucifer (you are here) // mammon // levi // satan // asmo // beel // belphie -- NSFW warning below, gn!reader

lucifer, who would never say no to lord diavolo. he wasn't exactly fond of the whole "exchange program" idea, knowing the power imbalance between the three realms, but lord diavolo had his heart set on bringing humans and angels into the devildom. lucifer could only do his best to make sure things would go smoothly. the weakest member-- some human devoid of magical skills or means to defend themselves, unlike the other applicants-- would be living in the house of lamentation, where him and his brothers could make sure you at least survived the whole program. he's not exactly pleased by the whole thing (and hiding belphegor away for the whole year will certainly be taxing, both mentally and emotionally) but, whatever the prince wants...

lucifer, who doesn't trust you as far as he can throw you. he doesn't like how you're cozying up to his brothers, wrapping them around your fingers with pacts, avoiding his eyes as he watches your interactions. make no mistake. you're here on the whims of lord diavolo, but that doesn't mean he has to be nice to you. just keep your head down and you'll survive. oh-- and don't make meddling in his family's affairs a habit. he will not hesitate even a moment to get rid of you if he perceives you as a threat.

lucifer, who is quite popular. even though he makes only a minimal effort to socialize with others (he's far too busy with student council work to cultivate a large group of friends), nobles and common folk alike flock to him. this, in turn, brings forward a lot of romantic attention. it's not uncommon for at least one demon a week to confess their undying love to him-- something he politely yet firmly declines. but it's foolish to assume that a man such as him doesn't have needs or desires. lucifer oozes sex appeal with just a heated glance, and most of the time he doesn't even need to speak before the demon in his sights is crossing the room at lord diavolo's party to meet with him. he politely excuses himself from the prince's side to escort the lucky demon somewhere private. there's no romance in his touches, but there is passion, all lust and want, as he uses his teeth to yank his glove off and roughly caresses the demon's quivering sex. he's not above using spit as lubrication, it falling from his lips with husky taunts as he lines himself up with their hole, now thoroughly slick with with their juices and his saliva, pushing in carefully as to not cause any pain. his gloved hand clamps over their mouth while the exposed one reaches forward to toy with their sex. he groans when they clench around him, then buries his face in their neck as he begins to fuck them from behind into a wall, or bookshelf, or whatever's closest. he murmurs filth in their ear as he fucks them ruthlessly, their muffled cries of pleasure meeting and dying against his palm. they continue until he's satisfied, until cum dribbles out of their tight hole and forms creamy rings around the base of his cock. he pulls their underwear up with a swat against their ass and tells them not to make a mess that barbatos will have to clean later. he stalks off to find a bathroom to freshen up in-- if they're lucky, they'll hear from him again in the future.

lucifer, who can set his pride aside for you. you've wormed your way into his heart, somehow, charming him during the exchange program with a combination of persistence and genuine care. he won't admit he's smitten, for he is far too proud to bicker with his brothers for your attention. you'll have to see it yourself. notice the way he looks at you from across the room and acknowledges you with a nod, or the brush of his hand against your arm as he passes you in the hallway, or the way he'll decline a call just to hear you speak a little longer. his ballroom rendezvous cease almost instantaneously, without his notice-- the demons may try to catch his eye again, but his ruby gaze never strays from you, from watching you sway in his arms on the dancefloor. he's head over heels. fuck, he's so in love with you it hurts. nights like these peel back the layers of the avatar of pride and let the rest of the world get a glimpse at the sides of him reserved just for you. all for you.

lucifer, who loves nights like these. the two of you are intertwined in his office, you sat on his lap as he sips lazily at a mixture of demonus and gold hellfire newt syrup. his blood pumps loudly in his ears but all he can see is you. you don't give him a command to cancel the syrup's effects, but he doesn't mind-- you command him with your hands, with your eyes as you run your fingers along his body. his crawl up your side before cradling the back of your head, pulling you into a heated kiss. your body melts into his like wax under a flame, conforming to the curves and planes of his body like they were made for you, fuck, Father must have made him for you. why else would you feel so perfect in his arms? why else would he have been damned, fallen from the celestial realm for defending love between human and a supernatural being, fated to experience it himself? there's an invisible string tying the two of you together. he wears it like a badge of honor. he'd let you tie him up with it if you kept grinding your hips against his like that, tongue lapping at the skin of his throat as you mark him. he can't bring himself to care about the taunts he'll endure tomorrow. lord diavolo's curious looks and pointed questions mean nothing when he has you on top of him. he's drunk on your love, surely, demonus and syrup blended in his veins paling in comparison to the love he has for you. he'd do it all again, fall to hell, lose his life if it meant you'd moan like that as he scissors his fingers in your hole, wet with your intertwined saliva, his precum, and your slick, the juices glinting in the firelight as he pushes them in and out of you. he won't stop until you're cumming around his fingers. he'd normally toy with you longer, but he's honestly so overwhelmed by the heat of your love that he feels he might fully go insane if he's not inside you within the next minute. you align yourself over his weeping cock and ease yourself down. he moans, loudly, enough for someone nearby to hear. lucifer doesn't give a shit. your hands find his and your fingers intertwine, stabilizing you enough to begin lovingly, carefully bouncing yourself on his cock. he's been thoroughly damned, that he's sure of, but this is truly the closest thing to heaven he'll ever see again-- your love is worth a thousand angels, a million glimpses into the celestial realm. and it's all his, just as he's all yours.

taglist for this series: @the-demonus-aunt // @scienceisfornerds // @hostilemakeover // @snow-fall1 // @kachan890 // @rphantom1 // @respitable

#obey me #obey me swd #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me nightbringer #obey me nb #om nb #obey me smut #otome #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer smut

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pinkaditty · 1 year

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WHB Sitri Thirst

teehee guess who's back (at long last!!!!!)

summary: sitri needs to give you devil energy in Satan's absence. you are tired of him calling you Solomon. a/n: you would not BELIEVE how many days this took like what if i keeled over and died fr. ANYWAYS ANYWAYS part 3 of the pervert obey me thing is still in the works as well as a few other writing projects im working on. please be patient with me i swear i will deliver what the crowd wants!!!!!!!!!!!!

also any anons that have sent asks: I SEE THEM! I PROMISE! I WILL RESPOND!

cw: cardiophilia, smut, creampie, begging, sub!sitri, dom!reader, gn!reader (none of the reader's physical attributes are mentioned with a specific description), some fang action, mentions of blood, NOT PROOFREAD, and i think that's all! let me know if i missed anything in the comments, please!

Word count: ~3k

ONCE AGAIN AS USUAL MINORS DNI! I DO NOT WANT YOU INTERACTING WITH MY CONTENT THANKS!

By the time you'd returned to your lodging, Sitri was riddled with want and desire. Your face betrayed nothing, but you knew he could hear your heartbeat, beating a million times per minute as you attempted to unlock the door. The temptation to slow your pace to tease him was hard to resist, but you knew it would be useless when your heart gave away your every thought. Sitri is not a demon of many words, but you can hear his silent urging in his heavy breathing and twitching fingers against the leather of his harness.

Thump, thump, thump.

You can feel your heart beating in your neck as you carefully turn the knob to the door, pushing it open and stepping inside, holding it open for Sitri to follow. He wastes no time in stepping through the threshold, the click of his heels stopping short before he turns to watch you as you close the door. You take your time doing it, the thumping of your heart harmonizing with the creak of the door. Sitri only watches, but you can feel his gaze boring into the back of your neck as you prolong the creaking of the door until it finally reaches the end. You shut the door in tune with your heartbeat. Thump.

The newfound silence of the room is almost deafening. You only realize how dark it is when you notice nothing but moonlight pouring across your skin. It is cool and glowing, illuminating the room in white light. You turn to look at Sitri, and the moment your eyes meet his, he approaches you. His light blue hair flows as he moves, shining white in the light. His skin is ever so pale, only dotted by a blue pentagram on his neck and the soft pink of his lips, pointed downwards in a soft pout. His eyes shine with what you can only assume is lust. He reaches for you, sharp blue nails curling into your clothing and holding you in place before he swiftly buries his face in your chest, listening intently to your heartbeat.

Thump, thump, thump.

He presses his ear to your chest and sighs comfortably, gripping your body like a lifeline.

Thump, thump, thump.

"Solomon…" He whispers quietly into your chest, relaxing against you. "How I missed this sound." His lips brush lightly against your chest as he speaks, making you shiver.

You part your lips to correct him, remind him that you're not Solomon, but you don't bother after observing how peaceful he seemed, pressed against your chest. Despite him being so close, you could tell he was still antsy, his fingers tightening and loosening their grip on you, his thighs squeezing together and releasing, his breathing still heavy on your chest…

Careful to avoid his horn, you gather some of his hair and tug on it twice, gently pulling him away. He hesitantly, and rather reluctantly, moves away from your chest, his lips still in a soft pout. He looks at you questioningly, and you simply shake your head. "Come on, let's get comfortable at least." You tug him along to your bed, sitting on it, and motioning for him to sit next to you. Instead of doing that, however, he situates himself on your lap, facing you. He curls his arms around your waist and once again presses his ear to your chest, as though desperate to hear your heart again. He pulled you closer with his arms and pressed into you further with his ear, so much so that you ended up on your back with him pressed against you at every inch, listening to your heartbeat.

Thump, thump, thump.

You hear him whispering Solomon's name multiple times, like a prayer, savoring the way it sounded on his tongue. You were not Solomon. But you could tolerate it… for now.

He just couldn't seem to get enough. He continued to press his ear into your chest, as though he needed to hear every single contraction, like he needed to hear the blood as it rushed to and from your heart. He started breathing heavier, his face turning red as he did. He began to press his body against yours a little rougher, breathy whines coming from his lips as he did.

"Solomon, Solomon, Solomon…"

He begins to nuzzle his face into your chest, needing to feel more, more, and more. You hear him click his teeth in annoyance at your shirt, and he rather brazenly tears it away, as well as anything underneath, with his sharp nails. He tosses the ripped clothing to the side, ignoring your shocked noise, and presses his lips to your chest, right where your heart would be. He pulls away, his heavy breathing turning to panting, and he continues pressing kisses to your chest. You sigh in pleasure and let him continue, not that stopping him would result in anything fruitful.

The kisses become more and more desperate, and eventually, his lips make room for his tongue and teeth, licking and scraping his fangs against your chest. Occasionally he pauses, panting out of sheer excitement, and presses his ear against your chest again to listen to your rapid heartbeat. Each time he does, you feel him shift his hips and squeeze his thighs together, a shudder running down his spine. His hands grip anything within reach - your waist, your chest, your shoulders, your hair, the sheets - his hands rotate indiscriminately like he can’t decide what should ground him. You reach around him and tug on his hair, taming him. He hums into your chest and pulls back, lips swollen slightly from working at your chest, and eyes teary from stimulation. His face is bright red, barely visible in the pale moonlight. His chest heaves from his panting. You behold this sight for a while, gazing at him.

“I’ll need more than this to receive your devil energy, Sitri.” You gently remind him of the purpose of this endeavor, and his blush deepens. You reach out to cradle his cheek in your palm, and he leans into it, pressing his fingers against your wrist to feel your pulse.

“I apologize, Solomon. I… I’ll make you feel good.” The words drip from his lips like saliva, thick and heavy with meaning, hunger laced in every syllable. He licks from your wrist to your palm, as though he could taste your pulse, before releasing your wrist and shifting his focus to your lower body. He grabs the hem of your clothing and gently tugs it away, removing your intimates as well. He seems to savor the way more of your skin is revealed, more skin through which blood flows, all for him to hear through a pulse.

He moves further away to allow him access to you, kneeling just off of the bed and facing your core directly. He leans his head against your right thigh, pressing his ear to it to listen for a pulse, holding your left thigh away from his horn. You can tell immediately when he finds your pulse, as his grip on you tightens quickly, and he sighs in satisfaction. He starts almost immediately, licking a long stroke from the bottom to the top. You stiffen, trembling. You carefully prop yourself up on your elbows as he continues, sighing in pleasure. He maneuvers his tongue in long, careful strokes, exploring you as he pressed your thigh closer to his ear. All he needed was your heartbeat to know how well he was doing.

Thump, thump, thump.

You roll your hips against Sitri, reaching down for him and gripping his hair, encouraging him. He whimpers when you pull his hair, and you feel him shudder against your thigh. He peers up at you as he continues, his long tongue strokes turning into shorter, more focused ones at more sensitive points. He swirls his tongue in small circular strokes and the steady pattern of stimulation makes you see stars. You tugged harder on his hair, pulling him in closer to you, and he follows, malleable to your touch. It wasn’t much longer until you reached your peak, gripping his hair like a vice and trembling, pleased moans falling from your lips. He grips your thighs harder as you ride out the last of it, thumbs pressing painfully hard into the skin of them, feeling the blood pulse through your veins under his fingers. When you release his hair, he finally pulls away, his lips dripping with the remnants of your release. His hair is mussed, his skin is flushed red, his pupils are blown wide, and his lips are swollen and pink. He is beautiful.

His thumbs are still pressed painfully hard into your thighs and his ear is still pressed against your skin. He’s the picture of ecstasy, enjoying each and every thump of your heart, savoring the sound as though it’s the last he’ll hear of it.

“Solomon…” He pants, licking his lips to clear them of your release. His eyes roll to the back of his head as he shivers again, and you watch as he bites his lip from the sheer thrill of listening to your heartbeat. “Thank you… Thank you for letting me indulge…” He pants between his words, rubbing his cheek against your thigh, still listening to your heartbeat.

You decide you have had enough.

You sit up a bit more, adjusting your posture, and he watches you with adoring, lustful eyes. You roughly grab the front of his shirt, slightly damp with saliva, and pull him towards you. He obediently follows, watching with wide eyes as you lead him over you, pressing his knees into the bed. You take this opportunity to hook your legs behind his knees and flip him over on his back, pressed into the bed as you hover over him.

“I am not Solomon.” You stare down at him, adoring his shocked expression and red cheeks. You reach low for his pants, pressing a palm into his strained erection, gently pulling at his pants button before it pops open, revealing his zipper.

He squirms from your movements, excitement lighting up every nerve of his body. He looks away from you nervously, mumbling an apology. His words are breathless and desperate. “I apologize, Descendant of-”

“No.” You interrupt him quickly, reaching for his jaw and holding it in place. He stops talking purely out of shock, his lips snapping shut. He watches you with wide eyes, breathing heavily. “I do not care about being his descendant. I only want you to say my name. Say my name. It is me you are in bed with, not Solomon.”

He exhales, whimpering slightly. “Yes, yes… MC. MC.” He pants out your name, pupils blown wide with lust once again. “Please… please let me indulge myself, MC.” He begins to beg, squirming more. You knew perfectly well he could hear your heartbeat from where he was, but perhaps it was not enough. Ignoring his pleas, you instead reach down for his zipper, this time pulling it down agonizingly slowly. You watch as he twitches beneath you, his eyes rolling again in ecstasy, waiting for his dick to be free. He starts panting impatiently as you finally unzip them all the way. He whines, his fingers curling into the sheets. “Please… please please please, let me indulge myself. Please, MC.” He begs more, blinking away pitiful tears as you hook your fingers over the band of his boxers, pulling them down. He whimpers more, and you finally indulge him, moving your other hand closer to his head, turning so that your wrist was right against his ear. He sighs happily, and presses his ear to your wrist, sighing again when you finally free his length. He gently rolls his hips upwards, not high enough to touch you, but enough to send a message. He pleads with his eyes, wide and wanting for you. He awaits your movement, biting his lip and curling a hand around your wrist to feel for your pulse again.

Thump, thump, thump.

You simply smile at him as he pleads, and position yourself above him, at last. He visibly gulps, his eyes flickering from your core to your face. Various pleas and whines and broken phrases fall from his lips as you gently position his erection to align with you, and you begin to slowly lower yourself to where his tip meets your entrance. He starts to squirm, the pleas getting more and more insistent. You make direct eye contact with him and hold his gaze and you lower yourself onto him entirely, taking his length in full. He moans pitifully, never breaking eye contact. You bite your lip, gripping his side with one hand to steel yourself. You breathe deeply to calm yourself, still holding Sitri’s gaze.

“Are you ready for me to start moving?” You ask, smiling and biting your lip.

He nods vigorously, too impatient to wait any longer. “Yes, yes!”

You waste no time in going slow. The want that burns within the two of you is far too great for that. Using your knees as leverage, you begin to move, lifting yourself off of him and immediately lowering back down to take him in. The sound of skin slapping on skin and the bed creaking begin to fill the room. Sitri rolls his eyes back and moves his hips to thrust upwards into you, though he can barely keep it up as the pleasure gets to his head. He keeps whimpering and moaning, writhing in pleasure and pressing his fingers to your wrists, savoring the feeling of your pulse. His light blue hair is spread out below him, his bangs sticking to his forehead. His eyes are wide and unfocused, switching between rolling back, staring at yours, or looking at your chest, listening to your thumping heart. His lips are parted and red, breathing heavily.

You can feel him filling you up to the brim, his tip barely kissing a sweet spot deep within you as you continued riding him. You were panting, using up all your energy but unable to stop, purely from how good it felt. You suppressed your moans by biting your lip, but they would escape, betraying how quickly you were falling apart form the pleasure. Every time he managed to thrust upwards, he’d hit the sweet spot directly, and you would curl your back, moaning loudly. The pleasure began to build up within you, and you knew the same was true of him.

You paused your quick movements to instead grind yourself on him, savoring the feeling of him inside and giving your legs a break. Sitri whines and curls his face towards your wrist, gently dragging his tongue across the spot where your pulse was strongest. He presses his lips to your pulse as you continue to grind, muffling his whines and savoring the feeling of your pulse on his lips.

When you finally recover, you lift yourself up again, slowly dragging your walls across the entirety of his length. He pulls away from your wrist and moans, tightening his grip on your wrists and looking up at you pitifully. You lower yourself again, speeding up this time, and he sighs with pleasure, relishing the feeling of you riding him. The break was not enough, however, and you can still feel the pleasure building up. You speed up your movements, not bothering to hide your moans any longer. He simply writhes underneath you, his eyes rolling and his tongue lolling out of his mouth, tightening and releasing his grip on your wrists. He couldn’t ground himself anymore.

You reach for his horn at last and grab it roughly, pulling his head towards your chest. He yelps in surprise, but that very quickly melts into a loud moan, muffled into your chest. He turns his head to press his ear to your chest, and wraps his arms around your back, listening for your heartbeat once more.

Thump, thump, thump.

You stroke his horn as you continue to ride him, and he’s practically yelling at this point, his moans so loud you were sure they could be heard down the hall. Your riding pattern becomes erratic as you reach your peak, and you can feel he is, too, as he desperately attempts to thrust upwards and scrapes his nails into your back, moans barely muffled by your chest.

“MC… MC!” He calls your name and babbles pleas and broken words incoherently before you feel him thrust roughly upwards and still against you. His nails dig into your back and his ear presses harder against your chest than before. You feel him release inside you, warm and sedating. A similar liquid melts across your fingers from his horn, and it drips onto the bed. You are in a similar state, having reached your peak as well. You stiffen as you feel his release within you, panting and moaning, clenching your thighs together as tight as you could.

He shivers against you before he collapses, releasing his grip on you and falling back onto the bed. His eyes are rolled far back into his skull, his lips parted wide and panting, and his cheeks are flushed a beautiful red. You relax and lean over him, not wanting to lift yourself off of him just yet. He whimpers softly at the feeling of still being inside you, twitching slightly. You press a gentle kiss to his lips, which he excitedly reciprocates, reaching weakly to cradle your chin in his hands. As the kiss deepens and becomes sloppy, your tongues searching each other’s mouths, he lazily wraps his arms around your neck, gently pulling you closer. You relax your body against him entirely, pressing your chest to his. Your heartbeats sync, slowing as you both come down from your highs.

You break the kiss, licking your lips, and you look down at him. He looks up at you with hooded, satisfied eyes. His lips are parted, and his panting is slowly slowing down.

“What’s my name?” You ask him, leaning towards him and pressing your forehead to his.

“MC.” He answers, smiling as he does. He curls his arms around you tighter, pulling you closer again and pressing your noses together.

Thump, thump, thump.

“You are not Solomon after all.”

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a/n: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH I LOVE SITRIIIIIIIIIII!! i admit i don't think this was my best writing ever but i hope it's good, genuinely, because i spent lots of time on it. reminder that i really appreciate likes, reblogs, comments, and asks!! please let me know what you all think!!

this was self-indulgent but also a gift for @jessamine-rose !!!!

#minors dni #whb satan #what in hell is bad #whb sitri #whb mc #whb sitri x reader #sitri #what in hell is bad game #what in hell is bad satan #what in hell is bad sitri #what in hell is bad x reader #whb #what in hell is bad smut #whb smut #sitri x reader #what in “hell” is bad?#prettybusy what in “hell” is bad?#whb sitri x mc

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r0-boat · 11 days

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Sitri x AFAB!reader x Amy

They both fuck you

Cw: breeding, slight baby trapping(Sitri saying questionable things), porn with little plot, Threesome, spit roasting, arguing, slight choking.

Amy is calm and Sitri fucking loses it lol

You don't remember how you got here... Your poor cunt getting brutally fucked by a devil while the other devil who is arguing with him is stuffed in your mouth.

Wait...Yes you do.

You need a devil's energy, and since everyone in Gehenna Who could help you was in a meeting, You stumbled around your vision, getting dizzy as your breath grew shallow, trying to find anyone in the castle. Anyone! You are so desperate. You could even feel The heat pulling between your legs as your body screamed at you to find someone.

Trying to focus on steadying yourself, You didn't notice the big figure in front of you. You ran face first into him, You swore you feel your head bounce off his chest.

"HEY! WATCH WHERE YOU'RE FUCKING GOING!" The man snaps, but his eyes widen when he recognizes you. "Oh! I-I'm sorry. Please, you have to be more careful." His voice went from loud and demanding to soft and gentle in seconds.

But you don't answer as you try to keep your body from passing out. You cling onto the devil, your fingers digging into his white uniform that was half hazard tossed on his otherwise bare chest. You could almost recognize his voice, but you were too weak to think about it. The demon caught you in his arms as you almost collapsed.

"Oh fuck! h-hey take it easy! Are you okay?"

He asks as if you didn't just almost pass out.

"Oh yeah, you must be Solomon's child... Oh fuck. Shit! You don't look so good!"In preparation for scenarios like this, Satan informed everyone of your condition just in case you happen to be out and about and you need emergency devil's energy. Amy knew how urgent this was because he knew how important you were to Satan.

"So I just gotta put my dick in you, and you'll feel better? Okay, piece of cake."Amy muttered because he lifted you into his arms. He left papers he had prepared for the meeting scattered on the floor. Amy ran down the hall as fast as he could, cradling you in his arms in the first room he found clean and vacant. He practically kicks down the door, laying you on the couch.

Immediately, he begins tripping his clothing. He wasn't hard, not yet, But he did feel a little buzz looking at you, You're flushed face, and you're rising and falling chest, Your clothes that hugged your body just right yet leaving some for the imagination. Fuck... The two of you have interacted much, Not as much as Leraye or Piemon or even damn Sitri. But he knew why Satan liked you. Oh, he could absolutely see it.

His hands gently caress you as if stalling to rip your clothes off. He could feel heat flush to his face. You open your eyes seeing a familiar figure. "Amy, please... I need you so bad," You whisper in a breathy tone that stole his away. He nods his big hands beginning to strip you slowly.

It's been so long since he had been with anyone, let alone another human. They had different parts than the one he used to sleep with. Then a penis they had folds that looked rather inviting and quite tasty...

His body moved on his own as he left your legs up to run his tongue across your cunt. One lick, and you buck your hips, finally feeling some relief you desperately craved, but it's not enough. "Please, more!" You whine. Your fingers dig into Amy's locks, pulling him into you, which he happily lets you. His tongue slides inside your folds, and his eyes roll back at your taste.

'So sweet... So good...'

It wasn't before long that your juices so his tongue. He holds you gently yet firmly as he slurps at your gushing. He didn't even realize how close you were until your sweet juices flooded his mouth. His horns and cock were drooling, and his mouth was glistening with your cum. He licked his lips as he crawled on top of you. His lips meet yours as you taste yourself on his tongue.

"Tell me if it hurts. Please," He says. You nod. Your hands dig into his shoulders, bracing yourself as you watch his huge cock slowly begin to press itself inside you. When his cock glides inside you, you watch as Amy tilts his head up, His tongue rolling out at the tight squeeze. You wrap your legs around him, and being inside you becomes torture for Amy, but still, he is waiting, scared that if you move too soon, he might break you. But you are not having it. You needed his 'devil's energy' and you needed it now. "Move Amy!" You demanded, which startled him, but he nodded, moving his hips slowly at first until he started picking up the pace, a nice sensual, deep pace, each thrust going so deep, brushing against every spot, making your toes curl. It had been so long for the devil. He was a lot closer than he thought he would be. He tries to hold on and make you come first before he explodes inside you. He licks, sucks, and bites your neck, his hands running over and touching, manhandling your body, His rough hands scraping against your soft skin. You tighten around him and come on his cock, feeling your tight squeeze. He gives in, filling your cunt up with delicious devil's energy.

Amy holds you to his chest. He smiles at you. He opens his mouth to speak, but the door bursts again. A very familiar blue-haired devil stares at the both of you... In his office... On his couch, naked, smelling of sex. Hearing your heart pounding in your chest, he couldn't tell if it was from sex or the fact he caught the both of you.

"Explain." A single word falls from his lips, his tone just as icy as his gaze as he glares down at the both of you. Amy glared back, cradling you in his arms as if protecting you. Finally, coming back to your senses You fully recognize where you are and what's going on You take a deep breath, and your eyes widen, stunned for a moment. You stutter, trying to form words, but Amy cuts you off. "I found them in the hallway They looked awful and they needed devil's energy if I wasn't there they would have died."

Sitri gives you an unreadable expression. His eyes widen, but his face is blank. He looks at both you and Amy. You could steal your heart, jumping out of your chest as you see Sitri clutching his fist and his fingers digging into his palms.

"Solomon."

He smiles, saying his nickname for you in a sing-song tone. The click of his shoes fills your ears as he steps closer.

"You want more right?"

In one hand movement he rips Amy off of you throwing him to the ground.

"Because I can't imagine a devil-like this satisfying you!" He growls, ripping his clothes off; his eyes are wild with burning anger, lust, and hot jealousy. Amy could only watch from the floor as Sitri grabbed you roughly, pinning you to the arm of the couch. You let out a loud, sharp squeal feeling his cock enter you in one thrust. Amy watched your eyes roll back as Sitri's pace was immediately rough and fast.

"This is how you satisfy Solomon!" He hisses through his teeth. "I know them better than anyone to know that they like being fucked like a cheap whore!"

Amy wanted to help you. His heart raced at how rough his rival was treating you, but at the same time, he didn't want to be left in the dust. He didn't want to sit by and watch as Sitri took you from him. And with your mouth occupied, drooling as you stare down at him, licking your lips, how could he not give you what you're so desperately asking?

He could feel his cock already hardening once again as he stood up. Your eyes light up as his dick dangles in front of your face. You open your mouth obediently; Amy nuzzles his fingers in your hair as he slowly pushes his dick in your mouth.

Sitri was quick to notice. "That's why you'll never satisfy them like I do, too gentle, too soft! You're lucky that I'm letting your diseased dick even near them!"

Your eyes flash a little bit as you feel Amy's cock twitch in your mouth as Amy growls back. "You're too rough! If this is how you treat them, then you'll be the reason why they go back to Earth!"

Sitri lets out a dark, crazed chuckle that makes you clench. "They will not leave me. I will not let them; I will trap them here any means necessary-!"

He leans down, whispering into your ear, wrapping a hand around your throat, feeling your pulse along with the stretch of your throat around Amy's shaft. "If I have to breed you, pump you full of my spawn, then so be it!"

Your eyes roll back. His breath tickled your ear as he whispered something so heinous, so dark, so delicious You go over the edge, and coming on his cock, your orgasm rips through you as you moan on Amy's dick. You milk Sitri as he explodes inside your pussy. His hips are still deep inside you, making sure you take every last drop of his seed.

And Amy feels your throat vibrate against his cock. He cums, sinking his teeth into his lips, trying failing not to moan too loud as he grinds into your face. You eagerly drink up every last drop of warm demonic seed going into your belly.

Three of you collapse, shuffling to the couch to demons on either side, their hands on your thighs, touching you and snuggling against your body.

For the first time, they did not argue; they just sat there enjoying your company, too tired to say anything negative towards each other.

#smut #whb #wihib #what in hell is bad #whb amy #whb sitri #what in hell is bad x reader #no beta we die like men #I wrote this at 1:00 a.m. let's fucking go

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livelaughlovesubs · 2 days

Text

~ 01.10 - (whb) Lucifer ~

Dom!reader x sub!lucifer - reader is gender neutral

Warning: nipple play, lactation, dacryphilia, marking, objectification (a little), pet names, teasing, praise kink (a little), cumming untouched, eating cum (both), cum play, tongue kiss, mind break, sub-space, dacryphilia

~ Word count: 5.7k ~

Nini!rant: okay.. huh.. first one done, and it’s our beautiful luci

Kinktober list 2024

The sound of birds chipping echoed through the greenhouse, where you were enjoying some afternoon tea. Their singing wasn’t rhythmic nor melodic, yet it was calming and quite befitting the atmosphere. At least they served the purpose of breaking the silence between you and the person sitting across you. He requested your presence and had you come all the way to Paradise Lost, only to play house with you.

This was truly an awful experience, getting interrogated like this by none other than the strongest being in hell, the Lucifer himself. Though can you call it interrogation, when all he has done was staring at you through his bangs? At least the treats were good, you were able to distract yourself from the infuriating situation at hand. The smell of tea filled your nostrils, it tickled the tip of your nose. A single sip was all it took to bring a smile to your face, a pleased expression showing in response to the rich aroma of your drink.

All of the flavors were amazing and exquisite. It was just the right amount of sweetness to brighten your mood, and enough bitterness to keep your mind alerted. Despite the tense situation, or the lack of it to be precise, he was still the first creation of god. That’s a title worth fearing. The first light of dawn, the first angel, basically the one who has witnessed it all. It was a given that the pressure would linger despite the seemingly gentle atmosphere. No matter how he tried to mask this interaction up as a simple tea party, you were going to be careful around him. Better that than sorry.

You took another sip, feeling the warmth of the tea chase out the chilly sensations from before. Something was missing though, you were craving some milk with your tea.

The gentle sunlight felt like a warm embrace, a blanket that sheltered all of hell. If Gehenna had the same weather as here, then Leraye must be feeling pretty down. A soft smile formed on your lips at the thought of that sunshine of a child, and the corners of your mouth twitched ever so slightly. Lucifer, who sat opposite to you, observed your every mimic with a nonchalant expression, studying them even.

His messy hair, as bright as the light, shone alongside the sun. After a moment’s hesitation, he talked in his usual deep yet tender voice, one that could bring his subject to the brink of ecstasy, “For what my brother did, I want to apologize.” The first words that left his throat were apologetic ones, then he swiftly changed it to a firm tone, “I’d be willing to make up to you.”

Make up to you, he said. Was he perhaps trying to lessen the sins of his dearest ones? Now that’s an interesting offer, it caught you off guard and sent a chill down your spine. As if someone just pushed you into a pond. Nevertheless, you had to be careful, one wrong step could end up with your head rolling around, and you still haven’t decided on how dangerous that guy was. If we were to go by what Satan mentioned, it would take the power of all the six kings of hell to have a chance at defeating this guy.

With lingering doubts, you opened your mouth, replying after much contemplating and care, “Could you elaborate on that?” First, you needed to know what he meant by his words, to clear off any possible misunderstandings. To make up to you, it sounds like he owes you a favor. Of course, you despised that self-righteous angel for his deeds and sins committed against you, yet you would never blame it on someone not involved. His gaze shifted from you to his cup, staring at his reflection in the liquid.

He had a guess about how you must feel at this moment, hence his explanation, “A sexual favor is also possible.” Those words had an unfamiliar ring to Lucifer, it was the first time in eons that he used them. In a deep, hidden corner of his mind, he wished to know what you had done with his relatives. What was the saying again? Curiosity killed the cat, but the cat had nine lives and came back satisfied? “You may show me what you did with my brothers.” He suggested, adding some information to his previous statement.

That would never happen, at least not now, not when you are in such a vulnerable position. Who knows what he might do with you after finding out about all the things you did, about how you made his brothers cry. Still you were intrigued, seeing this flawless… person— cry would surely be quite the adventure and bring forth a fitting satisfaction, even so, you valued your life, enough to not want to die a gruesome death.

The best way to get out of this mess would be to act kind and naive. You smiled insincerely, hiding your skeptic feelings behind a carefully crafted mask. “Thanks for your concern, but I’m fine, there is no need for you to apologize.” A tone tender enough to make flower petals seem rough, paired with a bright smile full of rejection.

“Is that so.” The angel in front of you acknowledged your words, he used his arms to push himself up from his seat. Now that he stood up, you remembered how intimidating he actually was. Considering that he was incredibly tall, adding on the fact he also owned a fearsome aura around him. It was a feel unique to the seraphim, one that just reeked of unyielding pride.

Your finger clenched around your teacup tighter, awaiting his next move. “Follow me,” Lucifer said. It wasn’t a question nor was he polite about it, it was an order. There was no doubt he was an angel, some habits just never change. Though in all honesty? Every single one of his mannerisms reminded you of one. The subtly arrogance, how he seemed like he felt superior to everyone, the commanding voice, and the cold shoulder he gave you. Should you really follow such a person? What choices did you have, when it was a direct order from the avatar of pride?

Even so, you wanted to voice your concerns first, gulping down the knot in your throat. “Where are we going?” You tried to sound unsuspecting and cheerful, the last thing you wanted was to accidentally offend him. To be honest all you wanted was to run and escape this suffocating place. “To my bedroom.” He answered nonchalantly, as if that was the most normal thing in the world, to invite someone you barely knew to your bedroom.

One didn’t need to be a genius to guess what his intentions were, so you had to set the record straight right here right now. Who knows, maybe he will let you go if your preferences don’t align. That would be quite a nice outcome indeed. After mustering up enough courage, you stood up as well, looking him sternly in the eyes as you made yourself clear, “If your plan is what I think it is, then please pardon me. I do not wish to get intimate with a stranger.”

A stranger, you said. Right, that’s one way to describe your current relationship. Lucifer thought about your words carefully, looking for the right things to say to convince you. Your logic was understandable, it was the correct way to do it after all. Though he didn’t have time to wait for you to open up to him. The only reason why he wanted to share a night with you was to get Solomon’s descendant on his side, and doing it in the romantic, patient way wouldn’t do. For that, he was too jealous of Solomon to treat his descendants with compassion.

Besides this was hell, the most efficient way to get things done was simply through a sexual act. That way you can find out a lot about the other party. Long story short, he wasn’t going to heed your will. “I understand your point, though I fear I can’t accept it.” He began, and continued after taking a few steps in your direction, “If you wish, you can simply admire and touch me as if I’m merely an object. We don’t need to go all the way.”

Who the heck did he think he was, sure, he was a very prominent figure, but even then how could he disregard and disrespect your opinion like this. “No, I-” He glared at you for a split second, furrowing his eyebrows as he interrupted your sentence, “I won’t take no for an answer, it’s for hell.” Then his features reverted back to the neutral one. For a moment, he reminded you of a certain devil who was known for his bad temper.

With much complaining, you eventually gave up and agreed to his request, feeling a little cornered. “Fine, lead the way then.” You answered begrudgingly, forcing out a meek smile. Lucifer’s expression still didn’t change, he stared at you blankly for a second, before turning around and repeating the words he previously uttered, “Follow me.” How irritating he was, just like any other devil, or angel for that matter.

Not long after you found yourself slandering through the gigantic halls of his palace, it was decorated extravagantly in all the different shades of gold. Merely walking on such expensive-looking ground made you feel inferior. Wherever you looked you could hear the objects scream ‘broke’ at you. This wasn’t a treatment you expected in Paradise Lost, it sounded more befitting of Mammon’s castle.

On the other hand, it was to be expected that the resting place of every king must be of the highest quality, whether if they liked it or not, their subjects would arrange it for them in that manner. Despite you walking right behind him, you didn’t want to watch his back. All you did was curse about how everything unfolded. His shoulders were wide, paired with a slim waist to match. He was wearing a large suit jacket, yet he couldn’t conceal that fact. The way he walked was befitting his aura, rid of any hints of hesitation and full of precision. If someone didn’t know his position, they could still guess it, all due to his habits.

After a while, he finally reached his wanted destination, stopping in front of a room. You sneaked up next to him, still unable to do anything but watch from the sidelines. There was not a single word you two exchanged during your little trip, causing it to be more or less awkward. Lucifer pushed the door open, turning the doorknob and stepping inside, of course, you followed shortly after. The inside of the room was even more lavish than the gorgeous floors outside. Each piece of furniture fit into the frame, all of them had their own designated place, and the way they were lined up implied someone meticulously planning all of it out beforehand.

You couldn’t help but be amazed, these rooms are more than what one could categorize as luxury. Sure, the other king’s palaces didn’t fall behind in any aspects, though you were still impressed nonetheless. To think you’d be allowed inside such a grandiose space… if this was Earth it must cost a fortune. All your initial impressions were washed away the moment you recalled his presence. How did you manage to forget, for even one frame of a second? The moment you noticed, you started keeping to yourself again, hoping you didn’t step out of line. Eyes weakly scanning the room, avoiding his gaze at all costs. What he did next was unexpected, so much so that you ended up finding yourself staring without knowing what to do.

He walked over to the bed, sat down, and began to undress.

The first piece of clothing to be dropped was his jacket with the white snake. Dropping it off onto the ground, then slowly unbuttoning his shirt. In your head, a million thoughts flooded you, especially because you were confused about what to do. When Lucifer started taking his dress shirt off, revealing his toned body, you decided you had enough and asked, “What’s this supposed to mean?” Without even thinking about it, contemplating what he wanted to say, he blurted out, “Seducing you.”

The way he replied was as if he saw nothing wrong with his deeds and choice of words. “Really now? Why would someone like you bother?” Despite a small fraction in the back of your mind having already expected this, considering his intentions were as clear as water, you still had a glimmer of hope that that wouldn’t be the case. He didn’t have any connections with Solomon like the other kings, on the contrary, he is envious of him. For a man like him to want to earn your favor - it sounds unbelievable.

“I simply wanted to try my shot, perhaps I failed already?” Lucifer questioned after seeing your serious expression, his shirt was loose now but not taken off completely. “Failed what?” You asked him, hoping that you could gather enough information to make sense of what was going on. “Failed to impress you.” The blondie said, without hesitation or a hint of sarcasm. Why would you want to impress me, was what you would have liked to ask, though your guts told you to stay quiet.

It’s a given that anyone would be in awe of him, considering how endearing he’s been the entire time. Even now, him sitting on his bed while flexing his muscles and that slim waist; every part of him was proof that he was sculpted by the loving hand of god personally. “No, that’s not the case..” you stopped mid-track, thinking about the possible outcomes for a bit, being hasty could cause backlash after all. If you praised him, he might take it as consent, but if you refused, would he get defensive? Was he a case like Levi?

Instead of pondering over this any longer, you took a gamble. Fine, since he wished to get laid so badly, shall you entertain him then? You walked up to him and hopped onto the bed as well. The soft sunlight still grazed your skin, the mattress sinking due to your added weight. “I’m plenty impressed, lucifer.” You had to show determination and sincerity, otherwise it wouldn’t bear fruits.

This wasn’t a lie though, he was very beautiful.

Your arm reached out for the male, finding yourself more and more captured by him with each passing second. Now that you were above him, he didn’t seem all that intimidating anymore. Fingers intertwined with his locks, stroking him while giving him a big smile. It felt pleasant, that was his first thought. Like the warmth god showered him with before Solomon came. A deep sigh left him, bitterness suddenly intruded into the room, and the atmosphere proceeded to sink.

No matter how you tried to brush it off, it seemed like he was troubled. It couldn’t have been something you did, right? Nonetheless, you hugged him gently. Your hands were still wrapped in his hair, scraping his scalp with a tenderness he hadn't felt for a long time. You pulled him closer to you until you were both resting your chins on the other’s shoulder. His sharp teeth were dangerously close to your skin, but you tried not to worry.

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, no one is forcing you, even if it’s your duty.” Your voice rang through his head, it brought forth a strange sense of comfort. “I’m doing it out of my own will.” He retorted. It smelled fishy to you, but you didn’t pursue it further. Eventually, he returned your embrace. “That’s comforting to hear.” So you replied, If you were to enjoy yourself, you had to make sure the other person wanted it too.

You took a deep breath, taking in his scent before exhaling. Your hot breath tickled his neck and before he knew it, you kissed his neck gently. The way you did it was as if you drew on his skin with your lips. One mark after another, planting them around him and corrupting him with your traces. He was taken aback, though it didn’t feel bad. At most, it tickled, which is why he let you continue, while all he did was breathing softly next to your ear. Each exhale blew some air against your skin as well, cheering you on to continue your actions.

Soon, your kisses turned into sucks, leaving behind more of your presence, proof and traces of this session today. The spots you touched would turn red shortly after, and persist for the rest of the day. How greedy of you, did you wish to mark him as yours?

“Child of Adam- uh, no, of Solomon… you, haaah.” He called out to you, hands lingering over your back. This was the first time you saw him hesitating to do something, he wasn’t sure if he had permission to crawl at your back. “Never mind.” Lucifer sighed and let you continue your little drawing session.

With time you also trailed off, going lower with your movements. All that persisted was a path from his neck to the middle of his chest. He sat up straight, only to get pushed into the mattress by you. His shirt was hanging off his shoulders as if he carefully orchestrated it this way. You hovered above him, hands releasing his hair and instead grabbing the sides of his torso. There you traced his silhouette with your hands until you were holding his astonishingly small waist.

It felt good, his skin was smooth and nice to the touch, also your hands fit in that place so perfectly, as if he was God's gift to you. Besides he seemed to like it as well, since he didn’t protest. Instead, his face started to flush slightly, alongside a sudden change in rhythm with his heartbeat. “I’m guessing I’m supposed to leave it all to you..?” Lucifer gazed up at you through half-lidded eyes, a slight, almost inaudible tremble underneath his voice. “That’s right, you told me I can treat you like an object.” You reminded him, he didn’t know if you meant it or not.

You started sucking on his nipples afterward, first licking the area and circling around it with the tip of your tongue, then flicking the wet muscle over his perky buds. His breasts were squishy and so pretty, you couldn’t help yourself. After taking a glance at his reddened face, you began sucking on his pecs. A shiver ran down his spine at the realization, face twisted into a pleasure-ridden expression.

This wasn’t a completely new feeling, since he did have experience with intimacy, though he was never the bottom. Or, rather, no one ever dared to top and grope him like this. You were truly beyond what a normal mortal was, having the resolve to touch him however you want without shivering in fear. At this rate, he might become quite fond of you.

“Do you enjoy touching me there?” He uttered, a breathy moan following close by. “I would do it if I didn’t like it.” You snapped back, a part of you wondered how you suddenly got the courage to talk to him like that. Was it because he’s under you? “…be gentle with me then.” The Blondie said, turning his face to the sides to avoid your watching gaze. “I can’t promise it, but I’ll try.” A teasing smile showed on your face as you uttered those words, eyes squinted slightly into a suspicious smile. “You don’t look trustworthy at all.” Lucifer mocked, though you ignored him and instead rolled your eyes.

Now that things have escalated to this point, the angel was wondering how far you two would go. Was this the end or the beginning, will he regret it in the end? “Ha.. uh-uhm,.” Occasionally, a sharp gasp would slip from him. Whenever you used too much force or pinched him too hard, the pain he felt would turn into pleasure and raise his libido, rendering him unable to repress his voice. Whatever this was, it must be what god wanted for him and his brothers, right? Otherwise, he wouldn't have created this feeling, this bliss and ecstasy.

You tried your best to stimulate both of his nipples, rolling the cute pink bud between your teeth. Red marks have plagued his upper area too now, and the amount was much more compared to his neck. A sense of pride filled you at your own achievement, or better yet, at this work of art beneath you. “Simply divine.” You uttered while gazing up at him through an adoring gaze, something completely different from only minutes ago. Then you noticed how his eyes were half-lidded, face blushing and lips parted due to his heavy breathing. A tired look on his face as he stared at you through wet lashes, or was it a needy look?

Who in the world would be able to resist such temptation, the temptation of the most powerful being getting all submissive for you. It has gotten increasingly difficult to resist this fine man, much harder than it was with anyone else. Without wasting more precious time and chatting any further, you switched your focus to the other one. You’ve ruined one side enough already, it was swollen and red while the other still looked pretty healthy. Wasn’t it time to abuse that spot too? Now using your hand to flick the previous one, while sipping on the other with your lips. Not long after he started making more sounds, resistance shredding entirely.

These noises were beautiful, absolutely stunning, they were like music to your ears. You listened closely while he whined and panted, feeling proud that you made him into the mess of a man. “HuuhH.. ha- hnng..! Wa-wait…” Something was strange, why did this feel so nice? Why was his heart racing so much, when it never happened with anyone but god? Not to mention how his body burned whenever your skin made contact, it tingled and felt giddily. Was it your charm, or because of the skillful touch of your hands? So many questions were going to be left unanswered, while his desire grew with each passing moment.

Suddenly you noticed something strange on your tongue, at the same time your finger seems to have touched a foreign liquid. “NghHhh…” Lucifer gasped as you pulled back, leaving his reddening nipples alone. His poor buds have been used and abused for so long, they were standing up all proud and hard. The same goes for the thing inside his pants, creating an obvious bulge between his legs. A dark spot formed where the tip of the tent was. You only stared at him, at his body, unable to comprehend the situation. What was that, you thought at first, then a bright smile crept onto your features. Was it perhaps what you thought it was?

The Blondie glanced at you a few times, before mumbling, “Why did you stop?” He couldn’t comprehend your actions, he thought everything was going alright, so why did you ruin the rhythm like this? There was no answer from your side, you remained silent. Right as he was about to ask again, you resumed your previous actions, flicking his nipples again which immediately yearned a yelp from the male. “Hmm-! UgGhh..” a watery and slightly milky substance dripped from his breasts onto your fingers. Exactly as you expected.

In the meantime, he was gripping the sheets as tightly as he could, to the point that his knuckles turned white. Surprise and amazement were written all over your face, he couldn’t quite fathom why you looked so excited, though before he got the chance to speak you basically answered him already, “Haha.. you are lactating, lucifer.” The words that came from your lips were foreign, it caused his heart to stand still for a second.

“Excuse me?” His pupils shrank, and he pulled such a silly and cute look of confusion as a response. Without further delay, you licked over his hardened nipples, and then another drop of milk stimulated your taste buds. “It’s delicious..!” You couldn’t help but compliment him, feeling overjoyed at this new discovery. Never have you ever experienced something astonishing as this, though if you had to be completely honest, it didn’t taste all that much.

Wait, hold up, explain- lactation? You mean him, lucifer, the good that fell from grace, was producing milk all this time? How his head spun, processing this information was too much for the inexperienced angel. Sure, he isn’t naive when it comes to intimate things, but he wasn’t this deep into it! Lucifer would have been longer lost in his thoughts if it weren’t for your rough treatment. Despite his inner turmoil you kept sucking and nibbling at him with a newfound fever, swallowing anything his body gave to you.

“Ahh…” the Blondie moaned, then proceeded to whine desperately, “Don’t be.. too rough..” it didn’t hurt, but it made him feel like he was on the brink of losing his sanity. All because of the weird pleasures and bliss he got out of this, he was reaching highs he never knew before. And you didn’t even touch him on his private parts, so why was he so sensitive?

“Is this how angel milk is made?” You asked him jokingly while rubbing his nipple in between your teeth, still playing with that poor body part of his. “NgGhhm..! Don’t ask- haaaa… stupid things..” God, his voice was so adorable it fuelled your want to ruin and bully him. All you wanted to do was to play with him until he didn’t have anything to offer anymore, until you sucked him dry. Just the thought of it was making you happy.

Pair that with the neutral but slightly sweet taste of his milk, you felt like you were in heaven. “I wish I had some tea to pair with your milk.” The bitterness of the tea would be compensated for with the sweet aftertaste of his milk. It would have been such a fine combination. His blush intensified at your comment, how do you always manage to come up with such unique ideas?

“Shall I request Buer or someone else to bring a cup?” This was only a teasing question, to provoke him. Yet to your surprise, he started crying and holding onto your sleeves. “No-.. don’t.” Tears akin to diamonds rolled down his cheeks, sparkling the entire time. Your heart jumped at his reaction. Like a deer caught in headlights, you couldn’t help but stare at him with a blank expression. Tears? Cries? You made the strongest being after god cry? What a satisfying feeling that was, you were captured by his beautiful, tears-ridden face.

Lucifer frowned and bit his bottom lip, embarrassed at his vulnerable state. Before he could wipe his tears with his sleeves, you kissed them away. Even you yourself didn’t know exactly why you did it. After all, this wasn’t because you couldn’t stand his crying face, because he looked beautiful while shedding those water droplets. Guess you just wanted a taste, to see if it was as delicious as his.. other fluids? You wanted to caress his face in that moment, to hold him and whisper all the dirty things you were going to do to him into his ear. This was similar to your experience on Christmas with his brothers, only ten times better.

How strange, he felt a certain kind of Deja vu at your tender touch. For one second, he could see the adoring caresses from his little brothers on him, hugging or holding his hand. Then he got reminded of when he first opened his eyes, when the love of god belonged only to him. “I want to taste all of you.” You whispered, pulling him out of his daydream again. On the other hand, you were almost shocked at how perverted your own words were. His sobbing quieted down slightly, and he looked away hesitantly. Lips trembled a little as a genuine, sad tear rolled down his chin.

“I’m sorry, that was too mean of me to say, to bring your subordinate into this as well.” You thought that was the reason why he was crying, so you quickly apologized. The blondie thought about your apology while you ate up his tears like it was a five-course meal, he clenched his eyes shut due to how close you were. “I’m alright.” He responded though the sobbing wouldn’t stop. Why? “..I hope that is the truth.” You eventually admitted, then caressed his face once again. If anything, you didn’t wish to hurt him.

After you resumed your earlier demonstrations and pinched his nipples, his sex twitched around, yearning to be freed. “Ah, it hurts.” Lucifer groaned loudly, his sharp teeth injured his own lips. “Is that all you feel?” You teased him. Tsk, asking something so obvious, you were playing games with him again, weren’t you?

“Be honest with me, Luci.” The sound of that nickname was weird, it brought forth unfamiliar sensations he had never experienced before. The angel still refused to elaborate further, since it was shameful for him. It would sound so weird if he admitted he liked the pain, he didn’t want to make a fool of himself. That stupid pride of his…

All that silence was getting too annoying, you wanted his opinion. In the end, you nibbled on his buds again, stopping only to say, “I can see that you are enjoying yourself, the wet spot on your pants is growing.” A yelp slipped from him, finally a shocked expression was spread across his features. “Ugh.. why now?!” He seemed to condemn his own body, feeling ashamed at this vulgar sight of his. “Look, everything down here is so sticky.” You said while your hand crept lower, to grobe him through his pants. “MhhHm, is— is that so?” Huh, was he trying to play the naive card now?

You held your now defiled hand right in front of his face as if to prove a point. “Exactly! Look right here.” A perverse-looking liquid stuck to your fingers and palm, it made a squelching sound whenever you clenched your hand. “Ah.. ah.” He whined, to think that he produced this filthy thing..! He turned his head to the side, to avoid looking at it. Poor Birdy hasn’t been this ashamed for centuries.

When you noticed his embarrassment, you grinned again, then brought your hand to his chest. Then you smeared all of it onto his chest, causing everything to get all wet and sticky. “HnHhn..!? Did you just-..?” Lucifer turned around as soon as he felt his own precum touching his otherwise pure and divine skin.

If that wasn’t enough already, you had to go back to playing with his already exhausted nipples. On top of that, you were cleaning up the mess you made on his chest, swallowing his slightly bitter precum along with his milk. “It’s a pretty good substitute for tea, heh.” You commented, then stuck your tongue out for him to see the two fluids mixed together, along with your spit as well.

His mouth hung agape, half due to shock, half because he couldn’t restrain his groans. You took that opportunity to kiss him and stick your tongue inside his mouth, swirling it around to make him taste himself. “MhmhGnnH..!! NHhH- uhHhnnn..♡♥︎~!” All he could do was moan into your mouth or choke out broken whimpers as more tears decorated the scene. Your hands didn’t stay useless and kept fiddling with his chest. This was too much stimulation for the poor angel, he literally saw stars as the mix of bitter and sweet danced across his tastebuds. The way you kissed him was rough yet pleasant, bringing forth an ecstasy completely new to him.

When you shoved your wet muscle down his throat, causing him to gag, a huge wave of pleasure coursed through his body. He shivered so much, shaking to the point you were almost worried. At the same time, his eyes rolled to the back of his skull as all of his moans got muffled by you. The only sounds slipping through were meek whimpers, barely audible to the human ears.

After you were done and you pulled back, granting him the privilege to breathe again, he looked like a total mess. Drool was hanging out of his lips, as well as something milkier in color. Strings of saliva were connecting his swollen lips with yours. A dazed look in his eyes, as if he didn’t bear a single thought behind those melting pupils. His face was covered in a layer of sweat and tears, his already messy locks stuck to his body like gum. You called out his name, saying it in a sweet and innocent tone. He didn’t answer you, only staring into the space like a used doll. Was he perhaps in sub-space? How adorable.

Your gaze coincidentally landed on his crotch, noticing how some of the white fluids were seeping through his trousers. Ah, so that’s what happened. This little angel here came untouched huh? Amazing, simply stunning. That sadistic smirk of yours returned as you yanked off his pants, holding back your laughter at the mess he made. You just had to taunt him for that, snarking at him, “Aww, did the big Lucifer cum from some touching and kissing? How humiliating, don’t you agree?” No answers, just a quiet whine did escape his throat. Good, he can still hear you.

“Such a mess you made, tsk tsk tsk.” You clicked your tongue, sarcastically shaking your head. After that you whispered sickly sweet, “But it’s alright, you will clean it up afterwards anyway, isn’t that so, Luci?”

Tags: @shianarou @ghostiegirl56 @thisisnotangel @ghostgoosygoose @aghrentroplayer @i-dont-fooken-know @chuuya-brainrot @allyfoxglove @thigh-o-saur @fallenthemisticalyingyang @fem-dom-roze

Nini!rant 2.0:

Men can lactate too, right. That’s something we’ve known for a long time. But only about 1/8 of men have the necessary requirements to produce milk. Because producing milk has something to do with the hormone levels, and it’s unusual for men to have enough to actually produce milk. Even then, it’d be a more watery consistence compared to the milk of a woman.

Anyway, to get a man to lactate isn’t as easy as it is in fiction. You’ll have to basically suck on the nipple, with a vacuum or mouth, for weeks (depends on the individual) for it to start producing small amounts of milk. Or in other words, constant nipple stimulation.

Another way is to take medicine promoting the needed hormones, or to starve oneself -> during World War II there has been records of prisoners lactating after starving and finally being fed. Many speculate it’s because of the dropping hormone levels due to starvation and the sudden rising once they receive food again. That’s why their bodies produced milk. (Pls don’t ask)

There are also cases where all this doesn’t apply and a guy lactates for no reason… then it’d be in your best interest to check it out with a doctor. It could be breast cancer after all, and this doesn’t only apply to guys, if anyone just suddenly leaks milk for no reason it could be signs of cancer.

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jo-harrington · 9 months

Text

Stranger Than (Fan)Fiction - Prologue: Crossover

Summary: Everyone wishes that they could have an Eddie Munson in their lives. In a strange turn of events, Eddie wishes that he could meet you, his favorite character from a cult classic 80's TV series. And he's about to get his wish.

Word Count: 3.9k

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!Reader

Warnings/Themes: No-Upside-Down AU, Minor Angst, Fluff, Isekai, Mentions of FOI-compliant events

Note: Hello and welcome. I'm very excited about getting to expand on this idea; it's going to be a wild ride. Please note as you head in, and as we get into further chapters...this fic is going to be a little mind-fucky and a little bit self aware. This is my love letter to and my criticism of fanfiction, but at the end of the day, we're still gonna get to fall in love with Eddie and get some kind of Happily Ever After. This is my guarantee.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

May 2022. Such a weird time.

A time of uncertainty, a time of change. A time where the world seemed like it had been torn apart and was slowly being knit back together again.

But then a switch was flipped. Something happened. An old season ended and a new one started and with that start came something new. Someone new. And suddenly, countless people began to yearn for this new person in their lives.

A new, old person. Eddie Munson.

Joy ignited. Creativity sparked. Millions of words written and read. Edits made. Art drawn. Merch bought.

So many voices crying “why isn’t he real. WHY ISN'T HE REAL.”

If there was a god, he would let them have their own Eddie Munson. And if there was a Satan, he would let them sell their souls for Eddie Munson.

That’s just not how the universe works.

At least…not this one...

October 1985. A different kind of place and time. Still weird.

But Eddie Munson was real.

Sometimes to his detriment.

And for the most part, it was alright.

He played guitar, laughed with friends, mocked bullies to protect the people like him that were considered less than. He'd overcome hardships of one sort or another for most of his life, he could keep at it for a little while longer.

It would be his day week month year sometime soon.

Wouldn't it?

But until then, he would bide his time. Hopefully, this year, he'd pass all of his classes and finally graduate. Get to flip that douchebag Higgins off and snatch up a long-awaited, and well-deserved diploma.

What made it all easier, what softened the blow...was you.

It was silly. He knew that. Ronnie used to tease him on Wednesday nights when he needed to run home because he had a "standing date with his girl."

"Your girl doesn't even know you're alive," she'd scoff as he bustled her into the van. "She isn't real."

No...no you weren't.

Why couldn't you be real.

See, for the past...however long Eddie had spent his late nights half-assing homework, planning campaigns for Hellfire, working on music, and watching a television show. His guilty pleasure, a show about the ups and downs and upside downs of living in a sleepy suburban town: Port Geneva.

A show where you were his favorite character.

And crush.

You weren't the main character--in fact, you were just the main character's quirky best friend--but you were a fan favorite, as much as he could tell. You'd only been in the background during the first season, but before long you were front and just-left-of-center. And last year, you'd even gotten a two-episode arc in the season finale as you turned the small town on its head by announcing, a month or two before graduation, that you were quitting school to follow your dream and become an artist.

And man...Eddie had been there.

He'd actually missed those episodes airing when...well, when everything happened with his father and the heist...and the house...and Paige.

He'd missed a lot of episodes that season. Missed seeing you come into your own as he tried and failed to come into his.

Thankfully Wayne--and Eddie wasn't a believer but whatever deity in charge needed to bless his Uncle Wayne--had the foresight to tape those episodes for him.

Those tapes would be cherished 'til the day he died, because they had truly gotten him through those tough days after everything.

He wished he had seen them when they aired, maybe...maybe he would have made some different decisions if he had.

Of course, Eddie had already loved you before then.

Since he had first laid eyes on you, actually.

He was sure that if you were real, you would be the one to understand him more than any of his friends. See the real him. In return, he would understand you, be there for you too.

He already had been. He'd seen you cry countless times, he'd laughed with you, celebrated your successes and mourned your failures. He'd been there for you when you crushed on that dickhead Mark, and then had your heart broken by the careless jerk.

And somewhere deep down inside of him, when he was sitting in that jail cell after he wasted his phone call on Paige and he felt the weight of the world bear down on his shoulders…he wished that you were real so he could have called you instead.

If you were real, Eddie's life would just be a little nicer.

He knew…he just knew.

Of course, in the mean time while he wished with every fiber of his being that you would walk into his life, he brought you to life in other ways. During mid-season and summer hiatuses, he would write you into his DND campaigns. His friends knew, they always called him out for it.

"Are you seriously making her an NPC man?" Dougie would scoff and throw a D20 across the table at him.

"No, what are you talking about?" he defended and threw the die right back at his friend. "This is Spiria the Bold."

"Uh huh," Jeff rolled his eyes. "Sure."

By his imagination and his pen, you became a powerful warrior, a sharp-tongued trickster, a seductive mage. You became anything he wanted you to be--most often with a companion and lover that mirrored him--and everything he knew, deep down, that you were.

And then the unthinkable happened.

September ‘84. He and Wayne were in the checkout line at K-mart. Cart stacked with new clothes and school supplies and groceries. When suddenly...there you were. Right in front of him.

Alright, not you. Per se. But your face, smiling alongside Samantha and Patrick and Scotty and Bill on the cover of the TV Guide.

On Set with the Stars of Port Geneva.

Wayne was the one to snatch the magazine from the rack and add it to their bounty, a knowing smile on his lips as he shook his head.

He knew Eddie needed a little pick-me-up.

Or a big one.

How could he have known this would be anything but one...

Eddie scoured over the pages once they got back to the trailer. He was hoping there would be a big enough picture of you that he could cut out and tape to the otherwise barren walls of his new room. And there was; you were leaning against the back of your signature pastel blue Volkswagen Beetle, arms across your chest, head tilted to the side with the signature scrunched smile you gave when you were embarrassed.

He adored you.

Before he took scissors to the page, he read the interview with your actress.

He wasn't too keen on her, even though she had your face.

The illusion that Rosemary Glass was really you had been shattered the first time he'd heard her voice on a radio interview; instead of your perfect and familiar middle-American speech...Rosemary's voice was accented.

Not to mention, she sounded pretentious.

Gross.

Still, he could look past that annoyance if he got some kind of insight to what the next season would bring for you.

Hopefully not a new love interest. His heart could only take so much.

...gives us a tour of the Patterson and Son's set, one that is forever enshrined as the setting of Patrick and Samantha's first kiss. "Oh I'm actually not fond of that scene," Rosemary confesses. "Yeah it's sweet, and the way I bring Sam in so Pat could confess his feelings but the...when I fell down? It was not scripted. And I was honestly shocked they kept that in. But fans seem to think she's clumsy now because of it. That I'm clumsy. When I just tripped over a wire. It's quite awful, really." We ask Rosemary to tell us what she'll miss most, now that the show is coming to an end...

Eddie went rigid as he read those words.

The show...coming to an end?

"What?" he exclaimed into his empty room. "No, no, no."

He carefully examined the article again, then turned back to the beginning of the feature, only to feel his heart stop in his chest.

The title of the feature was like crit hit.

The final killing blow to his already weak constitution.

One Last Summer in Port Geneva - On the Set of the Final Season

The final season was a sham.

Eddie savored every episode, though. Of course he would!

He would enjoy every last moment with you that he could get before he lost you forever. But...he hated it.

It was lazy writing--seriously what were they thinking--and a quick, cheap means to tie up all the loose ends they'd set up over the years. He could tell they tried to deliver as fulfilling a finale for the extensive cast of characters as they could. Still, he was sure he could have done better.

Samantha and Patrick got engaged after graduation. That was lame.

Bonnie finally quit the bakery to open her own cafe the next town over. Didn't anyone remember that she wanted to quit because she wanted to be a vet instead? That was the whole point of her! She didn't want to follow in her family's footsteps and she was doing just that.

And you? You took a backseat.

Instead of leaving town right after graduation--something that you had followed through reluctantly to make your parents happy even though you had just resolved to put your own happiness first for once--you stayed to help Pat plan his proposal.

Your big adventure, your big push for your dreams, were on hold again. You played second fiddle over and over until the final episode.

Eddie was grateful to have you for a little longer, but...once again annoyed that you were looked over--over and over, just like he was--when you had already proved that you were worthy of top billing.

Worthy of being the main character for once.

Still, at the beginning of the series finale, you packed your bags, cashed in your savings account, and drove out of town. The future was yours, just like it was always meant to be.

And Eddie cried.

The whole time tears streamed down his face as you said your own watery goodbyes. He might have even waved as you stuck your hand out the windshield to say goodbye to your friends as your car idled at the last stop sign. You blew a kiss to everything you knew and loved then started on your way into the unknown, car getting smaller in the distance right before the commercial break.

He held his breath for the final scene: a walk through the house where it all started and then Sam smiled her signature hopeful smile as she shut the door on the audience.

The screen faded to black for one final time and he exhaled.

"It's over," he muttered in slight disbelief, suddenly unsure of what to do with himself.

Port Geneva was over, and you were gone for good.

It was a strange feeling.

Heartbreak, mourning, disappointment? He couldn't really know for sure. Empty was the best way to describe it; the lack of feeling. It was infuriating. Port Geneva was just a television show, he attempted to rationalize for the nth time since he started watching. You were just a character on a tv show; how could you mourn for someone and something that wasn't even real?

You hadn't actually died. He could still see glimpses of you if he wanted, whenever Rosemary Glass' next movie came out or something.

But that wasn't you.

You were gone, for all intents and purposes, and it was a blow that hit Eddie hard.

How could he go on without you?

Devastated, he got high that night after he stewed on his grief. He day-dreamed and monologued to an empty trailer about a universe where the two of you were together, where your travels took you to Hawkins, of all places, and you fell in love with him, just like you were supposed to.

If the walls could talk, they would have a fantastic tale to tell. One with heroes and misunderstandings and love at first sight. One with a horrible, unseen foe and many pitfalls and dangers that exceeded anyone's wildest imaginations. One with a magic door that led to the happily ever that was beyond well-deserved.

Grief did wonderful and terrible things, after all.

He woke up for school the next morning with cotton mouth and a vague outline of a story that did just that: brought you to Hawkins to fall in love with him and all of the other things that seemed like nonsense once he was in a more right-minded state.

The only problem was that it was all in his English notebook. And he didn't need anyone finding that.

"Fuck," he groaned and ripped the page out. He shoved it into his bedside drawer, where it would be doomed to a crumpled and forgotten future.

Or until he needed a condom.

Which, considering how everyone had doubled down on their disgust of him, wouldn't be any time soon.

But there you stayed.

Put away, like old obsessions and childish things, to be ignored and forgotten.

At least for a little while.

Eddie tried.

He did.

He kept you and Port Geneva out of sight and mind as much as humanly possible. It was the most effort he had really put to anything tangible in the past year.

The series ended at a weird time--during the middle of the season--and some investigative journalism show took over its time slot. Barbara Walters couldn't hold a candle to you, so it wasn't difficult for him to keep himself rooted in reality on the nights where he typically indulged in his silly fantasies.

The daydreams that he had were limited to lyrics for Corroded Coffin originals and ideas for Hellfire, and nights were spent alone in the darkness of the living room, with his reflection in the television set to keep him company as he tried his best to do homework that he'd already done before.

Before he realized, though, the school year was coming to a close and he was--big shocker--on the brink of failure. It wasn't until Higgins called him into his office, again, that you made your violent resurgence into his life.

There was a tentative truce between Higgins and Eddie for a while.

Civility was a strange thing for both of them. They actively avoided one another, save for a snide jab here and there, and Eddie tried to stay out of the Principal's Office as much as he could.

That is, until Higgins was forced to tell Eddie that he needed to repeat his repeat senior year.

"Don't act like I want this at all," he sneered at Eddie who tripped over a reaction. "I'd rather have you out of these halls for good. You drop out one year, then you re-enroll and you fail another. Try to make the most of it this time Munson; I don't want to have this talk again."

Eddie grumbled the whole drive back to the trailer, and he fell onto the sofa with his head in his hands once he got in.

"Which one of the fates wrote this stupid plot for me now, as if last year wasn't enough. You can't make this stuff up sometimes."

He laid there, wallowing in his misery for hours, days, years, until it got dark enough for headlights outside to be noticeable as they shined through the window. There was a glint of a reflection that caught his eye and had him turn his head.

"TV," he sighed and reached out as though he could touch the set and stacks of tapes neatly piled below. “The cause-of and solution-to all of life’s problems.”

He contemplated his life for a few more minutes.

He could make the most of the final few weeks of the school year. He could set himself up as a willing and reliable pupil for these last few assignments and tests, even though they wouldn't mean very much.

He could do all of these things so that when he walked into the halls of Hawkins High in the fall, on his absolute last first day of school--whatever deity or powers-that-be willing, because how "getting the hell outta dodge or he would die here" turned into "two extra years in that shit hole" he could only attribute to cosmic intervention--the faculty would already know he would try his best this time.

It would show them he was serious about graduating and that he would succeed despite all odds against him. Finally.

He could do this.

Or...

He could put in one of the tapes from the stack and scrounge for loose bills left over from his last few transactions and order a pizza. Pretend like he didn't exist for a little while.

And given the choice?

Eddie Munson chose the latter.

And he continued to choose the latter throughout the summer and even into the fall.

Nights that he didn't already have plans were spent in front of the television.

They were cherished nights with you.

Aside from his VHS recordings, he found a channel that showed reruns of Port Geneva after 10pm. Two hours of small town shenanigans that might very well be found just outside of his own door--if he only went and looked--with you just there, making your appearance every so often and catching his eye.

Homework was sometimes left halfway done on the coffee table until he needed to switch out a tape, or change the channel, and he spent more time filling his heart than enriching his mind, so to speak; he knew all of this school stuff already anyways.

Third times a charm and all right?

He talked to the screen more often than not, tried to warn you against one disappointment or another. Sometimes, if he was watching one of his tapes, he'd pause right on your face and just talk to you. Mundane things, usually, like Ronnie's last phone call home or some album that got released and a song he thought you might like.

Other nights, like tonight, he got vulnerable. Moments where life seemed a little extra trying, and he'd confess his feelings to your image.

Knelt on the floor in front of the coffee table, warm light bathed his face promising comfort as he spoke, and the din of static emitted from the television set, akin to an angel's voice...beyond understanding of humans.

He'd never been one for church, but this kind of confessional was sacred enough.

An eternal bond, just you and him.

He stopped his ramblings at that thought.

It was a strange moment of clarity.

Where had that come from?

"I..." Eddie looked down at himself, a foot away from the television set, remote clenched in his hand. Then he looked at you, soul-filled eyes just beyond the glass, not looking at him, only...through him, just past him. "What am I doing?"

What was he doing? He was...he wasn't a kid anymore who could hide in his dreams; well, honestly he was always going to do that, but this was different.

One minute he felt the weight of the world lift off his shoulders as he told you about his troubles, and the next it was all back, heavier than ever, as he realized how silly this all was.

And here he was, wasting his life knelt at your altar.

It wasn't holy. It was pathetic.

You'd never answer; you weren't real.

"Why?" he asked aloud, jaw clenched. He gripped the remote tightly. "What did I do to not have...someone? Huh? What have I ever done to be alone? That I have to rely on a fucking television character to feel understood. And now I'm losing my mind talking to myself, talking to you, at midnight every night. Why am I here wishing that you're real? Why couldn't you just...be...real?"

If there was a God, he would let Eddie Munson have you. If there was a Satan, he would let Eddie sell his soul for you.

And that's how he knew neither of them existed: you didn't exist either.

Eddie hit the eject button on the VCR and was about to shut everything so he could go to bed, when there was a crash outside.

Crashes in Forest Hills weren't abnormal--someone backing into trash cans, losing traction on the icy roads in the winter, and the one time Mrs. Dawson kicked her husband out and threw all of his things out the window--but it was something he'd gotten used to since he came to live with Wayne.

This crash, however, started a ruckus.

Someone was yelling and that stupid dog across the way started barking.

Eddie was a lot of things...but a dramatic gossip was definitely high on the list.

What else was there to do in the Midwest?

He grabbed his cigarettes from the bowl full of junk on the coffee table and stepped outside, fully intent on plopping down on the old couch on the porch to smoke and watch the scene unfold.

A car crashed into the telephone pole; didn't look like there was much damage but it had run through some trashcans and might have clipped the drivers side mirror off of Mrs. Mayfield's car. The same Mrs. Mayfield who was on her own porch being held back by Max as she yelled.

"Are you kidding me? It's fucking midnight!"

"Mom! Stop!"

"The car, Max!"

Maybe there'd be a fight.

He barely got his cigarette lit when he noticed--really noticed--the offending car: a powder blue Volkswagen Beetle.

He blinked several times and then rubbed his eyes, thinking it might have just been a trick of the light or something.

Or it was a coincidence.

Or a dream.

Maybe he'd had a heart attack and died in front of his television or something?

Plenty of people drove Volkswagen Beetles. He was pretty sure he'd even heard Nancy Wheeler asking her parents for one as a graduation present.

But with the same license plate number?

The same one from the show, the same one that was in the TV Guide all those months ago. The same one on the makeshift poster he had taped on the wall next to his bed, that he'd run his fingers over to "kiss" you goodbye countless times, just like he did to his guitar.

"It's just dark," he tried to convince himself, "and I'm tired, and...and..."

It was a coincidence. It was a dream.

He repeated the mantra over and over in his head like a lifeline.

It was another fan like him who just used fantasy to make their life a little better. That's all he was trying to do too, right? He could understand; hell, if this was a new neighbor, maybe he'd be able to chat with them about the show. Wouldn't that be something?

Eddie was so distracted making up endless excuses for himself that he didn't notice Mrs. Mayfield as she threw her hands up in the air with an exaggerated "I'm calling the police. He didn't hear Max holler at her mom to calm down, or see the tail lights of the Beetle turn off either.

It wasn't until the driver's side door swung open and a sneaker-covered foot crunched against the gravel that he forgot all the excuses he was conjuring.

And his heart stopped as the driver got out of the car and stood in the faint glow of the streetlight.

Because that driver was you.

Next Chapter: Alternate Universe

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