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venomhound · 8 days ago

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Hazbin Hotel - Morning Routines

Kind of a part 2 to the Sleeping Habits Post??? While that one is about falling asleep with them, this one is about what its like to wake up with them. Same lineup; Alastor, Vox, and Lucifer. I... also might have accidentally started a Charlie one so I might be doing more parts to these (｡ŏ_ŏ)

Contents/WARNINGS: Gender neutral reader; NSFW in Vox's section; mostly just nuclear powered fluff; somebody PLEASE get Lucifer a doctor the man is so depressed (18+), MDNI, NSFW below the cut ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

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Alastor ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

As gone over in my sleeping habits post, Alastor does not like sharing a bed normally. But if it does happen to be a blue moon and he actually stayed the whole night; it is a sight to behold in the morning.

Alastor's hair is naturally curly. Due to internalized racism (from you know, the 1920s), Alastor insists his hair must be straight and has a crazy hair routine to keep it that way. One of many reasons why his hair is so... gnarly looking.

Right after he wakes up in the mornings though, his bedhead breaks through the illusion. You get to see the glorious sight of Alastor's hair attempting to go back to its natural form. The edges of his locks are making small loops in all directions, and his face is framed in loose ringlets.

Unfortunately, this only lasts for about ten minutes at most before he goes to "fix" it.

Other then getting to see that beautiful sight, the mornings are the same regardless of if he stayed in the bed with you or not; You always get to wake up to his wonderful cooking.

Alastor has unfortunately had to take it upon himself to be the hotel chef. Charlie did try to do it for a little bit, but that resulted in more fires and ambiguous remains then anything. Vaggie and Husk can barely operate a microwave. Nifty is well... Nifty.

So Alastor pops into the hotel kitchen at around 7am to start cooking breakfast for the hotel. More 7:30 if his hair has been particularly unruly that day.

Alastor pokes fun at everyone over being their chef, but he really likes it actually. He will never admit that to anyone though. He finds the mornings relaxing because he gets to just cook, something that he enjoys and thats deeply nostalgic for him. It starts him off on the right foot for the day.

The only times it starts him on the wrong foot, is when Lucifer decides to get up at an ungodly hour (or straight up pull an all nighter), just so he can steal the kitchen and make the hotel breakfast instead.

Lucifer does this because he thinks he is a better chef then Alastor. Surely, Alastor's annoyance is proof of that! But Alastor is actually pissed off because his plans for the morning got set on fire by Lucifer's dumb ego.

Alastor really does go above and beyond as the chef by the way. For a cannibal, you would never expect how respectful he is of everyone's dietary preferences. If your a vegetarian, or even a vegan, Alastor won't blow you off. He will make something for everyone that still works for you, or just make you something special. He sees it less as you having a dietary restriction and more as a challenge of his skills.

Anyways, thanks to Alastor, mornings at the hotel are always extremely nice. Everyone comes down to eat together, hang out, and just be. Its a tranquil time and atmosphere that he has taken great care to cultivate. Sets him up perfectly mentally for his afternoon radio shows.

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Vox ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

Vox always wakes up with a big sigh. He is very much that type of person whose first thought when waking up is, 'goddamn it, I woke up'. Hates leaving the bed but knows he has to.

At least Vox stops having those thoughts when you become apart of his life.

If your still in the bed when he wakes up, Vox is immediately comforted by your weight on his chest. He cant help but smile as his arms tighten around you. One of Vox's hands starts absentmindedly carding through your hair as he goes over everything he has to do that day in his head.

If your not in the bed when Vox wakes up, it completely fucks with his mind. His sleeping body does not register you moving or getting up at all. So from Vox's perspective, you were in his arms one second then... not. Vox will wake up to you not there and be super confused. He will legit start looking for you like a puppy.

Depending on your relationship status with him, Vox might even just assume that he dreamt/hallucinated the whole encounter with you. Only realizing that it actually happened upon outside evidence.

Operating on the assumption that you two are a thing; Vox now tries to keep his mornings flexible because of you. They used to be very regimented. Vox would wake up, get dressed, grab a coffee, then be right out the door to head to work. But now that your here, the mornings are much more relaxed.

When you first move in, Vox's first order of business is to hire a personal chef. Don't get me wrong, Vox loves it when you cook for him. The guy absolutely melts when you do. But the reality is he loves it a little... too much. Which often results in no breakfast actually being had because Vox ends up dragging you back to the bedroom. Of course, that's if he doesn't end up fucking you right on the counter or kitchen table.

Look. Seeing you by the stove in an apron just does something to him, alright?

If you ever even asked Vox if he knew how to cook, the guy would probably bluescreen. The only thing he knows how to ""cook"" is 'takeout'. (image included) If he tried to boil an egg, he would burn the water.

So yeah. Vox takes initiative to get you two a chef. He doesn't want you to have to cook for him anyway; he wants it to be an act of love rather then an obligation. If you push Vox and say you want to cook for him, he will making heart eyes and be ready to marry you on the spot.

Seriously. Make him cute, homemade lunches for work. Vox will brag about them to everyone. Put adorable love notes in there and everything. The guy will be on his knees.

Regardless of who actually made the breakfast, Vox always has it with you. He may be a busy man, but he makes sure this is a time you get him exclusively. Vox lets you know of his schedule for the day (assuming Valentino doesnt set it on fire ofc) and when he plans on being home.

When Vox leaves for work he actually has a genuine smile on his face. Don't get me wrong, he still hates it and cant wait to get back home to you. But Vox doesn't feel that same crushing dread that he did before.

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Lucifer ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

It used to be so hard to get up for him. It wasn't uncommon for Lucifer to just wallow in bed for an entire day. But now that your here, everything has changed. Lucifer actually has a reason to get up in the mornings again. He used to just go back to sleep and pretend the world doesn't exist.

He is a morningbird by nature, so he often wakes up before you. However, Lucifer hates leaving your arms and the cozy bed. So one of two things happens depending on how he is feeling.

If Lucifer is feeling good, or just particularly lovey that morning; he will pull you extra close to him and start kissing all over you. You'll wake up to the wonderful feeling of fleeting kisses and his smile on your skin. No better way to start the day.

As soon as he notices your awake, Lucifer moves to place quick, chaste kisses all over your face. All while asking, "How are you feeling, Ducky?", "Did you sleep okay?", "Have any fun dreams?".

Lucifer looks at you with the most adoring look in his eyes, desperate to snuggle and feel your skin on his. He wants to listen to you talk about anything and everything.

After awhile of cuddling and pillow talk, you have to be the one to convince Lucifer to get up. He will playfully whine and try to keep you in the bed, but he won't keep it up for long. Lucifer also cant wait to make you a wonderful breakfast and talk more while he cooks too~

Lucifer is a chatterbox when he wants to be. Especially with someone he loves. He basically wants to imbibe your entire being; that includes getting to know every random thought you have and every dark corner of your mind.

But if Lucifer feels the weight of depression weighing him down that morning, he simply snuggles deeper into you when he wakes. His grip on you tightens, and he pulls the sheets tighter around you two. Like he is building a cocoon or trying to shield you both from the outside.

Sometimes you can tell as soon as he wakes up that he is in a bad state. Instead of kisses, you are woken up by the trembling of his small form. Shaking with unshed tears and fresh pain from old wounds.

Lucifer clings to you desperately; the grip of his claws threatening to break your skin. You have to physically force him away from you just so you can look him in the eyes. Even then, Lucifer whimpers and tries to hug you tighter in protest.

He will begin to plead with you. Saying things like "Don't leave me" or "Please stay". You kiss him gently and bring him into your chest as he finally begins to sob. You two stay there for a long time. Lucifer is extra clingy that day. Attached to you at the hip and always holding your hand in his. His heart rate picks up and he starts to get frantic if your fingers slip out of his.

Mornings with Lucifer are overall just very slow. Meandering. Lucifer's safe place has become the bed since the heights of his depression, so he is reluctant to leave it. Some dark part of him feels that the longer he can keep you in bed, the longer he wont have to say an inevitable 'goodbye'.

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FURTHER READING ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

Its a super silly idea, but I love >>THIS POST<< by @antiheroalastor where you find out Alastor has a extensive skincare routine.

Cute imagine by @voxisdaddy where Vox has to cuddle you to fall asleep can be found >>HERE<<

Then something more spicy, >>HERE<< are some ADORABLE Lucifer aftercare headcanons by @redr0sewrites. Rose writes the rambling, dorky, disaster Lucifer that I have envisioned in my head PERFECTLY.

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beelmons · 2 years ago

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Luxury Poker Nights pt. 2

Pairing: Hotch, Reid, Morgan x fem!reader Rating: Explicit, smut (18+, minors do not interact with this story) Word count: 5,806 cw: unprotected sex (do not recommend), sex-servant kink, voyeurism, multiple partners, non-vegan food options, slight degradation, free use kink Summary: It's Aaron's turn to host the poker night, and he figured it would be a great move to invite the entertainment they all fervently enjoyed last time: you. A/N: This was so highly requested I hope it lives up to expectations. Prompted by an original blurb found here Tag list: @illumi3 @ash-recs @canyonmooncreations @howabouticallyou @unlikelyqueenninja @kay-moranguinho and my always honorary mentions: @ihavemanyhusbands @cassiemartzz

Meeting Aaron Hotchner was nothing short of an absolute pleasure. Gentle, kind, considerate, funny when he finally got rid of the stoic boss facade, everything you would love in a partner whether casual or serious. All these reasons played a role in deciding to partake on a very specific contract: to serve as his servant, sexually speaking.

"Hey," Aaron greeted you before leaning in to press a friendly kiss to your cheek.

"Hey, Mr. Hotchner." you replied.

His head tilted and eyebrows raised with playful offense "I've told you, if you don't want to call me Aaron, at least go with Hotch."

Every so often he would call you in, mostly to a very beautiful house owned by a man you knew as Rossi, and you'd come for the sole purpose to act out your role. To serve and please them.

This time, however, he was hosting in his own apartment. It was the classic bachelor pad, the adult version, barely decorated but tidy and resourceful. You had been in there only once, but you had memorized the area pretty well. He also looked especially handsome, navy blue polo shirt and denim black pants with casual sneakers, you could notice his toned biceps in that outfit.

"What are my instructions for today?" you asked as you got in, taking a look around to remember the layout.

"The usual. Although, I might ask you to take charge of the kitchen for a little bit. Bring snacks, beverages, nothing too complicated. Oh, and…” he began to say, reaching for a bag that was laying by the entrance “this.”

From it, he pulled out what seemed like a traditional maid apron. You could tell he had it tailored for your body, and that the lace around it seemed to be fine, not the cheap ones costume stores had. You reached for it and pulled it from the strings you were supposed to tie, you hovered it over your body to catch a preview of what it would look like, the man had a good eye, it sure made you feel hot.

“Of course, if it makes you uncomfortable, we can ditch it.” he tried to reassure you, seeing how you kept admiring the piece.

“It’s alright, Mr. Hotchner. But a maid outfit? I thought you preferred me in the bare.” you teased.

“Don’t worry, we still get plenty of access to the parts of you we love the most, being that the apron is the only garment of the costume you will actually wear.” his hands slipped in his pockets, his face lighting up with a smug smile “You can change in the bathroom, the guys should be here soon.”

You made your way to the mentioned room to obey your first order of the night. Aaron waited patiently in the kitchen, putting together a couple more things so that the serving part of your job would be easier. Nonetheless, a knock on the door distracted him from his duty. He hurried to open, immediately being greeted by Morgan and Reid.

“Hey, where’s Dave?” he asked, noticing a missing member.

“He said he’s got something to do but he’ll catch us—” Morgan’s eyes fixed on something behind Hotch, and his train of thought completely disappeared “—later.”

The boss turned around when he noticed Spencer’s perplexed eyes, similar to Morgan’s, and he smiled to himself as he turned around to watch you already in your ‘uniform’, to call it some way. The apron was comfortably secured around your waist, the length of it barely covering your front to the middle of your thighs, your back absolutely exposed, being that the fabric of the apron was only on the forepart, your upper body out in the open, with your nipples already perked from the cold air conditioning hitting them. And to them, you were the most beautiful of monuments.

“What’s your safe word?” Aaron asked, his eyes immediately scanning your body.

“Cacao.” you said confidently, your head nodding in reassurance.

Aaron looked back at Spencer and Morgan, making sure they caught what you had said. They both shook their heads in agreement, and so he locked the door behind them “Let’s begin poker night, then.” he ordered.

“I’ll get some drinks for you guys.” you said, and you were about to move to the kitchen when Hotch’s voice stopped you.

“I believe I haven’t given you permission to speak.” he emitted in a commanding voice.

You understood his words for what they were: a warning. He had been clear enough, when you were there to work, you had to be diligent. Always keep yourself busy, available, and quiet, those were the rules you had signed up for. Your hands folded on your lap and you bowed your head slightly in response.

Once they were out of your sight, you headed to the kitchen. You gathered a couple of snacks that Mr. Hotchner had prepared; some peanuts, pretzels, and cut up fruit, added with three open beers. He had let a tray out for you as well, possibly with the intention of making everything easier. By the time you got to the table and began to spread the food and beverages around they had already dealt the cards.

You settled the empty tray on the side on a random surface, and Mr. Hotchner spread one arm in your direction indicating you that he wanted you to join his side; you did as he desired and his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you to sit on his leg. As if ritualistic, the hand that was closer to his body was grabbed and brought to his lips, a gentle kiss landed on the back of it, and then he guided it to his member, that at some point he had already exposed. It was an instinct, you already knew what to do. Your hand began to slowly massage the barely hard shaft, and you could hear him exhale particularly hard at the sensation.

“Rules will change for tonight. You can’t bet ‘All in’ unless you have at least fifteen chips, and you can’t bet two rounds in a row.” Aaron began to say.

“Isn’t 15 a bit expensive?” Spencer’s eyes narrowed with doubt.

“Not at all, given that an ‘all in’ winner also gets 10 minutes to command our servant as they please.” his hand dragged upwards, purposely taking his time to brush your skin with his fingertips, nipple included, until they landed on your chin, tilting your face to have you look in the direction of the other two men “And you could agree, she’s worth the risk.”

Your breath hitched in your throat at the way they hungrily stared at you, but they didn’t say anything further, both Morgan and Reid simply went back to looking at their cards.

The game began and you hadn’t been given permission to move, you had to remain on Mr. Hotchner’s leg, caressing his member. He seemed unbothered by your steady movement, but you could feel him throb every so often, and it would fill you with cocky pride. That was another rule: you weren’t allowed to go rogue, they came when they wanted to, not when you caused them to. If you acted too smart and tried to make them climax before they wanted to, you were sidelined, given the silent treatment. That was more punishment than doing anything else to you, because chances were you were going to enjoy whatever else.

You would steal a glance at random times to notice his tip swollen and reddened, even when he tried to keep composure, and continued to play his hands normally, you had learned the little twitches his dick made whenever he was getting close. His head turned to place a chaste kiss to your shoulder blade, giving you permission to keep going. Your hand trailed down to give his balls a gentle squeeze, which caused a loud groan to come out of his throat, and after a couple more fast strokes he began to spill his seed.

Mr. Hotchner had been clear that he did not like messes; his entire member was coated in his semen, and some had spilled over his pants as well. You reached for one of the pockets the apron had sown on to find a handkerchief that you recognized as his, in seconds, you were on your knees, you wiped clean the fabric of his pants, his shaft, on the other hand, didn’t require the cloth, you grabbed at the base and licked a strip up, repeating the same movement until he was clean, and hard yet again.

“All in.” Morgan’s voice snapped everyone’s attention, and since you hadn’t been given indication to do otherwise, your mouth kept working Aaron’s dick.

“Already? You’ve only won one round.” Spencer asked, his math not quite adding up.

“I’ve got enough.” he clarified.

“You got exactly 15, though, if you lose this, you don’t get any more.” Hotch looked in his direction.

Morgan’s head tilted slightly to the side, catching sight of your still bobbing head. He smiled as a response to his boss’s explanation, pushing the chips forward to the center of the table.

“She’s worth the risk.” he said, a wink sent to Spencer. You couldn’t help but blush at his words, even if you weren’t able to stop your current activity unless indicated.

The other two men exchanged looks, if they didn’t raise, they would still lose, perhaps that was part of Morgan’s scheme, but they weren’t about to just give you up by default. They pushed the corresponding chips to the pool in the center, and Reid was the first one to open his cards. Full house, nines over jacks. Hotch was in a slump, two pairs, queens and kings.

“Full house.” Morgan said before he opened his cards, and Spencer’s attention was specially perked “Aces over sevens.” he finally said.

Spencer let out a soft curse under his breath as Morgan laughed in pride, he was certainly rejoicing on having made that play. You received a light tap on your shoulder that indicated you it was time to move masters, and so you stood up and directed to stand next to Derek.

“Actually, sweetheart, I will need you in the kitchen for a bit.” he said, his hand nonetheless landing on the skin of your rear, gently squeezing it “Peanuts and pretzels are a bit hard on my stomach, do you think you could make me a quick sandwich?” he asked ever so chivalrously.

“Anything in particular you would like?” you asked, taking his question as permission to speak.

“Some ham and bacon would be excellent, thank you.” with a soft slap of your ass he sent you your merry way.

Kitchen duty was on the original arrangement, although you didn’t quite picture yourself making sandwiches, Derek’s smile was so charming you would learn gourmet cuisine just to please him.

You gathered the required stuff, bread, some mayonnaise, and the ham and bacon. Being that you were topless, using a pan was out of the question, so you used the tray on the small electric oven that was next to the stove to cook the pork strips. You were too entranced by the silly way in which the meat shrunk to notice that Derek had walked into the kitchen, only becoming aware of his presence when he leaned next to you against the counter.

“You make a great maid.” he pointed out, and you bolted up a little from the surprise. His hand instinctively reached for your waist, trying to keep you from falling back “Easy, you might hurt yourself.”

Even when he made sure your feet were steady, he didn’t remove his hand from where it was, in fact, he simply took a couple of steps closer.

“I enjoy servicing.” you said, eyes traveling south. You could see his cock already hanging out from his zipper, and you tried to reach for it in an attempt to caress it. His free hand, however, stopped you.

“I can see that. You also take initiative, that’s impressive.” he began, his hand bringing yours up to press a kiss to it in a similar way Hotch used to do, but instead of allowing it to stroke his member, he directed it to the kitchen utensils you had laid out “But I believe for things to be done right they have to be done with the utmost concentration, so why don’t we focus on that sandwich, huh?”

You pouted a little and he let out a light chuckle at your disappointment. You went back to the task at hand, getting a dull butter knife to begin spreading the mayonnaise around the slice. You felt the warmth of his touch leave your waist, and you were about to complain yet again until you felt one of his fingers sneak between your legs and trail up your slit.

You shuddered and your legs instinctively closed. He tsk’ed his tongue in disapproval, and you understood to return them to their original position. Derek wasted no time, the two fingers in the middle of his hand slipping into your cunt. He was fixated on your face, absorbing every expression as you melted due to his digits, your hands gripping on the surface, leaving the sandwich unattended.

“I haven’t told you to stop working, have I?” he whispered commandingly.

His fingers began to curl upwards inside of you as they continued to move inside and out, getting coated with your juices. You tried your best to keep yourself still, your hand shakily reaching for the rest of the ingredients. He didn’t stop his movements even when you dropped the knife on the counter from the way he hit the back of your cunt.

“Careful.” he warned at the clinking sound, you peeked over your shoulder while you grabbed the utensil and out of the corner of your eye you could notice his hand moving over his now hardened cock “Come on, beautiful, keep going.”

You shook your head a little in an attempt to clear it, even when his relentless fingers weren’t giving you the opportunity. You finally managed to pay attention and began to assemble the deli meats. You barely noticed when he moved behind you until you felt his tip rub against your entrance.

His hands ran over your front as he pushed inside of you, slowly, and they landed on your breasts. A pleasure mewl slipped past your mouth, but you cut it short.

“Come on, now, I’m not Hotch.” he complained while he gave you the chance to adjust to his member “You don’t gotta have my permission to talk, let that voice out.”

His hips snapped rather roughly against yours, a loud slapping sound echoing around the kitchen; it caused a loud moan from you, one that you were sure could be heard from the other room. “That’s a good girl.” he praised.

His initial rhythm wasn’t slow, after all he was in a hurry. It made assembling the sandwich all much more difficult, you struggled to open the door of the electric oven, almost getting burned thanks to the way his cock so deeply pushed inside you, all while your throat was unable to keep quiet, intermittent noises unsteady from his thrusts.

One of his hands slipped down and in between your legs, the tip of his middle finger rubbed at your clit with a gentle speed, almost unmatching to his hips. You sensed him look over your shoulder to check up on the status of his food, and your hand trembled as you set the bacon down to finish it up. He laughed with pleasure, and his fingers dipped on the skin around your hips.

“Can you take it, baby?” you could feel his thick member erratically twitching inside of you as he asked, and you nodded your head fervently “Of course you can.” he reassured.

He snapped a couple more times, rough enough to make you lose your balance and press up against the counter, before you heard him grunt and felt your cunt being filled with his spill. The sensation of his cock pushing your walls sent you over the edge, and you began to drip with your release, a loud moan accompanying the blissful sensation. He pulled out with ease, not waiting for you to come out of your high, and stepped away to grab the meal you had prepared.

“Thank you, beautiful, looks delicious.” he winked at you with his signature charming smile before he began walking out of the kitchen “Oh, and pretty boy said he wanted some iced tea, be a doll and bring it after you’re done cleaning up, thanks.”

Without further word, he vanished from your sight. You had to take a second to catch your breath, desperate for a bit more friction. You considered touching yourself, but if Mr. Hotchner were to catch you, you wouldn’t be able to come again all night, he would make sure of it.

You could feel Derek’s cum beginning to drip, but the cleanliness of the kitchen was a priority. You abided by the task that you had been handed, after a couple of minutes of cleaning up, since you hadn’t made a big mess, you prepared the beverage for Dr. Reid and headed back to the area. You settled the glass of iced tea next to the man that had requested it.

“All in.” as soon as you stood next to him, you heard the youngest of the group exclaim, he then muttered a casual ‘thank you’ at the gesture of having his drink brought over.

Hotch and Morgan exchanged playful glances. They knew he was rushing, his decision possibly prompted by the fact that your breasts were so close to his face; they noticed the bobbing of his adam’s apple, and Aaron had paid attention to how he palmed his bulge while he heard you get taken in the kitchen. Logic just flew out of the window when you were around, and his coworkers adored seeing that side of him.

“You got me.” Morgan said as he folded his cards, and Reid cockily took a sip off his drink.

“I’ll play.” Hotch mentioned before adding his chips to the pool.

“Two pairs. Kings and Queens.” Spencer opened his hand.

On his part, Hotch could simply scoff while he threw his cards on the table. “Jacks and Queens.” he said with pretend defeat.

The blond man boasted with his expression in pure pride. He didn’t use to be the kind to order you around, unlike the other two who had gotten very comfortable, and preferred you took the initiative during game sessions.

This time, nonetheless, he looked quite eager to take control. Once he noticed you looking at him expectantly, waiting patiently for your command. He narrowed his eyes, ever inexperienced, trying to come up with something, or rather trying to find the right way to ask.

“Could you…” he stopped to try and analyze his next words “Could you bend over?” he motioned towards the table.

It took your entire strength to not laugh, you weren’t making fun of him, he was just ridiculously adorable, and it made hard contrast with the whole situation in the first place and his actual sexual interests. You obeyed, not wanting to make him self-conscious, moving Derek’s plate out of the way elegantly before resting your entire body face-down against the piece of furniture.

You let out a quiet whimper from the contrast in temperature; your ass was left up and exposed in his direction. He finally stood up, and you looked back to peek at what he was up to, his hips had lined up with yours, his member was still clothed, but that didn’t stop him from grabbing at your asscheeks and pressing his bulge against your dripping cunt.

“Why don’t we change the game?” his eyes were glued on your skin wrinkling up with every push, but he kept talking to his coworkers “How about blackjack? Hotch can play house” he proposed.

“Reid, it’s literally illegal for you to play blackjack in two states.” Hotch pointed out.

“That’s true. You have an unfair advantage.” Morgan added.

“Card counting can only be done with extreme concentration and observation of the cards being dealt.” his eyes didn’t leave your body, his palm gently massaging your skin as he kept rubbing himself on you “And I happen to be too busy to pay enough attention.”

“Alright, but blackjack is a fast game. The player needs to win at least three rounds to claim their prize. Draws don’t count towards the winning number.” Aaron clarified.

The rest of the players nodded in agreement. Mr. Hotchner was the dealer, since he was playing the role of ‘the house’, and he began assigning the first round of cards. Before he got to Reid, though, he noticed there was no space on the table, your body occupying most of it, and so he resolved he would just put it over your naked back.

You gulped in surprise and your body seemed to get hotter, you surely weren’t expected to be used this way; your nipples brushed against the surface of the table, and Reid noticed how you pushed back against him slightly.

The doctor pulled away, satisfied for the time being with the friction that he had gotten, and realized there were a couple of white-ish stains.

“Come on, Morgan!” he exclaimed once he noticed it was semen “Can’t you clean up after yourself?”

Derek could only break into a laugh, and you noticed a small smirk on Aaron’s face as well.

“Sorry, kid.” he simply said, waiting for Hotch to open his second card.

Reid made an unamused expression and crouched down to observe the situation. You still had some drip down your thigh, and your slit still had some traces of Morgan’s release.

“I’ll help you out, but I need you to do something for me.” he said, palming at your ass to let you know he was talking to you; you hummed, replying that you were listening intently “I won’t be able to use my mouth, so if I suck, it means hit, if I insert, it means stay”

You furrowed your brows with confusion, but he didn’t give you much time to understand. You felt his tongue trail up your inner thigh, taking the liquid that had spilled over it with it, and shortly the muscle pressed against your slit, taking a lap at your entire sex.

Your hands gripped at the side edges of the square table, on your right side Derek Morgan was looking intently at his cards, on your left Aaron Hotchner was paying close attention to the youngest’s movements. He snapped back to the game once your pleased noises started flowing, his hand darting out to land on top of yours and rub at the back of it slightly. Aaron dealt the second round of cards and Reid’s landed on your back once again.

“14.” the older man said.

A little distracted by the way his tongue teased your labia, you didn’t pay attention to the words the dealer had said until you felt Spencer’s lips wrap around your clit and intensely suck the air in. The sensation, which was foreign, made your legs go weak; the man pressed his face against your rear to keep you up, and it only made the interaction so much hotter.

“Hit me!” you exclaimed in between moans.

“8. Adds to 22.” Hotch said calmly.

Reid grumbled against your cunt, his tongue going back to your entrance instead, superficially licking, taking his time to taste everything around it.

Morgan was busted as well, which meant the house took the round. Spencer kept a steady and slow pace; you felt the cards being removed from your back and, almost immediately, a new one was added.

“20.” Hotch said again.

The youngster’s hands had been placed against the outer sides of your thighs in the meantime, however once he heard the number they traveled up. He pulled away and you slightly whined at the lack of contact, his thumbs spread the outer part of your pussy open and his tongue immediately slipped inside your entrance.

“Stay.” you struggled to let out, only coming out as a shaky breath.

Hotch opened a couple more cards, Derek was busted again, so there was a chance for Reid’s win.

“21 for the house, house wins.” Aaron exclaimed.

Your head defeatedly laid against the wooden table, the man buried in your rear could feel your walls clenching and your hips slightly moving to grind against yours. Your shaky breaths didn’t only alert him that your second orgasm of the night was coming, the other two men could also tell.

“Reid, your time with her is almost up.” Aaron pointed out after taking a look at his watch.

Spencer pulled away once again, to your discomfort, and narrowed his eyes pretending to think.

“I’ll tell you what, win this round and I’ll let you orgasm.” Reid proposed to you.

You trembled a little with anticipation, feeling your orgasm edging on. Instead of allowing his tongue back on you, he simply pressed open-mouthed kisses to your labia, making sure he wouldn’t touch any sensitive areas.

Aaron dealt another round of cards over your back, not even paying attention to your begging face.

“16.” he notified you since your eyes were tightly shut with irritation from being so close yet unable to release.

“Hit me.” you commanded, still feeling Reid’s wet lips kissing your sides.

“3. Adds to 19.” He clarified as he threw another card against your back.

“Hit me.” you said once again.

Aaron and Spencer exchanged looks, it was a very risky move, statistically heavily improbable.

Hotch opened the new card against your back, and he let out a pleased chuckle. “2. Adds to twenty one.”

Reid laughed with incredulity, but he was a man of his word. His lips clasped your sensitive nub once again, and he sucked the air in as his tongue moved rapidly from side to side. A high-pitched moan at his movements, and you couldn’t help but to release your juices over his face. You could hear an erotic slurping sound from the back, he was abiding by his promise of keeping you clean.

“Well played!” he beamed at you and cleared the cards from your back “That was a very unlikely pull, I’m surprised you made it.”

“Certainly.” Hotch reassured as he dealt the next round of cards.

Reid had sat back down on his chair, and as the pieces of carton landed on you, you decided to stay put on the table. Spencer’s eyes would travel from his cards to your ass from time to time, almost as if he was pondering his next move after he won.

However, he wouldn’t be as lucky, and neither would Derek, since the next round was won by the house, which meant Hotch was back in control. You were about to stand back up and his hand laid on your bare back, stopping your movement,

“Actually, honey, why don’t you remain there for a little bit more?” he commanded and you obediently remained “Reid, move.” he said standing up.

The younger furrowed his brows with unintentional defiance “But this is my seat…” he quietly complained.

“You can have your seat back once I’m done with her.” Hotch said, his tone was as imposing, but you could tell he was a little more gentle. You didn’t know the exact nature of their relationship, but you had figured Spencer was a soft spot for him.

He finally obeyed and stood up and away from the chair, leaving enough space for Hotch to stand behind you. You could immediately feel the tip of his member prodding at your entrance, after what Reid had done to you, you certainly didn’t need any more preparation. You were overstimulated as it was, but his cock was always welcome, and he could tell by the way you were clenching around nothing simply by having him so close.

He smirked to himself at the feeling and immediately allowed himself inside of you. You grunted with pleasure as you felt him enter, your fingers, tired from gripping on the sides of the table, beginning to curl around in the air.

“Here, you can grab onto this.” the ever so chivalrous Derek Morgan reached out to intertwine his fingers with yours, giving you a soft area for you to squeeze trying to not lose control.

Mr. Hotchner wasn’t going to pretend being gentle, his thrusts picking up speed as soon as you had gotten used to his size. He moved his shirt slightly aside, enjoying every second of watching himself disappear between your contracting walls. He let out a soft groan in pleasure, and you could tell he was beginning to lose himself in you. His hand gripped at your buttock, squeezing roughly to help him move your hips back and forth.

The other two participants didn’t seem to move a finger, they could only stare, with pleased expressions on their face, at the way tears began to prickle on the corner of your eyes. Reid reached to land a hand on top of your head soothingly, and his kindness was always appreciated.

Your obnoxious sounds were a delight to the three of them, therefore they dreaded the tune of a ringing phone interrupting the melody they adored. Hotch reached for the gadget within his pocket, furrowing his brows at the caller ID.

“Yeah, JJ?” he said and made a ‘shushing’ sign to Spencer and Derek.

Reid gently moved his hand from your head to your mouth, initially he was simply going to cover it with his palm, but an impulsive thought beat him to it: his index and middle finger slipped inside your mouth and pressed against your tongue.

“Suck.” he ordered in a whisper “It will help you keep quiet.”

You obeyed the doctor’s order, however, focusing on coating his digits in your saliva; your sounds were kept muffled in your throat, but they escaped your lips from time to time, since Aaron was not giving you a second of rest.

“Can’t it wait? I see. It’s fine, Reid and Morgan are with me, call Dave, we’ll meet you there in 15.” Hotch continued instructing. He was doing his best to appear unbothered, and he was purposely hitting deeper each time, almost making it a challenge for you to keep your sounds down.

“A case?” Morgan inquired as soon as his superior got off the phone.

“And urgent.” he put the device away once again and leaned slightly over you. His fingers glued themselves to your clit, circling it slowly, he was trying to, most likely, rush your orgasm. The pleasure it brought to you was a little painful, being that it had been the part of your body that had received the most attention during the night. You whined at the sensation, and Reid had to slide his fingers further back to keep you from screaming.

“You know, Hotch, there’s a question that I’ve been meaning to ask for a while.” Spencer suddenly emitted, and Aaron looked curiously in his direction, prompting him to inquire “Are you really paying her?”

The question caused Hotch to chuckle slightly “No, it’s more like an arrangement.” he confessed, still focused on pounding your cunt.

“Then what does she get out of it?” his eyes narrowed as he observed you, fucked out of your mind, swallow your cheeks around his fingers.

“She gets to come,” he clarified “as many times as she can take.”

As he spoke, his hand raised to land a loud, yet not utterly strong, slap on your ass; he did that sometimes when he allowed you to release. His hips snapped one final time, pressing all the way in to spill his cum inside of you. Your third orgasm of the night was divine, your teeth slightly gritting against Reid’s skin.

You laid there, absolutely exhausted, for a couple of minutes as they gathered their things and fixed up their clothes. Once you had recovered your energy enough to stand up, you felt your knees betraying you almost immediately. Morgan bolted from his nearby spot to offer his body as support, his arm surrounding your middle.

“You alright?” he asked with concern and you nodded.

“Here.” Spencer came closer with a wet wipe that he handed to you.

“I’m sorry we can’t see you off, but this is urgent.” Hotch came out of a random room with a briefcase on his hand and his pristine suit already on “Rest as much as you want and help yourself to anything in the kitchen, just make sure to lock the door when you leave.”

Without saying any further he leaned closer to you and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. He muttered a ‘let’s go’ directed to his subordinates and almost dashed outside the apartment. Morgan simply took a quick peck at the side of your head and told you to ‘take care’. Spencer stood there awkwardly for a second; you could see in his eyes that he was trying to do something, anything, but he couldn’t find the right gesture. Unable to take it much longer, you curled your hand into a fist and offered it in his direction. He bumped it with a fist of his own, and both of you laughed with a bit of embarrassment.

“Listen,” you said before he could move away, slightly entranced by his hazel eyes “the arrangement I have with Mr. Hotchner…” you diverted your gaze, suddenly slightly embarrassed “...it’s not exclusive.” you finally said.

Spencer’s eyes opened and eyebrows raised in surprise, were you insinuating what he thought you were? His mouth opened and closed in search for an answer, but he struggled to make sense of anything, too scared to diffuse the interest you had shown in him.

“You don’t have to agree right now,” you reached behind you, to the side table that had the landline phone on it, to grab a pad and a pen and immediately wrote down your number “if you want to explore a contract of your own, give me a call.” you said with a smile handing the paper over to him.

“I will!” he said with almost too much excitement.

“Reid!” Morgan yelled from the corridor.

Spencer let out a quick curse and wrinkled his face with frustration “I’ll call you.” he said before he left in a rush.

You giggled a little with teenage-like excitement, a feeling that you hadn’t experienced since you first started your dynamic with Mr. Hotchner. New guy, new conditions, new games. Perhaps poker is not the only way to have fun.

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fallingsatellive · 1 month ago

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Hi this is a positivity post regarding alterhuman diet dysphoria versus actual biology

(unless you already know these things)

To herbivore nonhumans who don't want to/can't do a vegan or vegetarian diet but feel dysphoric about being able to digest meat:

Herbivorous animals are not unable to digest meat.

Animal matter is actually easier for a body to process than plant matter, and herbivorous species need very complex digestive systems in order to support their lifestyles. This is why cows have four stomachs; why horses practically go into critical system failure if they get even a little bit sick. Animals that live mostly by grazing actually still do need nutrients that carnivores and omnivores get through their natural diets, which is why farming supply stores sell salt licks for animals. In the wild herbivores will quite often find ways to sneak some meat into their diets by eating bugs or small vertebrates, if you didn't already know about the fun fact of deer eating baby birds. "Obligate herbivore" meaning an animal that can ONLY physically digest plants is not a real ecological term the way "obligate carnivore" meaning animal that can ONLY physically digest meat is, though you might see it in other usages (i.e., referring to an animal that relies on a plant-based diet for all of its nutrients).

If a wild deer was given access to human society, they would probably not opt for veganism for connection with their true species; they would more likely appreciate having a way to get sodium so easily. This isn't to shame anyone who does choose a vegan/vegetarian diet for species euphoria reasons, but more to reassure folks who can't, you aren't less of an herbivore.

To carnivore nonhumans who feel dysphoric that their body can't digest raw meat like wild carnivores can:

It can!

The reason you don't want to be eating raw meat like a wolf or stoat or monitor lizard is because you will get sick or you will contract a parasite, which might sound like just a different reason to feel disconnected from your species, but here's the main two things:

1. The actuality is that wild wolves and stoats and monitor lizards DO get sick and contract parasites. This is often how wolves and stoats and monitor lizards die in the wild and why ones in captivity, being fed parasite-free meat and having illnesses treated, live longer. There are raw meats you can eat safely, you just have to know where they're sourced from and that they're guaranteed not to have risks! That's why sushi is a thing, and why people say you can technically eat raw cut (not ground) beef but not pork or chicken. Cooked meat is also often tastier and easier for the body to process (cit.: Grug et al. 780,000 BCE) so that's why humans have loved their medium-well steak since they came up with it. And 2. wild predators are "able to eat raw meat" mostly because they killed it, so it's fresh and hasn't been sitting around able to pick up bacteria, the way raw meat you get at a grocery store would have. This is why a lot of prey animals have a "play dead" defense mechanism: most predators do not want to eat something that's already dead, because it might get them sick.

If a wild owl was given access to human society, they would probably not desire only the rawest of meats for connection with their true species; they would more likely appreciate having access to food that had all the pathogens cleaned and/or scorched out of it.

#alterhuman #nonhuman #therian #holothere

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noone-and-nowhere · 1 year ago

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In honor of another “vegan leather is plastic” post going around, here’s your reminder that:

1. Both are bad for the environment. Leather isn’t better just because it comes from a renewable source. Cows emit methane, take up valuable land, and the tanning process emits harmful chemicals into ecosystems.

2. Vegan leather wasn’t designed for vegans. It’s designed for people who can’t afford real leather and don’t want to smell like shit when it rains. It’s just given a bougie name for marketing purposes.

3. Literally most synthetic fabrics are plastic, but some of y’all fixate on pleather but have no problem with polyester being used instead of cotton for whatever reason.

4. Leather is not a by product of meat production. Cattle are raised specifically for leather and go through an enormous amount of suffering in the leather industry.

5. Stop believing everything you see on tumblr without fact checking.

#veganism #vegan activism #leather #pleather

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on-the-clear-blue · 3 months ago

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(Inspired by @batarangsoundsdumb and their post about Dami leaving reviews on kidnapping)

(What is the other batfams response to this? They go and do it themselves as well)

Tim: They were surprisingly nice? One guy played cards with me, meh food tho, getting kidnapped seriously makes me hungry, a single snack pack isn't enough. 2/5 would have gotten a 3 if they gave me a juice box.

Dick: I have been kidnapped around 8 or 9 times a year since I was taken in by Bruce. These guys were amateurs! Didn't even tie my hands, just kept a gun on me, didn't take my phone from me, and barely moved me from where they picked me up! They get a 2/5 simply because they gave me Bat burger when I said I was hungry.

Jason: I don't get kidnapped as much as Dick, I get the mean ones, fuckers snapped my God damn fingers and then locked me in a cell, then only gave me bread and water for two days straight....4/5.

Damain: I am disappointed in these criminals. They managed to get the drop on me and went further to squander that achievement, I was not tortured nor was I starved, nor was I hand cuffed to a radiator and left to spoil, no I was taken to a well-furnished warehouse that held a living space that was both comfortable and warm, I was given vegan and organic foods...1/5 for the soul reason of them obeying me dietary habits, if not for that it would 0/5.

Duke: Okay, so like, long time kidnapping watcher first time kidnapee, um was decent, I think? Kinda just got a brick to the back of the head and woke up in some guy's house? His kid was chill, hope she gets a good place to stay (stares into camera as if it was Bruce) anyway, his wife was not happy about this, but I got killer Mac and cheese, I would say better than Alfred's because she used hot sauce as a base, outta all of this, 3/5 I still have a concussion.

Cass: I have never been kidnapped.

Steph: lol I kidnapped Tim

#dc comics #batfam #jason todd #damian wayne #tim drake #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #bruce is so done #why is his children like this #alfred is only a little offended #batkids #batman

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tarotwithavi · 1 year ago

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Your Christmas gift from the universe

How to choose a pile?

Close your eyes and take a deep breath and ask the angels to show you the right pile for you and open your eyes. The first pile that catches your attention is the right pile for you.

Masterlist

Paid services

Pile 1

You'll be reconnecting with your family and spending time with them. I know it may not be a big present but I see you'll finally be getting love from them in a way you've never before. If you do not have a good relationship with your family then expect that to change because I see that how you view your family is going to change, positively. I also see that some of you will be getting engaged or married soon. If you're in a relationship then your partner may propose to you. And for others You'll be spending your time discovering your true self. A long journey will leave you wider at the end. I see that your life will change completely next year. Someone may give you a beautiful hair accessory. You may win a lottery or get money through inheritance.

Pile 2

The situation you're stressing about is going to revolve. And if you have been struggling financially or people around you have then expect a huge amount of money from someone. I also see that you'll be blessed with a high paying job soon and it's going to be the ideal job for you. Some of you may even start your own business. But you'll succeed at whatever you're doing. If you're a content creator then expect your account to bloom soon. You'll be getting a lot of offers and opportunities. If you're thinking of going vegan then it's the best time to. Your guides are encouraging you to take a big step in your diet. Eat healthy. I also see that some of you may receive a handmade gift for someone special or someone may propose to you with handwritten letters.

Pile 3

If you're stressed out about your exams then rest assured because you're going to rock them. If you're contemplating giving a competitive exam or auditioning for something, your guides are giving you a huge green light. I also see that you're getting recognition for your ideas. But be really careful of who you share your ideas with. I also see that some of you may be ending an important chapter or moving away from a relationship. I am also seeing you traveling or going somewhere that'll help you relieve your stress , a short trip that has a huge impact on your life.

Pile 4

I just heard “the karmic needs to go in order for the soulmate to come” . You may end a toxic relationship or may get heartbroken by someone but just know that everything happens for a reason. If you're going through a heartbreak right now everything will be fine. You'll be having a lot of options in love and I'm talking about high value men, men who know how to take care of a woman. You may dream of someone significant. I also see that some of your dreams are going to come true. I see the situation balancing out and things working in your favor. I also see that you'll be receiving lots of gifts. Also some news is on the way.

Pile 5

You'll be having your new years kiss with the love of your life!!! You're the luckiest pile because I see you glowing up physically and if you have been thinking of having a baby you could conceive this holiday season. I also see that you're able to meet your soulmate, it may happen suddenly. You'll have no idea about it. I see you slaying haha. You're leveling up financially, physically, emotionally and spiritually. It's perfect. Someone new is entering your life, for some it's a companion and some of you it's a lover. Btw wear nice boots. Idk but this message was random but significant.

Pile 6

I see that you will start earning from doing what you love. Your hobby may help you financially or something that you will learn in the holiday season will have a huge impact on your life. I also see that if your family has been struggling financially everything will work out, I see debts clearing. You will encounter someone really significant or popular, or you may even meet a celebrity. One of your wishes from your wish list is going to come true. I also see you level up spiritually, you'll have a great connection with God/universe/nature. And you'll find the answers to your questions in your dreams. But be careful because temptation will test you.

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toytulini · 1 month ago

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the worse version of this:

workplace that does not ALLOW headphones but does allow you to play podcasts or music or radio at a "reasonable volume" (subjective. reasonable seems to be whatever you can get away with without pissing ppl off enough to tell you to shut up)!

and a coworker who blasts Alex Jones ass shit. and no one fucking says anything. bc no one else says anything and no one wants to be the first one to complain and make him feel like the evil radical liberal communist left is oppressing him for his political opinions. bc then he'll get More Fucking Annoying. 🙃

dear ppl who watch the things out loud on your phones in places like planes or airports where there are headphones you can buy: DIEEEEEEE

#reblog #i had a playlist of shit that was Loud. specifically to drown his shit out if he got near me. eventually he transferred to another building #the evil was defeated #another coworker told me he would CONTINUE PLAYING THAT SHIT AT MAX VOLUME WHEN HE USED THE BATHROOM #there was no peace. awful time. unhinged shit #bro thought biden would put him in a concentration camp for being unvaccinated. like okay buddy lets play in that nasty sandbox for 2 #seconds. hes rounding you up for being unvaccinated. why would they not just forcibly vaccinate you and send you on your way. it would be #logistically stupid and more expensive to shove you all in a camp?#same with the bug thing #they were convinced the radical left was going to force them to switch to bug protein in a process of like forced veganism for climate #change and the wussification of the citizens. and like okay. okay. why would they even let you eat bugs tho? not just put you straight onto #a soy diet? this makes no sense even if the motivations were true. fuck you #the reason for no headphones allowed was bc it was a warehouse with forklifts and they didnt want the forklifts to be able to sneak up on u #anyway imagine an environment where tiktok blasting in a communal space is not just normalized but Enforced #and then instwad of random annoying meme sounds its just fucking right wingers #it was uhhhhhhh #bad #lol

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granddaughterogg · 9 months ago

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You Let Me Complicate You - Part 3

SUMMARY: Simon "Ghost" Riley is a consummate fuckboy who uses fleeting trysts to blow off steam collected at his deadly job. You - the Reader - are a cynical, world weary girl with a penchant for one night stands. None of you are prepared for the horror of Actually Falling In Love. Also - the mask stays on for ridiculously long. Tags: From Sex to Love, Flirting, Random Encounters, First Impressions, One Night Stands, Dirty Talk, Swearing. So. Much. Swearing, Reader Gets Harassed By Assholes, Simon Beats Up An Asshole, Rough Sex. It's all fully consensual tho!

PART 2 HERE

Music pulsated in your temples, but you've completely lost the will to dance. Streaks of murky blue light cut across the dance floor, where the crowd rippled along with the rhythm. You made yourself comfortable on the plush sofa and watched people for a while. Fortunately, this mass of heads, arms and legs in motion was dense enough to hide that wired fucker from your sight.

You hoped to never see him again.

The one you wanted to see has vanished into thin air like Cinderella. A Cinderella who was six feet four, great at chatting women up and built like a wrestler. Who smelled like a heady mix of drugstore cologne, expensive whisky, sweat – and for some fucking reason also like fireworks.

Could it be that his ride has turned into a pumpkin? You would start to ask yourself whether you've imagined him – the man was larger than life after all – but you could still taste that smokey, alcoholic kiss on your lips.

A kiss which was deranged and therefore unforgettable.

You'd have to wipe your brain with a Scrub Daddy to get rid of that memory.

Son of a bitch.

Disappeared, but left the bottle. He clearly had money to throw around.

You ignored the liquor, pouring yourself a healthy glass of water instead.

It seemed that life had offered you an abrupt comedown from this short, all-consuming high. You sat and swallowed tasteless liquid in a sober – and sombre - manner, considering your options.

Option 1. You could go ask that bartender with the face like a slapped arse whether he's seen your beau around. Which surely would be Humiliating.

Option 2. You could give up on vanishing hunks and go home. Which was probably the sensible option, if one you didn't feel like taking.

Option 3. You could do what you usually did whenever life served you with a plot twist: have a smoke break.

You were a woman of culture and therefore perfectly aware that those days, smoking is bad form – almost as much as admitting that one does not intend to go vegan. But then, you were also sensible and knew what kind of end awaits persistent cigarette enthusiasts. A cough which sounds just like torn cardboard, a tracheotomy, or death.

The thing is, you've always considered the spectacle of smoking one of the sexiest feats for a man to perform, while the taste of nicotine soothed your nerves and restored you to the state of being serenely one with the universe. All those vapes smelling of fucking strawberries felt as appealing as Boris Johnson's ass.

So you let out a sigh, finished your water, threw on your jacket, grabbed your umbrella and marched across the club, guessing that smokers have been traditionally banished to the outside.

The iron door creaked open like the hatch to a bank vault.

Your suspicions were correct. Nicotine hostages stood around the entrance, some on the grass, others on the cracked concrete path. Milky serpentines of smoke blew away quickly in the night wind. Fortunately, the rain had abated somewhat. Instead of an icy wave splashing in your face, you were greeted by a cold drizzle.

That you could deal with.

Unfortunately, fate had yet other things in store for you.

You've managed to pat all your jacket pockets, fish out a box of cigarettes, experience relief, because it wasn't soggy, pat your pockets again, find a lighter, and stick a fag into your mouth...It would take in this damp air, so for a moment there you focused on the wobbly little flame instead of your surroundings.

Which was a mistake.

"Need help with this, beautiful?" Asked some stranger's voice.

"Jesus on a stick", you grumbled without even bothering to meet his eye.

"I said", the voice wasn't to be deterred easily, "Do you need help?"

You looked up. Some dude has obstructed the light coming from the small bulb, hanging above the entrance in its industrial iron casing. He was big, even stocky - not as big as your fleeting masked acquaintance, naturally, but quite thick in his own right. Had a pudgy face that you wouldn't be able to describe even at the police station. The patchy beard didn't help either. That's all you could say about him because he didn't spark your interest.

"Nope", you said flatly.

"What do you mean, nope?"

The man leaned over you, hanging his head unpleasantly close. He smelled like beer and Axe body spray.

You sighed. "I mean it in general. Go away."

"But I've just come here", the dude grinned, as if he'd said something truly brilliant.

"That's not my problem."

The tip of your cigarette finally took hold of the fire. You shielded it with your palms, taking half a step away from the persistent bloke. Only a half, because the door was right behind you.

Unfortunately, your new friend wasn't about to take a hint.

"Oh come on now", he whined. "Don't be rude to me like this. Let's have a talk."

You never had a lot of patience, not even on your best days. Now it was running dangerously low.

"I don't have to be nice to you", you hissed right into his stupid grin. "I don't have to talk to you either. Go bestow the gift of your company on someone who'll enjoy it."

You've made two mistakes. The first one was assuming that gassed pick-up artists understand sarcasm. The second one was using words and not just your boot instead.

He leaned forward and grabbed your arm. It was not a firm grip, but the touch of this stranger's sweaty fingers on your skin made you nauseous.

"You don't understand how much you're fucking yourself over" - he went on in that slow, obstinate manner of a drunkard, sizing you up with a glazed look. " You're depriving yourself of a chance...yes, a chance. For something better, something to elevate that sad, lonely, fuckless life of yours! A man walks up to you like a gentleman...chimes in with utmost tact and gets mauled. Women of today don't understand -"

You didn't find out what is it that women of today don't understand. You hurled your lit cigarette straight into his panting mouth and pressed your elbow against the handle of that cursed door. It swung open with a groan - not loud enough to drown out the surprised yelp of your aggressor. He let go of your hand. You jumped inside, trying to slam that door right in his face, but even an agile woman, one well aware of her surroundings is much weaker physically than an average man.

It was a long time since you had to grasp that bitter truth because you had avoided places like this. Well, that was your reminder.

The dude broke in when you were already halfway into the dark club premises, walking as fast as possible without just bolting it.

Music blared from the speakers, making the walls tremble, but you were still aware that he was coming after you. Slow but tireless, like fucking Michael Myers. You didn't have to look over your shoulder to know. Every woman has this radar installed.

You hauled ass, pushing people aside and collecting bemused looks. You headed straight for the bar like a sailor towards a lighthouse in a storm. You intended to chain yourself to that bar; to make Geoffrey call the cops if necessary.

Eventually, you managed to come ashore. You pushed your way through the crowd of patrons queuing for a drink, ignoring their shouts of disapproval. You climbed onto the first available stool and set your elbows on that cold concrete counter. The bartender was nowhere to be seen. Ain't that just the way.

"Hey, Governor!" you hollered towards the row of glittering bottles behind the counter. "We have a problem!"

"Why hello there", said a high-pitched voice to your left. It didn't sound particularly friendly.

You jumped as if at the push of a spring, spinning around on that stool. Your heart jolted abruptly. For in the dim light, you spotted this long-haired fuckhead from the dancefloor. He sat there, measuring you with a glassy look and sporting a wide, deadpan grin.

You took a long swig of air. This was a fucking nightmare, a Halloween special, and you were drowning in it. Drowning in the waters coming up to your chin, black as ink. A woman who went out simply to have fun.

"I thought I'd find you here", he continued, his voice eerily flat, his gaze pinned to yours. "You ugly slut."

"Geoffrey, shake a leg!" you yelled into the void behind the counter.

"Think you can just walk around and kick people?" asked the long-haired man as casually as if he'd wanted your opinion on the weather. He leaned closer, adding in a low voice:

"Rabid bitches like you shouldn't be let off the chain."

From what you could gather he wasn't that muscular, but you'd already met men with such hollow eyes and a flat affect. Getting into a tussle with one of them was always a bad idea. Whatever fueled this fucker – illegal substances, his own charming personality or both - you didn't feel like dealing with it.

You jumped off the stool, putting him between you and the guy, spun on your heel...

... only to run face-first into the armpit of that specimen from the front of the club. It turned out he didn't stop his TED Talk this whole time.

"...men and women ought to be friends, there should be a sense of CAMARADERIE between them, a sense of friendship, not this, whatever this is. I am being FRIENDLY to you, I am treating you with reverence, yes, REVERENCE and what do I get in return? I swear -"

Two gorilla arms pawed at you, pressing you against his chest. Your nostrils filled with his nauseating smell and the odour of Axe. You couldn't breathe.

"...this war between the sexes must end, or you will all die alone and you'll be so UNHAPPY, you hear me?" He panted into the top of your head. "You will cry your eyes out, surrounded by sex toys and CATS instead of children -"

You gathered all your strength and pulled yourself away from the numbing stench, driving your nails into your assailant's chest. The dude yelped and let you go. You fell back, parting the crowd. Suddenly two capable hands held at your shoulders, firmly but without causing pain.

You got enveloped in the familiar mix of scents - man, cheap cologne, expensive whisky, fireworks. Oh, thank god.

"One can't leave ya alone for a minute, eh?" said Skullface, calm as ever.

You almost burst into tears of relief - and into tears of anger, too. He's left you all alone in this shithole and let it happen.

You jumped back, darting your head up to look into those dark peepers of his. There he was, all composed, towering effortlessly over everyone in sight. Tall like an unconquered mountain.

"Where the fuck were you?! I'm being harassed by creeps!"

"Plural?" The skull mask tilted in amusement, but you've noticed how his eyes swept the perimeter, and his hold on your shoulders loosened, but not to the point of release.

"You sure are popular."

You scoffed.

"This shit ain't fun. But seriously, what were you doing?"

He shrugged. With shoulders like his it was a pronounced shrug.

"Pissing."

"For that long?!"

It was an undignified squawk, but you didn't care. You were stressed. You felt scared and fed up.

The man fell silent for a moment. Then he scratched the back of his head.

"If you really need to know, I also laid a brick."

You stared at him in disbelief, but that covered face betrayed nothing, and his eyes seemed sincere.

"What? You asked", he added.

It was as if some lever had been pulled inside your stressed mind. Suddenly you no longer felt like tearing him a new one. Instead, you wanted to burst out laughing.

"Alright then. I hope you washed your hands", you murmured, stepping forward and touching the front of his hoodie. He cupped your much smaller hand in his big one, tracing over its back with his long fingers. They were so warm.

You both smiled. His eyes looked strangely charming when they creased under all that eyeshadow...or whatever that black stuff was.

"You don't have much faith in the opposite sex, don't ya."

"That's EXACTLY what I've been saying!"

The stocky dude from before emerged from the fray, pushing people aside and beelining to you as if the three of you were good friends.

"I'm trying to explain to her how DETRIMENTAL this hostile approach towards men is, but she won't listen -"

"That's Creep No. 1", you murmured.

Skullface got visibly alert. He put you right behind him, blocking access like a guard dog. He straightened up to his full impressive height, but you stuck your head out from his armpit anyway. Now that the danger has dissipated, you felt curious as to how this shit would end.

"You." Said the masked man, pointing his finger at the idiot. "Get bent."

"The fuck you saying to me, mate?" The TED Talker was clearly an obstinate drunk.

"I'm a free man, a citizen of a free country! Can do whatever and talk to whoever I please, including this stuck-up bitch right here and you can't make me -"

Skullface's long, bulky arm shot forward, hand closing around the neck of this champion of men's civil liberties. You watched, transfixed. Your eyes have barely registered movement.

"The lady doesn't want to talk to you", Skullface explained, his tone almost friendly. "You better apologise."

The other dude stared at him with bulging eyes. Then he glanced at the large hand, gripping him like a vice. He tried to swallow – not an easy feat when your airways are being compressed – and finally tapped at Skullface's hand with his own shaky fingers.

Your masked friend released him. The bloke staggered, massaging his throat and breathing heavily. He was anything but frail, clearly possessing some strength of his own. And yet there he was, reduced to an ungainly, panting mess.

"Alrighty then", he gasped. "Sorry..."

"Not to me." Skullface's already deep voice dropped a notch, dark and metallic. You felt a sudden chill licking at your spine. " To her."

The other dude cut you a quick look, his eyes wide and scared. Drunkedness has clearly been choked out of him.

"Yeah yeah, sorry to you both. Jesus, mate. Chill.."

A snigger tore out of you while you watched that asshole slink away. It felt great.

"Having fun?" Skullface's tone dripped with amusement.

"Yeah!" you admitted, stepping past his wide frame and looking him in the face. "I wish I had popcorn!"

He blinked at you. Slowly, like a pleased cat would.

"Let's go," he ordered and began pushing his way deeper into the club. You followed suit.

You two found yourselves back in that corner near the dancefloor. Skullface reached for the flask of whisky.

"We're leavin', eh?" he asked.

"Let's," you agreed. "That's enough clubbing for one day."

You looked around, searching for your jacket, but it was nowhere to be seen.

"Fuck," you hissed.

He raised his head. "What's goin' on?"

"I left my jacket at the bar. Don't disappear on me again, okay?”

"You got it."

He sat comfortably and poured himself some more liquor, downing it promptly. You wondered about this man's incredible alcohol tolerance but didn't have the time to ponder on it.

You squeezed your way back through the crowd, grappling with rapidly growing irritation. First, you'd shout "Excuse me!" again and again and then you'd just work your elbows.

You told him the truth; you were fed up with partying, with the crowd and with the noise. Wherever this masked man was going to take you would be an improvement.

You finally made it to the bar, threw your jacket on and turned on your heel, starting the journey back immediately, like a ferry connecting two shores.

"Excuse me, excuse me, oh, fuck, sorry, excuse me -"

You stumbled over someone's foot, fell face forward into their T-shirt, pushed yourself away with both hands and then got grabbed by the wrist, which someone held at and jerked it so abruptly that you heard a crunch. Your whole body pivoted, led by the force of inertia. You tried to break free but to no avail. The man twisted both your arms and pinned them to your back, his breath right in your ear, hot and stinking like beer. His words were a searing sludge of intoxication and malice.

"Sorry's not gonna be enough."

You looked up - right into the blank face of that psycho from earlier. His pupils were two black holes. Icy panic flooded your veins, raising little hairs all over your body. He was dragging you somewhere away from the bar, his grip strong and painful. He was elbowing his way through the fray, and nobody around you in this densely populated club seemed to care – or notice for that matter. If they did, they cast you both one glance and decided that they don't want trouble.

You tried your darnedest to fight him, tensed all over in an attempt to break out of his hold, but with your arms twisted there was not much room for action. Or the guy was simply stronger than you.

Every average man is so much stronger than an average woman, after all. A reminder of this truth came back to you in a bitter wave while your unwilling feet scraped over the concrete floor.

In moments like these, you saw everything in razor-sharp HD. The dregs of intoxication evaporated from your system while you gained a cool, detached view of the mess you were in.

You looked in all directions, trying to find something that could aid you. It crossed your mind to call your new friend for help. But what name were you supposed to use?

The attacker dragged you into some dark corner and threw you onto an armchair standing there. Its aged springs groaned under your weight. The man pressed both hands into the wooden backrests and leaned so close that you smelled his sour breath.

"I'll put you back in your place", he promised, undoing his belt buckle.

To do this he had to let go of you. It was a small opening, but you took it.

You sat up, reached quickly into your loose chignon, slipped out the hairpin, clenched your hand around it and swung, aiming for the gut -

"The fuck you doing?" he sniggered, grabbing at our hand and stilling it mid-way. "I'll cut you open, you daft cow -"

He did not, in fact, cut you. He didn't do shit, because a dark mountain shaped like a man appeared behind his back.

This time Skullface didn't engage in Manly Posturing. He struck your assailant once, somewhere between the ear and the jugular. The bloke staggered, fell forward, but regained balance, turned on his heel and pounced. Skullface dodged, fast like a bullet, grabbed the other man's arm and twisted it downwards with a profound crunch, at the same time driving his other fist into his stomach.

The dude let out a stifled groan. For a moment he sagged like a rag in your companion's grip but came to quickly and began thrashing around, emitting some unintelligible, high-pitched noises.

Skullface picked up the floundering man as if his opponent was a rowdy cat. Then he held him at full arm's length, clearly considering the way forward.

"He's on drugs!" You offered. "I don't think he feels pain!"

"Figures," he said. "Should've gone down already."

"Then take him down!" You asked, growing impatient.

Skullface shot you a look from under creased eyebrows.

"S'not that simple,", he explained. "If I hit him again, it prob won't cut the mustard. Bloke's foamin' at the mouth, see? But if I hit him real hard, he might stay down for good. And then Price will yell my noggin' off -"

"SUCK COCKS IN HELL!!!" Chimed in the subject of his deliberations.

Skullface shook him a little.

"Who's Price?" You asked.

"My boss. He's a real stickler when it comes to those things."

"What things?" Your head was swimming. " Killing people?"

Skullface rubbed his nose with his free hand.

"He says we have an image to uphold...that we need to inspire public trust. Some such tosh."

He noticed the hairpin, which you were still holding.

"Gimme that. I got an idea."

You handed him the pin and watched in a stupor as he hurled the guy to the floor, using a kick to stretch him flat. The man spat, snarled and threw himself around like a fish out of water, but it didn't do squat. Your masked companion grabbed him by the forearm, pressed it against the wooden backrest of one of the armchairs - and drove the sharp end of the pin right into his outstretched palm, literally pinning him in place. Blood gushed out.

You held your breath. The man howled like a thing possessed, but Skullface had already turned away.

"You broken?" He asked, hunkering down in front of your armchair. His eyes scanned all over you, seeking for signs of injury.

"What?.."

He sighed and shook his head.

"Nevermind. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, he didn't have the time to do anything..." You moved your affected hand and squirmed, seeing a fresh bruise. "Apart from fucking up my wrist, maybe. but I'll live."

"Good."

He stood up and helped you clamber out of the armchair.

"Let's go", he said.

You followed him while he shouldered his way through the club.

You two arrived at the bar, where Geoffrey The Pinched Face begrudgingly poured someone a tequila.

"Geoff, call the coppers", instructed Skullface, putting both forearms on the counter. His voice was low and confidential. "You've got quite a specimen in here. Mad as a badger, bein' a nuisance to the ladies. Careless with sharp objects, see. Went and nailed himself to a chair."

"Nailed himself?" Geoffrey raised his eyebrows. "On his own? I swear to god, Ghostie. If I didn't like you so much..."

"Then you'd have casualties here every fuckin' Friday." Skullface extended a hand. "Gimme the key. We'll wait this out upstairs."

Geoff silently handed him a small key. The masked man set off across the dark hall. You had to run to keep up with him.

" Ghostie? Should I start calling you that?"

"It's Ghost", came from behind his broad back.

"What kind of a name is Ghost anyway?" you inquired, but he didn't grace you with an answer.

You've reached the foot of a winding, narrow staircase made entirely of wrought iron.

"Up there", he ordered. "Watch your step."

You did as you were told. Your boots raised sharp echoes in the steps. The stairs winded upwards for what felt like forever; finally, you stood very high above the dance floor, in front of a black door. The paint was peeling away. A red neon reading HELLO adorned it, but the O had gone out and HELL alone remained.

Fitting, you thought. I'm following a stranger into an unknown place. A man who is darkness, yet somehow I am not afraid.

You were hardly the naive, virginal Persephone. But hey, even myths need to get on with the times.

"That was seriously cool what you just did," you said, turning to your companion, walking right behind you. " Stab! Right between the metacarpals!"

"He'll stay put until the law arrives." He didn't seem to be impressed by your high praise.

"You've sharpened it, didn't you”, he added. "The hair thingie."

You shook your newly freed hair and shot him one incredulous look.

"I'm a woman who's endeavoured a solo night on the town in a tiny dress. What do you think? Of course I've sharpened it."

Ghost nodded slowly.

"A woman after my own heart..."

"Aw, thanks!" you sent him your best seductive smile and invited yourself into his personal space, your back almost leaning on his warm chest and head tilted upwards.

He only pulled you closer.

"Can we go back to having fun now?" You asked. "I'm fucking tired of being hunted for sport."

His long forearm settled across your chest, hand drawing small circles on your opposite shoulder.

"Yeah", he said softly. "We can."

He had to loosen his embrace to insert the key into the lock. The door swung open, creaking ghastly. Your nose filled with the scent of wood and rooms long un-aired. It looked like a typical attic with slanted wooden walls and a small window just below the ceiling. When Ghost turned on the light - which was faint red - you saw low tables and soft futons scattered across the floor.

Music from the dancefloor reached in here too, although it wasn't as loud.

Truth be told, you wouldn't care if they stored onions in there.

Your attention was fully on the man.

His mask went up again. He slammed the door behind you with a kick, hand already cupping your chin. Then he leaned down. The rough cotton of his mask rubbed at your cheek, followed by the silky flutter of his eyelashes.

You opened to him without hesitation, but this time the kiss was slower, more deliberate. His lips traced over yours, tasting you, discovering this fairly new sensation, nipping and sucking at your mouth with delighted curiosity. He's clearly had a lot of practice.

You tried to fall into this fickle rhythm, but impatience got the best of you. You bit at his lower lip.

A low noise reverberated in his throat – not quite a chuckle, almost a grunt. He turned you to face him, embracing you tighter than before and gave you his tongue. You nipped at the sensitive tip and that's when he lost it. Suddenly your mouth was full of him, claiming you voraciously, setting your blood on fire once again, and you heard your own breathless moan. Somehow your fingers traveled under the back of his mask and ran through cropped hair at his nape. It was butter-soft. He groaned with pleasure under your touch and that sound pierced right through you, making your insides soft and wanting.

"Oh my god", you panted right into Ghost's mouth, holding at his nape. "Can we just screw already -"

"That's the plan." Could that rough voice of his get any deeper? Smile tapered the edges though, like a glimpse of gold in gravel.

You weaved your wanting fingers into the longer part of his fade, sliding the mask further up.

He stilled your wrists.

"Hey. Hey", he whispered cautiously into the bridge of your nose. "Don't even think about it."

"So...the mask stays on?... Like, all the way?" You inquired breathlessly between nipping at his mouth.

"Yes."

You looked this peculiar man in the eyes, now gleaming with fun, but dark and puzzling nonetheless. What was he hiding? Scars? Being a plain ol' butterface? Facial deformity of some kind?

You examined this thought thoroughly and found out that you don't care.

"All right", you said. "But tell me one thing. Are you Deadpool?"

He snorted softly. "I'm just Ghost."

"Ghost?.."

"Yeah?"

"Kiss me."

And kiss you he did.

Holy fuck, he was so good at this. Even when he let himself loose, abandoning all fuckboy moves in favour of feral lust.

And maybe especially then.

Your tongues entwined in a blind dance, devoid of any rhythm. It was as un-romantic as humanly possible and you liked it that way. That frenzied, rushed approach of his told you that the man was truly starving, losing himself already in this newly acquired flavour, in your feminine warmth. His desperation set your blood ablaze.

Because you were hungry too.

Ghost finally broke contact, but before leaning away he glided his tongue over your half-opened mouth. It was as if he just couldn't part with the taste.

"Hold on...fuck, you're something else." He sighed and put both of your hands around his wide neck.

"Hold tight, love", he cautioned as if you two were boarding a ride.

When you did as told, he grabbed at your ass.

You yelped when his hands pressed into the soft flesh under the thin velvet of your dress. He effortlessly pulled you off the ground and lifted you up.

"Wrap your legs around me", he asked.

You were not a dainty lady. When other guys attempted such stunts, you usually started to fear for their backs. But not for Ghost. This guy was born for heavy-duty activities. You recently watched him sweep the floor with a grown man.

He could take you. You suspected that he'd carry you out of a battlefield as well.

You pressed both thighs to his wide waist, crossing your booted legs over the small of his impressive back. You felt his firm core underneath you, covered with a healthy layer of soft flesh. That width of his didn't come just from muscles, and the discovery excited you. You liked your men strong, but not starving.

"That's right..." Ghost slid his large hands under your thighs, tearing another yelp out of you, followed by a stifled moan as he pressed your ass against the nearest wall.

"What are you doing?" you breathed, holding on for dear life.

"Keepin' a promise." That low gritty voice reverberated in your bones.

Right, he had said this earlier. I could pin you to a wall if you ask nicely.

The next moment all thoughts - the very ability to think - drifted away from you, for he glided his tongue across that space behind your ear. You moaned, your head falling back as if electricity had just pierced you. He chuckled into your collarbone and was already going lower, kissing, licking and sucking the sensitive skin of your throat. His tongue felt like a flame.

"Jesus Christ...", you breathed. "You're gonna fuck me like this?"

"If that's what you want".

"I dunno. It's kinda – aah! - uncomfortable..."

You tried really hard to rein your thoughts, but they fell apart while this impossible man held you against a wall.

It felt like being sandwiched between cold wood and a living furnace.

As if trying to make the thought process even harder, Ghost dug his fingers deeper into your buttcheeks, bunching up the fabric. It slid up your thighs, eliciting a high-pitched squeal from you.

"This fuckin' skirt is in the way", he murmured. After some more finagling, he got away with the velvet and stroked at the sheer pantyhose underneath. His long fingers nudged the lacy elastic, keeping your stay-ups in place.

"Stockings?" He asked, as if unable to believe his luck.

"Yep", you grinned at him.

" Fuckin' hell."

That came out low and guttural. You felt a sharp tingle within as if someone tugged at a string attached to your core.

That narrow strip of lace awakened something in him. He stepped away from the wall and threw you onto the nearest futon. You landed on your back with legs splayed out, but you didn't have time to collect yourself because he was already on top of you, pressing you to the ground with that huge torso, obscuring the dim light, filling up your whole world. He put his arms over your head and pressed them against the soft surface.

Then he leaned over you and dragged his mouth across your cleavage, biting on the skin on your throat, eliciting another moan, and then he let go. You moaned again, protesting this abandonment.

"I know, love", he murmured into your mouth. "But we need to get rid of your knickers."

A breathless, joyful noise tore out of you when he was pulling up your dress.

Ghost's hands pressed firmly into your buttcheeks, sliding the soft cotton down. Yeah, it was your everyday cotton. You preferred stockings over tights simply because they didn't gradually slide off you, creating that abysmal webbing situation in the crotch. You didn't leave the house tonight expecting to get lucky.

He threw your underwear away and held at your hips with more force.

"Listen, are you gonna...", you asked and got quiet mid-sentence. He was already putting your thighs on his shoulders.

His hot tongue glided along your fun parts, making you almost choke on air. He licked you up and down, parting your folds with the tip of his long tongue, tasting you, exploring you, driven by the shameless joy befitting a kid in a toy store. His hungry lips have found your swollen clit and sucked on it as if it was candy. When you answered with a prolonged, ragged moan, his mouth curled up against your pussy. He was smiling.

"You know what I dreamed of at night, sitting out there in some shitty safehouse in the desert?" he asked all of a sudden.

You had no idea what was that about, but you didn't have the bandwidth to process it either, for he sucked at you again. Your synapses flared up with pleasure.

„Of what?...” you panted with your head thrown back, all tense and wanting.

He looked up, his stare mischievous.

"Of a girl in black stockings, but with no panties on".

"Hey...you got your wish."

Ghost tilted his head and pressed his face against your pussy. The tip of his long nose parted your pubic hair. He stilled, taking in your scent like a yearning animal.

"Fuuuck, love. Need to taste you."

He licked at you again, across the slit and slid his searing tongue inside of you. Your whole body yanked up, suddenly electric. He was exploring you shamelessly until he found that special point within your wet inside. He pressed his tongue to it, forcing a loud, ragged sob out of you. And then he pulled out.

Cool air licked at your moist, swollen, exposed pussy. The unfulfilled desire in your veins surged with fire. You felt like screaming in protest. Instead, all that came out of your mouth was an uneven, helpless, rather embarrassing moan.

He slowly licked his lips, savouring your taste.

"Need me inside you that bad, huh?" He asked, his voice thick and heady. He slurred over his consonants even more than usual.

"Yes!.." you cried out in frustration. "Will you spare the ceremonies and fuck me already?"

Ghost tilted his head and lowered you onto the futon. You could see a thought forming beneath the black cotton, under that surprisingly soft hair of his.

"You don't like being eaten out?"

"Nah, not really. It's usually boring..." you admitted. "Nothing ever comes out of it. It feels like a waste of time."

Ghost leaned over you, his massive body obscuring all the view. His masculine scent tinted with sweat filled your nostrils, your mouth - and now probably your nether regions as well. You were keen with desire, wanting more of this. More of him.

"One day I'll show you how it feels when it's done right", he murmured.

"Mhm". You cared little about empty promises.

You cradled his head, pulled his face close and kissed him deeply, relishing his heat and his musky taste, now mixed with yours. Your tongues intertwined again in this dance without fixed steps. For a while all that you heard were the sounds of kissing and your rushed breath.

Your hips raised on their own, moving up to press against his.

Ghost grunted in appreciation and ground onto you. You felt his tantalising hardness poking through the fabric. He rubbed onto your exposed sex and you lost yourself in the sensation. Dissolved into this big man tending to you as if you belonged to him. As if he was never about to let you go.

He sold this illusion so well.

"You got a condom?" you whispered into his mouth.

„Always. ”

He sat up, reached into the pocket of his jeans and produced a shiny metallic rectangular.

"Allow me", you offered, sitting up as well. He kneeled right in front of you, those powerful tights splayed. You sidled closer and met his gaze while opening his fly. Thankfully the zipper didn't put up a fight. He let you do it. Watched with his lips curled up when you palmed his hot bulge, clothed in plain black cotton.

"Holy fuck", you breathed, pulling his cock out of its confinement. It sprung out half hard, not as ginormous as you were imagining, but decidedly girthy. You sighed in appreciation, sliding your fingers up and down its pale, hefty shaft. It was enchantingly warm and as smooth as fine suede.

You got reminded how much you love dicks. Beautiful, supple creatures.

"It's so shapely. May I...?" You raised your eyes at Ghost again.

He nodded and repositioned himself on the futon to be more comfortable. Those legs of his seemed to just never end when he sat with them splayed. A smile glinted in his eyes.

You curled your fingers around his root, placing your other hand on his thigh. Then you leaned down, giddy from want. His pink tip felt smooth like porcelain – if porcelain could be alive and searing hot, that is. You noticed a shiny bead of precum and licked it away.

Ghost sighed when you wrapped your lips around him.

He tasted like all men tasted, but also uniquely like himself. You detected a day's worth of sweat, a note of fresh laundry, the faintest whiff of that woodsy-citrusy cologne of his - and salt, for he was already leaking into your mouth.

Greedy boy.

You didn't try to perform any feats worthy of a porn star. You just sucked, licked and rubbed your tongue at that tender bundle of nerves right under his crown, enthralled with the sensation. He was so smooth and robust and expanded by the second.

You've always preferred to give head than to be given.

He hardened in your diligent mouth. You could feel his large thigh tensing under your touch, too. You glanced up – he was watching, eyes wide, blinking slowly, those featherlike white lashes of his giving him an ethereal look.

He seemed entranced.

You smiled around his cock and sucked harder, giving it all you've got.

A long, ragged sigh tore out of him.

And that's when you pulled away. A string of saliva bridged his glistening tip and your open mouth, gleaming under the red lights.

He stared at you, dumbfounded.

"Not so fun when it's being done to you?" You gave him a shit-eating grin. " You're lucky that I'm really, really horny. Now give me that rubber."

Ghost snorted, handing you the silver packet. You made short work of it and then used your fingers once again, this time to roll the condom down nice and easy. It slid effortlessly over his stiff manhood.

He swallowed loudly somewhere above you.

"Hands-on approach."

"Yeah." You held at his nape, pulling him closer until you were breathing each other's air.

"Fuck me, Ghost", you asked.

You didn't have to tell him twice.

He leaned over you, forearms pressed into the futon on both sides of your head, positioning his hips just the right way. You watched his eyes, wide, dark and fixated while he pressed his tip to your entrance, already swollen, tender, open and begging.

He didn't tease you anymore. Just rolled his hips into a slow, measured thrust.

"Oh riiight", you called out, your insides being parted by his hot, rigid, indomitable presence.

He wasn't crazy long, but he was wide. Thick. Sizeable. It didn't outright hurt because he only went halfway in - but you sure felt stretched. You buckled your hips, trying to make him go deeper.

"You okay?" he whispered hoarsely, visibly tense from trying to contain himself. "Fuck, love, you're so tight - "

"Yeah!... Go for it. I can take you", you pleaded, your stare locked onto his.

His eyes were two starless skies when he plunged into you for real. You both cried out when that happened.

"Oh god!"

„Oh fuck.”

He withdrew almost completely, but before you could raise your voice in protest – thrust all the way back into you, sliding in and out with more and more ease each time. Your insides softened rather quickly, letting him claim as much space as he needed. Letting him fill you with his delicious, delicious dick.

You needed this so badly.

But so did he. For a moment neither of you said a word. Music still played somewhere beyond on the club floor, muted and unimportant, while you two screwed on the dusty futon, creating your own melody. One consisting of ragged moans and rushed breathing, which quickly fell into a rhythm of its own.

The undone zipper of his jeans chafed painfully at your exposed underbelly, but it was a problem for future you. Right now you didn't have a care in the world.

Not when this enormous man took you, groaning through gritted teeth right into your ear. He licked it from time to time and then took it all into his mouth like a mango slice.

You sobbed out loud when he did this.

Ghost let out a breathless, rumbling laugh.

"Enjoyin' the ride?" He asked, sounding way more drunk than before.

"Yes. Go harder..."

Next thing you knew he grabbed at both of your wrists with his one hand and pinned them over your head.

You cried out in sheer delight.

His eyes glinted. That unwavering stare of his saw right through your kinky soul.

"You like being manhandled, don't ya", he murmured, clearly enticed by his discovery. His other hand reached down, slid under your long-suffering dress and fondled crudely at your breast. His fingers found your nipple and squeezed it without mercy. You moaned again.

"You like to be made...helpless." Dark delight laced his words.

"Yes", you admitted, shameless and staring into the skeleton mask.

Ghost grinned at you like a wolf. "We're gonna have so much fun."

He amped the tempo. You started moaning nonstop while his cock viciously slammed into you, producing obscene wet sounds.

For you were now loose and dripping. He fit snugly into that warm space while your juices trickled out of you. All for him, the burly stranger. You were being fucked with vengeance, that little poach of flub on his stomach meeting yours with a rhythmic slap. He had you pinned down. There was nothing you could do but let him use your body the way he saw fit.

And that's just what he did. He satiated his gnawing hunger with your body, your warm presence, with your mouth, which he would claim one time after another, covering it with sloppy, fervent kisses. Sometimes he didn't even use his lips at all, just pressed the flat of his tongue to yours. It felt so raw, setting your body and your mind ablaze.

"Fuck...you feel so good." His voice right in your ear was a presence of his own, low and gritty and commanding. " Eyes open. Don't you fuckin' look away from me now."

You blinked. His semi-masked face materialised in your field of vision.

Right now you couldn't put a lucid thought together if your life depended on it.

"I love your cock", you confessed dumbly.

His stare got downright manic.

"You like being fucked hard? Like a fuckin' whore?"

Usually, such terms of endearment made you want to kick the idiot in the face, but not this time. Not with this idiot.

Somewhere inside your soul sizzled a shameful flame of submission. You could be a whore for Ghost, and for Ghost only.

"Come on my cock, sweetheart", he ordered, voice low and dripping with authority. Maybe he heard your thoughts. "Come for me."

He reached between you two, pressed his thumb to your clit and started massaging it, going along with the punishing rhythm of his thrusts. You splayed your pantyhosed legs shamelessly wide, crying out from overwhelming pleasure.

"That's right", he rasped into your neck. "Come for me, ya slag."

"Yes", you wailed. "Yes, oh god – Ghost, don't stop – don't stop – don't stop -"

The sounds that came out of you after that weren't words. You dug your nails into the expanse of his firm back.

Ghost didn't seem to mind one bit.

"Fuck yeah", he growled. "Dig harder. Fuckin' hell!"

A wave of hot, sticky sweetness was rising fast, drowning your wits, washing away all your senses except for touch. Except for this sensation of being taken, being possessed without mercy. You were full of cock. You were full to the brim like a jug of water, ready to overflow. The wave came crushing over your eyes, so you grabbed at him blindly and cried right into his mouth, cursed, and moaned.

Or maybe it was a prayer.

Maybe all of the above.

He held you through it, anchored you while you felt weightless, pressing your chest flush against his - so hard and wide and still fully clothed.

When you came down from this high, he still held you for a while before letting go and falling flat on his back, long limbs splayed.

"You crazy thing", he muttered in delight, slurring the words.

"Ghost...", you breathed, lying flat like a pancake. That futon must've dented under you. Your throat was sore from all this screaming. " I have a question."

"Right now? T'better not be about maths..."

You chuckled and turned to the side to look him in the face.

Fuck, those eyes, you thought. People shouldn't have eyes this big. Eyelids this heavy. I'm never recovering from this man.

"Can we do this again?"

He smiled at you, half-lidded, relaxed. Then he reached out and traced his fingers over your jawbone. Like back then in the beginning.

"M' not in a hurry tonight. You?"

~~to be continued~~

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